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"Someone will remember us, I say, even in another time."
"How inconvenient to be made of desire."
"It's me, hi, I'm the problem its me."
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[FILL] as all empires do (pt1)
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: idolverse, fantasy, not really character death
Permission to remix: Yes
-split into two because I accidentally went over the character limit
-heavily inspired by this teen wolf fic from 10 years ago: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604092
***
The body understands an earthquake quicker than the mind.
Joshua is acutely familiar with that first second of disorientation as the quake hits: like his head is tilting, like his ears are about to pop. Heâs always dizzy before the ground actually starts moving. Sometimes he can hear the whole street fall quiet. The sensation is specific, heâs never had cause to mistake it for anything else.
But he feels exactly like that when he wakes up in Jeonghanâs lap.
Disoriented. Displaced. Afraid.
Joshua blinks furiously. The white-lit practice room spins into focus. He lurches to his feet before heâs fully conscious, his ears swimming, the staff members shouting. Joshua crawls on his hands and knees to where Junhui is lying supine on the hardwood floor. His hair is shockingly dark, his shoulders bony where they jut out from his back.
Junhui is awake by the time Joshua reaches him. Heâs gasping, his eyes wet and wide.
âWhatâŚâ Junhui chokes.
âJunhui.â Joshua cups his face. The room hushes. âThis isâthis is real.â
Junhui looks at him like the roof is collapsing around their bodies. He latches onto Joshuaâs wrists tightly. âWeâre in Seoul,â he says. His lashes flutter slowly. âWe met two years ago.â
âYeah,â Joshua says. âYou were right. Iââ
His throat closes.
An unreadable emotion jumps across Junhuiâs face. He jerks his head to the side, breaking Joshuaâs hold, and his mouth twists up like he might be sick. Instead he laughs. Itâs an awful, wretched sound. It sticks in his throat, gets husky and wet, until it dies out.
Joshua sits back. From far away, he hears Soonyoung whisper into the crushing silence of the crowded room, âWhat are they talking about?â
/
âOh, malatang again?â
Joshua toed off his shoes and shuffled into the warm apartment. He was accosted by smell: rich hearty broth, prickly peppercorn, the cool touch of lettuce and sweet potato. He dropped his briefcase and relaxed; heâd know that smell anywhere.
Junhui glanced up, backlit by the California sunset bleeding pink through the arched window. He grinned, sheepish. âI didnât feel like shopping. We had the ingredients already.â
âMm.â
âSorry. I know youâre getting sick of it.â
âItâs okay. Did we have any of the squash?â
âOh.â Junhuiâs face fell. He hunched in on himself a little, his ears pink. âNo. Sorry, I know thatâs your favorite.â
Joshua rounded the table and came up behind Junhui. He rested his chin on Junhuiâs shoulder, snaked his arms around Junhuiâs waist. Habitually, his hands found the thin gold ring on Junhuiâs finger and touched it the way he once touched the cross around his own neck.
âYouâll have to make it up to me,â Joshua murmured into his throat.
Junhui laughed. âAh, okay, okay.â
He turned easily in Joshuaâs hold, leaned down and kissed him open-mouthed. His silly fake specs slid down his nose and knocked against Joshuaâs cheek.
Joshua pulled back. âUgh. You taste like salt.â
âIâll make that better, too!â
Junhui bit at Joshuaâs shoulder, playful like their age difference was ten years instead of one. Joshua couldnât even pretend not to like it. He fiddled with Junhuiâs floppy fringe.
âTell me, tell me.â Junhui pressed. âWhat do you want? Iâll get us ice cream from that walrus place. Iâll let you steal one of my peach face masks again.â
âItâs not stealing if you give it to me.â
âBut I didnât give it to you last time. You just used it.â
âBecause you said you didnât like peaches!â
Junhui laughed, again, like the idea was ludicrous. His arms were still looped around Joshuaâs neck, the weight of him a warm anchor. After hours of boring, sludgy work, Joshua finally felt like himself again. Returning home was a resurrection.
