[C62] EVERLASTING LIGHT (1/2)
Prompt Code: C62
Title: Everlasting Light
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings (if any): SeSoo
Warnings: Swearing and sexual content
Word Count: 17,274
AU: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Summary: Jongin tries to get rid of his problems by simply making them disappear.
AN: Flowers to the admins and the prompter for giving me the chance to write this. It was a challenge to do it while on vacation but after completing this, I feel like I can now do anything. Prompter, I hope you like it even just a bit. I’m sorry it ended up being so similar to the original work. Also, as a disclaimer, anything related to Daejeon in this story is actually modeled after Samcheondong in Seoul. Thank you for reading!
How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind,
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned.
- Eloisa to Abelard, Alexander Pope
☀︎
Jongin wakes up one morning overcome by the inexplicable feeling that the world has changed. He’s still himself, still Kim Jongin, 23 years old broke accounting student. The ceiling of his 2 1/2 apartment in Sillim, Seoul, is still an old white bordering on grey, the paint flaking along the edge; the walls are still bare, and the sofa bed he sleeps in is still as comfortable as it could possibly get.
He remembers reading, a long time ago, how humans have a very limited perception of the world, how they probably lack some senses and thus many things go unnoticed around them. The world changes every time you close your eyes; with each blink, the world shifts a bit, but the transformation can never be detected, even if it’s right there. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Jongin shuts his eyelids tightly and inhales slowly. When he re-opens them, exhaling at the same time, he frowns and concentrates on every inch his vision covers, trying to find it. How has the world changed between the moment he closed and opened his eyes? How has the world changed since he went to sleep last night and woke up this morning?
He lets a moment pass. Something’s missing he thinks. He struggles to sit up, arms numb from sleep. He catches his silhouette in the dark screen of the television, head a nest of dishevelled hair. He checks the time on the old DVD player fitted right under the monitor.
6:23am
Nothing’s missing. He’s there, in his familiar apartment. The morning sun slipping through the window warms up his skin in a way that entices him to go back to sleep, but he’s lucky he woke up on time on his own, so he resists the temptation. He checks his phone only to notice his alarm isn’t set up like it usually is on weekday mornings. He hasn’t missed a day in the two years he’s been living in Seoul.
That’s something he thinks, but the strange impression doesn’t subside, it settles in the back of his mind as he gets up, puts on a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt, packs his uniform polo in his bag between his calculus textbook and his pencil case, which is really just a 1000 Won plastic container he bought at Daiso last month when he broke the other one. It’s not that he’s a cheap guy per say, but he really is broke, and it does the job just fine. He grabs his keys and pockets his phone as he walks out.
Nothing’s missing.
He feels stupid looking around his apartment building to catch even one thing, one detail that could ease the uncomfortable feeling, but everything looks exactly the same as it always has. The colors of the walls down the hallway, the carpet in the lobby, even the way the morning light hits his face and has him squint his eyes remains familiar, unchanged.
His phone buzzes as he steps out into the slowly awakening city streets, the sun mostly hidden behind the buildings and casting large shadows down Bongcheon-ro 20-gil, only a few minutes’ walk to the 504 bus stop.
Yixing:
Hey I hope you’re feeling better, call me if you wanna talk about it
What?
Why?
I’m feeling fine what’s up?
Jongin then looks up from his conversation with Yixing, catching his reflection in the display window of a cafe and startles so hard he nearly drops his phone from the shock.
" Holy shit? "
The skin around his left eye is darkened by a bruise so big it spreads onto his temple and over his eyebrow. He touches it tentatively and really, he doesn’t know what he expected. It fucking stings. How did he not feel this when he woke up?
" What the fuck. "
He looks back down to his phone, confused.
Yixing:
Nevermind
What the fuck
Did I miss something?
What happened?
Yixing:
What no? I said nevermind.
Do you know how I got a black eye?
Yixing:
No idea
Maybe you fell during practice and you forgot?
Anyway see you friday
The 504 rounds the corner down the road and he jogs up to the bus stop, lining up to get in, still fucking confused and still feeling like something’s not quite right, not missing but added; something that shouldn’t be there. The weird sensation grows stronger.
It’s a thirty minutes ride from Sillim to Hangang-Daero in upper Seoul. He found a job at a family restaurant located in the main hall of Seoul Train Station, back when he’d just moved in the metropolis to study, and kept it despite the distance. He doesn’t think much of it, just like he doesn’t think much of most things. He’s not a spontaneous person, nor is he particularly adventurous. Seoul university students can’t afford to be spontaneous; a routine is the safest and probably the easiest way of going about your life when it’s already filled with loans and rent, responsibilities and uncertainties. He’s never missed a day of work; not by good will or strength of mind but really just because he can’t afford it.
