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#I've written about 96 stories in total loool
jimlingss · 3 years
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the end.
➜ Words: 31k
➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst
➜ Summary: It’s been a habit of yours to vent in the form of love letters. There’s six in total. They’re kept secret, hidden in your closet. But on your 30th birthday, what you least expect is for each letter to become reality. All done by the whacky ghost of Christmas future trying to grant your birthday wish.
➜ Notes: Loosely inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before
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The end is nearly here.   You spare a glance at the clock on the wall before your hands continue to sprint across the computer keyboard. It’s another late night at the office — lower back aching, eyes burning from the screen, third cup of coffee by your side. The only thing that’s keeping you sane is knowing that each minute that ticks by is a minute closer to you getting out of here.   Your wish is eventually granted when the document’s finished and you’re able to click save.   “Heading out too, Y/N?”   Your coworker’s securing her purse over her shoulder as you stand and stretch from your cubicle. “Yeah, I think so. I managed to finish the report I was working on just now.”   “They’re working us like we’re dogs,” she sighs in exasperation. “This is the fourth time this week we’ve had to stay until nine. It’s getting ridiculous. I can’t wait until next week.”   “What’s next week?”   “The Fresno branch is closing, remember?” she says, and you blink owlishly, not sure how that affects you at all. Your brain is beyond singed at this point to figure it out yourself, but she spares you when she quickly elaborates, “We’re getting a bunch of new transfers — at least that’s what I heard. But you know what that means? We get to share the work, so that’ll be a lot less work for us.”   “Oh, that makes sense.”   The older woman takes her coat with her as her wrinkled eyes sparkle. “We can dump everything to the newbies and finally relax, Y/N. Up for sneaking out for a mid-day spa retreat?”   You laugh. “Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”   It seems like the others are finished with their work as well. By the time you’ve shut off the computer and gathered your belongings, the office is being closed up and some lights flicker off.   “Hey Y/N,” someone else calls. A group of your colleagues linger at the entrance. “You wanna go out for a drink? We’re thinking of heading down the street to Dog World for their happy hour.”   A faint smile tugs on your features, but you shake your head. “It’s alright. I’m a bit tired, so I think I’ll call it an early night, but thank you.”   Even though you looked forward to the work day being over, the trip home is even more exhausting. Luckily, the train ride is short. You keep to yourself, leaning against the windows, looking out at the night city view that whisks past in a mosaic of blurry colours. The walk to the apartment doesn’t take long either. It’s brisk and you enjoy the cool air against your cheeks.   When you finally get inside, you toss the keys onto the counter and kick off your shoes.   Usually, you’d head straight for the shower and change into comfortable pajamas. Or, if you’re hungry enough, you’d eat something quick while watching the news that would eventually fade into the background. But today is special.   Today, you beeline straight for the fridge.   You take the cake box out and set it onto the counter. You had picked it out and bought it at the grocery store earlier in the week — a vanilla funfetti cake without design but a few rainbow sprinkles on top of the white icing.   At this age, birthdays aren’t really a big deal.   You didn’t bother telling your coworkers. It’s not like you could sneak it into a casual conversation and even if you did, you didn’t want to stand there awkwardly for their congratulations. They wouldn’t sing for you either and god forbid they did. But you did get a phone call from your mom earlier, a few messages from friends living far away, and an obligatory text from your cousin.   Still, even if there’s no one physically here, you want to celebrate your birthday by yourself.   You open the kitchen drawer for candles, scrambling through elastic bands and oven mitts. But you come up empty. You search through the next drawer and a cupboard, but with little success.   On the search for candles, you head to the closet in the hall. It’s where you store your mop, vacuum and a bunch of other belongings. You’re sure you have candles somewhere in this place — and you’re not wrong. You spot a small box of them on the top shelf.   On the tips of your toes, you reach for them. You manage to snag them by the tips of your fingers. But as you swipe them down, another box that was haphazardly thrown by the corner edge comes tumbling down.   It nearly hits your head. But you dodge with a sharp inhale. The lid flips off.    And the contents are spilled across the floor.    There are six envelopes.    But they’re all different, from their colour to their time periods. There’s one with a swallow bird sticker, another in a blush pink envelope, one that’s a baby blue square envelope no doubt taken from a card store, and another has gel pen doodled hearts on the front.   They’re your old love letters. Letters that you never intended to send, but just for you to vent your feelings. They’re no less than diary entries but in the form of love letters.   And you scoff lightly with a smile, quickly coming to collect them as nostalgia hits you hard.   To the one who’s taken my heart,   I like you, so so so much. I don’t think you’ll ever know just how much. I think about you all the time and I wish you thought about me too but I know you don’t—   You stop reading when the cringe becomes too much, and you fold the letter again to slip it back in its envelope. But as much as it provides you second-hand embarrassment now, you remember those days. When you were so overwhelmed with your feelings. When the world felt so rose-coloured. When you didn’t know what to do with yourself. When you were excited to wake up every single morning in the hopes you’d see them — whoever it was at the time.   Now, the silence of your apartment seems even more deafening.    You’re alone.   You bring everything over to the small coffee table in your living room — cake, letters, a wine glass and bottle. You pour yourself an entire glass and gulp down a mouthful of the dry wine before placing a single candle in the center of the small cake.   The lighter sparks with a single flick of your thumb against the wheel. You light the tip of the candle.    In the darkness of your apartment and the street lights casting dimly through the windows, the tiny flame glows warmly against your features.   “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Y/N…” you murmur the song to yourself, singing quietly for no one else but your own ears. “Happy birthday to you.”   You take another long sip of the red wine, letting your body become warm under the intoxication. The six letters are discarded by your side — six of them — six different people who probably don’t even remember who you are, much less know that you still think of them.    And the biggest irony of all is that you’re ultimately alone. None of these six people, who you liked enough to write a letter about, are with you. You wasted it all. Your time. Your affections.   Thirty years of your life has come and gone, and you haven’t had a real, meaningful relationship.   Thirty whole years. And not a single person you can call yours.   You finally blow out the flickering candle and make your single wish.    It’s murmured through timidly parted lips, the one hope you have, a singular ache that can be summed into five words—   “I wish I wasn’t alone.”   The smoke rises. You drink, eat your cake, and spend your birthday by yourself.   Eventually, you pass out drunk on the sofa. The cake is half-eaten, wine bottle half-finished, your glass fallen by your side, empty with any remaining drops stained on your lips. The exhaustion of the day, of the entire week, washes over you and you snore, chest rising and falling, dreaming of better days and nights. You sleep so soundly that—   “Y/N.”   There’s a soft, distant call of your name through a silken, smooth voice. It reminds you of someone trying to coo an infant awake. It’s such a delicate tone. It’s nice. Soothing.   “Y/N.”   You stir as the sound becomes louder and your brows furrow for a second. You’re too crippled by exhaustion, so you ignore the noise in hopes it’ll go away and you can continue sleeping.   “Y/N.”   But thrice is enough for your lashes to flutter, for your eyes to open in slight annoyance. And the moment your pupils land on the thing in front of you, your tired yawn is broken by a bloodcurdling scream.   He— the thing— whatever it is, winces. And then the corner of its, his—, mouth curls into a sweet smile.   “Hi.”   The single syllable is spoken almost breathlessly. Faintly.   You’re shocked sober and you gawk. It’s a him. A handsome man in dark pants and a cozy brown coat, but his entire body, from the top of his head to his toes, he’s translucent. Like some kind of ghost.   The ghost-like man gazes at you.   There’s a held silence.   Then you shake your head. You shut your eyes again and sink back into the sofa. “This is a dream.”   “It’s not,” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open again.   Oh fuck. Since when did people, ghosts, things in dreams respond to you?!    You’re not a lucid dreamer. This isn’t normal. “What are you? The ghost of my Christmas past?!” You look at him skeptically, scrambling back as if that’s enough to protect yourself.   “Not quite.” He grins, sheepish brown eyes glimmering with mischief. “I’m Seokjin. But you can just call me Jin. I’m here to grant your birthday wish.”   There’s another pause. You’re not sure you heard right. “My birthday wish?”   “Yes, siree! I heard it loud and clear and I’m here to answer your prayers! Think of me like a birthday fairy or something like….your guardian angel?”    His plump lips make the perfect ‘u’ shape and his cheeks, reminiscent of bread, puff out. When he tilts his head, some baby hairs from his black, styled hair fall in front of his forehead. At this moment, he looks more cute than handsome. But there’s no time to admire his appearance.   You’re taken off guard, speechless and blank.   The one brain cell in your brain works hard to try to understand what’s going on. But it’s starting to die from over exhaustion and your mouth ends up uttering the same thing like a broken record—    “My….birthday wish?”   “You don’t want to be alone, right?” Seokjin grins again. “I can grant that for you. I can alter your life however you want.”   Suddenly, the six envelopes fly off the table towards him and he snags them in mid-air. He looks at you shrewdly and mischievously. “You can be with any of your lovers.”   You sputter on your own spit. “They weren’t my lovers!”   “Not yet.” Jin winks. “Tonight, that changes.”   Instantaneously, you get onto your feet and step back, mortified by those words, like he’s about to do something. You’re not sure what. But one thing’s for sure— “I’m not going anywhere!”   Jin sighs with his mouth still upturned, and he dramatically pinches the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”   In a panic, you grab the first thing in reach. Your table lamp. And you point it at him. Menacingly, or at least you try to be.   Jin just looks amused. “What are you going to do with that?”   “I’ll throw it at you.”   He points. “It’s still connected to the outlet.” Shit. “And it’ll go through me anyway.”    “I-I’ll call the police on you!” you spit out frantically. “I’ll tell them there’s an intruder in my apartment!”   He quirks his head to his shoulder and crosses his arms. “How will they arrest me if you’re the only one who can see me? They’ll think you’re a nutjob.”   Your breaths pull in and out from your lungs and you take your right hand to pinch the skin of your left arm that’s still holding the lamp. It hurts.   “I already said this wasn’t a dream,” Jin pipes up as he’s watching you. He looks like he’s holding back laughter. “We already established that, remember?”   Slowly, you set the lamp down. He looks at you, expecting you to concede. But then you turn around and try to bang your head against the wall. Lightly. But enough to make an impact. Whether that’ll make your hallucination go away or you’ll be put into a coma, it doesn’t matter.    But what you’re left with is a small bruise on your forehead and Seokjin, your so-called guardian angel, still standing in the middle of your living room judging you with an incredulous expression.   He sighs. “Look, you’re just going to have to trust me. I’m the ghost of Christmas-whatever future and I’ve seen what’s in store for you.” He points at your face, right between your eyes. “I’m saving you from having to spend the rest of your pathetic life alone, so really, you should be thanking me.”   He waits — as if expecting for you to actually thank him.   Instead, you mutter to yourself. “I must’ve gone crazy.”   You wonder if this is all a hallucination or if your wine was spiked with some kind of drug.   “Yeah, well, you’re about to drive me nuts too.” Jin softly exhales and shakes his head. “Always the overthinker, aren’t you, Y/N? You can never enjoy anything without souring it for yourself but fear not! I’m here to make it all better.”   With a grin, he fans out the six envelopes and plucks one out. “This one!”    It’s satin black. Nameless. The flap still open.   Time suspends and a violent wind suddenly whips through the strands of your hair. It howls, a whirlwind storm that tears the air away from your lungs as you sharply inhale. You watch as the love letter burns in the air. The corners morph into shades of tangerine and crimson, curling and singing before the ash crumbles off and floats there. The world around you begins to transform, the apartment washing away like watercolours on an empty, white canvas. Everything whisks past in a mosaic of blurry colours, reminding you of being on a bullet train that’s darting to some place else.    “Where are you taking me?!” you shout above the noise. “What’s happening?”   “You’ll see.” Jin holds your gaze and smiles. “I’ll make any of these a reality for you.”   You want to curse him, demand answers, and escape all at once. But the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pitched scream as the gust becomes so harsh, you can barely open your eyes. You try to cover your face with your arms, but it’s a mistake. You lose balance and fall back onto your ass.    At the same time, two things register.   One. You’re no longer in your apartment — you’re in an office.   White walls, glass everywhere, windows enormous. The clock on the wall reads ten thirty at night and the unfamiliar place is modern, sleek and pristine. It’s nothing like the office you work at which is warm toned, carpeted and cozier.   Two. Your ass hurts. It throbs with any movement.   This realization rejects both your theories. This definitely isn’t a dream, and you aren’t just hallucinating. You’re not in your small apartment anymore, tucked into the living room space.    This is all real.   Your shock and approaching meltdown are interrupted by the ghostly man who’s leaned over with eyes enlarged. “Are you alright?” You blink back at him without answer and he offers his hand out.    You take it. His translucent skin feels cool and light against yours, without much weight or any discernible texture. It’s as if at any second, he could suddenly no longer be tangible or visible to you.   You stagger back up again. “Where the hell am I?!”   Jin hums and looks around inquisitively.    Then, he shrugs. “I don’t know.”   “What do you mean ‘I don’t know?’,” you spit at him. You were just kidnapped from your own home by some magical ghost guardian who thinks he’s the funniest person in the room and he doesn’t know where he brought you?!   You’re about to give into the urge and scream. But then you hear a familiar voice coming from the other end of the room—   It’s your own.   It feels like you’re having an out-of-body experience and maybe you are because you see yourself. Dressed in a black power suit, heels clacking against the white-tiled floors, hair drawn back into a swinging ponytail. Behind you, there’s a younger girl in a pencil skirt trying to keep up with your strides.   You step back, brows furrowed, shock overtaking your frame.   You look at yourself in the suit and then to the ghostly man beside you. “W-Who the hell is that?”   Jin’s eyes glimmer and the corner of his plump lip curls. “By the looks of it, it’s you.”   “What’s that supposed to mean? How’s that me? I-I’m me.”   “You could say we’re in something like an alternate timeline, a possible option you can choose from. So technically, it is you. Another version of you. And a you that you can become, if you want.”   You barely manage to grasp onto what he’s saying, but you quickly turn back to the you in the power suit who’s so different in the way she’s dressed, the way she looks, and the way she presents herself, that it’s almost like it’s no longer you. Another version of yourself, huh?   It’s surreal.   For one, you didn’t know your ass could look so good in a power suit.   Jin must notice as well since he tries to whistle lowly and comments, “Damn, you look so good.”   You flash him a scandalized expression. “Don’t check me out.”   He laughs and puts his hands up. “Hey, it’s technically you, but also not you.”   The you in the power suit— she — doesn’t notice you. She beelines straight through your body and you stumble back with a gasp, looking down at your hands in dread. It’s translucent.   “Don’t worry,” Jin reassures. “She can’t see you and you can't do anything.”   “This isn’t permanent, right?”   He grins. “Not for you, it isn’t.”   With that assurance in mind, you follow after her, passing straight through the wall as if it wasn’t there and entering a huge office. There are two cream sofas and a mahogany coffee table taking up space by the entrance, the window at the back stretched for the entire wall, and the floor and desk are made of marble.   Boss-Y/N grabs her fur coat off the corner hanger and begins to put it on.   The younger girl presses on the bluetooth earpiece in her left ear and confirms, “The chauffeur’s waiting in the lobby, ma’am.”    “Rearrange my schedule for me, will you? I want the morning to be cleared up.”   “Right away.” The assistant scribbles furiously on her clipboard and when she’s done, she eases into a smile. “Congratulations again on your birthday, ma’am.”   She takes her Birkin onto her arm and she sighs with a soft smile. “Well, I’m not so sure I’m happy to be turning thirty.”   “That’s not old at all,” the assistant reassures.   “You don’t think my wrinkles are starting to show?”   “Not at all!”   She has a slight mischievous glint in her eyes, seemingly satisfied with the compliment. “Good. If my skin care regiment isn’t working, then I would have to start suing some folks. God knows it costs an arm and a leg.”   “I can arrange that for you,” the assistant quips and grins as she does. “Do you have any birthday plans?”   “Well, I’m just heading home first.” Her heels clip-clop against the ground as she makes her way to the door. “Then I’m going to dinner with Yoongi.”   “Yoongi?” The soft whisper escapes your lips, brows furrowing hard. There’s no way—   “It’s the first time that workaholic is taking a break from running that hedge fund of his,” she continues, and you follow after them as they stride down the office floor. “I had to fight tooth and nail for it.”   The assistant smiles, eyes sparkling with slight envy. “I’m sure your husband will appreciate it.”   Boss-Y/N returns the smile. “Hopefully.”   “I hope you have a good night, ma’am.” The assistant presses the elevator button and the door parts. “Out of all of us, you deserve it.”   The you in the suit steps inside the elevator, appreciation evident on her features. “Take it easy too.”   The doors shut and the assistant turns on her toes to get back to her desk. You’re left behind with Seokjin next to you.    The corners of his mouth are upturned, and he glances at your expression. “Looks like you became successful. Whoever this Yoongi guy is, he must’ve helped you out.”   “This is impossible,” you spit, spinning to face him straight on. “Yoongi- Yoongi was an older senior at the internship I had when I just finished college. I was like….what? Twenty two?”   “Did you date?” he asks, curious.   You scoff, quickly shaking your head. “No.” Your voice softens, “He was too intimidating for that. I just had a crush on him.”   Yoongi worked in a different department than the one you were assigned to, but you saw him enough to know he was no-nonsense and strict. He even berated another intern for a mistake one time, and you recall ducking your head and getting out of the hall fast. Not to mention, he was thirty at the time — established, experienced — and you were barely into your mid-twenties.    You felt worlds apart from him.   But you always admired his worth ethic and ambition. He was someone reliable. Loyal. Yoongi accomplished what you had envisioned for yourself, and you respected him and the way he carried himself. You still remember watching him in the background during meetings, during presentations, or when he would pass by your desk. He was an all around stand-up guy.    “You had a big enough crush on him to write a whole love letter,” Jin comments with a brow raise.   