Fortune Teller: See Into The Depths of Your Future, the sign says.

 

Well, at least, that's what it looks like it should say. The thin wooden board is warped and eroded, several of the painted letters so worn down by wind and rain that they can only just be made out.

 

Kris scoffs but strides forward anyway. He had lost his friends in the crowd, which is fine with him really, he didn't want to come in the first place, and this seems to be the quietest area of the Circus.

 

He pushes a striped flap aside and the interior is nothing to be impressed by. A small round table and two plush chairs with stuffing visible through the threadbare material. Tacky, Kris thinks. He steps further inside and turns around. "Hello?"

 

"Why, hello."

 

Kris jumps and turns back to the table, where an elderly woman is sitting, clothed in veils and gaudy jewels that look fake. She invites him forward and Kris finds himself lowering into the seat across from her, wincing when a spring digs into his back.

 

The old woman reaches down and hefts up a glowing sphere. Kris represses the urge to laugh. "What do you want to know?"

 

Kris shrugs. "Tell me I'm going to be rich."

 

The woman sneers, baring yellowed teeth. "I have no time for jokes. If you aren't going to take this seriously, get out."

 

"Alright, alright," Kris hums, trying to placate the woman. He looks around the tent dubiously. "Um, what can you do, then?"

 

"I can tell you your future," the leathery being states, matter-of-factly. When Kris remains still, she huffs a sigh. "Tell me an age and I will show you."

 

Kris leans back in the chair, ignoring the violent spring. Any age. He figures he might as well take this seriously, and not anger the old woman any further. "Thirty-eight. Show me when I'm thirty-eight." It was the number on his jersey during the season.

 

"Very well," the woman whispers, closing her eyes and holding out an open palm. When Kris merely stares at it, she opens a cloudy eye and shakes her hand. Kris gets the motion and rolls his eyes, pulling out a couple of folded bills. He makes the hand her the money, but she grabs his wrist when he tries to move away, long nails cutting into his skin.

 

Alarmed, he looks up to see her grinning, crystal ball trembling beneath her other palm. It begins to glow and Kris tries to tear away, panicking. The ball becomes brighter and brighter until it's blinding and Kris has to close his eyes. He contemplates shouting for help when a loud shrieking joins the light. He tries to tear away but his wrist doesn't budge in the woman's grip.

 

Then, suddenly, everything stops.

 

*

 

Kris is on a doorstep. He has never seen this door before, he is sure, but his fist is raised to knock. He pulls back and glances curiously at his wrist. The skin is unblemished. No marks or scars whatsoever. He looks around. It's a suburban neighborhood, with uniform three-story houses and impeccable front lawns.

 

And he has no idea what he's doing here.

 

Just as he's about to turn around and search for a way back to his shared apartment, the door is wrenched open and a small face sticks out. The girl looks young, but probably only a few years off his own age. Definitely a high schooler.

 

"Oh, thank you so much," she sighs, face crumpling up in relief. "I am so sorry, I completely forgot I had that project due tomorrow. Thank you so much for taking off work to get back here." She reaches down and pulls up a backpack that looks like it might weight more than her. "You don't have to pay me this time, I really am so sorry. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

 

"It's... fine." Kris finds himself saying, though he has no idea what this girl is talking about. She just seems so upset and it's making Kris feel guilty. With her words, she looks a little less apologetic at least, and shakes his hand before running over to a compact baby blue car, shouting out another thanks before driving away.

 

Kris turns back to the family-sized house. The girl had recognized him, so he supposes this is his. With a determined step forward, he pushes the cracked door open and steps inside.

 

The interior is very modern. Wooden floors and cream walls with shaggy carpets and odd splatter paintings that don't really quite match the homely feel. With a jolt, Kris realizes that this is something he'd try to do with his apartment, if his roommate had let him.

 

The sound of a television seems to come from a room down the hall, coupled with the sound of laughter. Kris is about to investigate when a single door to his left opens. All he hears is a shriek before his leg is taken hostage by a midget.