Junhui kissed him to avoid the inevitable argument. It was infuriating. Joshua kissed him back anyways.
The soup bubbled on.
/
The official story? An accident during dance practice. Joshua loses his spot for a moment and Junhui doesnât check his peripherals. They both lunge for the same position, arms raised for the following grapevine. Their skulls crack in the middle.
Down like sacks of rice. Unconscious, sprawled on the floor, legs tangled.
To everyone else it lasts ten seconds.
To them it lasts five years.
/
The whole ride back to the dorm, Joshua canât look at Junhui. Thank god for Jeonghan sitting between them, stiff and silent, his eyes flicking back and forth underneath his lashes. Wondering if theyâre telling the truth. Wondering if theyâre both having a massive psychotic break.
Joshua rubs between his eyes, trying to quell his growing headache. Last time he was in the dorms was yesterday. Last time he was in the dorms was five years and a day ago. Itâs a strain to sieve the memories, the impossibility of their situation.
The van is cold. He rolls his shoulders to suppress a shiver, straightens his spine until his posture is impeccable. From the corner of his eye he sees an aborted movementâJunhui, grabbing his own jacket, then dropping his hands.
Joshua briefly closes his eyes.
âYour Korean,â Jeonghan says, his voice soft. âYour⌠accent. Itâs a lot better. I could tell immediately.â
âWho?â Junhui asks.
âBoth of you.â
Yeah, Joshua thinks. That tends to happen after five years of practice. Wait until they hear him speak Mandarin.
/
âYouâre still awake?â
Junhui shuffled out of the bedroom, his hair in utter disarray. He scratched unappealingly at his ears and Joshua almost reflexively told him to stop. He didnât have the energy for teasing tonight, though. Long midnight shadows swallowed the living room, dwarfed him on the couch where he curled into a pile of blankets. It was one of those nights he couldnât explain. Sleepless. Adrift. Disturbed.
âIâll come to bed in a minute,â Joshua lied.
Junhui trudged to the other couch cushion and collapsed there, no pillow, no sheets or blankets or phone charger. The blue light from his screen hurt Joshuaâs eyes, but Joshua could guess that heâd started reading a webtoon.
He didnât offer to stay. Probably because he knew Joshua would say no. He just⌠did it anyway.
The silence thickened. There was no sound except their breathing, not the thrum of the heater, not even a passing car. How rare, in Los Angeles, not to hear traffic.
âDo you ever feel likeâŚâ Joshua swallowed hard. âLike somethingâs missing?â
Junhui dropped his phone on his chest. He tilted his neck back to study Joshua upside down. âWhat do you mean?â
âI donât remember the last time I called my mom.â
âOh, it was justââ Junhui blinked. âLast week, wasnât it? Or the week before.â
âI donât know what we talked about.â
Junhui said nothing.
âWhen did you see your brother last?â
âHe lives in Shenzhen,â Junhui answered immediately, as if that was reason enough that Joshua couldnât picture his face correctly. It was fuzzy, just of reach. Like his motherâs voice.
Joshua twisted his hand in the blanket. âIâve never met your coworkers.â
âI tell you about Mr. Shin all the time.â
âBut we said weâd get dinner together. Months ago.â
âWell, yeah.â Junhui shrugged. âI guess we forgot.â
âNothing feels right,â Joshua said, and his voice broke. The humiliation nearly stopped him, but this was Junhui, he could say whatever he needed to, he could at least try. âIt doesnâtâthis doesnât feel the way itâs supposed toââ
Junhui scrambled to sit up straight, his eyes wide and worried. He pawed patiently through the blanket nest until he reached Joshua, until he could cozy up beside him. The warmth of his body instantly helped. Joshua took a deep, calming breath.
Junhui stared. His eyes caught the lamplight and glittered. âI think⌠I think I get it. The neighbors,â he whispered, hesitant, like his agreement might shatter the spell of their lives. âWeâve never seen them or heard them. Thatâs weird, right?â
Joshua nodded.