As he walks down the station hall, the strange, overwhelming feeling spreads down to his limbs, making the tips of his fingers prickle and ants crawl up his shins. He’s conscious of every step he takes, the sound of his sneakers hitting the tiles reverberating in his ears, the din of the station tuned out into a buzz that echoes off of the high ceiling. He passes by the departure screen, not stopping, but his eye catches the Daejeon 7:35. It imprints his vision even when he adverts his gaze, after a fraction of a second only.
He looks at the time on his phone and starts running.
He runs and runs and rushes down stairs two by two, almost losing his balance, and runs again. He hears the short melody from the intercoms signalling the train will depart soon, he sees the open doors shake and start to close but he takes a literal leap of faith and the next moment he’s exhaling all the air in his body as the engine rumbles and the platform recedes until the station itself disappears. Jongin is not a spontaneous person yet there he is.
☀︎
" I don’t think I’ll be able to come in to work today… yeah I- no I don’t feel well… I know…yes I will… yes thank you. Alright. Thanks again. "
The cart is almost empty and Jongin is glad he can avoid the curious glares his bruised face would have attracted otherwise. He must look like a delinquent or just pretty pathetic, really. Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t show up to work in the end.
☀︎
What did I even come here for?
There’s nothing here. The streets are practically empty, the silence is thick, unwavering, and honestly Daejeon is fucking boring. Jongin has been walking aimlessly for an hour now, taking random turns when he feels like it, until he can only distinguish the busier part of the city from afar, skyscrapers in the distance standing out like sore thumbs from where he stands himself, surrounded by the slowly rusting tiled roofs and the polished wooden structures of the Hanoks. It’s without a doubt the quietest part of the city and there’s really, really nothing to do here. The streets climb up hill like meandering currents of a river, crossing and climbing onto each other. Soon he finds himself overlooking most of the city, not feeling like he accomplished anything concrete. What a waste of time.
When he turns at yet another intersection, there’s someone walking ahead of him down the street, but soon enough the silhouette disappears between two old houses. He catches up eventually and right there, between two ancient looking Hanoks, a steep rusty stairway goes down into a dead end, no one in sight. Gripping the rails tightly, he climbs down the stairs and at the end, on the wall, there are simple drawings in quick strokes, like painted by a child, and in the center, the words,
Are you happy?
← yes
no →
The no points to the wall, so it’s not like Jongin has a choice.
He turns towards the yes and his heart stops.
A young man stands only a few inches from him, like an apparition, expression as surprised as Jongin feels himself. His hair is short and neatly cut, and the sun soaks his irises into a bright brown that contrast against the white of his eyes as he stares, blinking once, twice. Without a word, he pushes past Jongin in the narrow alley and climbs up the stairs, and Jongin stares at the man’s retreating back, a thin green sweater clinging to his back with the effort. Jongin wipes a drop of perspiration off his temple. To his right, down the alleyway, the path ends in a dead end too.
☀︎
He has that look on his face, the one you give strangers you meet by chance for a second time in a too short period of time, with that half smile that says you’ve noticed and acknowledged it. Jongin has a hard time looking away, and he returns the smile with a short nod. It’s awkward at best, the air between them heavy for no reason.
Jongin starts to regret this impromptu trip even more than he previously had from the complete uselessness it had been. He missed a day of work for no motive other than a stupid hunch, a stupid feeling he had. Maybe he’ll be able to get an afternoon shift if he calls in on time. He can pretend he feels better. Maybe. The man is still looking at him and he wishes he hadn’t went at all. He wishes he’d chosen another returning train, at least, or another cart. He looks out the window at the landscape streaming past and wipes his palms on his jeans.
What’s his problem?
" That must’ve hurt. "
" I’m- What? I’m sorry? " Please, god, no.
" I said, it must’ve hurt. " The man repeats slowly, but his tone isn’t condescending, just direct, stating a fact. He makes a noncommittal gesture towards his own face.
Right. Jongin’s fingers touch the bruise under his eye as if trying to confirm it’s really what the man’s referring to. As if he could possibly mean anything else. The skin still stings with the contact.
" Huh, I- I guess? It hurts, yeah. "
Jongin doesn’t know why the man’s speaking to him. He’d never do that, he thinks. Address a stranger. He’s never been the best with people. He looks out the window again, in hopes they can leave it at that, but the man doesn’t seem satisfied with the few seats separating them as he stands up and chooses the seat right in front of Jongin’s, standing up on his knees to peek over the backrest.
" What did you do for someone to punch you this hard? Must’ve been pretty bad. "
His voice sounds even lower up close, within a comfortable hearing distance. It’s smooth and flows easily like water, Jongin thinks. He doesn’t even have to listen to hear.
" No I- well, I woke up this morning and it was there. I don’t know. "
" Wow. You must’ve been pretty drunk to even forget you got- "
" I’m sorry i’m…just going to… " He gestures to the window, taking out his earphones.
" Oh. " The man’s face falls. He kind of blushes a bit too, if Jongin saw correctly.