 

"Papa," it shouts in excitement.

 

Kris freezes. What.

 

"Papa! Papa!" The child continues to chant, letting go of the leg to jump around in a circle, arms above his head.

 

Kris is stunned into silence. He never really knows what to do with children. Especially children who claim he's their father.

 

He stills the boy with his hand, which wraps all the way around a thin arm. Kris is suddenly struck by the fear of breaking this child. "I'm not your father."

 

"Why would you say that?"

 

Kris turns and there are two more boys standing in the hallway, both wearing grass-stained shin guards and cleats.

 

The child abruptly breaks into tears, wailing and shaking off Kris' hold, running over to the shorter of the two boys. The taller continues to stare at Kris with a probing gaze and Kris makes a break for it, dashing into the first room to his left and slamming the door shut behind him.

 

There's a shower to his right and a sink to his left with a mirror above. Kris turns and splashes his face with water, thinking of what he should do. He should go. He should leave right away. Resolute, he looks up and stops dead. The man in the mirror... Isn't him. Well, it is. Sort of.

 

His face looks more mature, less like a struggling teenager and more like a businessman. He has a couple wrinkles on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes, but nothing drastic. Although he notes a few gray hairs with horror. Bringing his hand up to brush his hair back, he catches sight of something metal on his fourth finger. He stares at it curiously. It looks silver. Not something he'd wear usually, but it is starting to dull from use. He stares at it intensely. Where had he gotten it?

 

The sound of the front door opening shakes Kris from his thoughts.

 

"Is everything okay?" A worried voice breaks through the silence. It sounds familiar, but Kris can't quite place it. "Where is–there you are!" The man shouts with glee as the thundering of footsteps soundesfrom the other side of the house.

 

"Daddy!" A cacophony of voices shout right before laughter breaks out. Kris feels inexplicably lonely.

 

"Where'd your babysitter go?" Kris cracks open the door, trying to catch a look at the inhabitants of the large home. Maybe this new guy can help him get home.

 

"Pa already came home," a deeper voice answers, one of the older boys. Maybe the other soccer player, Kris thinks, trying to catch a glance.

 

"He did?"

 

"Yeah," another voice chimes in. "And... is he sick?"

 

"Sick?"

 

"Yeah, Dad did seem a bit off."

 

"He's probably been working too hard again," the man chuckles, and Kris can see the back of his head, kneeling on the ground with a tiny child in his arms, smaller than the one who had ambushed Kris. "Speaking of which, where is your father?"

 

Then he turns and Kris grits his teeth.

 

Joonmyun.

 

*

 

Kris meets Joonmyun on his first day of college when he is rushing to his class. The hallways are clear because everyone else had the foresight of actually turning on their alarm. He rounds a corner and crashes into someone and they both go down.

 

"My books!" The man cries, scrambling upwards.

 

Kris winces in sympathy. The ground is wet and muddy, meaning irreparable damage to hundred dollar books. But he has a class to get to, so he slings his backpack over his shoulder and runs away.

 

He's only a few minutes late and his professor shrugs him off. It's going great until his last period, where he walks in to a full classroom and grabs the last remaining seat. He turns to greet the guy beside him and comes face to face with an angry scowl. It's book guy.

 

Book guy turns out to be a math and econ major named Joonmyun. He makes Kris' life hell, but Kris matches him step for step, whether it's moving a chair back right before he sits down or casually shoving his face into a plate of spaghetti when he passes him in lunch.

 

Kris turned over a new leaf at the start of the year, only to walk into his first class of the day to see a short brunet sitting in the front row. Kris has lost three notebooks since the class began. Joonmyun's lost three pairs of pants to various stains.

 

Needless to say, the two do not get along.

 

*

 

Before he can slam the door shut, Joonmyun spots Kris and gives him an ecstatic grin. It's so unnatural that Kris abandons his escape attempt to stare at the man.

 

"Welcome home, how was work?"