Dread settled between them. Joshua was afraid to ask Junhui how they met, afraid to admit he couldnât remember. It was at work and they were eighteen. He knew that much. But where? How? Details flashed and slipped away like silver fish in a dark, dark pond. He couldn't see the bottom of his own mind.
Gently Junhui uncurled Joshuaâs hand from the blanket. He lifted those fingers to his mouth, whispered into Joshuaâs knuckles:
âYouâre real, though. I know youâre real.â
Something in Joshua's chest loosened.
/
Readjustment is challenging. Not only because heâs both twenty-seven and twenty-two, both sparkly idol and humdrum translator, both in love and out.
Mostly because he and Junhui do not speak.
They fulfill their duties quietly, professionally. They dance. They sing. They spend hours in the same room avoiding eye contact.
Seungcheol catches on after four days and corners Joshua in the kitchen making tea. The dark, bitter kind that Junhui always had stocked in their kitchen.
âI know you had an⌠experience that we donât really understand,â Seungcheol says, his eyes huge and earnest. âHow can I help?â
âI donât think thereâs anything you can do,â Joshua says apologetically. What he really wants to do is sit down and have a nice long cry. He misses the privacy of his old apartment. âIâm sorry. Weâre fine, though.â
They have to be fine because Joshua isnât sure where to start otherwise. If he lets himself think about it for too long, the questions become a tsunami. The confusion, the grief, the displacement.
Were those peach face masks real? Why were we in my hometown and not yours? Have you called your family yet, did you cry to them the way I cried to my mom? Does anyone actually believe us? Do you ever wake up and forget where you are?
/
The first day of Junhuiâs new job at the restaurant, Joshua bought him a box of fancy vanilla cream cupcakes and went down on him with so much enthusiasm that he sprained his jaw. Junhui oscillated between cackling and cooing, his pants still around his ankles, squishing Joshuaâs cheeks and peppering kisses all over his face like that had some sort of real medicinal effect. It was one of the most embarrassing nights of Joshuaâs life. Also, by far, one of his favorites.
[...]
[FILL] as all empires do (pt2)
Insomnia, you fickle beast.
Joshua tosses and turns on his bunk. After a thousand grueling hours, he sets himself up underneath their tiny window overlooking Gangnam, counting the red and white flashes of cars on the highway. He doesnât hear Junhui until heâs right behind the couch, his pajama pants dragging softly on the carpet.
âOh,â Junhui says. âI was justââ He points vaguely to nothing.
âHi,â Joshua says, because if heâs polite, he can continue lying about this. âAre you getting water?â
âYeah.â Junhui blinks. âUm, no, not anymore.â
Junhui sits decisively on the opposite arm of the couch with a burst of courage that Joshua recognizes from drinking games and vlogs and impromptu kisses. He digs his feet into the cushion. Itâs still a dull surprise to see him like this, young and lean. Heâs not the person Joshua married.
But heâs not not that person, either.
âMaybe we should talk,â Junhui begins.
Joshua doesnât want to. He says, âOkay.â
There is a moment of tense silence. Rain starts tapping gently at the window, smothering the muffled sound of Chanâs snoring. Somebody downstairs starts knocking pans together.
âThis is weird,â Junhui whispers.
âI know.â
âAre we supposed to pretend like nothing happened?"
Joshua shrugs. "I guess so."
"I miss you.â
Joshua flinches. He wasnât expecting that. He moves to hold Junhui, to take his hand and brush his hair out of his face, before his stomach clenches and he stops. Eleven other people are sleeping in this apartment. Anyone could walk in.
Itâs not fair, to complicate the group like this. Itâs selfish.