You lightly scoff. “It’s not like I was ever going to give it to him. I was just...stressed and I had to vent out my feelings. It was nothing serious.” You exhale, voice quieting. “I just really admired him.”   “Well, looks like if you had given him that letter, this would’ve been the reality. The two of you make for an ambitious couple,” Seokjin muses, looking around the modern office one more time before he holds his hand out in front of you.    You look back at him. “What?”   Jin smiles. “Well, you want to see what happens next, right?”   He’s right. You do want to see what happens. The curiosity of this adventure has long surmounted any fears. But you still hesitate lifting your arm and slipping your hand inside Seokjin’s. Eventually, when you do, you shut your eyes tightly and your body goes rigid.   You’re unaware of Seokjin’s amused smile. Not when you’re bracing yourself for another stormy wind.    But when nothing happens, you peel your eyes open and find yourself standing in a penthouse.   Immediately, a gasp pulls through your lips. If you thought the office was fancy, then this place was on a whole nother plane of existence. Marble floors and white columns. Golden curtains and rugs. Porcelain vases and display cabinets. Crystal chandeliers hanging from high ceilings.   Everything oozes of wealth, extravagance and luxury.   You lurch towards the glass windows overlooking the heart of New York. The windows take up the entire wall without a single smudge, so clean it looks like you could fall straight through. At the same time, with the penthouse being so high up, the night view of the city isn’t obstructed by the surrounding skyscrapers. You even spot the Empire State building in the distance.   The twinkling lights reflect back into your irises.    The mosaic of colours blur together — car lights, street lamps, stop lights, incandescent bulbs inside office buildings and apartment rooms. The view is absolutely breathtaking.   Slowly, you turn around, meeting Seokjin’s gaze. “This...is my place? Am I really this rich?”   His mouth is tugged, having watched your reaction. “Looks like it.”   Just then, your eyes wander, and your feet scatter over to the white marble fireplace. Above the mantle hangs a wedding picture of you and Yoongi. You can’t believe it’s you — looking past your lashes with a shy smile, dressed in a white ballgown with a translucent veil draped over your shoulders and behind your frame. And Yoongi has his arms wrapped around you. He’s clad in a tuxedo, dark hair styled, and an infectious, gummy smile stretched into his tender cheeks.   He’s as handsome as you remember him as.   “Did he really influence me to become so successful?” you murmur in wonderment, still staring up at the perfect picture. “My life...here, it’s just so different.”   The both of you seem to be such a young and successful pair. A power couple. Like all the people you read about in the magazines that you envy.    It’s a dream.   “You’d be surprised at how people influence each other,” Jin hums and you turn to him.    “Why are you doing this? What am I supposed to do with all this information?”   “Think of it as window shopping,” he says simply, “You get to choose who you want to be with. This just happens to be one of the options.”   You’re not sure if you want to believe Seokjin, but he hasn’t been wrong so far. Any of his claims, he’s proven it right in front of your eyes. “Can you really make all of this real?”   He smiles again. “If that’s what you want.”   The elevator doors part. And she emerges with a long sigh and her hair looking more disheveled. She puts her purse down and calls out— “Yoongi?”   Silence answers.   She frowns. “Must be traffic,” she mutters and walks over to her open kitchen.   You watch as the you in the power suit opens the fridge and pours herself a glass of red wine. A small smile comes onto your face as you muse that some things never change.   “Alexa. Turn on something classical,” she says and the device on the island counter whirls blue before turning on an elegant piano piece that fills the penthouse.    In the meanwhile, you continue looking around — at the ornate decorations, pictures, to marveling at how high the ceilings are and how amazing the view is. Then, both you and the alternate you turn your heads when the elevator door dings, signalling someone’s arrival.   You watch as she steps forward, eyes brightened with what you only guess is the expectation and excitement that her husband will appear. But instead, it’s the old doorman.   “Ma’am, you have a delivery.”   He hands her a bouquet of flowers and she sets down her wine glass to take them, arms becoming overwhelmed with how massive it is. It nearly covers her entire face. “Thank you.”   He bows his head and turns back into the elevator, taking his leave. The doors close.   You follow after her in awe. It’s a large bouquet of perfect red roses with fully bloomed petals, practically overflowing. It looks like something straight out of a movie and there’s at least a hundred of them.   She sets them down on the counter and plucks a black card lodged inside the bouquet.   You read over her shoulder and you’re taken aback by the single word handwritten on it—   Sorry.   You wince when she suddenly crumples the note in her hand, and she interrupts the calming classical piano piece with a wavering voice. “Alexa. Call Min Yoongi.”   It repeats, “Calling.” And then it dials.   The ringing lasts for a whole twenty seconds, long enough that the anticipation swells in the pit of your stomach but finally, it’s picked up.    A deep, husky voice comes from the other side. “Hello? Y/N?”   You turn to her and she waits in bated breath before a staggering exhale escapes her. Her arms wrap around herself, cradling her body and she steps towards the windows to look at the view. She’s shrouded in the darkness of the living room, barring the dim light coming from the kitchen which merely outlines her frame.   The you in this world is surprising. You’re wealthy, fierce, someone’s boss. But in this moment, you’re met with a much more familiar sight. Someone you recognize more as yourself.   Her voice cracks when her lips part— “Why are you not coming home?”   Yoongi sighs for an extended moment. There’s nothing but silence that follows.   “I’m sorry,” he eventually murmurs. “I can’t make it. I’m held up here. I have to finish before I get home.”   “This happens every day,” she says, louder, angrier.    “It’s not like I can change it.”   You watch yourself, the glistening in your eyes, the downturn of your lips and the furrow of your brows. She’s hurt and she whispers, “You’re barely home, Yoongi.”   “I know. I promise after this project, there'll be more time.”   “You say that every time!”   “That’s not true.”   “What about when you finished the Taiwan trip?” She turns to look at the black device on the kitchen counter, as if that could substitute for looking at him, for him being there and talking to her in person. “What about the whole shareholder meeting at the end of March?!”   Yoongi’s breathing is heard on the other line. He’s quiet. “I’m sorry.”   She crumples, placing her face within her hands, entire form trembling. “I don’t want to fight. I-I don’t want to blame you. I’m just...upset. You promised we would spend my birthday together. We made a deal. Did that mean nothing to you?”   Her voice quivers and there’s another long silence.   “I don’t know what I can do.”   “You can come home.”   Yoongi sighs. “I can’t.”   “I barely see you, Yoongi. I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” she admits in a murmur, downcast eyes staring at the floor. She comes over to the sofa and collapses down, still holding herself. “I’m so...tired. I’m so tired of having to keep up with you.”   Yoongi’s voice is gentle and he coaxes his wife, “Just wait a little longer.”   “For what? So, we can finally have kids?”   He exhales an entire breath. “Y/N, we already talked about this.”   “I want to settle down, Yoongi. I want to make a home.”   “We’re still young. We have time and business is not steady enough yet but—”   “It’ll never be steady enough!”   “Y/N.” A pause. He’s about to say something. She sits on the edge of the seat, waiting too, looking up into the kitchen with anticipation. But it never comes. “I have to go.”   “Then go.”   “I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s voice is deep, husky. “I love you.”   The call ends.   You’re at a standstill, kept quiet, having watched the scene unfold in front of you.    Jin is the first one to break the silence. “Well, looks like it’s not all roses and butterflies. I guess this is what happens when people’s visions for the future aren’t the same.”   “I spent my birthday alone again,” you murmur, looking at her. She’s sitting alone in the dark, nursing a headache on the couch as the silence of the empty penthouse becomes deafening.    What’s the point of all this wealth if you’re alone?   The corner of Jin’s mouth tugs, eyes still shimmering with hopefulness. “This doesn’t have to be the path you choose. You still have five more choices.”   Seokjin’s arm extends. He holds his hand out. You look at it and he explains, “I don’t want you to fall on your ass again.”   You scoff, but still slip your palm into his anyway.   Suddenly, in Jin’s other hand, the five other envelopes manifest and he fans them out in front of you as if asking you to pick a card for some kind of magic trick. On a whim, you choose the white envelope with a swallow bird sticker, already knowing who it is.   Jin lets go and the envelope floats away. It combusts in mid-air, edges flaming crimson and scarlet and curling inwards before the black ash crumbles off and the flecks start to trickle down. You brace yourself and the world you’re in begins to stitch apart. The form of your lonesome self on the sofa fades and the howling wind tears through your hair, whistling in your ears. It feels like you’re being lodged forward, thrown on a bullet train heading to somewhere. Fast enough that the colours and the universe itself blurs. Luckily, you aren’t knocked over this time when you’re holding onto Seokjin, but your eyes are still forced shut.   At the same time, the love letter is granted.    The present alters.   When you open your eyes, you get whiplash. You would’ve thought you returned to your apartment if not for the slight differences in layout and furniture.   Jin still holds your hand, but you let go in favour of taking a closer look at the photographs on the shelf and the walls of the modest place. There are pictures of a very familiar boy — except he’s grown to become a man. Sharp jawline and nose, but still those bright eyes and heart-shaped smile.   Seokjin comes beside you. “Who’s this?”   “Hoseok,” you exhale softly, marveling at the photographs as the nostalgia sinks into you and leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. “He’s someone I met in college.”   Jung Hoseok was somewhere between a friend and an acquaintance. Someone older, but only by two years. You remember the first few times you saw him, you thought he was the typical frat boy — sociable, boisterous, friendly. But really, Hoseok was just a social butterfly, weaving through different groups. One night, you'd see him at a frat party and the next afternoon, you saw him at the chess club. He made everyone feel included and comfortable.    It’s no wonder you were deeply infatuated with him for a while.   The only problem was his closeness to you was the same as everyone else’s. The special treatment you received was never special.    And you were never able to go on a date with him or give him the letter you wrote on a drunken night before his graduation. But you suppose this is what your present might’ve looked like had you given him that letter.   “I didn’t know you were so adventurous.”   Jin’s nose is practically grazing the picture of you skydiving. Beside that one is a shot of you and Hoseok preparing to zipline and another of you two in the midst of bungee jumping. You study a photograph of you in front of the Eiffel Tower, one in Japan and the other of Hoseok hugging you in the Bahamas. Some of the pictures have people in them that you don’t recognize.   “I didn’t think I was either,” you murmur.   This Y/N looks more like yourself than the last. But at the same time, it’s different somehow.   For one, you can’t believe this version of yourself has been to so many places. You’ve always wanted to go, to travel this much, but you’ve never had anyone to go with. Yet, in this timeline, you’ve done so many things. You’ve had so many amazing, memorable adventures.   Jin’s brow raises at the picture of you and Hoseok kissing at the Eiffel. But then he bursts out laughing at the photograph of you looking out of your mind on a roller coaster. It’s the kind of picture that captures people right before the main descent.    “Yeah, yeah, I know I’m pretty attractive, aren’t I?” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you give him a deadpan look.   Jin’s smile stretches into his cheeks. “No, it’s cute.”   Before you can call Jin out for his blatant lie, you’re interrupted by two others.   “—so much fun! Come on, baby.”   The bedroom door opens and the noises that were muffled floods into the open living room area.    This other you looks like you, except she’s decked out in comfortable pajamas, which you envy. You wish you changed before all this happened and Jin appeared in your living room but alas, you’re stuck in your office attire of your white blouse and pencil skirt that you’ve been wearing all day.   “Don’t ‘baby’ me. I don’t want to go to a club for my birthday, Hoseok.”   Said man emerges and you consider how he’s aged well. His dark hair is styled in a way that shows a part of his forehead and his style is ever the same, jeans and a denim jacket open with a yellow shirt underneath. It’s surreal to have someone who was faded in your memory reappear in front of you again.    It reminds you of those college days, of running across campus, trying to finish assignments and study for exams while secretly pining for the boy who always waved and smiled at you as he passed by.   “But I have nothing else planned,” Hoseok whines.   She quirks her head and gives an incredulous look. “Why on earth do you think I’d want to go party at thirty.”   Hoseok laughs and takes her hands before mustering a cute pout. “You’re not that old. Come on.”   “This is stupid. It’s not like I’m twenty anymore.”   His arms lift to place on her shoulders and he gazes affectionately at her. “What would you rather be doing then?”   “I don’t know.” She softens with a soft sigh, looking back at him. “We can just stay home together. We don’t have to do much. It can be just us.”   “But that’s so boring.”   “What about tomorrow morning? We have brunch with your mom and we still have to run a bunch of errands afterwards. We can’t be nursing a hangover, Hobi.”   “We won’t drink much, and we can come home in two hours.” He hums and leans into her with glimmering irises and an infectious smile. She pouts at him and he presses his forehead to hers. “We’ll just hang out and meet new people. It’ll be nice. Promise.”   She sighs again and as if he knows she’s already given in, he laughs and moves to peck her cheek.    At the same time, Jin scoffs. “Gee, I’d love to go to a club for my birthday.”   You elbow him, having watched the cute exchange with increasing fondness. “Hey, at least they’re spending it together. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be fun.”   “Yeah, we’ll see.” Jin gives you a skeptical yet playful look and then holds out his hand.    You take it, slipping your hand into his as if you were shaking it, and instantaneously, the pair of you are transported to the so-called club. There’s no letter burning, no violent storm or wind, but you jolt from the booming music. It rattles your aged eardrums and as your surroundings materialize, you feel the floor trembling from the bass. The darkness sets in as well, but the neon pink and blue strobe lights burn to the back of your eyelids, and the odor of spilled alcohol and sweat from the thick crowd of dancing bodies slams into you.   You haven’t been to a club since your early twenties.   Jin grimaces and looks over at the bar. “I wish I had a drink! Too bad I’m a ghost!” he shouts above the music, leaning over to your ear.   Your vocal cords feel like it’s tearing as you try to scream above the thumping bass. “I thought you said you were my guardian angel!”   “Tomato tomato!” His head nods to the bar and you follow him, walking straight through the drunken bodies grinding on one another. It’s nice not having to excuse yourself and shuffle through the crowds, probably one of the few perks of being ghostly.    Once you get to the bar, it’s at least a bit quieter, enough to have conversations without needing to yell.   “Well, there’s not a better time to dance since there’s no one watching.”   You shake your head. “I’m not much of a dancer. Are you?”   Seokjin laughs, the corner of his mouth curled. “The best I can do is the worm. Want to see?”   You lift your hand, politely rejecting the offer and he grins. “It’s your loss then.”   “I’ll just trust you. I’m sure you can tear up the dance floor.”   “—and tear my left calf muscle,” he adds humorously, and you snort. Jin looks off and his eyes brighten. “Oh, looks like you’re here.”   You follow his line of sight, finding yourself in a little black dress with heels. But instead of looking hot or cute, the dress looks too small and outdated. Especially with the way you’re tugging awkwardly on the hem and darting your eyes everywhere as if you’re embarrassed.   Hoseok is in the same clothes as before and he looks around. When it seems like he won’t be able to get a seat at the bar, he snags a small standing table. “I’ll go get us a drink. Let me surprise you.”   “Okay.” She smiles and Hoseok returns it affectionately.    He leans in to peck a quick kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday, babe.”   Hoseok leaves to the bar and she stands there, tapping her fingernails on the table. It takes a long time for him to return and she checks her phone periodically before looking around for Hoseok, unknowing to how you and Jin are beside her, technically keeping her company.    “I think you’ve been ditched,” Jin quips after ten minutes and you scoff in offence.   “No way. Hoseok’s not like that.”   You can’t help but turn over your shoulder and let your eyes search for the dark-haired male amongst the crowd. You don’t realize how comical it looks for you and this alternate you to both be beside each other with your pupils darting all over the place, looking for him.   Jin raises a brow. “It sounds like you know him well.”   “He’s just not the type,” you tell him curtly.   Eventually, after another five long minutes, Hoseok comes back and you breathe a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t wrong. You even flash Jin a look as if to say ‘see?’ but he still has an unimpressed, disbelieving expression.   As if to make matters worse, Hoseok doesn’t return with just drinks. He has new people in tow.   “Hey, babe!”   The you in the black dress is visibly taken off guard, but she still offers a polite smile. “These are...?”   “They’re new friends I made! We were just chatting at the bar. This is Maddie, Alex, Mark, Sana and Ren. They’re out celebrating since they just finished some project—”   “Psych Two Fourteen language development! Fuck yes!” One of them hollers and she winces from the noise. Two of the boys start to chant out their college slogan, but it’s so drunkenly jumbled over the pounding music that even you don’t know what they’re saying.   “Sorry, how old…”   “Just turned twenty one!” The young girl to the left giggles, holding up her cosmopolitan as her breasts nearly pop out from her red bodycon dress.   “Congratulations, by the way! It’s your birthday, right?!” One of them pipes up, swinging an arm over the other girl’s shoulder. “It’s pretty dope that you’re married and all and still out living it up!”   She cringes but nevertheless nods, downing her drink the minute it’s in her hand.   Even if no one can see you and you’re merely a spectator, even you feel awkward with this situation. And it only gets worse when Hoseok turns his back to her, caught up in conversation with the college kids and too busy chatting with them to notice how she’s left out, fiddling with her hands in her lap and once in a while, sipping on her drink quietly.   As you watch the ordeal, slightly mortified for this alternate version of yourself, you also feel Seokjin’s gaze on you. It screams of ‘who’s right, now? Huuuuh?’. But you don’t look at him.   Hoseok does, however, turn around after a few minutes. “Is everything okay?”    He’s both curious and concerned with how silent she is, and his softened, perceptive eyes search her expression. Hoseok reaches for her hand underneath the table, squeezing it and she musters a smile. “I’m fine.”    “You sure?”   “Yeah. I’m just glad you’re having fun.”   “We should dance!” one of them shouts, glancing over the group as well as her and Hoseok. The others agree immediately, downing their drinks and one by one, they scatter onto the floor.   Hoseok looks at her but she puts up her hand. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”   “Are you sure?” His brows furrow and his mouth lopsided in a small pout. “Come join me. It’ll be fun!”   She shakes her head, faint smile tugging on her lips. “I’m gonna finish my drink and someone needs to save the table too. Go ahead. You know I love watching you dance.”   With that reassurance said, Hoseok leaves and hits the dance floor where he shines the brightest. They make room for him, some hooting and hollering and he grins, letting loose. Meanwhile, the you in the black dress stands there at the table, watching Hoseok with a smile until it eventually fades away.   