" Yeah. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. " He says. He looks embarrassed, but also surprised, brows furrowed in confusion. He sits back down on the seat in front of Jongin’s.
Fuck.
…fuck.
He can’t see him anymore but Jongin knows he’s there. He wanted to be left alone, but the silence, for the first time, is unbearable.
" Hey. "
He probably insulted the poor guy. He was just making conversation, nothing to deserve being shot down in this way.
" Hey, I’m sorry. I’m not really, I don’t know, good. With people. Sorry. "
Jongin sees the man’s head emerge as he stands, and, hesitantly, comes to sit down beside Jongin. He can see his face again. That makes him feel relieved, somehow. The man’s smiling, and he looks beautiful.
It’s stupid.
" I’m Jongin. " He says simply. He doesn’t know what else to do at this point, other than to introduce himself. Hopefully it’ll make him look a bit less withdrawn.
" Kyungsoo. " The man says. Kyungsoo. Jongin fights back a smile.
☀︎
They reach Seoul Station faster than Jongin expected. In fact, the train is right on time, but something had settled in his chest, like apprehension, right beside the weird feeling that hadn’t subsided since the morning. He wishes the ride had lasted just a while longer.
When he steps on the platform, he realizes he hadn’t called work to get his afternoon shift like planned. The station is noisy and crowded as usual. Kyungsoo looks at him with a sort of sadness in his eyes that Jongin’s never seen in someone, a bittersweet smile on his face that seems to say " so, this is it. "
" See you around, Jongin. "
It doesn’t really mean anything because they’ve just met, but he shivers from the force of the weight pressing down inside him. When will he stop falling for strangers on public transportation?
" Wait, Kyungsoo. " He feels his own shirt stick to his back, the early afternoon sun unforgiving as it hits his face. A drop of sweat runs down his temple again, but this time he doesn’t have the courage to move and wipe it off.
He just wants one more second.
" Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each prayer accepted and each wish resigned. "
" What? "
" Give me your phone. "
" Okay. " He says. It’s simple.
Jongin takes out his phone and hands it to Kyungsoo, who glances at him with a sincere smile. He hopes Kyungsoo didn’t notice his hand shaking.
" Let’s do something tomorrow, okay? "
" Okay. " He says again. He doesn’t think twice. He knows he has work, he knows he missed a shift that morning too, but he doesn’t even think one second about hesitating.
Later, in his empty apartment, Jongin sits crosslegged on his sofa-bed, in his boxers like every other day, but looking at his phone, there’s a text from an unknown number that breaks the familiarity. Something changed he thinks. Not something missing, but added; instead this time, it’s not out of place at all. He can’t look away, doesn’t dare lest the text disappears. The world changes with every blink, and he just can’t risk it.
Unregistered contact:
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.
That's from my favorite poem.
☀︎
Jongin doesn’t go to work the next day either, calling in sick again while trying to convince himself he’ll be able to live on Seven Eleven kimbap for a week. However, he doesn’t get any news from Kyungsoo until late in the afternoon. The text is expectedly short and direct.
Kyungsoo:
Meet me at Hongik Station.
There’s no specified hour and Jongin kind of panics.
Now??
He scrambles for a pair of jeans and just picks up his backpack from the day before, noticing he’s put on an unwashed shirt as he steps outside. There’s always just this much he can do properly, and in the end he lets it go and jogs to the subway station, his heart in his feet.
Kyungsoo stands amidst the crowd, immobile near exit 9, young couples and loud groups of friends bumping into him lightly as they go by. There’s always something interesting to do in Hongdae, loud pop music blasting out of trendy clothing shops and cafes, multicolored lights flashing loudly from the facade of noraebangs and clubs. The laughter mixes with the screams until they all sound the same in Jongin’s ears. It’s a common ambience in the metropolis, one Jongin knows without much being part of it. Kyungsoo stands in the middle of it all, just kind of there, blending in with the lot. His blue jeans are straight cut and his t-shirt is another shade of green compared to the day before. Jongin finds he doesn’t look otherworldly or even particularly special. He’s just another regular guy in Seoul, and this realization shakes Jongin with a strange pull of possessiveness.
Kyungsoo turns his way as if he knew.
" Hi " He says. Simple, still, and Jongin likes it because it’s directed at him. " Let’s go. "
Jongin isn’t adventurous, yet he follows Kyungsoo in a deep corner of Changcheondong until the boisterous laugh and shouts of the city subside.
" Here, follow me. " Kyungsoo whispers. He smiles like he’s up to something and Jongin follows. He watches Kyungsoo span over a barricade and climb up the emergency stairs of a towering apartment building.
" Is this where you live? "
" It’s not. Come on! " The stairs go up on the side of the complex to the rooftop, where it’s silent safe for the distant hum of the highway down below, somewhere not too far. The wind is stronger at that height, but the air is still warm. The sun is setting over the city, a sight Jongin has never seen in his entire life.