âI miss our life together.â Junhui falls forward on his knees, close enough that Joshua catches the familiar-unfamiliar scent of him. Boyhood and the wrong toothpaste. âI know it wasnât real, but we were real, and itâs hard to justâforget about that.â Junhui looks down at his lap. âI donât want to forget us.â
âYou know we canâtâŚâ Joshua looks away, feels his face go hot. âDo that here.â
âWhy not?â
âSomeone could find out.â
Junhui scoots closer. He trails a finger up Joshuaâs forearm, where the veins used to be pronounced. One of a million things Joshua misses: his own body, the result of diligent years in the gym. Now heâs back to square one. Junhui pauses at the crook of his elbow like heâs thinking the same thing. How daunting the work ahead is.
âWe wonât let anyone find out,â Junhui says. âThe others can help.â
His hope is killing Joshua. He's making this so much harder.
Joshua pulls his arm away. âIn this life, we canât.â He shakes his head, his throat tight. âThings are different here. Thereâs too much at stake. This has to be enough.â
Junhuiâs face shutters. He leans back like heâs been struck. Itâs not enough, he thinks, loud enough that he might as well have screamed it. Joshua can still read him like an open, well-worn book. Heâs never wanted to kiss anyone so badly.
âGoodnight, Jun-ah,â Joshua mumbles. He gets up and shuffles toward the bedroom before he does something he can't take back. âIâll see you at the recording tomorrow.â
/
Years, they lived together in the Los Angeles of his memories. All that time and not a single earthquake. That shouldâve been his first indication that something was wrong.
But Joshua didnât question it.
He was happy.
/
âAre you sure this will work?â Junhui called over the whipping wind.
The port was teeming with people, but it was a strange crowd. Joshua spotted the same couple walk past three times, ostensibly in the middle of the same conversation. No one looked at anyone else. Seagulls lifted and landed in the exact same spot. Even the pattern of the cold, salty breeze was predictable, down to the minute. They couldâve been living in a looped recording of the harbor.
Junhui squinted, the sun in his face, his shoulders stiff with nerves. His legs contorted like noodles to keep the hot metal bench from burning his bare thighs. He looked ridiculous. Joshua took his hand.
âI canât think of anything else to try,â Joshua admitted.
âWherever weâre really from,â Junhui says, drawing his jacket tighter around his shoulders. âI hope we still know each other.â
âOf course we will.â Joshua turned to him. âAnd, if we donât. You know Iâll find you, right?â
Junhui laughed. Joshua didnât. Stayed dead fucking serious, even as Junhui fidgeted and blushed and said, âAh, okay. Iâll find you, too.â
The ferry started boarding. Joshua led the way and snagged a spot right at the bow where Junhui could admire the barnacles. Everyone else was decked out in the same stereotypical outfit of cargo shorts, visors, and binoculars. They hadnât even brought their cell phones.
When they pulled away from shore, Joshua prayed for the first time in a very long time. Sea spray stung his cheeks, made his eyes water.
âLook!â Junhui pointed. âThereâs a dolphin!â
It was unfair how handsome he looked blatantly breaking the rules, standing on the bottom tier of the railing. Joshua climbed up next to him. Wind roared in his ears. His stomach swooped with every dip of the boat. All he could see, from end to end, was blue. Exhilaration sparked in his chest.
Joshua threw out his arms and laughed. Junhui turned, and the look on his face was enough to knock the breath out of Joshua. He couldnât help it; he fisted a hand in Junhuiâs hair and dragged him down into a kiss, clumsy and wet and deep.
When they pulled apart, Junhui asked, âAre you ready?â
âLetâs go together.â
âTogether,â Junhui echoed. He grinned.
They jumped straight into the sky.
/
Weeks later, Joshua returns late from filming a variety show and runs into Junhui in the kitchen, standing above a brand-new hotpot table. Fixings have absolutely dominated the counter: thin red slices of steak, fish balls, clear shrimp, bowls of uncooked noodles, and sprigs of leafy greens. The smell is so familiar it makes his knees weak.
In the corner, thereâs an absolutely massive plate of kabocha squash. At least three gourdsâ worth.
Joshua stands in the threshold of the door, his bag hanging limply from one hand, just cut clean through with misery. He knows he should walk away before the memories drag him down⌠but he canât. Just a moment, he thinks, to admire what he once had. Just a moment.