 

Kris can feel cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. This is like a horror movie. Very slowly, he backs away until he comes across a staircase and practically sprints down, running into the first room on his right and slamming the door behind him. He looks around the room. There's a dark desk with a desktop in the corner, drowned with pictures. But before he takes a closer look at those, he sees two degrees framed side by side. Kris Wu and Joonmyun Kim. Well, that settles it.

 

He collapses into the wheeled leather chair and grabs the first picture he sees. It's him and Joonmyun atop a hill, hair wind blown but both looking extraordinarily happy. The next has Joonmyun on his back in the woods, and the next one is the two of them kissing under a tree.

 

Kris is having an out of body experience.

 

He reaches for another. In this one, red and green paper is everywhere, and Joonmyun is holding a baby between his legs, Kris holding a teddy bear in front of them, lying on his stomach. The remaining pictures are all during holidays, and each one seems to add on another child. Kris watches as the first child grows into a young boy, and several others follow. In the last one, the most recent, Kris counts nine children.

 

He leans back, setting the pictures down on the desk. He has a family. Joonmyun is part of that family. He groans and rubs his eyes, but can't seem to shake the pictures out of his head. He's smiling in every single one. He doesn't think he's ever looked that happy.

 

A tentative knock has Kris turning to face the door. "Come in."

 

A small face peeks into the room, then comes running over once he spots Kris. This time, the man has the foresight of holding out his arms before the child runs into him. He gingerly lifts the kid up and places him on the desk. The kid kicks his feet gleefully, sporting a manic grin.

 

"Papa, you 'kay?" The child asks with a worried gaze, tiny feet propped up on the arm of his chair.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just," he pauses and takes a deep breath because this. This is crazy and he has no idea what's going on. "I'm just a little stressed."

 

"What does that mean?"

 

Kris turns to the door. There are three more heads popping in, one of them belonging to the child that tackled him when he first entered the house. He motions them in with the nod of his head and the three sit in front of him, criss cross applesauce. The smallest raises his arms and makes grabby hands. Kris complies and picks the child up, holding him on his lap. The kid burrows into him and Kris can't quite name the feeling welling up inside of him.

 

"Did you mean it, Papa?"

 

"Did I mean what?" Kris asks, only half-paying attention, combing a hand through the child's pitch black hair.

 

"When you said you weren't my Papa."

 

The boy on the desk gasps and the other boy on the floor's eyes go comically wide, probing Kris for an answer. He sighs and shifts the boy in his lap over to one leg, reaching down to pick up the boy who looks to be holding back tears. When he gets him seated, the kid presses his face into Kris' chest.

 

"I didn't mean it," Kris murmurs, rubbing the kid's back.

 

"See, Baek! I told you!" The kid on the desk yells, feet kicking all over the place.

 

A scowl appears in the doorway. "Oh, so now you're his father?"

 

"Luhan," the smaller child in Kris' lap chastises, crossing his arms. "Be nice to Papa or I'll be sad."

 

The older boy sighs. "Sorry, Taozi. Look, Dad needs your help with dinner. He's trying to do it himself but... it's not really working out. You up for it?"

 

The child on the floor jumps up. "Let's go!" Kris echoes him, placing both children on the ground and sweeping the boy on the desk in a circle before setting him beside the other three. They all shriek and run up the stairs. Luhan stays behind, eying him critically. Kris is preparing himself for a snide remark when slightly longer limbs wrap around his middle.

 

"You scared me for a little while," Luhan admits into his ribs. "I thought someone had kidnapped you and replaced you with an impostor," he laughs. Kris joins in, though he's sure his laugh sounds a bit fake because yeah, he practically is an impostor in a parallel universe. "I need to stop watching horror movies with Minseok."

 

"Yeah, you need to stop that," Kris says seriously, flicking Luhan on the head.

 

Luhan skips away from another attack. "They're not that scary, though!" He grins, running up the stairs. Kris wonders what he's doing, but follows anyway. A small, slight child is waiting for him at the top. Kris wonders how many of these kids there are before the picture flashes in his mind and he remembers. Nine.