She’s left standing there alone. Bored. Dissociating.    It’s almost like some things never change — you and Hoseok seem to be in different dimensions, a secret distance forged and caused by the difference of your personalities.    You watch her in the loud club, carefully observing her blank expression, catching the neon pink and blue lights flashing her form for mere moments as the bass shakes the floor and four walls.    You’re not sure this is the person you want to be.   In the midst of your thoughts, Jin turns and interrupts. “What do you think?”   “What do you mean ‘what do I think’?”   “This is a potential choice you can make. Of course, you can always change your mind later. But if you want, I can make this your present right now.”   For some reason, what he says scares you and you don’t think it should.    At face value, your relationship with Hoseok is more than what you could ever ask for. It really seems like he cares and that the two of you, the two of them, love each other. Yet, there’s still a fundamental difference you can see. Even though you’ve only observed them for less than half a day, it’s enough. It’s clear.    Just like back then, you’ll never be able to keep up with Jung Hoseok.    And he might never be satisfied with what you would want.   “I don’t know how I feel about this,” you admit, meeting Seokjin’s eyes. “Hoseok’s nice and at least we’re together. But…”   “Personally, I think you can do better,” he says, looking off at Hoseok who’s still dancing his heart and soul off like he’s the star in a musical. But you have to hand it to him — he’s pretty good at it. “The guy’s permanently twenty one and he acts like he’s a bachelor. It seems like you’re the one who’s holding the relationship together all by yourself.”   You scoff, eyeing the ghostly man. “It sounds like you won’t be happy with anyone.”   He shrugs and softens. “I just want the best for you.” A second later, Jin smiles and shows off the envelopes that suddenly appear in his hand. “There’s still four more.”   He plucks a baby blue square envelope out and then holds out his hand. Your palm slips into his and he releases the envelope. The love letter burns and becomes a new reality for you to see.    The world morphs, blaring music fading first. Then the background washes away like watercolours as the strong gust of wind returns. It brushes coldly against your cheeks, making you flutter your eyes closed as it twines through your lashes and hair, preparing to show you another present with someone else.   You open your eyes.   It’s mid-afternoon. Blue skies. Sunny.   A bicycle on the path whizzes past, swiftly coasting downhill and in the moment, you’re startled, forgetting that it can’t hurt you. But still, Seokjin tugs you back and out of the way. “Be careful.”   “Thanks,” you mumble to him before taking in your new surroundings.    Every few steps, there are lampposts that line the thin road made of small stones cemented together. And what looms over you on both sides are tall townhouses, yellow, blue and pink with steeply pitched hip roofs. It looks like you’ve been plopped into a cute town from a storybook.   “Where are we?”   Jin hums, studying a stop sign at the end of the road. “Well, based on the fact that everything’s in French, I’m going to take an educated guess that we’re in France.”   Before you can flash Jin an unimpressed look for his know-it-all tone or question why the hell you’d be in France, the balcony doors above you suddenly slam open. You look up and see yourself draping a duvet over the railing to air out and catch the warm sunlight.   Both you and Seokjin have gotten accustomed to the routine and turn, passing through the wall of the townhouse to get inside. You’ve always wanted to live in France, but it was always one of those daydreams. You can’t believe in this timeline you’re actually here, that you moved so far away from home.   “Have any clue on who your lover boy is this time around?” Jin asks and you loll your head to your shoulder, humming.   “I have some clue, but you’ll just have to wait and see.”   There’s nothing on the first floor of the townhouse except for damp walls and a muddy, cement floor. But once you begin climbing the L shaped staircase, the walls fade into a seashell white and it becomes brighter, livelier, homey. It opens up to a living space of blues and yellows, sofa facing a wide-screen television, white curtains drifting in the breeze of the open window, a vase full of daffodils and daisies placed in the center of the coffee table.   But most importantly, you take notice of the degrees framed in a straight line on the wall.   In golden frames, there’s your bachelor’s degree and then three others — a bachelor, master’s and PhD, all under philosophy with one name. Kim Namjoon.    The you from this world comes out of the kitchen. She’s wearing a white, silk blouse tucked into a brown skirt and a blazer to match, hair curled and in a low, messy bun, and she’s precariously balancing a wooden tray with two steaming tea cups. You follow her down the hall.   She enters a home office — light colour scheme matching the living room, two desks facing opposite walls and the bay window open. But you don’t soak in the area for long. Not when your eyes dart onto the backside of a broad man sitting at his desk and engrossed with a textbook.   “Joon.”   He turns his head as she calls out to him, a soft smile placed on his features and the dimples in his cheek creased. He moves his arm aside and she places down the cup of tea.   “Is it earl grey?”   “The one and only,” she sing-songs with a loving smile.   “Thank you.” Namjoon sips on it and hums. “Are you going to get started on your thesis today?”   She sighs. “I really should.”   “It’s not good to procrastinate on it.”   “I know.” She pouts slightly and looks through her lashes at him. “It’s just hard to get started again after stopping for so long. I know it sounds like excuses, but the last few moves were so hectic and then I was helping you with your research— which I don’t mind. But obviously I fell behind.”   “Well, there won’t be any more distractions for a while. We’re staying here for at least a few months. Promise.”   “I know.” She goes over to her desk facing the opposite wall and places down her own cup.   Namjoon turns in his chair. “If you need any help, just ask.”   “I’ll try not to bother you too much.”   They exchange sweet smiles, and the room simmers back into a serene quietness.   Jin stands beside you at the doorway, brow cocked, and his arms crossed. His shoulders are so wide, you’re halfway into the wall. “Let me take a guess. Judging by the degrees and the whole academia thing, this guy’s your hot professor that you never had the guts to ask out because he’s married.”   You give an appalled expression. “No. You’re off the mark there, but nice try. He was my TA.”   “Hey, that was pretty close!” Jin looks impressed and you quickly shoot down the rest of his theory.   “But he wasn’t married, or at least, I don’t think he was. I met him during my fourth year in my philosophy class. He was a PhD student and I emailed him back and forth for a while for help on this paper or something until I went to his office hours.”   You remember you almost peed yourself when you first met him in person. Namjoon was so tall and so smart and those black framed glasses — god, you had it bad for a while.    “He made me feel smart for once,” you mumble as an afterthought and Jin frowns.   Without thinking much, he says, “Of course you’re smart.”   Your neck cranes over, looking at him—   “How would you start this sentence?” she turns to Namjoon and your attention is drawn away.   Namjoon uses his chair to roll over and look at her laptop screen. “What are you trying to say?”   “Something about the interlinked connection between the Paris Agreement and the cooperative nature of international states.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat and his fingers fly across the keyboard, fixing up the document. The moment he’s done, she takes a sigh of relief. “That’s perfect. I’m so dumb. Thank you.”   Jin takes the chance to walk over to this world’s version of you, peeking over her shoulder and looking at her screen. “Look at you hard at work.”    She’s completely unaware of the ghostly man prying into her work, hands hesitating before flying back and forth on the keyboard. Only, a second later, she hits the erase button and deletes all the sentences she’s written. “God, I’m so stupid,” she mutters with a sigh.   Jin turns to you. “I never took you to be the type to want to do school work on your thirtieth birthday.”   “Honestly, me neither.”   You didn’t think you’d still be pursuing a master’s at this age and seemingly have no career of your own. While you enjoy parts of learning and academia has its merits, you were always eager to finish and graduate. You’re not sure if this version of yourself thinks differently.   She types something and then her fingertips quicken as a smile starts to stretch into her cheeks. It’s as if inspiration’s hit her and she turns around. “Namjoon. What do you think about this?”   He comes over and places one hand on the back of her chair and the other on the desk, eyes reading through the words. She waits, gazing up at him with a mix of anticipation and excitement. After a long moment, Namjoon finally says, “It sounds kind of choppy. Why don’t you move this and that around.”   “Oh. Okay.” She nods, smile falling and when he gets back to his place, she erases all of it.   Silence settles into the room again as the two of them continue. Namjoon reads, annotates and highlights his textbook as she works on her thesis, unblinking, brows furrowed, crouched over. There are no interruptions, and few words are exchanged in between. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you were in a library and not a cute townhouse somewhere in France.   Jin yawns out of boredom and you can’t blame him. But as the sun begins to set, a ringing phone call pierces through the sound of work.   She moves to pick it up and a knot forms between her brows. Namjoon turns around.   “What’s wrong?”   She pulls the phone away from her ear. “They’re speaking in French.”   Namjoon opens his hand, and she gives it to him. He answers fluently and flawlessly without a beat’s hesitation like it’s his native language and she waits patiently. Once Namjoon hangs up, he tells her, “It’s the bakery. They wanted to remind us we still have to pick up the birthday cake since they close in an hour.”   She scrambles upwards, getting to her feet. “It’s alright, I can go. You should finish what you’re working on.”   “Are you sure?” Namjoon has a hesitant expression and he stands, but she stops him with a smile.   “Of course! I’ll be back in a jiffy. You’ll edit for me while I’m gone?”   “Sure.”   “Then it’s a deal.”   She rushes out of the room, oblivious to how she runs straight through your body. You follow her into the cozy bedroom and watch as she picks something out of her suitcase that’s still unpacked. You notice the cover of the suitcase and handle are plastered with check-in baggage tags from the airport. They’re from all kinds of different places — Miami, Seoul, Rome.    You wonder for how long and just how much this version of you followed Namjoon around the world.   She leaves the townhouse within the next few minutes and Jin looks relieved to finally be doing something other than waiting around while two people bite their nails and put their heads in books. The two of you follow a few paces after her, strolling while enjoying the view.   But it quickly becomes evident that she’s lost.   “Sentier de...la Bleich,” she reads the street sign and frowns, muttering under her breath. “What the hell?”    Jin lifts his brows with a faint smile, thoroughly entertained by her plight. “Uh-oh.”   She starts to pat down her body but then curses. “Shit. I left my phone. WhyamIsodumb?” She sighs and approaches an elderly couple walking past. They look startled and she dips her head down. “Umm, excuse me. Uh, q-quelle, umm, heure est-il?”   The old man glances at his wristwatch. “Il est dix à six.”   “Merci.” She nods and starts to pick up her pace down the street. You widen your strides as well, rooting for this version of yourself. But as she turns the sharp corner, without looking or slowing down, she collides with a body. Not enough to fall down but enough for her shoulder to be roughly shoved.   “Merde!” The man shouts and as he walks off, he turns around, angrily gesturing to her. “Regardez où vous allez!”   “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” She keeps fumbling, ducking her head and at the same time, the apartment keys drop from her pocket. She sighs as she reaches down to pick them up. “God, why am I so clumsy?”   Jin slows down, watching this alternate version of you and he wonders out loud, “Why would you offer to go if you don’t know how to get there?”   You shrug. It’s not like you know what this version of yourself is thinking. But if this is supposed to be you and you know yourself best….   “Maybe I’m trying to prove a point.” You look at Jin. “Maybe I’m trying to be independent.”   You’ve always wanted to live in France. But you’re starting to wonder if this version of you did it out of her own desires or if she was just following Namjoon.   Luckily, she manages to find the bakery right as they’re flipping over the close sign. She knocks on the door and apologies when the frowning lady comes out. “I’m so sorry. I got lost. Perdue. I have a cake to pick up under the name Namjoon? Er, g-gâteau…? Kim Namjoon…?”   The lady says something in French and goes back inside. She returns with a cake box and this version of you thanks her before the door’s being shut in her face.   Still, she’s smiling widely, and you are too. You knew you could do it.   But the victory is short lived when her face visibly drains and she looks in all directions, whipping her head to the left and then to the right, reading the street signs with a deep frown.   Jin chuckles and hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s this way.”   But of course, she doesn’t hear him.   “Don’t laugh at her,” you chide him.   Jin’s mouth falls open in offence. “She can’t even hear me!”   “Yeah, but it’s still mean.” You pout, internally still rooting for yourself. Come on, Y/N. You can do this. You know it. And just to manifest it, you reassure him, “She’s going to figure it out.”   But then she decides to march in the opposite direction.   Seokjin looks at you incredulously.   “I don’t know her,” you spit out as your face grows warm under the embarrassment. “That’s technically me but not me, right? And, hey, can you blame her? It’s not like you can read in French either.”   “Actually, I’ll have you know that I have a great sense of direction.” An arrogant smile perks up on Jin’s lips and he brushes past you to catch up to her. You scoff at him, narrowing your eyes into his broad backside before you’re forced to trail after him before you get lost.   Luckily, what you and this version of you lacks in a sense of direction, you make up for sheer luck and intuition. She finally gets home in one piece albeit a whole hour later after the sun’s just set.   She sets the cake box on the kitchen counter and comes into the office where Namjoon’s still reading with the desk lamp now on next to him.   “What took you so long?” he asks, expression marred with worry. “I called you.”   She steadies her hyperventilating breath and musters a smile. “I just decided to take a walk since the weather was so nice. I think I left my phone here, sorry. I won’t forget next time.”   He doesn’t catch the lie and nods. “It’s good to get the inspiration going.”   “Yeah.”   Namjoon softens. “We’ll cut the cake tonight?”   She smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”   This version of you takes off her coat, drapes it on her chair and then plops down to continue working on her thesis.    Your birthday is spent typing away and re-typing while asking for help every so often. You’re together. Without pounding music or much distraction. Merely in one another’s company. It’s domestic, familiar and warm. But…   A life of following Namjoon, moving from place to place...you’re not sure if this is it.    “Are any of these relationships good?”   He gives you an inquisitive look. “I don’t think this one is too bad, why?”   “I know. I shouldn’t complain. I’m in France and I seem to have a good relationship with Namjoon, but still.” An exhale leaves the seam of your lips and you turn your gaze to the handsome ghost, feeling apprehensive when you think you should be feeling confident. “I’m not sure if this is what I want. It doesn’t seem like I have anything of my own and I want to be independent…”   Jin hums, getting what you’re trying to say. “I can understand that. No relationship is perfect. They all have their ups and downs, some worse than others and some better than others. I don’t have any control over this.” He becomes quiet for a moment. “If anything, I wish it works out. But there’s still three windows for you to look into before you make your final choice.”   He holds out his hand where the three letters materialize, fanned out and you pluck the blush pink envelope. As routine, you release it and it floats mid-air before burning. The edges of the letter curl in the red inferno, ash dusting down and the scene of you hunched over your desk, brows knitted together, washes away.    You automatically reach for Seokjin’s hand without him needing to prompt you right as the wind starts to pick up and howl. It’s a storm that whips through your hair, colour that bleeds away. But this time, you manage to keep your eyes open and together, with Seokjin by your side, you watch as your surroundings stitch together. Every object, item, material forms one by one. From the corner wall to the leg of a table, it starts to become visible.    And what appears, what envelopes you, is so different from the townhouse in France. From the apartment you were in with Hoseok and most notably, the penthouse in New York shared with Yoongi—    It’s a world of difference.   Even Jin is shocked. All he manages is a breathless “wow.”   It’s an extremely cramped space — a pale yellow and white kitchen and living room that’s technically one room. It wouldn’t be any different from a tiny studio apartment if not for the other door off to the side. But the tiled floor seems dirty, the gray carpet is severely stained, a kitchen cabinet is broken and hanging by a single hinge, and the sofa two steps away is ripped and mangled.    There’s not much to see or marvel at.   But before you can say anything to Jin, a man comes out from the room, shivering in his black hoodie that’s covering his hair, ears and face. “Goddammit, why is it so cold?” he mutters, feet padding towards the window by the back door.   He tries to pull it down, arms straining with all his might and it squeaks horrifically in the process.   Jin winces and you flinch, ears hurting from the pitched screech. But what’s far worse is before the window can close, it becomes stuck. A tiny gap is left open, wind whistling through it and he sighs in defeat.   The man finally turns around. And in an instant, your mouth draws open, eyes pinpointed on him as he makes his way to the kitchen, walking straight through Seokjin. You can’t help but gawk.   Jin leans over. “Can I guess?”   You snort, trance shattering and your attention drawn to your ghostly companion. “Sure.”   “This guy was your enemy until you became roommates or next-door neighbours by accident. Turns out he wasn’t as awful as you thought, and you caught feelings but could never admit them.”   You scoff and eye him. “What kind of cliché nonsense is that? Jimin’s my best friend’s older brother.” Immediately, Jin’s brow cocks and a laugh bubbles out from your throat. You nudge him with your shoulder. “Okay, it’s a little bit cliché but can you blame me?”   You open your hand and gesture towards Jimin as if that's enough to explain.    Jin studies him, humming and stroking his chin. After a second, as if he’s reached a conclusion, he says, “I’m better looking.”   You roll your eyes.   But Jimin’s more than his soft, cute appearance that has impressively lasted at this age. From your memories, he’s always been charming and considerate. You knew him in high school, back when you were a teenager who dreamt of romcoms and soulmates, and he swooped in at the same time. Two years older than you are. Undeniably popular. The boy-next-door that every girl daydreamed of — and that included you. You crushed on him hard.   But he was your best friend’s older brother. Said best friend eventually grew apart from you as your paths in life differed, but Jimin was off limits at the time that you knew him. Plus…   “He never looked at me like that. He called me kiddo.”   “Ah.” Jin nods in sympathy. “The little sister zone. Even worse than the friend zone.”   The soft, gradual sound of pitter-pattering above you has Jimin cursing. He looks out the kitchen window at the dark clouds right as a droplet splashes onto his head. He looks up menacingly as if that could stop the rain. But a raindrop plops down on you too. Luckily, it goes straight through your body. For once, you’re glad you can’t feel temperature since you’re sure you’d be shivering.   Jimin goes towards the cabinet underneath the sink and takes out buckets, positioning them right where rain is leaking into the kitchen and living room and letting it drip into it instead.   Right when he’s finished, the front door squeaks. “I’m home!”   It’s you, or at least the you from this world, bundled up in a worn coat and a large scarf.   “Welcome back,” Jimin turns and smiles. “Are you hungry? I can reheat the chicken from last night.”   