" Isn’t this trespassing? " He says without conviction.
" I guess? " Jongin looks down and Kyungsoo is sitting by the edge, legs dangling over the other side of the guard. He sits down too, resting his chin on his knees. The tip of his sneakers peeking over the edge is the most daring he feels he can be.
" What is this? An indie movie for troubled teenagers? "
Kyungsoo laughs, taking Jongin by surprise. It’s bright, honest. It’s simple like Kyungsoo has been from the start. Kyungsoo doesn’t look otherworldly even under the rays of the setting sun, but Jongin feels a bit more brave and shifts closer, his bare forearm touching Kyungsoo’s.
" Is green your favorite color? "
Kyungsoo laughs again. " No, not really. "
Eventually, the sun sets for good, but the city below their feet is still awake, bursting with the relentless energy of the seoulites, coming alive even more at night. Kyungsoo lies down, his legs hanging over the edge. He closes his eyes, his hands crossed over his stomach, the image strangely intimate to Jongin who’s still somewhat awkward with the whole situation.
He wants to touch Kyungsoo, desperately so. Instead, he lies down too, making sure the contact of their shoulders seems casual, and he refrains from extending his arm so their wrists would touch as well.
☀︎
When Jongin opens his eyes, the sun is up behind the high buildings of Seoul, and the sky is clear overhead. To his right, Kyungsoo has barely moved. He’s still lying down, his short fringe brushing his forehead with the wind, and his hand has reached out in his sleep until his knuckles are touching Jongin’s side over his shirt.
Kyungsoo wakes up a few minutes later, smiling and laughing lightly at Jongin’s confused expression. Jongin feels Kyungsoo’s fingers press further into his shirt before retreating, but he ignores the heat seeping through the fabric onto his skin. He ignores it, ignores it, ignores it. Kyungsoo offers to buy him breakfast since the unplanned night out had been his fault.
" I’ll just get a change of clothes first. " He says. Jongin needs one too but doesn’t mention it. They don’t talk much, and Jongin’s left stealing looks at the other man, who’s honestly so banal yet unfathomably unreal all at the same time, and it makes Jongin feel incredibly lucky to have found him, in a way.
They walk to Kyungsoo’s apartment building, located not too far from there, and Jongin insists on waiting outside. It’s too awkward, and he needs to breathe for a moment.
He waits by the door, exhausted and nervous and confused. He wonders what day of the week it is, hoping he’s not missing yet another work shift. He wonders what is it with Kyungsoo that captivates him.
" Can I help you? "
The stranger looks young despite his height. He’s dressed fashionably as all Hongdae kids ought to be, intimidating in the way he seems to not care about anything; aloof, yet confident. Jongin’s convinced he doesn’t look that much like crap, despite his black eye. It’s fading anyway, right? Hopefully when it’s gone people will stop randomly picking up conversations with him.
" What do you mean? "
" Do you need help with anything? "
" No… thanks? "
The guy looks at him intently.
" Are you sure? "
" Yes I’m sure, I don’t need anything, I’m just waiting for someone. Thank you though. "
" Okay then. Hum, yeah. Bye. " The stranger stares at him as he leaves.
Weird he thinks. Everything’s been a little weird recently.
☀︎
Yixing:
Hi Jongin
I know it’s been hard the last few days, but you need to go out man. Call me.
Jongin gets home at ten thirty. His apartment’s completely empty for the first time in months, but what hurts is how everything’s in its place. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be, the walls are bare and the dishes are clean, neatly put away in the kitchen cupboards. Everything’s the same and it’s so unfair that Kyungsoo’s already gone before he even had to erase him. Maybe he could leave it at that, he thinks. Maybe they can just go their separate ways. Maybe he’ll be able to forget eventually. He could work more, or study more, or go out more. Take up dancing again, like when he was in high school. That would help, wouldn’t it?
He glances at the medication bottle on his nightstand. The label reads Zopiclone. Take two tablets at exactly 11pm on day of appointment.
There’s no evading it. Jongin knows they’re already waiting outside the building. He saw a black van in the visitor’s parking lot and he knows it’s them.
This is it he thinks. He gets up, the two pills somehow cold in the palm of his hand. He pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down with the Zopiclone. Three steps toward his bed and he’s on the floor, asleep.
The show’s on, my friend! Let’s get to work!
☀︎
" I don’t know what to do! " His throat hurts. He doesn’t yell this much, usually. Ever. Fuck.
" I was so sick of this fucking argument, Yixing! "
" I know. I know Jongin, but- "
" I was willing, you know? I wanted to fucking fix it like he should be doing too, but no! He’s always so damn stubborn, I fucking hate it! I hate it so much! "
" I know you hate it- "
" I tried to call him after texting him for two days, and realized, that- that- " He sits down next to Yixing on his friend’s couch, breathing in. In again. After a deep exhale, he can’t even yell anymore. He’s so tired and his voice is trembling.