 

"What's for dinner?" The boy sings, reaching for Kris' large hand that engulfs the tiny one.

 

"I don't know. What's Joonm–your dad," this is weird, so weird. Kris has phantom spiders crawling all over him. "What's your dad trying to make?"

 

"Spaghetti."

 

"I can do that," Kris mutters to himself, entering the kitchen. He sees Joonmyun's back, and apparently the man is very focused on what he is doing because he doesn't even look up. A baby–toddler, maybe?–is seated in a highchair by his side, gurgling and squealing.

 

The boy at Kris' side tugs on his arm. "I'm going to go watch TV with Jongdae."

 

"Okay, I'll call you when dinner's ready," Kris promises, watching as the child runs off. He slowly eases in beside Joonmyun.

 

The man steps up on his toes and pecks Kris on the cheek and renders the taller immobile. "You sure you're okay?" He hums, mixing in another jar of tomato sauce. "I can take care of this if you want to go rest, or something." He laughs, "not like you can. Tao would probably find you and sit on you."

 

Kris hums in response because Joonmyun just kissed him. What is going on? "No, it's fine," he nudges the man aside with his hip. "I can help just–" Joonmyun's wearing a sweater that it much too large for him, printed with Kris' favorite basketball team and looks just like the sweater Kris wears every fall, despite the small holes in the sleeves. The one Joonmyun is wearing has slightly larger holes and oh god, Joonmyun is wearing his sweater. Kris is going to have an aneurism.

 

"Just what," Joonmyun laughs and Kris practically jumps. "Here, you get started on the spaghetti."

 

He hands Kris a giant pot, which Kris accepts, noting Joonmyun's slightly protruding abdomen. He shrugs it off while he fills the huge pot with water, it's hard to stay fit with age, though Kris is very proud of himself. His stomach is still toned. There must be an exercise room somewhere in the mansion. Joonmyun just... wasn't as lucky. He sets the pot on the burner and stares at Joonmyun out of the corner of his eye while he waits for the water to boil. He'll turn to play with the baby every now and then, and Kris finds himself grinning madly. But then the petite man will rub his stomach and that really strikes Kris as odd until he sees that Joonmyun's not really all that large, it's just his stomach that's a little bump and– "ohmygod."

 

"What?" Joonmyun looks up, worry clear in his features. He carefully holds Kris' face between his palms. "What's wrong!"

 

"You're pregnant!"

 

Joonmyun rolls his eyes, giving his attention back to the squealing toddler. "You say that like it's a new development."

 

Kris runs a hand through his hair because Joonmyun. Is pregnant. "What are you even–get out of here."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Drop everything and go sit down and put your feet up and rest and–how are you not exhausted?"

 

"What's with all the screaming?" Luhan and the older boy poke their heads into the room.

 

"Your father is being silly," Joonmyun faces Kris. "Honey, the baby's not due for two more months. I worked up until my due date with Jongin, Tao and Yixing. This is nothing."

 

Kris doesn't have time to reflect on the fact that Joonmyun just called him honey because all these kids really are his and that same emotion from before wells up in Kris' chest. He quickly and carefully sweeps Joonmyun into his arms. "I'm making dinner and you're watching tv with the boys. End of discussion." Joonmyun snorts but snakes his arms around Kris' neck and it's not like Joonmyun is a feather but he's a comfortable weight in Kris' arms. He's almost sad to set him down on the couch beside six other bodies, but he dashes back into the kitchen despite a few shouts of "Papa, carry me!"

 

*

 

Kris really can't cook and it shows in the undercooked pasts and overcooked sauce.

 

"It's crunchy," Tao remarks with a face. Luhan elbows him in the side.

 

Kris eyes his still-hard lump of spaghetti sadly. What is he doing?