She doesn’t respond, too busy looking at the large buckets on the floor. “The roof’s leaking again?” she asks in complete exasperation, shoulder deflating as she starts to take off her coat.   Jimin’s smile softens. “Looks like the patchwork didn’t really help.”   “Don’t go up there. You’ll get yourself hurt. We should just get the whole thing replaced. I’m sure they have financing plans that’ll let us pay it off in a few months.”   “No, I’ll call Taemin and ask him for a favour.”   The Y/N of this world turns as she’s finished hanging her scarf on the dinky coat rack. She’s left in a warm, oversized sweater but she doesn’t look terribly cozy with the furrow of her brows that seemingly darken her under eye circles. “Is it really alright to ask him for so many favours?”   Jimin turns to the sink, brushing it off. “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”   She stares at him and then her footsteps pad against the titled ground as she goes over to wrap her arms around his waist, leaning her face into his backside. All at once, Jimin eases and he shuts his eyes before he turns around and the two of them hug, squeezing each other in the middle of their modest kitchen.   You can’t help but sigh lightly and coo at the scene. “This is so cute”   “They’re probably just hugging each other for warmth,” Jin comments and you scoff at him. He grins, unabashed at how he ruined the sweet, romantic moment.    “Jimin,” she pipes up after a second. “Is there something burning?”   “Oh yeah, the cake!”   They let go of one another and he leans down to the oven with tattered mitts, taking out the baked cake slices and putting them on the countertop.    “Happy birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I didn’t know you’d come home early.” Jimin ducks his head, cheeks becoming rosy. “I still need to frost it.”   “I love it, Jimin. Thank you.”    She leans in, pecking a chaste kiss to his lips and it leaves a smile on his face.   Jimin takes out the frosting from the fridge and she stands on the opposite side of the counter, dipping her finger into the bowl for a taste. At the same time, he mixes it again with a spoon, waiting for the cakes to cool.   “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a proper present. I was planning on getting you that bracelet you liked but it was a lot more expensive than I thought it would be…”   “It’s okay. I didn’t like it anyway.”   He looks up with a doubtful and guilty look. But she reassures him, “Promise. I don’t even remember what bracelet you’re talking about. All I wanted was to spend my birthday together and you even made me a cake. What more could I ask for?”   “A lot more.”   “Well, it’s not what I want.” She pouts and it makes Jimin smile to himself.    He frosts the cake and once it’s done, it looks sloppy and unfinished. Part of it doesn’t have any frosting since he ran out, but both you and this version of you doesn’t mind whatsoever. You can tell there’s heart in it and that’s all that matters.   “There’s something I need to tell you,” Jimin says in the midst of dinner where they’re seated on the floor and using the coffee table as a dinner table. “Don’t worry, it’s good news.”   He laughs at her surprised expression and she swallows her mouthful. “Don’t scare me like that. You made it sound so bad.”   Jimin grins. “Sorry.”   “What is it?”   He pauses, just to build the anticipation. “I have an audition lined up. They really liked the performance I sent in.”   There’s a held silence. And then the corner of her mouth lifts. “That’s...amazing!”   But you know yourself. That’s your fake voice and fake smile.   Jimin doesn’t catch on to it. “I have a really good feeling about this one. I’m going to have to practice a lot more and come up with a whole new routine.”   Jin turns to you to fill in the blanks and you tell him, “Jimin’s a contemporary dancer.”   “Oh.”    Through a beat of quiet, both you and Seokjin share an underlying understanding. After all, it’s a universal truth — the arts aren’t lucrative. And you don’t know why you didn’t connect it sooner since it clearly serves as an explanation to the current state of this timeline. Your income must not be enough to support the two of you and unexpectedly, it looks like Jimin is still pursuing dance at thirty two.    You don’t know much about dance, but you know enough to be aware of just how competitive it is. You know how often times, the older you get, the harder opportunities come by. And it’s obvious this version of yourself isn’t hopeful.   “Did the Jimin you know ever end up like...this?”   Jin looks around and you know what he means. The state of this home is bearable, but it isn’t what you ever envisioned for yourself.   You shake your head. “That’s what I’m so confused about. Last time I checked, Jimin’s still pursuing dance but he was teaching at a studio.”    You vaguely remember seeing pictures on social media and him advertising the studio, surrounded with like-minded people. It looked legitimate.   “Maybe the opportunity never came with you around.” Jin hums and then quickly adds, “no offence.”   As Jimin’s in the middle of his excited tangent, the phone suddenly rings. She reaches for it. “It’s my mom.”   “Tell her I said hi.”   “So she can ask about you the entire time and not about me?” she teases with a smile that matches his and picks up the call while she gets to her feet. “Hello?”   Her smile fades for a moment and she slips into the tiny bedroom a few steps away. But the walls are painfully thin, and her voice is crystal clear from where you’re sitting beside Jin and across from Jimin. “Wait, wait, mom, slow down. What’s wrong?”   You exchange looks with Jin and he gives you an ‘uh-oh’ expression, already smelling trouble.   There’s a pause. “Dad? Y-Yeah, I can help, of course I can help with his treatment.”   “Did something happen to your dad?” Jin asks and you frown.    “He went into surgery for his appendix about a month ago.” You wonder if that's what this is about. But it was an easy and quick procedure, and he recovered after two weeks.   Then it comes to you — your parents needed help with the finances. It was easy. So much so that it slipped your mind entirely. You just transferred them the money. But in this world….   “I’ll figure something out,” this version of you tries to stay quiet yet to no avail. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call the hospital and take care of it. Yeah. Yep. No, no. Of course, Jimin won’t mind. It’s fine. We’d be happy to help. Okay. Talk to you soon.”   You glance at Jimin to find him with a saddened smile. He swallows hard as she leaves the room, and he pretends he wasn’t listening. “Is everything okay?”   “Yeah.” She musters a smile. “She was just wishing me a happy birthday.”   Neither of them push or reveal more about what they know. It’s swept under the rug.    The room simmers into silence as the rain patters against the windows, some leaking through the gap of the stuck window and other droplets splashing into the half-full buckets. It’s a comfortable noise, a constant rhythm of the rain.    Eventually Jimin breaks the quiet through warm conversation that she easily reciprocates.   But in the midst of it, Jin turns to you. “What are you thinking?”   “I don’t know.” You sigh, taking in your dire surroundings again. It’s not just about the money. It’s about Jimin’s circumstances too. “I always thought the most important thing was being together, but if Jimin’s in a better place without me, then I don’t want to change that.”   You wish love, romance, relationships were easy. You wish that’s all that mattered.   Your gaze meets Jin’s, and a question comes to mind—   “What if I’m not supposed to end up with any of these people? With anyone? Maybe there’s a reason why things are the way they are and none of this happened in my lifetime.”   All of a sudden, Seokjin’s expression hardens. “Are you fine with being alone then?”   “I’ve gotten on fine for thirty years.”   The ghostly man, clad in a brown coat and dark pants, goes dead silent.    You frown and call out to him. “Jin?”   “No.” He shakes his head. “You have to choose someone. If you don’t….”   “If I don’t…?”   Confusion mars your features, your lips becoming lopsided as a knot forms between your brows. Jin softs and smiles, sheepish eyes slightly crinkled. He theatrically jumps to his feet, stretching his hand out to you. On instinct, your palm slides into his and he pulls you up.   “You shouldn’t give up yet. That’s not the spirit! There’s still two more.” Seokjin’s eyes glimmer with mischief and out of thin air, two envelopes appear in his other hand. He holds it out and you hesitate, but your eyes flicker up towards Seokjin and you look at him through your lashes.   You trust him enough to take one. The stained, old envelope with gel pen doodled hearts on it.   The envelope is released and ignites as time suspends. The orange flames incinerate the papers, crumbling the sheets inside and the ash dusts down like cherry blossoms. The wind howls a breath later, brushing through your hair and caressing your cheeks. You look at you and Jimin sitting together one last time before the sight washes away right in front of your eyes.   The colour bleeds and the surroundings are wiped into a white canvas. You see the world stitch together while the only constant that remains is Jin’s hand in yours.    Walls begin to form around you, but they’re wide and the ceiling lifts. The outside darkens. You discover yourself standing in the foyer of a beautiful, spacious home. The front door is behind you and there are stairs in front. You also notice the mountain of small shoes on the shoe rack.   But your attention is drawn when the first thing you hear are childish squeaks and then stomps.   As everything solidifies, your eyes take in the sight and your mouth draws open. You step forward, hand slipping out of Jin’s as you stare at Kim Taehyung in disbelief.   You knew this letter was his. But you haven’t seen him in so long. It feels like centuries ago.    It’s surreal.   Jin raises a brow at your reaction.   “Where do you think you’re going, missy?” The older man chases after the girl and growls. She squeals as he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder. “It’s time to get dressed before the guests come over. You want to look even prettier, don’t you? Get a sparkly, princess dress on.”   A familiar voice, your voice, shouts from upstairs. “Honey!”   “Coming!” Taehyung yells back. “Just caught the munchkin!”   Jin interrupts your trance. “Care to do the introductions?”   “Y-Yeah.” You snap out of it, blinking twice. “Taehyung’s a childhood friend. He was my best friend. We met in kindergarten.” You smile to yourself while reminiscing. “Everyone thought he was a girl when he was little since he was so pretty and because of him, people called me the ugly one when we sat next to each other.”   You laugh, the nostalgia prickling at you. It’s not a bad memory. How could it be when Taehyung was your first friend. And your first crush. He was a lot of your firsts.    “He ended up moving away at the end of sixth grade and that was that.”   Taehyung was also the subject of your first love letter clumsily scribbled in gel pen. It was meant to be both a goodbye and I love you letter, one filled with doodles and hearts that you never ended up giving to him. But it had started your habit of venting through letter form.   “I facebooked him years later and turns out he became a part-time model for some company. Pretty cool, huh?”   “Did you ever reconnect?”   You shake your head. “It’s been so long. I don’t even think he’d remember me.”   Seokjin hums a long note, drawn out for so long that you turn to him with your brow cocked. He, however, has a blank expression you can’t quite decipher. You’re about to ask him what his problem is, but suddenly, the doorbell rings.   Instantaneously, a German shepherd dog sprints in. A boy with puppy eyes and shaggy hair trails after the pet, turning the corner. But before he can grab the doorknob, a voice stops him—   “Eugene!” This world’s version of you pops out from the hall upstairs, looking down into the foyer of the big home. “What did I say about opening the front door?”   The boy sighs in frustration. “Mom! I’m already ten!”   At the same time, a girl around eight years old in a floral dress comes running over. She hangs off the banisters of the stairs like a monkey and with a grin, she chimes, “Stranger danger.”   “It doesn’t matter if you’re ten or twenty,” the older woman from upstairs declares. “My house, my rules.”   The doorbell rings again, echoing throughout the house. But this time, Taehyung comes down the stairs with the three-year old girl, now in a frilly, white shirt with a pink tutu. They’re hand in hand, taking one step at a time. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Taehyung shouts at the door.   And once it opens, the girl giggles. The dog begins to bark. The commotion grows.   On the other side is your mom whose face is bright and excited. “Oh my goodness, it’s been so long!” Immediately she comes to hug Taehyung, giving him a big squeeze. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her so happy that it makes you unintentionally smile.   “Your mom looks great,” Jin observes with his own grin as the two of you watch the scene unfold. You wonder how he knows that’s your mom.   Your dad enters after.    “Hi grandpa, grandma,” Eugene greets, and she plants a fat kiss on his cheek.   “Hello, dear.” Your mother’s barely gotten her coat off before she’s being surrounded by the kids. “My goodness, did you get even taller?”   He beams. “I think so!”   “You’ll need to drink even more milk if you want to be as tall as your father. Speaking of which, are you doing well, Taehyung? Where’s Y/N?”   The blonde man has a boxy smile, and he gestures using his head. “She’s upstairs, changing the diaper of the little one.”   “Aw, how sweet. I saw that video you sent me the other day. I can’t believe she’s already starting to talk! They grow up so quick, don’t they?” Her eyes trail to the three-year old and she practically melts. “Wendy, come give grandma a big hug!”   The toddler careens over, arms opening wide as your mother crouches down and they capture one another in a giant embrace. A second later, the girl who was hanging off the stair banister comes running over and your mom laughs. “Yuna, get in here too! Oh, there we go.”   She doesn’t forget about the dog either who’s been jumping up and down, barking its head off, pawing at their pants. Once she releases the girls, she scratches behind the dog’s ear and around it’s chin, making it howl. “I didn’t forget about you, pooch. There, we go. What a good boy.”   “You got taller the last time I saw you, didn’t you?” your dad asks Eugene, and it makes the boy grin, nodding his head. “Soon you’re going to be all the way up to my chin!”   “Dad says I might grow to be more than six feet.”   “Don’t grow up too fast,” he says with a smile. “Where’s the other two boys at?”   “They’re watching a movie,” Yuna tattles with her lips pouted.   “It’s so cold!” your mom turns around and motions your dad to enter. “Hurry, close the door!”   Their coats are hung up in the closet and as your mom continues chatting with Taehyung, your dad comes round the living room to two boys, around seven and five, ogling the television screen with their mouths hanging open practically to catch flies. But they turn their heads and scramble upwards with boxy grins.   “Grandpa!”   “Ken, Noah!” He hugs them and the former asks if he brought cookies which your dad answers with a wink and asks, “Have you been on your best behaviour?”   “Yeah!”   You’re in awe, watching the scene unfold in front of your eyes. You would’ve never thought this is what your life with Taehyung would’ve been like.    Jin grimaces as Yuna runs past with Noah. “This place feels like a puppy mill.”   That comment has you laughing. Six kids are a lot. There were toys everywhere on the floor, from dolls to lego pieces, a baby walker in the corner, a playpen in the middle of the living room, sofa worn and stained, and you spot some crayon scribbled on the wall. But even if it’s messy and there’s nothing luxurious, it’s a warm house—   A home.   Jin nudges you, taking you out of your train of thought and you follow his line of sight to the dog who’s a meter away, staring right at the two of you. Then, it starts to furiously bark.   “Woah, down, down!” Jin snaps his fingers, but it does nothing.   The dog can’t hurt you. Probably. But it was still alarming to see it baring its teeth and to have your positions exposed. Considering the both of you have been invisible this entire time, to be seen makes you feel naked.   “Shush, it’s okay.” You lift your hands, backing away. “We’re not going to hurt you.”   Nothing helps. The dog continues to bark. It comes forward.   Immediately, Jin moves, stepping in front of you and shielding you with his body.   Then your voice comes across the room— “Taehyung, calm the dog down, will you?”    This Y/N is dressed in sweatpants and a loose shirt, holding an infant in her arms who’s wide-eyed and babbling incessantly while drooling over her fist and onto her onesie. You barely recognize this version of yourself. She has some dried spit on her shoulder, vomit stains on her chest and she’s understandably gained a few pounds from the kids. You don’t miss her dark-circles or bloodshot eyes either.    At once, Taehyung clicks his tongue and tells the dog, “Hush, boy.”   It whimpers, stepping away from you and Jin, and Taehyung pets behind its ears.   Your mom comes over to the infant and coos, “Look at her! Oh my goodness, how precious. She has your eyes, dear!”   “Really?” she sighs. “I think Sunny’s looking more and more like Taehyung.”   “That’s not such a bad thing,” said man pipes up with another grin. “I’m handsome, aren’t I?”   She lightly scoffs. “Half the kids already look like you.”   In the midst of it, you don’t notice Jin sizing Taehyung up with a quirked brow, not paying any attention to the conversation in favour of scanning the man up and down with narrowed eyes.   “Are you sleeping lately?” your dad asks, concern evident in his expression.   “As much as I can with a newborn.”   Your mom softens. “Well, happy birthday, dear.”   Yuna straightens with a bright smile and repeats it. “Happy birthday, mommy!”   Wendy squeals after her. “Birthday, mommy!”   This version of you eases and smiles. “Thank you.”   Ken, the boy around seven, comes over sulking. “The TV’s broken! It’s not playing anymore.”   Taehyung comes over. “Let me take a look.”   At the same time, the you in the sweatpants notices Noah, the boy that’s about five, following your dad into the kitchen. She calls out, “Don’t give them any sweets, dad! It’ll ruin their appetite.” The infant in her arms has drool dribbling from her mouth and she lifts her shirt to wipe it away. While doing so, she glances at her husband who’s crouched over at the television with the remote in hand. “Taehyung, when are your parents coming?”   “Half an hour? They’re stuck in traffic.”    The dog starts pawing at the front door and she sighs, trying to come over to open it as Sunny starts squirming in her arms. Your mom is the only one who notices her struggle and comes over.   “Here.” She takes the infant from her and once the dog’s free in the fenced-in yard, she leans over in a low voice. “Honey, when was the last time you put a brush through your hair?”   Instantly, she puts her hand up and realizes how disheveled and knotted her hair is. Your mom sheepishly smiles and says she’ll take care of the kids. This version of you nods and ducks out in embarrassment, beelining to the bathroom.    Both you and Jin decide to follow after her, finally getting a moment of quiet away from the chaos that seems to echo throughout the rest of the house.    Jin sighs and you repress a smile at how exhausted he looks in spite of not having to do anything. “That was a lot to take in.”   “Yeah. I guess we never left our hometown.”   In this reality, it seems like Taehyung never moved away either. It seems like you always had each other. You wonder if you had sent that letter to him back then, would it have made such a huge impact on your life?   “So...is he the love of your life?”   “Who? Taehyung?” Your head whirls to Jin. “I don’t know. It’s been years.”   “I mean what about now?”   “Well, he is handsome. It’s kind of a waste he didn’t become a model in this timeline.”   Jin scoffs and lifts his nose into the air. “I’m better looking.”   You flash him an incredulous look. “You said that about Jimin too.”   “That’s because I’m better looking than most people.” The ghostly man strokes his chin and winks. But you stare at him blankly and after a beat, you bite back—   “Really? I don’t see it.”   Jin’s mouth draws open and he scoffs in offence. You burst out laughing.   “I know you think I’m handsome. Just admit it!”   “I can’t admit what’s not there,” you quip back at him. “That would be lying.”   Before you can blink, Jin’s hands suddenly stretch and he’s tickling you at your weakest points. You squirm and squeal at him, “S-Stop!” But giggles bubble past your lips and he grins, cheeks puffing out, eyes crinkled, not letting up until you’re forced to run down the hall, following the light and escaping into the bathroom where the other version of you is.   Jin chases after you but then gives up when you feign an angered expression which includes your lips twitching and threatening to pull into another smile. Still, he puts his palms up, grins and declares a temporary truce. “Fine, fine.”   You watch as this version of you gawks at the mirror and grabs a comb to tackle the tangled hair.   But not a second later, a familiar boy pops through the door, straight through Seokjin.   “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Noah complains.   “We’ll eat in a little bit.” When she’s unable to pull the comb through her hair, she slaps it on the counter in frustration and turns on the tap to try to clean off the stain on her shoulder.   “I don’t want mashies.”   “Well too bad. Beggars can’t be choosers.”   “I hate you!” the five year old screams and she closes her eyes tight for a moment, taking a deep inhale as her patience is tested. At the same time, the boy runs away.   She’s left slamming the tap closed and turning around.    She beelines towards the stairs but is stopped by Yuna who tugs on her shirt. “Mommy, Ken’s undressing my dolls again!”   “No, I’m not!” the boy defends in a pitched voice. “She’s the one who keeps using my Iron Man to be the prince!”   “Ken, stop undressing Yuna’s dolls. And Yuna, leave your younger brother’s toys alone.” The two kids pout, and she walks up the stairs to see Eugene coming out of his room. His shoulders are shrugged, feet dragging along the carpet and there’s a crumpled, collared shirt in his hand.   “Mom, do I really have to change?”   “Yes. It’s for the pictures.”   “But I don’t like it! It’s too tight on me.”   “No, it isn’t. You’ll be fine, Eugene.” She enters her room that’s ridden with toys as well and opens the closet, scrambling for a clean shirt. He trails after her. “It’s only for a few hours.”   “Ugh!”   The ten year old turns on his heel, walking away.    Jin whistles. “Damn, you never get a moment to yourself, do you?”   As if to prove his point, the doorbell goes off. Barking and more loud noises follow, and she curses, rushing into the bathroom with a wrinkle shirt she finds. In the meanwhile, Seokjin takes the chance to look at the family photos framed on the bedroom wall, viewing them with a stoic expression.    You look after him, finding a picture of you and Taehyung in the hospital with you lying in bed and Taehyung holding a newborn. The both of you look so young, you must’ve been twenty.   There are many more photographs after that and as the years seem to progress, there’s more and more kids captured with toothless smiles and bright eyes. You look over them with a soft smile.   “I didn’t know you wanted so many kids,” Jin pipes up.   That’s the thing — “I don’t.”    The Y/N of this timeline rushes out of the bathroom with her new shirt and her hair somewhat neatly tied back. But as she leaves, she nearly trips on a toy dump truck on the ground and curses. She kicks it aside and then goes downstairs where there are more greetings and calls of her name.   Jin’s eyes trail from the space that she had just occupied to you. “Do you like this world? It seems a bit hectic.”   “I don’t know what I want anymore,” you admit honestly with a sigh. “I thought the most important thing was to have someone by my side, but so many other things seem to matter too. A family, compatibility, career, stability.” Your gaze meet’s Seokjin’s. “Is it selfish if I want it all?”   The corner of his plump lips tug and he shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m here to make your wish come true.”   “Mom?”    The two of you are interrupted by Eugene who enters the room, oblivious. He sighs when he realizes she isn’t there and scatters down the stairs. You follow after him, not quite done watching this reality just yet.   Downstairs, Taehyung’s parents are mingling with yours while the kids are running amok.   Dinner is hectic as well. Noah complains about the mashed potatoes before Wendy spills her entire plate on the floor, and Sunny knocks over her bottle of milk. And when it’s time to have cake, all the children gather round with Sunny perched on your lap. They sing discordantly and Jin winces as the kids practically spit all over the birthday cake to blow out the candle.   But it’s an undeniable sweet sight when they give their handmade crafts as gifts. It’s only slightly underplayed when Ken steals Eugene’s cake much to the older’s dismay and Noah throws some in Yuna’s hair, making the girl shriek her head off and require parental intervention.   You don’t think Jin has anything against kids, but by his facial expression, you can tell that every second is making him more adverse. Watching him and his reactions makes you laugh.   But in the middle of the celebrations, Taehyung pulls his wife aside in a private nook of the house and presses a long, sweet kiss to her lips. Even if you’re a bystander and merely watching, it makes you swoon. Jin, on the other hand, merely lifts a brow.   She smiles. “What’s the matter?”   “It’s time for your birthday gift,” he says, hand tightening in hers and she grins. “Follow me.”   Unfortunately, their path is intercepted by the rascals who have long infested the house and made privacy virtually impossible. “Where’re you going?” Ken asks, hanging off the back of the couch and watching them brush past.   “It’s a secret,” Taehyung states without looking at him.   Noah jumps off the stairs. “I wanna come!”   “No. Go watch your sister.”   The five-year old pouts. “I don’t wanna.”   “Hey!” Taehyung suddenly points towards the kitchen. “Look over there!”   Instantly, all of the children’s heads whirl in the indicated direction. They fall for the distraction and Taehyung grins, stealing the opportunity to finally sneak off with his wife. It makes you smile too, and you follow after them as they make their way down the hall until he finally stops at the closet next to the laundry room.   “What is it?”   “Hold your horses, woman.”   Taehyung turns on the single bulb and they enter the crowded space, only able to close the door halfway when there’s clothing bins in the way. They’re oblivious to how you and Seokjin are standing there, intruding on the moment and watching them.   “Don’t tell me you got that necklace.”   “No.”   Suddenly, as if another idea’s come to mind, her expression lights up and her eyes widen. “No…”   It makes Taehyung grin. “What?”   The Y/N of this world gasps and lightly smacks her husband in the chest. “You did not.”   “Did I?” He laughs.    “You finally got tickets for us to go to Europe?!”   The tall man quirks his head to the side with a playful smile. “Not quite. I got something even better. Ta-da!” He leans down and drags out a long box from the bottom shelf that was hidden and buried underneath a pile of jackets. Taehyung smacks the cardboard triumphantly. “A new stroller!”   “Dude!” Jin shouts, arm stretching out in exasperation as if the other man could see or hear him. “That’s not even a gift for her!”    You grimace. And it seems like this world’s version of you does as well.   “I could do better than that,” Jin scoffs, fully offended on behalf of you and this alternative version of you who remains completely silent.   “Well, it’s the thought that counts,” you conclude with a small sigh, turning to Seokjin, intrigued by his statement. “What would you get me?”   “I don’t know, like a bouquet of tulips and a scarf. This is just pathetic.”   He shakes his head, but you’re stuck in your spot, transfixed on the ghostly man’s profile. You wonder why he said tulips specifically when he could’ve just said a bouquet of flowers.    You love tulips.   “I have to assemble it, but it’s going to be great,” Taehyung explains excitedly with an enormous, rectangular smile. “The wheels roll in all directions and the sunshade can move at three different angles.”    “Oh. That’s great.” She musters a smile. “I...love it.”   “Right? I even got it on sale. Picked it up yesterday.”   As he stands, she eyes him, fixated on the fact that he had gotten it just yesterday. “Did you forget? About my birthday?”   Colour drains from Taehyung’s face and his mouth draws open before shutting a beat later. Yet she grins and leans up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Tae. I appreciate it.”   He deflates in relief and encircles her waist with his arms. “I love you.”   “I love you too.”   “Y/N—” a shrill voice interrupts their intimate moment. It’s your mom. “Where’s the diapers? Sunny needs a change!”   She sticks her head out of the closet door. “Coming!”   For the rest of the night, the grandparents play with the kids and the dog until it’s everyone’s bedtime and they take their leave, wishing you a goodnight and giving last birthday wishes.   Eugene brushes his own teeth as Taehyung helps the two younger boys and this world’s version of you is in the other bathroom giving Wendy a bath. You feel tired just by watching yourself.    It could just be that you haven’t slept. God knows how long it’s been since this whole adventure started. It’s still a lot to take in but you know you have to make it through until the end. You want to.   In between the bedtime routine, Ken begs to use the iPad while Yuna refuses to go to sleep. But at ten o’clock at night, the whole house finally gets quiet. The Y/N, who’s changed into some old pajamas, hums while cradling Sunny. Said infant rests on her shoulder and sleeps away. The dog is also at the foot of the bed, sleepily blinking.   Taehyung enters their bedroom with a yawn. “Did you have a good day, birthday girl?”   “It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”   He smiles, leaning in to kiss her. It’s soft, tired and brief.   Then there’s a knock at the door and someone who’s barely three feet rubbing at her eyes incessantly with her tiny fists. “I can’t sleep,” Wendy whines, words blubbering together.   “Here, I’ll do it.” She hands Sunny off to Taehyung, but the movement has the infant squirming and a cry escaping her mouth. He tries to hush her, patting her back, but the baby’s brows furrow and she starts to cry louder.    The shrieking builds in intensity and tone as Taehyung tries to get her back to sleep, but she awakens completely, cry becoming ear-piercing. That, in turn, makes the dog get up and howl.   “Mommy!” Wendy shouts at the top of her lungs, trying to draw her attention. “Mommy!”   The temporary peace and quiet of the house is shattered. Lasting less than five minutes.   And with all the noise — the dog howling, the baby crying, Wendy screaming — the Y/N of this world starts to cry too. With her downcast eyes and her head slumped down, tears begin to slip off her cheeks and she lifts her hands to quietly sob into them. Taehyung is at once alarmed.    “Honey.” With his free arm, he tries to embrace his wife. “Is everything alright?”   “Y-Yeah. Sorry.” She lifts her face and hastily wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, clearly trying her best to hold it together. “I-I’m fine.”   She turns and reaches for Wendy’s hand. That appeases the tantruming toddler. “Come on, let’s go.”   You watch her drooping backside fade into the dark hallway until the faint outline disappears from sight. In the meanwhile, Taehyung gets the dog to quiet down and then focuses on getting Sunny back to sleep.   “What’s the verdict?” Jin pipes up suddenly, startling you. It was easy to forget that you were more than a silent spectator.   “I know this is an option but…”   “But?”   You pause, unable to find the right words but as if Seokjin knows you well after tonight, he fills in the blanks for you. “You still want a career, don’t you? Something of your own.”   You meet his eyes, uncertain. “Is that such a bad thing?”   You’re sure being a mother is fulfilling. As exhausting as it seems, you can tell Taehyung loves you, or at least her, and you can tell the kids do as well, in spite of the tantrums they throw or the ‘I hate you’s’ that they shriek. Yet — there’s still something missing.   When you look at this version of yourself, you don’t see you anymore. You see a mother of six. You see Taehyung’s wife. Your own identity has disappeared in the wake of responsibility. And you’re not sure if you can suddenly accept such a drastic change.   You don’t know if this is the reality you want to be in.   “Not at all,” Jin comforts and holds out his hand with a gentle smile. “There’s still one more.”   Like all the times before, your hand slips into Jin’s and he gives you the last envelope that materializes in his hold. Knowing what to do, you release it in front of you with a light toss and it floats mid-air as time suspends. The envelope burns, corners curling in the flames that appear, pages inside disintegrating into ashes that cascade downwards.    The wind picks up. The colours blur. It feels like you’re on a bullet train, being lodged somewhere else. In a different place, a different time, a different universe.   But as the world around you shifts, this time, your eyes remain focused on Jin’s profile.   Your gaze traces the slope of his nose, the pillowy shape of his lips, the way his brown irises catch the light of the stars. And you look at him until he turns. His eyes meet yours and they soften with a sheepish smile.    You don’t know why you didn’t notice before.    Maybe you just got used to it since it was like this from the start. Maybe you thought he was like this to everyone. But the way Seokjin gazes at you — it’s like you’re the only thing he wants to look at.   A car whizzes past.   You’re both standing next to the street. A lamppost dimly illuminates your translucent figures.   “Is something wrong?”   You break away from his tender gaze. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”   “Well...it’s almost over.” He squeezes your hand and releases it. You glance at him, but he’s looking elsewhere and as you follow his line of sight, you realize you’re right in front of your apartment.    If you didn’t know any better, you would think that you made it back to the present, your present. But then you catch yourself, this world’s version of you, getting out of a car in the open parking lot.   She’s wearing simple business attire, a pencil skirt and blouse, not that much different from what you’re wearing now.   “Care to tell me about this last lover of yours?” he asks, leaning over with a mischievous smile.   You scoff, mouth tugged upwards. This one’s no lover of yours, but Jin already knows that. He’s only teasing you at this point.   There’s only one person left. Only one person it could be.   “Jungkook. I met him at a bar a year ago. He came in with a group of guys.” A group of very attractive men that your coworkers pointed out. You still remember how lucky you felt when he slid right next to you and chatted you up. He was a smooth talker, charismatic, and you were infatuated within an hour. “He’s a semi-pro racer.”   “I didn’t know you were into bad boys.”   “He was sweet. Until he ghosted me.” You sigh lightly, not particularly bitter about it considering it’s been a while. “We went on a few dates, but he never called me back after the third one.”   At the time you wrote that love letter, you were frustrated and upset. It was a wine drunk night and you needed to vent somehow, so you did it through letter form once again. This was the first relationship where you really thought it would have a chance of working out.    You don’t know the reasoning for Jungkook never contacting you again. Maybe he just lost interest. Maybe he found someone else. But you suppose this is a world where it didn’t turn out that way.   “Well, that’s stupid of him,” Jin breaks you out of your thoughts. He says it so nonchalantly like it’s obvious. He doesn’t know just how consoling his words are to you. “His loss. Guess this is his second chance to own up.”   Before your lips can part, before you can say anything, a phone rings.   The Y/N of this world picks it out of her pocket as she makes her way into the apartment. Jin follows after her and you’re left trailing after him.   “Hey.” She smiles sweetly. “Work was fine. Are you coming home soon?”   Once she gets inside, she pushes the button for the elevator. “There’s already a cake in the fridge. We can cut it tonight.”    There’s a pause and suddenly, she bursts out laughing. “How about staying in? We don’t need to do anything fancy. I wouldn’t mind just having dinner tonight and maybe turning on a movie. I heard When Spring Meets Autumn is half-decent. I can probably download it for free.” She grins after a beat of quiet. “Oh, come on, romance movies aren’t that bad.”   She gets inside the elevator and it goes up, opening at her floor. She strides down the hall, but you and Jin are ahead of her. “Okay. I’ll see you in an hour or two then? Love you.”   As she fiddles with the keys to open the door, you walk through the walls.    It’s your apartment. Down to the empty glass on the counter.   A wave of relief and comfort washes over you. It feels like it’s been eons since you’ve been here in your own home and after seeing so many different versions of ‘home’, this place was unbeatable. Not that the penthouse in New York wasn’t gorgeous or the townhouse in France wasn’t lovely — but this place, albeit not special, it’s yours. You got it on your own, picked out the furniture on your own, pay for it on your own, and most importantly, it carries all of your memories.   You don’t know what you would do if you could never return here — to the home you built yourself.   The Y/N of this timeline throws the keys onto the counter and kicks off her shoes.   She turns on the lights and you watch her like it’s an out-of-body experience. Out of all the versions of yourself that you’ve witnessed, this one is the most strikingly similar to you. It seems like not much has changed in this reality. You still have your job, your home, all the things you worked hard for and the things you’re content with.    It’s all here.   The only difference is you’re not alone. You have someone to call your own. Someone to come home to.   As she heads for the shower to wash up, Jin plops down on the couch. His arms spread wide and he props his feet onto the coffee table.    You scoff, crossing your arms and quirking your brow at him. “Looks like someone’s gotten comfortable. You know, that’s the exact spot I was sitting when you scared me shitless and almost gave me a heart attack.”   “Yeah, because of how good looking I am, right?” Jin smirks and you roll your eyes.   “Unbelievable.”   “It’s not like she can see.”   “This is still my apartment.”   “It’s hers.”   “Well, she’s me and I’m her.”   “Technically, this is another version of you that you can choose to become,” he says with a sly smile, obviously entertained by the petty argument and managing to rile you up.   But what he says piques your interest. You realize you don’t know the real specifics to what will happen once you make your choice. “So, if I choose, I’ll end up becoming them?”   “In a sense. You’ll get their memories, and your entire life will change.”   “What happens if it turns out I hate it?”   “That’s why you have to make the decision carefully.”   Your brows furrow. “Can’t you revert it back?”   “No.” Seokjin quiets and he looks to the floor. “Once the decision is made, I’ll be gone.”   You step forward, words unable to sink into you. “What do you mean?”   He meets your eyes, murmuring, “I’m just here to grant you your wish, Y/N.”   Before any more can be said, the you of this universe comes back, filling the silence with a song on her phone. She pulls the sleeves of her hoodie up to her elbows and goes to the kitchen humming. The two of you follow, watching her taking out lettuce and potatoes from the fridge.    She struggles to get the hard spaghetti box from the high cabinet shelf.    Jin shakes his head, sighing. “You should stop keeping things out of your reach.”   “I can reach,” you argue, and she does manage to snag it, only after jumping twice. But it works. “See?”   He grins, putting his hands up.   But Jin quickly becomes exasperated by how much salt she puts into the water and freaks out when the pot almost overboils onto the stove.   “I didn’t take you for being a backseat driver, or in this case, a backseat chef,” you quip.   “Don’t you know? The most important way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he declares, suddenly passionate. “You only eat three times a day, so it has to be right.”   His tangent makes you grin. “I didn’t know you were such a foodie.”   “You are too,” he mutters, frowning over her shoulder as she stirs the pasta. “You’re a pickier eater than I am.”   Instantly, a knot is made between your brows. “How do you know that?”   Jin does a double take and says, “I’m just assuming. Since you seem like the high maintenance type.”   You’re wholly offended by the comment, mouth hanging open as you scoff.   Jin ducks when try to smack his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry.” He laughs, smiling from ear to ear. “I didn’t mean it.”   “You so did!” But instead of being insulted, you start laughing too.   “Well maybe it’s because I’ve shown you paradise with five guys so far and you haven’t made a single choice. Sorry for assuming things because you’re so picky.” The last word is squealed out as you try to jab Seokjin’s side. He giggles and you chase him around the kitchen island.   “Didn’t you tell me to make my decision carefully?”    “I didn’t tell you to take years to decide,” he sing-songs, mocking you.   “Well, excuse me! I didn’t know you had better things to do.”   “Why are you mad at me?” Jin grins and it’s infuriating how each move you make, he mirrors you, keeping the exact same distance around the island. And when you try to run, his legs are too goddamn long for you to catch up. “You’re the slow and indecisive one.”   Your mouth drops open again. “Did you just call me slow?!”   He laughs and it takes all your efforts not to either. But you can’t help the way your lips twitch into another smile.    “You’re slow at chasing me.”   “You little shit — get back here! Jin!”   In the meanwhile, this world’s version of you is busy chopping potatoes and preparing her seasoning. She’s completely oblivious to you and Seokjin running around her and making an absolute ruckus out of the place. When she’s not making the food, she’s constantly checking the clock.   