Junhui doesnât say anything. He looks at Joshua for a moment, communicating more with his eyes than most people can with their whole bodies. He fills a ladle with broth and blows on it gently, then feeds it to Joshua, holding his chin in one hand.
Afterward, Joshuaâs mouth is sticky with broth. Salty, earthy, warm.
Junhui swipes his bottom lip clean with a thumb, like he has a hundred times before. Joshuaâs heart flips. Reflexively, he swallows.
Quickly, awkwardly, Junhui turns back to the hotpot, but Joshua sees it: that little smirk, those hooded eyes heavy with satisfaction. Theyâve done this song and dance before. Heâs not a saint; he canât resist forever.
Nobody knows that better than Junhui.
Nobody knows him better than Junhui.
Junhui's back is still turned as he fusses with the shrimp. Joshua takes a deep breath and steps over the threshold of the door, into the kitchen, into the memory brought to life. He reaches for Junhui's hand.
Re: [FILL] as all empires do (pt2)
(Anonymous) 2023-01-07 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)This is GORGEOUSLY done, start to finish, I considered quoting portions but I would genuinely just be sending it all right back to you because every word of this is stunning. You made such a brilliantly cohesive narrative, and I just love absolutely everything about it.
Also, the earthquake discussion/metaphor worked so well (californian here and I DID laugh when one of the things wrong with the ??dream?? world was 5 years in LA with no earthquake)! I just love the atmosphere of this, you manage to make it both eerie and intensely loving, and it gave the sense that the Other world was quiet while the "real" world was more clearly audible, if that makes sense. The muffled nature of the dream worked fabulously and came through in subtle but powerful ways.
I'm just gonna be repeating myself now but I'll likely come back and yell some more because this is GREAT, thank you for such a fantastic fill!!!!!
(side note that this ship is one I hadn't actually read any fic for in the past and now you've ruined me, every other fic is gonna have to be this intense and lived-in and balanced to measure up!)
Re: [FILL] as all empires do (pt2)
Re: [FILL] as all empires do (pt2)
it's just so awful thinking about this concept but you drag us down so gently until I realise just what the consequences were. the two of them living this happy life by themselves (married?) with normal jobs and private lives and then Junhui with his senses understanding that this perfect life isn't real and they both agree to go back together - but when they go back they're both hit with this immense sense of private grief that can not be shared with anyone else and ;______; feelings which have to be faced and memories which have to be re-examined in the cold light of idolhood.
(tangent: I love the small RL detail of earthquakes in LA, short work but you included a motif anyway and I'm smiling at the continuity of it. And then I'm frowning because if Joshua could tell that it was unreal because it was his hometown, then what did he mean when he thought Why were we in my hometown and not yours? How could Junhui tell? And if Junhui could tell even without knowing that earthquakes were uncommon, did Joshua disagree with him hoping to stay? Is that why Joshua first says You were right ???? QUESTIONS THAT HURT ME TO THINK ABOUT)
I love Junhui's innocent hope and joshua's jaded rejection EVEN THOUGH HE STILL LOVES JUN. (duty over love!!!!) And I love that final scene (ode to the new hot pot set, 17hols fills as an ode to svt's memory), and Joshua realising that even though they 'lost' so much, they still have that shared memory, Junhui still has every memory of that version of him (feeding as a love language! junhui doing something in this life what he did in the other to remind josh that it's possible, they're possible). I adore that line in this context, Josh takes a deep breath and steps... into the memory brought to life. Uh Jun. So conniving. I don't know why but it pleases me so much that it's such a poetic phrase but it's /real/ in this fic. Jun brought a memory to life and Joshua is stepping into it BUT it's also a metaphor and the metaphor means ---
I'm just going to continue weeping as I start my last day of holidays. Thank you so much for writing this klav. The scene setting and characters were so excellently written, I enjoyed this so much. You came, you saw, you slayed.