" That asshole, he changed his phone number without telling me. So I go see him at work, right? I was prepared to face him. He’s there, behind the counter. Oh god, he looks so beautiful, Yixing. I forgot what I wanted to say. I just stand there, and he looks at me then, he sees me- "
" Can I help you, sir? " Kyungsoo says. His smile is calculated, and he looks irritated at everything and everyone. " Are you looking for a movie in particular? "
Jongin is struck in place just as Kyungsoo averts his eyes. A young man comes up to the counter, and Kyungsoo smiles, big and bright and happy.
" Sehun! What are you doing here? I’m busy! " He doesn’t sound annoyed at all, even a bit playful. It’s a good thing Jongin doesn’t see the guy’s face. He watches him lean over the counter and doesn’t miss their hands linking together. He wants to throw up.
" Just checking on you. " He hears the guy say. " I’ll pick the movie for tonight. "
" Alright. " Kyungsoo’s still smiling, and Jongin has to leave. Now.
" Why would he do that to me? Did I deserve that? "
" I don’t think you did, Jongin. " Yixing says. His tone is cautious. " Take this as… as a sign? That it’s time for you both to go your own ways? Don’t fight for it if it only makes you sad, man. Is it worth it, at this point? "
" I… " Is it? Is it worth it?
They’re silent for a long time after that. Jongin cannot stop thinking no matter how much he wishes he could.
" Jongin, listen. " Yixing breaks the silence, voice unsure, like he’s weighting each word carefully. " I think… I think you should know this, after all. I didn’t want to tell you, but I don’t know what else to do. "
Jongin watches his friend stand up and disappear into his room, only to re-enter the living room a few seconds later, a yellow enveloppe in hand.
" I got this in the mail around three days ago… " He hands the enveloppe to Jongin. Inside, there’s nothing else than a small card with a few words printed on it.
Dear Mr Zhang Yixing
Do Kyungsoo has had Kim Jongin erased from his memory.
Please never mention their relationship to him again.
Thank you.
The card is signed EXOLOGY INC. with an address.
" I mean, who even uses the mail nowadays? But I looked them up and… "
He reads it again.
Dear Mr Zhang Yixing
has had Kim Jongin erased from his memory.
Please never mention their relationship to him again.
Thank you.
He blinks, blinks again, but the words are blurry.
" What the fuck is this? " He yells, straining his throat, and the itch makes him cough.
He looks down at the address. Apgujeong-ro, Gangnam.
Should be around here.
He looks at the floor guide. EXOLOGY INC. 9F
The doorman is eyeing him curiously, probably because he still has that horrible black eye. It clashes with the neat and proper atmosphere of Gangnam. His beat up sneakers and hoodie likely don’t help either, but he doesn’t care much.
The elevator opens on the ninth floor to a single door with the words EXOLOGY INC. printed just big enough to be noticed. The door leads to a waiting room with a few chairs. An old man is sleeping in a corner near the window, and a guy in a white coat, possibly younger than him, is sitting behind a desk, earpiece on and a big planner open over a pile of folders.
" No, unfortunately we’re full for the next two months… I know… I’m sorry sir but… I understand… Let me schedule you on… the… 4th. Is that okay? Alright. Yes. We’ll call you back. Can I help you? "
The receptionist doesn’t look up from his planner. Behind him, small cards are coming out of the printer, and he reaches over for the pile and starts stacking them in yellow envelopes.
" I have an appointment with hum- "
" Doctor Kim, yes. Please fill out the form and wait a moment, thank you. Exology, how can I help you? Of course Ma’am. It’s been approved today. You can come in tomorrow at two. We’ll see you soon. "
The walls are an ugly beige and the magazine on the table there dates back to 2002. The chair he sits on is made of plastic and one of the legs is wobbly. Christ. What kind of place is this? Is this really the richest neighborhood of Seoul?
" Sir? " It’s the receptionist. " Follow me. " They pass a series of corridors lined with framed photographs of various people smiling. " All clients. " the receptionist informs him. Promising. Their steps are muffled by the old greying carpeted floor. Everything in this place looks off in a way or another.
" I’m winning this round, Byun! That geezer’s been asleep on his chair for 46 hours! Only two more and it’s on you! "
" Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol. " The receptionist hisses. A tall man dressed in the same white coat rounds the corner and the receptionist slaps his palm on the man’s mouth. He looks over his shoulder at Jongin. " I’m sorry, sir. "
" Sorry. " The tall guy says between the receptionist’s fingers. " Sorry, Baekhyun. " Jongin can see the guy’s smile widen behind the receptionist’s hand. " I’m still winning though. In two hours you owe me what we talked about. " He adds in a low voice, but it’s not subtle at all and Baekhyun kicks him on the shin. At the end of the corridor, a closed door with a frosted glass window and another one, plain. Baekhyun knocks on the first one respectfully and enters, Jongin in tow.
