“... ian an...el.”

You wake up to the sound of Junsu’s whispers.

Grumbling low under your breath, you curse your cousin for dragging you into consciousness like the walking alarm clock he is. From behind your aching eyelids, you see no light; so either your bedroom curtains have yet to be drawn open, or Junsu has decided to be an even bigger today by waking you up before sunrise for school.

Honestly, while the former seems more plausible, you wouldn’t put it past Junsu to try and irritate you out of your slumber at an unreasonable time just because he can. He’s done it before, whenever he’s had to leave for a particularly early shift and demanded you be awake to “protect the apartment” in his absence. Or when he’s burned breakfast for the millionth time and needs you to piece the kitchen and his poor-excuse of a meal back together.

It’s nothing new, to wake up because of his angry and impatient voice. But it still annoys you, each and every time, without fail.

You’re about to snap aloud at him, tell him to quite literally go himself because you’re nearly an adult now and don’t need him to rouse you for whatever stupid reason which fuels his badgering. But all you can do is crack an eye open, already glaring, and pull back your lips to grumble out a tired, “go away…”

It’s a weaker command than you would’ve liked, but you’re much too exhausted to say what you really want to – colorful words, freakishly violent threats, and all. Plus, for some reason, your head is killing you. As if someone has beaten you upside the head with a brick repeatedly until it crumbled into pieces against your throbbing skull.

“Ah….,” you bemoan at the pain.

Through your somewhat blurred vision, you see a shadow still at the sound of your groggy voice. It jumps then, growing closer until it becomes the distinct shape of your cousin. A clicking sound is heard, and then your bedroom is illuminated by the dull orange glow of a nearby lamp you don’t remember owning. No matter how dim, the light still manages to make your eyes sting, and you shut them closed with a hiss. You hear Junsu mumble a quick apology, but he doesn’t turn the light off (of course).

And then he’s talking again, this time at a more discernable volume than before. “Good morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling?”

The disgusting nickname aside, it’s the lightness of Junsu’s voice which compels you to snap your eyes open. Ignoring the probing light, you blink your eyes hard until your sight clears a bit more. You can see him better now, his face leaning closely over yours, and the familiar yet so unfamiliar sight of him causes you to gasp.

And that’s when everything comes rushing back to you.

Bolting upright in your bed – no, it’s not yours. This isn’t your room. You aren’t where you’re supposed to be – you struggle to find purchase on the soft mattress you’re lying on as a sudden bout of dizziness strikes you. You in a quick breath, eyes darting around the strange room, and the other Junsu is beside you, frantically trying to calm you down as reality (?) begins to set in once more.

Your mother.

Her letter.

The ring.

This...dream.

This alternate Junsu and his friend Changmin.

And Yunho. That strange boy Yunho.

It all slams to the forefront of your mind in an instant, and your headache seems to worsen as all of your memories from the night before (or was it mere hours ago) return to you. Swallowing thickly, you lean back against the headboard of what you assume is Junsu’s bed, forcing yourself to breathe, breathe some more, keep breathing, and to not do anything embarrassing.

Like have a mental breakdown, for one. And squirt your nose-blood all over a really hot kid before topping it all off by fainting in his arms.

Yeah. Anything but that.

Desperately wanting to smack yourself into oblivion, you doubt you can relieve such ego-bruising trauma in this lifetime. Despite none of this being real (though such a conviction is slowly losing its legitimacy, if you're being honest), you still have feelings and feeling so vulnerable in front of a complete stranger bothers you way more than it probably should.

And in front of Junsu, too. A man who you have always tried to...not necessarily impress, but definitely never disappoint. Oh, if the actual Junsu were to ever witness your nervous lapse of control, he would’ve scoffed at your entire existence and demanded you grow a pair. There’s only so much sympathy he can have for another person, and you can’t help but feel downright ashamed for losing yourself in such a way.

Awkwardly, you peer over at the much younger Junsu who has taken a seat on the bed, directly next to you with a worrying glint in his eyes. He isn’t nearly as intimidating as the Junsu you know, but they practically have the same face, the same presence, so you still feel the need to duck your head in humiliation under his gaze.

If he notices your flushed cheeks, he doesn't mention them. “Here. Drink this,” he says instead, and a glass of water is pushed under your nose. You take it with shaking fingers, mumbling your appreciation. Only a second passes where you take a sip before Junsu offers you a tiny white pill.

At the quirk of your eyebrow, he explains, “Yunho didn’t catch you.”

Oh.

Well...that explains the headache.

You accept the medicine with a nod and swallow it down with a large gulp of water. It’s almost painful going down with how dry your throat is, but you do it anyways, sighing at its refreshing coolness.