Once the food is prepared, sitting on the stove to be warmed up again, she stops tapping her foot incessantly and grabs her phone. You watch as she makes a call, but sighs after there’s no answer. So, she sits on the couch, fingers flurrying over her phone as she texts.    But as the hour passes and minutes continue to fly by, she becomes more uneased.   She starts to pace. Checking outside the window. Looking at the clock.   She calls again and this time, leaves a voice message— “Jungkook, hey. When are you coming home? The food’s all done, and I thought you’d be here by now. You’re not picking up my calls either. Is everything alright? At least give me a call back or answer my text when you hear this.”   You and Seokjin watch her and you brace yourself, wondering what’s wrong this time.   Maybe Jungkook’s ditching you in this timeline as well. Maybe you’re about to find out he’s cheating on you. Or maybe he’s just not going to show up and you’re going to spend your birthday alone like how it was supposed to be from the very start—   Your train of thought is interrupted by a ringing that pierces into the silence.    She jolts and instinctively snatches her phone, picking up the call.    “Hello?”   There’s a long pause. She furrows her brows deep enough to hurt and then instantly gets to her feet. “Oh my god. I’ll be right there!”   You and Seokjin exchange equally confused expressions as she darts to grab her coat and keys, nearly slipping on the floor in the process. You don’t know where she’s going, but Jin doesn’t wait around.    “Let’s follow her.”   You nod and the pair of you keep up until you’re sitting in the backseat of her car. The engine roars and then she’s backing out of her spot and driving down the road over the speed limit.   She glances into the rearview mirror every so often — teeth sunk into the bottom of her lip — tears making her eyes glassy. At any red stop light, her fingers tap against the steering wheel, anxious to go.   You frown when something comes into sight. You feel Seokjin stiffen beside you.   It’s the hospital.   She signals and turns into it, wheels screeching against the pavement, frantically following the signs until she parks in the lot. She doesn’t pay for parking, merely grabbing her jacket thrown in the other seat and she starts to run towards the sliding glass doors, past the parked ambulances.    You barely manage to keep up. Jin trails behind you.   When you enter, she’s sobbing at the counter. “I-I got a call. M-My fiancé— he’s hurt.”   The nurse tries to calm her down. “Can you tell me his name?”   “Jeon Jungkook.”   She’s shaking.    Fear is etched onto her features. Her eyes search the room desperately. And her knuckles are white with how they grasp onto the counter as if to anchor her weakened knees.   A younger nurse leads the way and she fervently follows her down the hall as teardrops shed down her cheeks. The nurse stops at a room with a window looking into it.    “He’s inside. You can’t go in yet.”   “W-What happened to him,” she whispers in a broken voice, staggering breaths heaving from her chest as she tries to get the words out. “Is...is he going to be okay?”    At the exact same moment, as if to answer her questions, the door opens.   “Make way!”   Jungkook is wheeled out, laying on the bed, eyes barely open and conscious. He’s in a neck brace, his lips bleeding, cuts littering his reddened face that is sure to bruise abhorrently. His left eye is swollen beyond recognition and the doctors crowd over him. But it doesn’t stop her from calling out to him.   “Jungkook!”   She chases after them as they wheel him away. “Jungkook!”   His fingertip twitches. But once they turn the corner, she slows.   “Ma’am.” A doctor comes to her. “Are you the patient’s wife?”   “I’m his fiancée,” she manages in the midst of her heavy sobs. “Wh-What happened to him?”   “He got into a motorcycle accident, but luckily his injuries aren’t too severe. He’s most likely going to recover,” he says, and she deflates in relief, a deep breath being taken as she tries to quiet her crying. “He has a concussion and we’re just sending him in for a CT scan to figure out how severe it’ll be. Is there someone you can contact? Does he have any family?”   “His parents are out of the country— but how long will it take?”   “It should be within the hour.”   She nods. “I’ll...I’ll wait for him here.”   She lugs her legs back, finding chairs built in the hall across the room and she waits for him there. Hunched over. Hands kitted together. Shaking. No one pays mind as she cries quietly into her lap. No one looks at her slumped silhouette but you and Jin, standing at the end of the hall.    She spends her birthday in the hospital.   You’ve seen so many versions of yourself today — a successful businesswoman, a traveler, a mother — but there’s something about seeing yourself broken down in a hospital, in grief for a loved one. It’s difficult for you to see yourself so torn down from an outsider’s point of view. It’s hard to watch.    But Jin seems to be more affected than you.   He’s quiet, without comment and it’s unlike him to be.   You turn to Jin, finding him visibly uncomfortable with the scene — brows furrowed deep enough to hurt, lips lopsided and eyes solemn. He stares at her for a prolonged moment.   “Are you alright?”   He jolts from your voice and tears his eyes away from the sight. “I’m fine. I just don’t like hospitals.”   You wonder if it’s because he died in one. You wonder how he died in the first place.   “Jin.”   “Hmm?”   “How...how did you die?” you ask in a hesitant murmur, uncertain if it’s a question you’re even allowed to ask. “Since you said you were a ghost and all…”   The corner of his mouth tugs, but it’s tinged with sorrow. “It was a car accident. It came out of nowhere. I didn’t have time to prepare.”   “I’m sorry.”   “No.” He shifts his gaze downwards. “I’m more sorry for the people I left behind.”   After a beat, Jin lifts his eyes to you and he says, “Don’t pick this one.”   You’re taken aback. Not once has he voiced his own opinion before — never so strongly and firmly. He’s made comments, made jokes, complained countless times, but Jin’s never told you what to do. Who to pick and choose. What path to go down into. But now, he doesn’t waver.    He is adamant. As if he’s already eliminated this one decision for you.   “Why not?”   Jin gazes into you, eyes becoming soft and tender.    “I don’t want to see you like this.”   Before you can react, before your mouth can open and the innumerable questions pressed on your mind can tumble from your lips, the same nurse from earlier approaches this world’s version of you. “Mrs. Y/N? You are Jungkook’s fiancée?” Immediately, she stands. “He’s been moved into another room.”   She enters a room in the adjacent hall.   Jungkook’s inclined upwards on the bed. Dark hair, doe eyes, tattoos wrapping up his left arm before it disappears under the sleeve of his blue hospital gown. There are scratches littering his face, a bandage on his chin and spots on his torn flesh already deepening in a purple hue.    Yet Jungkook still manages a meek smile. “Hey.”   She stares at him, expression filled with hurt and he already knows.    “He’ll be okay,” the doctor says, and she redirects his attention to him. “The concussion luckily isn’t severe, and we’ve given him some pain medication. The cuts and bruises should heal in a few weeks. I’ll leave the nurses to explain the best way to treat them.”    The doctor continues, “He’ll need to stay in the neck brace for two days since he did suffer from some whiplash. We also want to keep him in the hospital for at least twenty four hours to monitor his condition in case something goes wrong.”   “Okay.” She musters a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you so much.”   He mentions a few other things, but he and the nurses soon leave to give her and Jungkook some privacy. It’s then that a deadly silence fills the room.   She stands a meter away from the bed, staring at him. He doesn’t say a single thing. Not until she does.   “You went racing again….didn’t you?”   “I’m sorry.”   “You were supposed to be on your way home. You told me you were going home.”   “I know. It was supposed to only take an hour, but then this...happened.” Jungkook has the audacity to laugh, but then sharply inhales with the sting of his split lip.   She glares at him and slowly approaches his bedside. “It’s not funny. What if it was worse? What if you got hurt even worse, Jungkook?” Her eyes are glassy and her voice croaks. “W-What am I supposed to do then? Are you planning on leaving me like that?”   “I know.” Jungkook softens, stuck in his spot with the neck brace but he lifts out his arm. She takes his hand, still trembling and he squeezes it. “I’m sorry.”   She sits beside him and his eyes flicker over to her. The corner of Jungkook’s mouth subtly upturns. “If it helps, I would kiss you right now if I could.”   A tearful laugh pulls from her. “You look awful.”   “I feel awful.” He squeezes her hand again. “Will you still love me if all this is permanent?”   She scoffs lightly, unable to believe he can be joking around in this position. But she doesn’t argue about it. “It isn’t, but yes. I’d still love you even if you’re an absolute idiot.”   “I’m glad.” Jungkook sighs out of feigned relief. He easily turns the atmosphere lighthearted and relaxes her. “I don’t know how I’d deal if you decide to dump me. I’d be injured inside and out. Don’t think the doctor can officially diagnose it as heartbreak.”   “You should be more worried about me punching you than breaking up with you.”   “I’d tell you to do it now, but I don’t think I could take it. My neck’s not in a great place right now.” His eyes flicker down to his neck brace. “You might accidentally decapitate me. Wouldn’t want you to go to prison because of me, babe.” He smiles and adds, “Especially not on your birthday.”   She has a deadpan expression. “Thanks.”   “Man, tonight was supposed to be perfect.” Jungkook exhales. “I was supposed to slap down the prize money on the table and I even had the nicest gift for you. It’s under the bed.”   “Don’t tell me what it is.” Her eyes glaze over again, and she becomes quiet. “Give it to me when you get out.”   “Okay.” Jungkook stares at her. “The bike’s a goner. I won’t be able to fix it.”   “Good.”   There’s a pause and he repeats himself as if that could somehow make up for his mistake. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you don’t want to spend your birthday here.”   A tear trickles from her eye and leaves a wet trail as it rolls down her cheek. “That doesn’t matter. Just promise me. Promise me this won’t happen again, Kook,” she whispers, begging and pleading, “That you won’t go racing illegally and get yourself arrested or hurt.”   There’s a beat of silence.   “I promise.”   But she looks far from being reassured. There’s an expression on her face, one that reads of disappointment. As if she knows he’ll do it again. As if she knows the promise is meaningless. After all, no matter how much she pleads, she can’t change his personality. Jungkook is a risk-taker. He lives for adventure and the adrenaline rush. She’ll be here again. Crying. Waiting.   You watch the two of them from the window in the hall. You don’t know what to think.   This is the last one. After this, there’s no more letters to burn, no more futures to see.   You have to make your choice.    Yoongi. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jimin. Taehyung. Or Jungkook.   But you don’t know who to pick. You don’t know what the answer is. Nothing seems right to you.   These versions of your life and of yourself, they never seem to be truly content with their situation. There’s always a missing piece to the puzzle. A compromise in each that you’re not sure you’re willing to make. And maybe that’s just what life is — there’s no such thing as perfect. Maybe you just have to accept that fact and learn to cope. But why does it still feel so wrong?   There are a million maybes that have flooded your mind and overwhelmed you completely but one of them is the loudest. A truth that had lingered in the back of your mind and crept as time went on. One that you had tried to acknowledge before—   Maybe you’re not meant to be with any of them.   This scene in front of you isn’t meant to happen. Everything you’ve seen tonight was supposed to remain what-ifs and not what-is.    The way your life has actually worked out is the one that should stay.   But you have to choose….right?   That’s what Jin told you.   Jin.   “How do you know I like tulips?”   The question is finally spoken from your lips as you’re both looking onwards at the couple on the other side of the glass. The ghostly man is by your side as he has been since the very start.   “What?”   You turn to him, gaze connected to his. “You said for my birthday you’d get me a scarf and a bouquet of tulips.”   Jin’s brow lifts. “Did I?”   “You did. A normal person would’ve just said a bouquet of flowers.”   His head quirks and he smiles. “I just said whatever came to mind. I didn’t think twice about it.”   “How’d you know it was my mom before I introduced her to you?”   Jin blinks owlishly and within a second, it’s gone and he’s still smiling at you. “I thought it was obvious, wasn’t it? What’s wrong?” he asks, caught off guard by your questions.   “You knew I was a picky-eater too.” One by one, you start to connect the pieces together and the more you consider, the more fragments fall into your lap. You didn’t see it before but now that you do, it’s all you see.   It’s blaring out at you. Neon in the midst of monotone.    The puzzle was so much bigger. There were so many more questions you should’ve been asking sooner. The most important things that you should’ve known first were right in front of you. You shouldn’t have waited until now.   Seokjin’s expression is marred by genuine confusion. “Y/N?”    “How did you know my name?” you ask, eyes piercing into his. “I never told you.”   “I’m your guardian angel,” he explains, but it’s lies. All lies.   “You said you were a ghost,” you refute without blinking. “You died from a car accident.”   Seokjin diverts his eyes elsewhere, searching the floor, the walls. “I’m just here to grant your wish.” He tries to evade, but you know better. You know to press on. To keep prying—   “Why do you look at me like that?”   You won’t stop. Not until you know the truth.   “Like what?”   “Like you love me.”   The two of you stand in the middle of the hospital, noises whizzing past, doctors, patients and nurses whisking by. Everything blurs into the background into a mosaic of fuzzy colours — fluorescent lights, bodies in motion. The pandemonium has turned into white noise.   It reminds you of being on a bullet train or a space where there’s just you and him.   You look at Jin, brows knitted together, searching his expression. “Who are you?”   “I don’t know what you mean,” he murmurs, blank and impassive.    Your voice raises, becoming louder, begging to know. “Who are you?”   It can’t be a coincidence — how he knows so much about you, with the way he looks at you so affectionately.    “Why did you come to grant my wish?”   “Y/N.” Jin calls your name, firmly, louder.   But you reach out and grab him with a sudden fear that he’ll slip away from you. You grasp onto the collar of his brown coat, tightening your fists until your knuckles have turned white. You pull his face close to your own, trying to break through his expressionless facade. Trying to stop him from telling you lies upon lies.   “Who are you to me?!”   “I can’t tell you!”   “Why?!” You shake, teeth gritted, brows knotted. “Why can’t you be honest with me?!”   “Because I don’t want to see you hurt!”    The shout echoes in your eardrums. His chest rises and falls. Your own breath heaves out your lungs, tearing from your lips.    “I don’t want to see you hurt.” Seokjin swallows hard and his eyes beg you not to ask anymore. To spare him. “I don’t want you to be alone.”   You let go of him. “Then I won’t choose. I won’t choose anyone.”   At once, the world around you dissolves. The scene of you and Jungkook sitting on the hospital bed dissipates and the wind howls. It whips through your hair, caresses your cheeks, whistles around you as the colour of this universe bleeds away. It turns into a blank canvas until objects start to materialize one by one. Until you’ve returned to your apartment again.    Home. Your timeline. The place you’re supposed to be.   “No!” Seokjin reaches out instantly, wrapping his hand around your wrist as if he’s reacting with sheer reflex, as if he’s afraid he’ll disappear. “Wait! You have to choose!”   “Then tell me why!” you scream at him, standing in the same place where it all began. Where he first appeared. In the darkness of your living room. “Tell me the truth—!”   “Because I’m your husband!”   Your breath hitches. Your heart stops in your chest. It lodges inside your throat.   “This. Everything,” Jin pants, words heavy on his lips. “I’m trying to help you. To prevent this future.”   It’s hard to speak. Hard to get past the painful lump swelled at the bottom of your throat. Hard to overcome the ache throbbing in your mind and inside your chest. “What...what do you mean?”   “I die. In the future, I die and leave you alone.” He holds your gaze, no longer afraid, no longer vague. Jin gives you what you wished for — the truth. “Every relationship has something wrong with it and you know what’s wrong with ours? I die. I leave you.”   Jin scrubs a hand over his face. In the shadows of your apartment and with the dim lights of the street lamps outside, you can see his reddened eyes, his visage etched with anguish.    “You didn’t need to know that. You don’t need to worry about me either. I’ll be fine. So just choose and avoid this end.”   A drawn out silence fills the spaces between your bodies — yours now tangible and his still translucent. All of Seokjin’s words sink into your skin, swallowed by your mind, consumed by your soul.   For the first time tonight, you know what you want.   “I don’t want to choose.”   A muscle by his brow jumps. “What?”   “If this happened for a reason…” Your feet root themselves into the ground. “...if there’s a reason why I ended up with none of these people, then that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”    But the ghostly man in front of you is as stubborn as you are. He doesn’t give up either.   “I won’t let that happen.”   “You don’t get to decide that.”   “I’m giving you an out!” he shouts in frustration. You’ve never seen him so upset — so distressed and exasperated. “You don’t have feelings for me! This should be easy for you!”   “Well, it’s not! I don’t want an out!”   “Why not?!”   “Because I know you love me,” you spit out at him and your voice quivers. You inhale until your lungs feel swollen, until it feels like regret could never touch you. “And whatever memories you have of us, whatever memories I have yet to make with you, I don’t want that to be taken away just because you die.”   “It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head, solemn, conflicted, trying not to look at you. “None of that matters. It hasn’t happened to you yet—”   “You keep asking me what I think, what I want, so listen to me!” Your vocal cords strain inside your throat, desperate for him to pay attention, to really look at you. And he does. “You’re here to grant me my wish and I choose to be with you.”   Your voice softens. Your eyes become tender.   You can’t look at him the way he looks at you. Not yet. Almost. And you don’t want a future where you won’t be able to get there.    You’ve seen six imperfect worlds, but this world you have yet to fully witness. You can’t leave it behind before you do. Whatever’s in store, it’s the way it’s supposed to be. You’ll endure it.    If not for your sake, then for his.   “Even if it means the present and future pain, I won’t change my mind.” The two of you gaze at one another and as the seconds pass, the more sure you become. “No matter what, I’ll choose you.”   Seokjin’s eyes gloss over and your own vision blurs. The colours of your world become fuzzy with your clouded eyes, but you keep them trained on his face. Tracing against the slope of his nose, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the black strands of his hair that fall in front of his forehead.   “If I married you, there’s a reason for it. So you don’t get to decide — I do.”   “I should’ve known.” Jin sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”   Suddenly he looks up, past the ceiling, as if he hears something.   The corner of his lips curls and he looks at you once more as his translucent skin morphs transparent and you can see straight through his body as if he’s made of glass. “June 23rd,” he says as his fingertips dim, “Two years from now is the day of the car accident.”   “Jin!”    You scream after him. He smiles softly.   You rush forward, but he goes straight through you. Fading.    “Jin! No! Please!” But your cries are futile. Your attempts of holding onto him are vain. Your hands grab onto the air as he starts to dissolve, colour washing away, just like the many worlds you had traveled to together. “Don’t go!”   Seokjin tries to reach out to you but to no avail. “Thank you.”   “Don’t leave me!”   He whispers, “I love you.”   Jin vanishes. Gone from your sight. His voice lingering for mere moments. You cry out, crumbling in the spot he stood, reaching out only for your fists to be filled of air. No one is there to help when sobs break through your chest and you weep out his name. Salt bleeds from your eyes that still hold the memory of his tender gaze but it, too, has already begun to fade.   The six love letters sit untouched on the table as if nothing had happened.   The silence of your apartment is deafening.