" You shouldn’t have seen this card. I’m sorry, Mister… "
" Kim. Jongin. "
" My apologies, Mister Kim. " The man says. He’s young, too. Jongin briefly wonders how old this damn company is. He’s wearing the same white coat, but he seems more important. His nameplate reads Doctor Kim Joonmyun.
" You’re all impostors, right? This is a real fucking bad joke. "
" It’s not, sir. "
" It’s not. " Baekhyun adds, before leaving the office and closing the door behind himself, already answering his earpiece as he walks away.
" I can’t provide any proof as our records are confidential. But it’s true. It appears that- " Doctor Kim glances down at the folder in front of him. " Mister… Do, wasn’t happy, and wanted to erase the source of his pain. Move on, as they say. We, at Exology, provide that possibility. "
" We, at Exology, provide that possibility. What the hell does this mean? "
" I don’t know either, man. I thought it was a hoax at first, too. " Yixing says. Jongin watches him struggle to put his ankle behind his neck, following the demonstration of a yoga guru on television. " It’s probably legit, at this point, though. "
" Why would he even go to this extent? Why would he- " Why? Why would Kyungsoo want to forget him that badly?
Yixing gives up on the position, sitting straight and stretching his back. " You know how Kyungsoo is. Stubborn and all. He might have done it just to prove he was right, or something. "
To prove he was right? Fuck him. Jongin thinks. He walks up to the door and slams it with all his strength as he leaves his friend’s dorm room.
" Shit. " He ignores how his cheeks are wet from tears, how his head hurts. The bruise on his face still aches when he touches it.
" You’ll have to come back, Mister Kim. We’re extremely busy and you need an appointment, you can’t just- "
" I don’t give a fuck, I need to see Joonmyun now! "
" Sir, he’s with a client, please follow me back to the reception, sir- "
" What’s going on here? " Doctor Kim opens the door to his office, his features softening when he sees Jongin.
" I want the damn procedure today! "
" I’m so sorry, doctor, he just barged in and wouldn’t listen- "
" It’s alright, Baekhyun. Mister Kim, please calm down, I’ll be right with you. "
" But doctor, there are people waiting- "
" Thank you Baekhyun, " The man effectively ends the argument. " if you would kindly see Madam Lee out the door, Baekhyun. " An old woman emerges from the doctor’s office with small steps. She’s whimpering and clutching an antique doll to her chest. Baekhyun nods, holding her elbow as he guides her down the corridor. " There. Thank you, Baekhyun. Mister Kim, please sit down. " He gestures inside the office, welcoming Jongin in warmly. Jongin wants to hate him and all the people in this crazy clinic, but the doctor’s smile is disarming. A great business asset.
" The first step, Mister Kim, " Joonmyun says as he sits behind his desk. " is to go home, and gather everything you can find that has any connection to Do Kyungsoo. "
That’s his favorite shirt, though. It’s so soft.
" Everything. "
He throws it in a large garbage bag on top of other shirts, some socks. A pair of pants Kyungsoo had gifted him. He removes the posters on the walls of his living-bedroom. Posters of Kyungsoo’s favorite movies, most of them Jongin isn’t sure he’s seen himself; Matsumoto’s Funeral Parade of Roses, Gilliam’s Brazil. Peter Weir’s The Truman Show; he remembers that one kind of. He rips them all off the wall and puts them into the bag.
" These items will serve to create an emotional map of Kyungsoo in your brain. We’ll need things like clothes, "
He rips off the photobooth pictures of them from his fridge, and looking attentively, he throws out the magnets too, and the memos stuck to the side of the fridge and on the cabinets.
" photos, gifts, "
He lifts the entire pile of DVDs beside the desk that holds the TV and the DVD player, leaving out the Godfather trilogy that his dad had gifted him some time ago, and places it in a new plastic bag.
" objects that belonged to him or that you bought together. "
He picks up all the notebooks on the kitchen table, the heaps of storyboard papers, sketches, sticky notes with point-form lists of ideas Kyungsoo had forgotten there. So many things Jongin had been too scared to touch, because it would really mean the end. Kyungsoo’s presence in his life remained through the cluster of objects he’d left behind.
" You want to empty your home, and thus your life, of Kyungsoo. "
There’s the video camera, too. He inspects its state, blowing off the thin layer of dust covering it. After deliberation, he wraps it carefully in a bag and puts it with the rest.
" After the mapping is done, our technicians will proceed with the erasing, in the comfort of your home, tonight. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll find yourself in your bed, as if you’d never even met him. You’ll be ready to start a new, well deserved life. You’ll be able to move on. "
The doorman peers at him again as he almost runs through the automatic doors, dragging two large garbage bags and balancing a third one under his arm. When he finally reaches Exology’s office, he collapses on a chair in the waiting room. The old man near the window wakes up at the commotion, clears his throat loudly, looks around, and goes back to sleep. At the other end of the room, a young woman is sitting with a box filled with plastic toys and ruined dolls. A bowl displaying the word Candy sits on top.