Junsu seems to be proud of himself for successfully bossing you around. He smiles brightly, patting your head lightly as he chirps, “so yeah, you’re gonna stay with me!”

You choke. “Excuse me?”

Junsu ignores your wet sputtering and coughs, smiling even wider at your horrified expression. “Until the streets clear up and everything starts running again, you can stay here. You know, where it’s safe and the snow won’t try to murder you.”

Raising a hand to stop his excited rambling (to which he quickly closes his mouth with a childish locking gesture), you try for a moment to find the right words to say. “What the hell are you talking about?” are what come to mind first.

Junsu doesn’t seem deterred by your question. In fact, it seems to delight him even more, and he’s already back to babbling about the two of you becoming the best of friends while you seek shelter in his humble little apartment. “My cousin lives here too,” he needlessly reveals, “but that’s okay because he’s never here, so you don’t have to worry about him ruining our fun. The news says the storm’s going to last another two days – imagine all of the awesome stuff we can do for two whole days.”

“Wow, you sound psychotic,” another voice enters the room (reflecting your thoughts exactly), and you turn in time to see Changmin slamming the bedroom door closed behind him with a ruffled look. He gives you a brief once-over, as if to make sure you’re actually alive, before he squares Junsu with an irritated glower. “I can’t believe you’re going to let some stranger stay in your apartment like this.”

Junsu scowls at Changmin’s appearance, his mood deflating in an instant. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” he sniffs. “He can’t just leave. He’ll probably freeze to death out there.”

“So you’re not even going to question this dude’s integrity?” Changmin barks, stare darkening. “A random kid? Who none of us know? Really, Junsu? Are you that stupid?”

“No!” Junsu growls in response, his hands becoming fists in the blanket that covers you. “You’re stupid, stupid!”

Changmin is unimpressed by Junsu’s heated retort. He rolls his eyes heavenward, heaving a noisy and frustrated sigh. “You are so immature! We should be interrogating this guy right now. Asking where he’s from, who he is, and what’s his deal! But instead you’re trying to play house with him! If your cousin finds out—”

“Which he won’t,” Junsu quickly interrupts.

To which Changmin dismisses him with a wave. “When he finds out, he’s going to tell your parents and then you’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll probably make you even move back in with them because you clearly aren’t smart enough to be left on your own.” He begins to pace back and forth in front of the bed, fingers counting down as he rants, “your grades are , you leave this place a mess, you can hardly cook, and then you let potential murderers stay here as if it’s some kind of hotel!”

“You don’t understand!” Junsu stands up from the bed with a shout. He points down at you, confidence tracing his every movement, and his voice almost borders on desperate as he attempts to convince the younger boy. “We can trust him, Changmin. If he wanted to gouge my eyes out and chop my body into bits, he would’ve done it already.”

Surprisingly, Changmin seems to hesitate at Junsu’s unrelenting certainty. Pursing his lips, he stops pacing for a moment to narrow his eyes at you. His anger and mistrust is palpable, and you hate yourself for squirming because of some kid who’s probably much younger than you are.

But Changmin is a force to be reckoned with, regardless of his apparent youth. And you clear your throat loudly to express your obvious discomfort, rubbing the back of your neck. “I...I’m not here to cause any trouble,” you say quietly. Changmin’s glare only deepens. Hastily, you continue, “if it helps, I’m from Gongju. I, uh...I’m nineteen. A political science major at Kyunghee. I...live with my cousin. A-and I can cook?” You add the last part in hopes that it’ll somehow make everything more acceptable. Not that you actually plan on staying here or anything. But it at least helps you appear normal and not like the crazed serial killer Changmin is trying to make you out to be.

Unsurprisingly, Changmin doesn’t budge. It’s safe for you to say that he’s as stubborn as this Junsu is moronically innocent. You both understand and are greatly confused as to how the two of them can co-exist in one room, let alone be friends (if they can even be called that with how much they bicker and insult one another). Then again, you have never actually seen your Junsu interact much with other people close to his age. So maybe constant fighting and thick tension is just how he shows his love?

Yeah. Right. You’ll go with that for now.

“Wow,” Changmin drones obnoxiously, “thanks for the random fun facts, Snapple cap. No, really. I totally trust you now!” (God, you want to strangle him). After a moment of staring you down with an angry look you just assume is a permanent fixture on his face, he turns back to Junsu with a scowl. “My grandma says I can spend the night. And, before you say anything, you can’t stop me. Someone needs to make sure you don’t get offed in the middle of the night by you-know-who.” He makes a purposely blatant gesture in your direction. (You really really want to strangle him).

Junsu is, as expected, affronted by Changmin’s self-invitation. He crosses his arms with his nose