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You wake up the next day with swollen eyes. It’s hard to peel them open, to look around your room and face the sunlight pouring through the windows. Your head pounds, your body aches and your chest throbs.    It’s hard to get out of bed.    There’s an overwhelming urge to tug the covers over your head and try to wrap your mind around what happened the night before, about what you now know. It would be easy to go back and assume everything was a fever dream or a mere hallucination. But you know better. He already proved to you that everything was real.   The sense of normalcy at work is what keeps you sane. Morning coffee and greetings, the same projects to work on and emails to send out. It’s easier to cope when a massive part of your life hasn’t dramatically changed. It’s almost like you can pretend things are still okay, that you’re okay. At the very least, it makes you glad that you dragged yourself out of bed and went to work.   “Did you catch the game last night, Y/N?” your coworker asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.   “I didn’t actually. I was a bit busy last night.”   You try to look for Jin.   If he came to you as a ghost from the future, that means he’s still existing here in the present. It means you can find him. The last thing you want is to waste any more time. But you never asked him for his last name. Or where he’s from, or what he does, or where he lives. He had spent the entire time focused on you. And because of that, you barely know any detail about him — the whos, whats, when, where, and whys are missing. You don’t know anything.   It makes searching for him impossible. You can’t find Seokjin. No matter how hard you try. Not when there are thousands of people with the same name across the world — but only one you’re searching for.   So, you wait. Anxiously. But patiently.    You made a promise. You told him you could endure it. And that’s how you muster the strength to continue living your life, heading down the road you had chosen. Waiting for your paths to cross.   Waiting. Waiting.   Day by day.    Until the week passes.   “Conference room meeting, everyone!” your boss reminds the floor that’s already buzzing with excitement. Some folks bolt up from their cubicles while others are already on their way.    You can’t blame them. It might only be nine in the morning on a Monday, but people in the office have been looking forward to the new transfers for a while now considering it means the workload will be shared and thus, lessened for each person. It’ll be the end to those late nights.    “Did you see?” your coworker nudges you as you both walk down the hall. “There’s a really handsome new one.”   You smile, amused. “Really?”   “Yes!” A younger girl behind you gasps, having eavesdropped. She tries her best to keep her voice down in spite of the squeals. “I have! I wonder if he’s single, god I hope so.”   “Don’t keep your hopes up. Men like that usually already have someone else who’s snatched them up,” your coworker says with a small grin, causing the girl to deflate with a pout.   Everyone’s already taken their seats by the time you get to the conference room. You manage to snag an empty chair in the middle row as the last few stranglers enter. More often than not, any new hires are brought around on an office tour and introduced to anyone important. But you suppose since there were quite a handful of new people, your boss wanted to set up an official meeting to properly introduce them to everyone. Either way, you don’t mind. It’s nice not having to work.   “As you probably all heard, it’s true. We have a few new transfers from the Fresno branch, and they’ll be joining our team. I’d like all of you to give your warmest welcome—”   Your boss’ voice drowns out as your mind wanders.   It’s not until your coworker leans over and whispers that you snap back to attention. “That’s the handsome one.”   A lineup of five enter. And your eyes immediately fall onto the man at the very end.   Black hair. Plump lips. Bright eyes.   He stands at the front of the room in a brown coat, white shirt, dark slacks.    Your breath hitches. Your heart stutters. It skips a beat. It feels like your rib cage is tightening in on itself, winding around your heart, crushing the organ, making your chest ache.    You can’t stop staring at him. Even as your eyes start to mist and your vision fogs.   The whole universe seems to blur into the back where there’s just you and him.    It’s your intense gaze that makes him turn his head to you. He feels the weight of your stare and with one mere movement, his brown eyes lock with yours across the room. And he regards you with a cordial smile. The corner of his mouth upturn, cheeks puffing out ever so slightly.    Something painful lodges inside your throat.   You’re overwhelmed with an emotion that he doesn’t yet have for you. And he might not have it for a very long time, but it doesn’t matter, not right now.   It’s him. Jin.   His name is Kim Seokjin.
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His cubicle is beside yours. It was always an empty space, a spot where you placed your spare shoes and now you quickly remove them to make space for him and his belongings. He tries to get settled, placing down framed pictures of family and a fake plant by the lamp. The IT person swings by to make sure his computer is set up and throughout the entire process….   You can’t help but stare at him through the corner of your eye.   “Is there something on my face?”   He speaks to you mid-afternoon after lunch, leaning over in his chair, almost intruding in your space. He has a genuinely curious expression, hinted with slight worry. Yet his voice is melodic. Sweet. Calm. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve heard his voice, heard it directed towards you.    It’s not until he lifts a brow that you realize you haven’t answered him and it’s been over ten second. But your mouth is dry, and you open and close it, not sure what to say.    Your brain is short-circuiting. You need to get out of your head. You need to answer his question. It’s getting more and more awkward the longer you delay it and he’s starting to give you a concerned look—   “You’re just handsome.”   Fuck.    Immediately, you shut your eyes. You inwardly cringe, cursing yourself for blurting out something so stupid. You might as well slam your head against the desk and hope the earth swallows you whole. But really, it’s his fault. Jin’s the one who drilled how handsome he is inside your head. The dork practically brainwashed you and made you this dumb.   “I’m sorry.” You open your eyes again, swallowing hard. “I didn’t mean to say that. It was really unprofessional.”   But he laughs. It’s a bubbly sound that’s stirred from inside of him.    The corner of his mouth curls in amusement and his eyes gleam with mischief. “No, it’s alright. I get my looks from my mom, so I’m sure she’d appreciate it too. Y/N, right?”   “Y-Yeah.”    Your arm trembles as it stretches out, but he doesn’t notice and shakes your hand.    His smile becomes faint. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope we can be good deskmates.”   “If you have any questions, you can ask me,” you manage to say after swallowing hard.   “Thanks. I will.”   You turn away, gluing your eyes to your computer screen. It’s nerve-racking somehow. You’re hyperaware of him and his presence. You’re not sure how to act when he knows nothing about you and you know so much more about him — about who he becomes to you, about what happens in two years.   It’s not like you can tell him. It’s not like you can confess that his future self came to you the week before and the two of you went on a whole whirlwind of an adventure. You wouldn’t even believe yourself.   You wonder if this is how he felt.   “Y/N.”   You snap out of your trance, looking up to see another colleague. “Are you coming to the meeting?”   You scramble, grabbing the appropriate files, having forgotten completely. “Yes.”   You try to shelve everything away in your mind. The knowledge and tragedy of the future is too much of a burden to bear on your own. But you’ll follow through on your promise with him. You’ll follow through with your promise on choosing him and you’ll let life take its course until that time comes.   There’s a reason after all.   You won’t force anything or push it away.   With your best efforts, you focus on your work as if it’s like any other day. And it’s the perfect distraction. It keeps you sane as you fall into the same rhythm and routine. It’s comforting.   Sometimes Jin asks you for help and you offer him a hand, but nothing more. You try not to pay too much attention to your colleagues either. They sneak by, coming to fawn over him and even the girls from the other departments ask you what you know about the man. But as of right now, you know nothing. As of right now, you are nothing to each other….   “Are you going to get the document finished today, Y/N?” someone asks, stopping by your cubicle.   You spare a glance at the clock on the wall. “I’ll be done within an hour.”   With that said, you pour your focus into your work and your hands sprint across the computer keyboard. By the time the sun’s set, the document is finished and you’re able to click save.   It’s a huge relief and you stretch from your spot, lifting your arms above your head and rolling your neck to get the kinks out. Your stomach rumbles and you sigh, muttering to yourself, “Ugh, I’m starving.”   “I am too.”   You practically jump in your seat and you twist your head to find Jin standing at his cubicle, putting his arm through the sleeve of his brown coat. You didn’t realize he was still here.   He smiles, plump lips making the perfect ‘u’ shape and his cheeks, reminiscent of bread, puff out. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”   You tear your eyes away, forcing yourself to be calm and keep the conversation casual. This was nothing more than boring small talk made between colleagues.    “Not really, do you?”   You quickly click send. The email disappears from your drafts. You shut off the computer.   “I think I’m going to grab dinner, but I don’t really know where to go.”   “There’s a nice restaurant down the street.” You stand, taking your own coat. “They’re next to the deli. They have happy hour right around now and they serve pasta if you’re into that sort of thing.”   “Yeah, that sounds great.” Jin slings his brown messenger bag across his body, eyes still on you in spite of yours plastered on the wall. “But I’m actually terrible with directions. Maybe you could join me and lead the way?”   There’s a pause. Your head whirls to him.    He quickly adds— “If you want. No pressure whatsoever. I don’t want to make it weird or anything. I just thought it would be nice to get to know each other since we’re deskmates and all...”   You blink at him. Stunned. And your mouth moves before you’ve had time to really process it.   “Sure.”   All at once, Seokjin’s nervousness melts away and a grin takes its place. His eyes glimmer. All he replies with is, “Great.”   You follow after him, and the history of the pair of you begins there. The ‘once upon a time’ is handwritten and inked into the pages of your story together. A love story with a forgotten prequel.
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Two days later, you go out for coffee. When you complain about how cold it is outside, Jin’s hand incidentally slips into yours. His hands are absolutely freezing, colder than yours are...   But you don’t tell him.
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Jin kisses you after the third date. It’s soft and sweet.   You catch him off guard when you kiss him again.
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The both of you start officially dating after two weeks. Your coworkers are dripping of jealousy and envy, but there’s nothing a few HR forms can’t fix.
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It’s after the sixth date that you invite him inside your apartment for a drink. It’s surreal to see him here again, curiously looking around for the first time even though for you, it isn’t.    But it doesn’t matter.    You don’t have to dwell when it ends with you on the mattress, his lips all over your skin, your nails dug into the planes of his broad shoulders. And during breakfast the next morning, he accidentally says I love you. He blurts it out across the small table as your cheeks are filled with sunny-side up eggs. He doesn’t know that you’ve already felt that way long before he has.
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Jin starts sleeping over regularly a month into the relationship. Not long after that, you meet his friends and he meets yours, and you’re introducing each other to your parents. They all love him — his sense of humour, his silliness, how he takes care of you; it’s all the parts that you adore.   Your mom tells you how happy she is for you.   And as nervous as you are to meet his family, they’re no different from him.   He was right in saying they would love you if he loved you.
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Later one peaceful afternoon, Jin confesses — “I was actually nervous asking you out.”
You turn to him with a small laugh, smiling from ear to ear. “I thought the infamous and ever charming Kim Seokjin doesn’t get nervous.”   “Yeah.” He’s sheepish but honest. “Guess you’re the exception.”   Another giggle bursts through you and you come over to comb your fingers through his dark hair, letting it fluff up on top of his head. Jin leans into your touch, indulging in being coddled by you. “You actually have nerves of steel to ask me out to dinner on the first day when you just got there.”   The corner of his mouth upturns. “What can I say? I’m impatient. I had to shoot my shot. But I asked someone earlier in the day if you were seeing anyone.”   “And?”   “Of course I was relieved when they said no. But I thought you would still reject me.”   You grin, putting your arms around him. You squish your cheek against his backside. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. But why’d you want to ask me for dinner in the first place? There were so many other people.”   “You were cute,” he says. “Especially when you blurted out that I was handsome. I don’t think anyone’s said that out loud to my face before.”   You roll your eyes, and he laughs.
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Months pass with the two of you falling asleep on the sofa together, of you waking up to him making coffee in your kitchen. Kim Seokjin, the man with broad shoulders and mischievous eyes, becomes a constant in your life like it always has been since the start. It comes to a point where it’s almost as if he’s moved in — toothbrush at your place, his clothes in your laundry.   “What is this?” One night, you find him standing at the closet in the hall with a small box in hand. The lid’s fallen off and he looks inside, brows raised with an incredulous expression.    You already know what it is by a mere glance. “I used to write love letters.”   Jin’s curiosity is piqued. “Oh. Can I read them?”    “You can if you want to, but it’s not important. None of them are.”    The letters have long lost their meaning to you. The only value they have now is the fact that they began your adventure with Seokjin. All those experiences validate what you have now.   And they’re your only mementos of the forgotten prequel.   The corner of his mouth lifts as he picks up an envelope. Jin’s eyes flicker to you. “You never wrote one for me?”   You return his tender smile. “I didn’t need to.”   The pair of you slots so perfectly into one another’s lives that you don’t doubt the choice you made. Even when you’re arguing about dishes in the sink or he’s following after you, apologizing for forgetting an anniversary. Those little things that matter in the moment don’t in the months that come.
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The following year, your birthday is spent inside.    It’s nothing special. A rather mundane celebration. Small streamers, a ‘happy birthday’ banner he tacked onto the wall, and a cake for two stored in the fridge. Jin sticks one of those silly birthday hats with a pompom on the end onto your head and he makes sure to take enough pictures until you have to force him to quit harassing you. It’s as if he’s the paparazzi and you’re some star — an idea where he flirtatiously affirms with a “well, you are the light of my life.”   On that day, it’s just the two of you and the intimacy of your apartment.    Jin cooks the most delicious dinner you’ve ever had. Not because of his culinary expertise, but because he’s the one who made it. And it’s in the middle of the meal that your eyes suddenly gloss over, your vision blurs and a teardrop pooled by your bottom lashes drips down your cheek.   Jin stops talking, having been in the midst of telling you about his grocery store trip. Immediately, alarm washes over his expression and his brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”   You shake your downcast head, forcing your voice to tremble out, “I’m just...really happy.”   His chair squeaks. His footstep pads. Then you feel his arms wrap around you.   You lean into him, savouring his warmth and the coziness that he’s made out of your home. He doesn’t know that a year ago on the same day, you were alone. That he came and took you to worlds you would have never known. A year ago, you had made him a promise and he had disappeared right in your grasps. Jin is clueless — to your adventures, to your decision.   When you blow out the candle on the cake, you wish for this happiness to last.
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Jin pops the question after a year of being together.   It happens after a date night. He comes down on his knee in front of the apartment, underneath the warm glow of a street light and you brush it off as him tying his shoelaces. You’re too busy admiring the stars to realize, and it’s only when you look back at him that you find him there with a small box in his hand.   “I’m sorry for not making it more special,” he murmurs, nervousness etched on his expression. “I was supposed to ask you earlier but then the waiter came out and then at the park, that truck was being noisy, but if I don’t do it now, I don’t think I’ll ever work up the courage to do it again.”   His voice is soft. His gaze tender.    Jin looks at you as if you’re the one who hung those stars in the sky.   “Y/N, you’re the only one who can make me this nervous and afraid and I love you. So will you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me?”   You cry when he speaks the words. The tears slip from your eyes, spilling down your cheeks and colour drains from his face when he sees it. Jin’s entire face falls.   But then you launch forward and a peal of laughter bubbles from his throat as the both of you fall back onto the sidewalk with your arms wrapped around his shoulders.   He grins, mouth stretched from ear to ear as he looks up at the night sky at those subtly twinkling stars. “Is that a yes or no?”   You pull away from him, laughing. “Of course.”   When the pair of you kiss, you feel your smiles press against one another’s lips and when you pull away, Jin gazes at you with softened eyes.    That memory doesn’t fade. It becomes imprinted in the kaleidoscope of your irises. 
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Most who know your relationship with Jin are excited and thrilled by the news. But some are surprised at how fast it’s happening and that you’re on your way to getting married already. It makes you wonder if everything between you two is fast. Yet at the same time, it doesn’t feel fast enough.   It always feels like you’re running out of time.   You’re engaged for ten months. During that time, he officially moves in and starts looking at houses for when your lease is up. While wiggling his brows, he tells you that you’ll need a bigger bedroom and make room for the kids. But…   “Not yet.” You swallow hard, looking back at him. “Let’s wait to look.”   Jin stares at you blankly. But you don’t offer an explanation. You merely muster a smile.    “July,” you promise. “Let’s look in July.”    “Okay.”