 

"Well, I think it tastes great," Joonmyun states, twirling stiff spaghetti on his fork and eating it with a warm smile. Kris doesn't think that, even after fifty years, he could ever get used to the way Joonmyun smiles at him like that. "Don't you agree, Minseok?"

 

"Well, it's–"

 

"Minseok."

 

"Yeah, wow, this is fantastic! Gourmet spaghetti right here, Pop. Don't know why you're not a professional chef," he chews a pile of noodles with gusto to prove his point, ignoring the cracks and crunches it makes. The rest of the children laugh but also stuff their faces with the poorly made spaghetti, and Kris is happy.

 

*

 

Joonmyun runs up the stairs to put Jongin, the baby, to bed promptly after dinner. Kris watches him go, arms outstretched in case the man trips and falls. To his glee, Joonmyun makes it up just fine, rolling his eyes at Kris as he heads down the hall.

 

Kris joins the eight bodies on the large sofa to watch the evening news. He is swarmed with children as soon as he sits down. Tao is in his lap with full control over his left arm. The boy who sat on the desk and the boy who sat on the floor lean against his left side, revealing themselves to be Chanyeol and Kyungsoo after some squabbling. The boy who he made cry, Baekhyun is his name, crawls into his lap beside Tao. The slight boy from before tucks himself into Kris' side on the right and another tiny boy slithers across the back of the couch until he is resting across Kris' shoulders. By tuning into the whispered hisses, he learns that the boy cocooned in his side is Yixing and the boy he's wearing as a scarf is Jongdae.

 

Luhan and Minseok are perched on the ends of the couch, most of their attention on the broadcasters. But every once in a while Luhan will lean over and tug on Chanyeol's toes, making the boy squirm and laugh, and Minseok will reach over to muss Yixing's hair, which earns him an unhappy scowl.

 

During a break, Luhan shifts closer. "You always treat dad like he's a porcelain doll. You would think that you'd have toned it down after sixteen years, but no."

 

"Yeah, Pa," Minseok joins in. "I think you're in the wrong time," Kris freezes. "You were probably meant to be a medieval gentleman or something."

 

"Sir Papa the Knight," Jongdae murmurs drowsily into his collarbone.

 

"Daddy is the princess," Chanyeol announces, guffawing. He earns a few more laughs. Then the news comes back on and everyone is silent.

 

Yixing curls up further into his side, yawning. "You really love Daddy," he hums before falling asleep.

 

Kris is speechless. He stares at the small boy for the remainder of the show, then the television goes off and he, Luhan, and Minseok check for survivors. Everyone's asleep save the three of them. They've been decimated.

 

Kris has Baekhyun in the crook of his left arm and Yixing up against his right. Jongdae's awake enough to cling to Kris' neck while he carries the three of them upstairs. Ahead of him, Minseok has Tao and Kyungsoo, and Luhan's carrying Chanyeol 'cause he's a big kid for his age. "He takes after you," Luhan grumbles, panting as he reaches the second floor and Kris is drowned in fondness for all of these kids and he can't breathe. But he also can't breathe because Jongdae has a death grip on his neck.

 

The doors have names on them and Kris almost cries in happiness. He and Minseok duck into Tao and Jongdae's shared room first, then Minseok heads over to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo's room. Since Yixing and Baekhyun are older, it seems that they get their own rooms. He lays Baekhyun down first, in a messy room with papers thrown everywhere, then he goes across the hall to Yixing's room. It's a clean, orderly room and just as he did with the others, Kris leans down and places a kiss on the boy's forehead. Yixing smiles and rolls over. Kris shuts the door behind him.

 

Since he's already been in all the room on this floor, he follows Minseok and Luhan upstairs. The two duck into side by side rooms, and Kris wishes them goodnight. Both laugh and tell him that they'll be up much longer because homework is horrible. Kris orders them very sternly to not stay up too late. They agree with dubious expressions, grinning when Kris ruffles their hair and they disappear into their rooms.