" I’m so sorry Ma’am. It’s- it’s our policy. No, you can’t have the procedure done three times in a month. You’re back, Mister Kim! " Baekhyun looks at him and waves, as if they weren’t at each other’s necks a couple hours prior. Jongin smiles, just to be polite, but the receptionist is already back to his planner. " I’m sure it’s an emergency. Well- we could try to fit you at the end of July… "
" Mister Kim! " Joonmyun appears from the hallway, a wide, inviting smile on his face. Jongin nods as a way of greeting, feeling bad about the ruckus he caused earlier in the day.
He follows the doctor down the corridor and they reach his office just as the other door slams open. The tall man from the other day walks out, and behind him Jongin catches the sight of an elderly man strapped to a bizarre chair, tears streaks on his cheeks and mouth open in a silent cry.
" That guy’s good, going great. I’ll be done in a few minutes. "
" Thank you, Chanyeol. Mister Kim, this is our technician, Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol this is Kim Jongin, your patient for tonight. "
" Hey man, sorry about the other day. Let’s work well together! " He says with a laugh, showing all his teeth. He grabs Jongin’s hand and shakes it hard.
" Sure, hum, yeah, likewise. " Jongin answers, uncertain if Chanyeol’s being serious.
As he completes the few protocol checkups in his office, Joonmyun briefly explains to Jongin the basic rundown of the operation. Most of it goes over his head, but what he gets is that it’s similar to a chain reaction; the emotional core of the memory is destroyed and with it all associated memories collapse as well.
" Is there any risk of brain damage? " Jongin asks, just as a precaution.
Joonmyun’s face falls, and it’s the first time he doesn’t appear completely sure of himself. Not a good sign.
" Well, technically speaking… the entire process is brain damage. " The doctor answers with thoughtfully chosen words. " It’s nothing to fret over, though, no worries. Kind of like a hard night drinking. Nothing you’ll miss. " He takes out an old recorder and sets it on his desk, in full sight. Jongin looks at it with uneasiness. The little red light glares at him, reminding him of that one Kubrick movie Kyungsoo had showed him. The one in space, with the monkeys and stuff. It’s bone chilling.
" My name is Kim Jongin, 23 years old, and I’m here to erase Do Kyungsoo. " He follows the script. The doctor explains it serves as a sort of indemnification against lawsuits and any possible problems and that could arise from the process, which, he thinks, is legitimate enough.
" Tell me about Kyungsoo, Jongin. How did you meet him? "
He looks down at his hands, realizing thinking about it doesn’t hurt. He’s too angry, he’s over it. He’s over Kyungsoo. He doesn’t regret doing this.
" It was a little over a year ago. I used to be part of a dance group, back in high school, but I quit eventually. My close friend Yixing never stopped though, and he takes part in lots of dance and talent shows around the country. There’s this one event he and his crew were the frontrunners for, but he needed a sub and I went to help him out.
The venue was in Daejeon, on the outskirts of the busier part of the city, and I met Kyungsoo there. He was in charge of documenting the night for the producers. Film the thing, interview a couple people, put together some cuts of people singing and dancing, you know? Movies, documentaries, acting; he’s into all that stuff. "
The interview takes about a good fifteen minutes, after which Jongin is led into the other room where the technician, Chanyeol, is working on the machines and computers scattered all around the operation chair. As Jongin sits down, Joonmyun lowers a metallic circular helmet-like structure over his head.
A knock on the door echoes in his ears. The door opens and the doctor reaches out for a large box. " Thank you Sehun. " He hears. He doesn’t see the guy’s face. " That’s our intern, Sehun. He works really hard. A good kid. " Joonmyun says. Okay. Jongin doesn’t know where to look. " He’s an annoying fuck. " He hears Chanyeol say. " Don’t be like that. He’s full of good intentions. " " Whatever. "
" Alright. So we’re just tracing the map here. I’ll show you different items you brought us and all you have to do is reminisce on them. Shut up and think is what I mean. Let’s get started. " Chanyeol traces some lines over his temples and forehead.
" We’ll dispose of all that junk after we’re done. " Joonmyun adds with a good natured smile. " Just in case. "
" What do we do with his black eye there, doc? Isn’t he gonna freak out tomorrow when he sees it? "
" It’s nothing serious. He’ll probably assume he got it while partying, which isn’t far from the truth. All kids these days drink and get into fights, it’s not that hard to believe. "
Chanyeol laughs. " You speak as if you’re fifty. "
Jongin feels his palm sweating on the armrests. His head feels heavy and his vision is tunnelling, as if he’s slowly being removed from the scene. The voices he hears all sound far away, muffled like he’s listening from the other side of a door.
" First item. " Chanyeol says. A ticket for a Jeju-do ferry ride. Oh yeah.