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It’s a Spring wedding in April.   Small. Intimate. Filled with your friends and family at a garden venue right when the flowers are blooming. The weather is clear and it’s beautiful. When you walk down the aisle, Jin looks starstruck and in the middle of the opening remarks, he stutters out how pretty you are in a quiet murmur which makes you giggle. Your hand squeezes his and neither of you once let go.   Your vows make him tear up and his makes you cry.    Jin swears he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’ll be together, in sickness and in health.
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The honeymoon is three weeks on a beach resort in the Caribbean.   The dreaded date is coming closer and closer.   “What’s wrong?” He comes up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as you’re looking out the glass balcony doors, having been silent for the past five minutes.   It’s a rainy day. They said it was unlucky weather, but the constant pitter-patter is soothing.   You turn around, looping your arms around his neck. “I love you.”    The words are sincerely spoken, each syllable laced with warm affection. Immediately, the corner of his lips tug. You make sure Jin’s listening when you tell him— “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”   “Good,” he says. “I wouldn’t give you away to anyone else so easily.”
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As the days pass, you become more anxious of June 23rd.   It feels like you’re counting down to the date and only when he’s beside you, do you feel a sense of relief. Only when Jin is there does the grief and worry sewn deep inside of you wane away. But it still doesn’t stop you from holding him close — hands tangled through his, grasping at him, hugging him at night. You’re petrified of waking up to find him vanished from your arms. Or to see his skin glass-like, translucent to your eye.    You have nightmares of your hand reaching out to feel the air instead of his warmth.   Still, your decision is the same. You don’t regret choosing Seokjin and making the choice to be with him even though you’re enduring this. You wouldn’t change anything up to now.    But that doesn’t mean you’re content with letting things happen. You’ll change that day. No matter what. You won’t let Jin die. It’s a vow you swear to yourself. An oath you cross your aching heart with.   “Is something happening next week?”   He looks over your shoulder to the calendar date you’ve circled in red ink. June 23rd.   “I think we should take a vacation day off.”   “What? Why?”   “We just should.” You realize your voice is too firm, so you try to ease it. “We’ve been busy.”   “But why the 23rd?” Jin moves away, tugging the covers of the bed to crawl in. “Why not this Friday and have a long weekend?”   “No!” Your own yell echoes in your ears and Jin looks taken aback by your reaction. You shut your eyes and sigh, attempting to calm down. “It has to be the 23rd. It’s really, really important to me.”   He blinks owlishly. There’s a pause.    “Did I forget an anniversary?”   “No.” You step away, joining him in bed. “That’s not it.”   Jin has a skeptical and curious expression, but he gives in. “Okay.”    //   Seven.   Six.   Five.   The days come and go. The minute and the hour passes. Closer and closer.   You can tell Jin is worried with how silent you become, staring out the window, at the wall without saying a single word. You can barely work, barely eat and the nights are worse. They’re sleepless and you spend the entire eight hours holding onto him. It’s only when he’s asleep do you turn to mold yourself against his backside and cry into his shirt.   Sometimes you get too loud and Jin’s stirred from his sleep, waking up to ask you what’s wrong. But you can’t answer him, so he holds you close.   Four.   Three.   Two.   The stress is eating at you. You can’t swallow down your food, can’t shut your eyes for longer than a brief moment, can’t think of anything other than what might happen. There’s such little time left you have to save your husband and that thought consumes you.    It makes you throw up. It’s making your hair fall out. Sometimes you can’t breathe because of it and you feel your chest tightening painfully. You don’t know what you can do to save him. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. But you can’t accept it. You can’t lose him.   You have yet to spend your lives together.   Jin presses his hand against your forehead, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you and smiling gently. “You’re running warm. It’s probably a fever. We’re lucky we have tomorrow off.”   You wonder if you worked yourself up into sickness. But it doesn’t matter.                           June 23rd comes.   “Y/N.”    There’s a soft, distant call of your name through a silken, smooth voice. You open your eyes to see Jin with his brows furrowed, carefully brushing away a strand of hair from your wet forehead. You’re doused in sweat and it’s made your pajama shirt stuck to your backside. At the same time, you’re shivering. No matter how many blankets are layered on top of you, it’s still cold.   Your arm reaches out and his hand slips into yours. Jin helps you sit up and lean against the headboard. He hands you a warm glass of water and you try to sip it slowly.   Jin searches your dull complexion. “Maybe we should go see a doctor—”   “No!”   The shout tears from your raw throat and his eyes widen. Immediately, your shaking hand latches onto his wrist, an iron grip has your knuckles turning white. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. You can’t leave today. No matter what, you can’t leave.”   If it wasn’t for the severity of your tone and the frantic way the words are spat from your trembling lips, Jin would be amused and curious. Instead, you make him confused and worried.    “Why not?”   You swallow hard, eyes stinging red as your heart lodges into your throat. “I...have a bad feeling today. A really, really bad feeling.”   Jin gently smiles and gingerly reaches out to cup your cheek. “Did you have a bad dream or read my horoscope somewhere?”   “It doesn’t matter. Just promise me.” You tug him closer as he sets the half-filled glass of water on the bedside table. You make him look at you. “Promise me, Jin. If you love me, you'll stay here.”   “Okay, okay.” He sighs in defeat, all in an effort to appease you. “I promise I won’t go anywhere.”   Yet he pulls away from your hold and stands. “I’ll go make you some food.”   “Can’t you just stay here?” you beg and your gazes lock into one another’s. “Please?”   There’s a long silence held, and your desperation finally gets through to him. Jin smiles with a small huff and climbs into bed with you. He tugs the covers all the way up to your shoulders, but it’s his toasty skin that gives you the warmth that wanes away the chills. And you mold yourself to his front, clutching his shirt as his arms wrap around you.   The two of you look at one another and your gaze traces the slope of his nose, the pillowy shape of his lips, the way his brown irises catch the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains.   You wish you could capture this memory and return to it. Instead of traveling to worlds unknown, to timelines you were never supposed to know, it’s this hour that you want to savour forever.   “Jin.”   “Hmm?”   “I love you.”   He sheepishly smiles. “What’s with you today?” But he still returns your feelings and pulls you closer into his chest, keeping you close. “I love you too.”   You try to keep your eyes open. You try to keep your fists clenched onto his shirt. But his lids flutter, droop, and close; and you, too, fall asleep in the quietness of your shared bedroom.   Jin wakes up first.   He wakes up a few hours later and gently presses his hand to your forehead that’s still hot to the touch. He sighs and wipes away a tear stain left on your cheek, listening to the sound of your painful, shallow breathing. And he decides to slip away from your arms.    He climbs out of bed without you knowing. His footsteps are quiet as they pad across the floorboards into the bathroom. He’s unable to find medicine in the cabinet.    Seokjin walks across the room. He fixes his hair of its ruffled mess and quickly changes into dark pants. He takes the brown coat from the closet.    Jin looks at you one last time before he breaks his promise.   The front door shuts before you’ve awakened. Before you can stop him.   A difference of a few minutes is all it takes. It’s enough to alter your entire lives.   The cold, empty side of the bed makes you stir. You reach out unconsciously and the moment your hand feels the empty air instead of his warmth, you’re shaken awake. When you sit up, the universe is spinning and your head throbs.    You call out for him— “Jin?”   The silence of your apartment is deafening.   Sheer panic takes hold of your body and you stumble out of bed, only to trip over the sheets and crash onto the floor. Your knees burn, left wrist shoots of pain, but your teeth sink into the bottom of your lip and you pull yourself up again. “Jin?!”   Please. Please be here.   “Seokjin?!”   You look into the bathroom, into the kitchen, into the living room.   “Kim Seokjin!”   He’s gone. Vanished. You stumble out of your apartment without your shoes.   The elevator takes too long, and you’re left rushing down the stairs as the skin of your feet begin to peel. You throw yourself down the flight before the door’s whipped open, before you make it out. The blazing sun makes your vision blurry as you whip your head in all directions.   It’s then that the world sinks into you. The smells and sounds. The blaring sirens down the street.    Your breath hitches. And you stagger forward, legs carrying the rest of your body.   Traffic has completely stopped. There are people out of their cars, stopped at the sidewalks. You wonder why. Police cars. You wonder what’s happened. An ambulance. He promised.   “—over here!”   “....fell asleep at the wheel.”    “Can we get a—”   “—hit a pedestrian.”   The scream rips through your body before you can realize it’s from you. “Jin!”    Someone in a uniform blocks you, but you try to push past them. “He’s my husband! He’s my husband! Please!”    They let you go, and you scramble towards the scene with your bloodied feet. There’s someone speaking to you, but you can’t hear him. The sight is being imprinted to your eyes — Jin laying on the ground, bleeding from his head, his blood soaking the gray concrete crimson. His face is scratched and cut, skin swollen, already budding with bruises. You can barely recognize him.    “Jin!” Maybe if you call him enough times, he’ll wake up and look at you again. “Seokjin!” Maybe if you’re loud enough he can still hear you and you’ll be able to tell him you love him. After all, no matter how many times you say it, he’ll never be able to understand just how deeply you feel.   Maybe if he can hear you...he’ll come back.   “Jin!” In the blurred background, someone is trying to calm you down. They’re trying to get you to breathe, to stop wailing and sobbing, to stop fighting against them. But someone else tells them to let you ride in the ambulance and you’re able to take Jin’s hand as the stretcher goes in.   His fingers are limp in your grasps. His palm doesn’t clutch yours. You’re the one who squeezes.   A moment ago, he still looked at you with those tender eyes. That soft gaze. As if you were the only thing he wants to look at. As if you’re the one who hung the stars in the sky.   It isn’t fair. You have yet to spend your lives together.   You keep calling out to him. You keep holding his hand. Please, don’t go.   It didn’t help. Even if you knew what was going to happen. Even if you tried to savour these past two years. Even if you tried your best — you couldn’t stop it. Don’t leave me.    You couldn’t stop this inevitability.
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It came out of nowhere.   As always, he should’ve listened to you. He should’ve looked at you for a bit longer, should’ve chosen his last words to you more carefully. But what he wishes for most is for you not to be alone.   Jin’s sure you’ll be heartbroken when you find out. And he wonders what the chances are that you’ll move on from a silly guy like him with how stubborn you are.   I’m sorry.   You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to be alone.   In the darkness of his fleeting consciousness, Kim Seokjin pleads to whatever god is out there, to any deity, to the universe itself, to grant his dying wish. He begs them. For his wife, whom he loves more than anything, not to waste her life on him, to not be alone.   I want her to be with someone who can make her happy.   And through sheer will itself — something out there hears him; someone’s mercy is given.   When Jin feels the tickle of his lash, he opens his eyes and sees you.   On the couch. At night. Pouring yourself an entire glass of wine and gulping it down before you’re placing a single candle in the center of a small cake on the coffee table.    There are six envelopes discarded by your side.   Jin watches as the lighter sparks with a single flick of your thumb against the wheel. He smiles as you light the tip of the candle. And in the darkness of the apartment and the street lights casting dimly through the windows, he’s there when the tiny flame glows warmly against your features.   “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Y/N…” you’re murmuring the song to yourself, singing quietly. “Happy birthday to you.”   You take another long sip of the red wine and when you finally blow out the flickering candle, Jin hears your wish. The words murmured through timidly parted lips, the one hope you have, a singular ache that can be summed into five words—   “I wish I wasn’t alone.”   You drink, eat the cake and Jin observes as you doze off.   He knows this is a time before he’s known you, before you’ve known him. A time where your paths have yet to intersect. This is his last wish. His last chance. He can change your future.   Even if he has to watch you be happy with every person but himself, he’ll endure it. Even if he’ll have to be there when you make your decision and you’ll never have the memories that you’ve made together, he won’t stop. He’ll set aside his own feelings. He’ll undo it all. Kim Seokjin vows he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure there will be someone there for you when he can’t be.   He materializes. Jin looks down at his hands to see them becoming translucent and he feels his feet touch the floor. Then his sights stray to you again, his eyes softening, gaze tender.    This might hurt him more than he’ll ever be able to admit, but at least he gets to meet you again.   The corner of his mouth tugs and he calls out your name—   “Y/N.”
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You hold his hand.   Jin’s laid upon the bed, hooked up to tubes and lines, machines that whir and beep every so often. He hasn’t stabilized. The doctors told you that they don’t know when he’s going to wake up. If he even will. They’ll have to wait and see. Hope for the best. But they tell you to prepare for the worst.   His family came and so did yours. Crying filled the hallway and someone tried to comfort you, but you didn't want to hear any of it.    You stay by Jin’s bedside, grasping his cold hand, watching him.   Throughout the entire night, you never leave his side. Even if your body still runs warm and your head throbs, you stay together, right where you’re supposed to be.   He’s not dead. Jin hasn’t left. Not yet. And you’ll hang onto every strand of hope until your last breath. You won’t give up on him. Not when you still have things left to say to him, things you want to do, time that you have yet to spend together.   Time. You wonder if he’s changed back time. If his consciousness is somewhere else right now.   He’s an idiot for ever thinking you’d want to be with someone else. For ever thinking you could love someone as much as you love him. No matter what happens, Jin will always be the person you choose.   You come close to him and call out, hoping he can still hear—   “Jin.” Your voice croaks and trembles. Each syllable is spoken slowly. “Jin…”   And you repeat what you told him two years ago.   “Kim Seokjin. I love you.” You squeeze his hand, leaning down as the colours of your world become fuzzy with your clouded eyes. But you keep them trained on his face. “I love you. I wouldn’t change anything about you….about me...about us.”   You still mean what you had said back then. You mean every single word.   “No matter what, I would choose you over and over again. Even if I have to sit here...even if I have to sit here and wait a lifetime. So please,” the prayer befalls your lips, “Just come back to me. Wake up. Come back.”   You cry out, crumbling in your spot, forehead reverently pressing against the edge of the bed. You tighten your hand against his as sobs break through your chest and you weep out his name. Salt bleeds from your eyes that still holds the memories you’ve made together.   And as you call out for your husband, hoping he can still hear, you feel the twitch of his finger.   Instantaneously, you jolt, lifting your head. His eyes open a tiny sliver, enough for you to see the warm, brown hue and you call his name— “Jin!”   He blinks and his head slightly turns towards the sound of your voice, heart monitor beeping faster.   “Help!” You get up. “My husband—!”   A nurse runs in from the commotion, and soon, a parade of doctors enter. You stand back as they flurry around him, someone flashing a light into his eyes. “Sir, if you can hear me, can you raise your right hand?”   It takes a minute. And slowly, shakingly, Jin lifts it.    You silence your sob behind your palm.   “Sir, you were in a car accident yesterday afternoon—”   He never died like he thought he did. He’s alive.   In the chaos, Jin’s eyes travel to you, locking into your eyes. Your sobs heave, breaking through your chest once more and the flood of teardrops paints your cheeks through saltwater.   His gaze is tender, and you know now it means ‘I love you’.    Even if it means the present and future pain, you wouldn’t change being with him.
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[Epilogue]
“Y/N.”
Jin calls your name, and you turn at the sound of his voice.
“This isn’t a dream, right?” he asks, and you laugh.
“No, it isn’t.”
He hums, still looking out the window quietly. It makes you approach, gingerly studying his profile. “What are you thinking?”
“Just wondering what would’ve happened if you really chose someone else over me.”
You scoff. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t.”
The corner of his mouth tugs and he turns to you. “You’re too good for all of them anyway.”
Your brow lifts at that. “What about you?”
“I barely make the cut.” He grins, eyes glimmering of mischief. “That’s why I have to work hard all the time.”
Another quiet laugh comes from you and you make your way back to the table. “Get over here. I need to blow out the candles before it gets past midnight.”
Jin smiles. “Coming.”
The road to recovery was long and difficult. Two months were spent in the hospital and you were by his side during rehabilitation. But the two of you made it.
Sometimes, it’s still hard. There are moments where you wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares of a different outcome of that day. Other days, he wakes with the fear that you’ve forgotten about him and the time you’ve spent together. And it’s during these times that you find solace when you see one another a few inches away and you find comfort in each other’s arms. 
But slowly and surely, the fears of that day, and the months leading up to it, fade.
It no longer feels like you’re running out of time. It never feels like the end is near. And as Jin reassures, you have the rest of your lives to be together. He always promises that he’ll make sure of it. 
Before you can light the candles on your cake, Seokjin stops you. 
“What are you going to wish for?”
“I don’t know,” you admit after thinking. “It doesn’t feel like I need anything anymore. Any ideas?”
“How about the previous owners call us and tell us they’re giving that house to us for free,” he quips with his cheeks puffing out from his smile and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Or that our baby boy comes out as good looking as his father.”
“It’s going to be a girl, you know.”
Another grin spreads into his cheeks, eyes flickering down to the swell of your stomach. “I wouldn’t mind. But you should trust my intuition, sweetheart.”
You quirk your head at him. “When have I been wrong?”
“That’s true too,” Jin concedes with a softened smile and he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. It’s a brief brush, warm and loving, but long enough that you can inhale his breath and he can taste your minty lip balm that lingers even after he pulls away. Jin wraps his arms around you, molding his body against yours and propping his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs, “I love you.”
“I love you.” You lean into his embrace as a sweet smile tickles onto your lips. “Now let me light the candles.”
In the coziness of your home, the flames glow warmly against your features. The twinkle of the candlelight illuminates both you and Seokjin standing together, by each other’s side.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, my dear Y/N…” he sings noisily with a massive grin, theatrically clapping, hooting and hollering, and making you embarrassed even when it’s just the two of you. “Happy birthday to you!”
For some reason, you have an inkling it’s not necessary to make a wish. You don’t need to blow out a candle or name a desire in your head. You’ve already made your vows and promises and together, you’ve stood the test of life, death, and time. There’s nothing more you need.
But as the warmth of Jin’s voice tapers off, you shut your eyes and make your wish anyway— 
For the pair of you to be together. Until the end.
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