" Okaaayyy second item. " A small trophy for a dance contest.
" Great, now third item. " A poster for a movie premiere.
" Great, now third item. " A poster for a movie premiere. That was when-
" You’re doing great- "
The room is getting warmer and warmer, and it’s hard to breathe. The voices are getting mixed up, an incessant beeping growing louder and louder and louder-
What the fuck, I told you to go slow! You’re gonna roast his brain!
S- Sorry
Just- just turn the dial slowly…
" …done three times in a month. You’re back, Mister Kim! " It’s Baekhyun, welcoming him. He sits down and the old man leaning on the window wakes up with a start. He stands up and makes his way to the doctor’s office. Empty. Weird. He walks to the operation room.
" You’re there! I thought we were gonna do the mapping today. " He says to Joonmyun but the man doesn’t look at him. " Doctor Kim? "
" We’ll dispose of all that junk after we’re done. Just in case. "
" You already told me that- " He looks at the chair but he’s already sitting. Oh, right. They already did the mapping. It went well, better than he thought it would.
" You’re back, Mister Kim! " He turns around and Baekhyun smiles at him, sitting in a corner of the room, behind the reception counter. Behind him, the printer is still producing the small cards. Baekhyun’s a good guy, Jongin thinks. He doesn’t seem to be mad about earlier.
The door opens and he sees himself walk into the room. " You’re there! " He hears himself say.
" Doctor? What’s going on? " His heart is beating too fast. " Doctor? " This isn’t normal. He’s having a hard time breathing again. Was the operation room this small before? He feels his heart pumping into his head-
For fuck’s sake Sehun! I said slow! His heartbeat’s all over the charts!
I did it like you told me!
Don’t touch anything for now-
" Sehun " Sehun. Where did he hear that name before?
His phone vibrates on his bed, the buzz muted by the covers.
Kyungsoo:
Are yuo comng
He looks at the previous text, sent a couple hours prior.
Kyungsoo:
There’s a party at Jongdae’s to celebrate the end of the semester. I know you still have exams but you should take a break. It’s at 10.
Someone bumps into him, beer spilling on his white t-shirt. The music sucks and the bass reverberates inside his skull. Jongin fucking hates parties. In the kitchen, Kyungsoo’s leaning against the counter, a beer in hand. Minseok and Jongdae are there too, but the music’s too loud for Jongin to hear anything they’re saying. Kyungsoo looks up at him and smiles, his eyes forming crescents. He’s beautiful, with his shorter hair. He’d gotten it cut the day before, but they hadn’t seen each other until then. Jongin wants to kiss him, and feel Kyungsoo’s fingers pressing into his waist.
Ah. That’s the last time I saw you.
" Jongin! " Kyungsoo’s voice is slightly slurred, and despite his discomfort, Jongin smiles back.
" Guys, this is Jongin. " They know. He thinks. We saw each other once before.
" He’s- "
There’s a moment of hesitation, but from an outsider’s point of view it could appear as a drunk’s attempt at organizing his thoughts. Jongin knows it’s not. The same thing happens all the time, even when there isn’t any alcohol involved.
" He’s my good friend. Jongin this is…. Minseok and Jongdae, my partners from school. " I know. Kyungsoo leans on him, his hand on Jongin’s shoulder. Jongin hates it.
" Don’t touch me. "
" What? " Kyungsoo’s head snaps up. " What the fuck’s your problem? "
The door slams behind him. It’s always the same story.
" He’s my good friend? Really? " Kyungsoo follows him into the living room, and throws himself on the sofa-bed. Without the music and the chatter and the whole set-up, Kyungsoo just looks ridiculous, slurring and stepping on his own feet. Jongin is tired.
" Calm down, Jongin. Y’know I don’t… mean it… let it go… " Kyungsoo says into the pillow.
" Look at me! " He yells and Kyungsoo jumps in surprise, eyes wide.
" I’m fucking tired of going along with whatever you want! I’m tired of you shoving me to the side and taking me back whenever you feel like it! "
" You can’t say that! " Kyungsoo screams back. His words aren’t slurred anymore. He stands up and even though Jongin’s much taller, he feels so, so small. He’d always feel smaller next to Kyungsoo.
" You can’t tell me what to do! You agreed! You’re breaking your promise! "
" I don’t give a fuck! " Jongin screams, his voice breaks. " You’re a selfish asshole! Everyone always has to do everything you want but I’m fucking sick of it! "
Kyungsoo walks up to him and he doesn’t falter in his step, doesn’t hesitate a moment before punching Jongin straight in the face. The impact has him stumble and fall on his back in the hallway. Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide as he looks at him.
" Get out! " Kyungsoo flinches as Jongin holds his bruised face in his hand, screaming for him to leave. " I don’t want to fucking see you again! "
" Jongin- "
Got it! Aaaand It’s gone.
Part 2