 

There are three more doors. The first is open, and a bathroom. Kris opens the second and has to bite down on his hand to stop emotion from overflowing. There's two cribs in the room, one with a gently snoring toddler and another empty. Sehun is printed on the headboard and Kris carefully runs his hands over the wooden frame. This is where Joonmyun's kid–their kid will be in a few months. There's a mobile with kittens overhead and Kris lets out a choked laugh. This is too real. He rushes out and closes the door behind him, taking a second to compose himself before opening the last door. There's a body on the bed and a small reading light still on. Joonmyun is on his side, still dressed, and sleeping. Kris tries to be quiet but apparently the door squeaks as it shuts and he knows he's failed when Joonmyun's breathing breaks off.

 

"Are they all asleep?"

 

"And in bed," Kris shifts between feet, not sure what to do. The last time he'd seen Joonmyun was three days ago and the boy had 'accidentally' knocked over Kris' coffee onto all of his notes.

 

"Well, get over here then," Joonmyun drawls, switching off the light beside him as Kris goes over to what is apparently his side of the bed. He lays facing Joonmyun's back, content to stay two feet away when the other grabs both his hands and wraps them around himself, shifting back until there isn't any space between them. Kris holds his breath as Joonmyun leads his hands downward and onto his stomach. Kris takes a deep breath and everything smells like Joonmyun. He shifts closer.

 

"I'm worried."

 

"What," Kris whispers back. "Why?"

 

"Sehun, he's so quiet." He pulls up the sweater and his shirt beneath until Kris is touching the bare skin of his protruding abdomen. "The doctor's all say he's fine but he hardly ever kicks or moves."

 

"He'll be fine," Kris assures, placing a chaste kiss to Joonmyun's neck. "You need more sweaters."

 

The other laughs. "Maybe if you bought more sweaters then you wouldn't lose as many." He tucks his face into the sweater he's wearing and hums. "Or maybe not." Kris laughs and Joonmyun shifts until he's facing Kris, letting out a grunt as he does so. He tugs Kris' hands back and starts playing with the long fingers, stopping when he reaches the ring on Kris' finger. He grins holds up his own, comparing them in the sliver of moonlight streaming in through the window. "Even after nine, I'm still..." he laughs. "Though you're not much better. This is it though. I'm stopping at ten." He states firmly.

 

Kris nods. "Ten's a good number." Joonmyun yawns and he tugs the man closer, fitting his head beneath Kris' chin. Joonmyun tangles their legs together and pulls Kris' right arm over himself, curling so that his stomach presses against Kris'. He groans something about being fat, but then reaches back down to play with Kris' ring.

 

Then Kris feels it. At the same time, Joonmyun laughs. "Sehun likes you," he sing-songs against Kris' sternum. He yawns once, twice, then his breathing evens out and the grip on Kris' hand goes slack. Kris assumes he's asleep until he hears a soft, "I love you," whispered into his collarbone.

 

He tugs Joonmyun closer, as close as he can, and hugs the man to his chest. He seems to be asleep now, breaths skittering over Kris' neck.

 

This is the man who has caused Kris endless grief. This is the man who single-handedly disposed of nine of Kris' research papers without getting caught. This is the man whom Kris wants to hold tight and never let go.

 

He fights sleep for as long as he can, focusing on the deep breaths on his skin and the rare movement he can feel from Joonmyun's abdomen. He makes it until the first light of dawn sneaks into the room, painting Joonmyun's hair a pretty array of colors. Not just dark brown, but chestnut, burgundy, red, and chocolate. He ducks down and presses his lips to Joonmyun's temple, curling around the man as sleep finally claims him.

 

*

 

"So?"

 

Kris' eyes fly open. He's in a tent. A new tent, with bright vibrant walls, elegant plush chairs and a gleaming mahogany table. Across from him sits a young girl decked in blood red veils and ropes of jewels. Her face is impeccable, make up subtle. She grins and her teeth are a gleaming white.

 

"Did you see what you wanted? My ancestors were soothsayers, people often say that I'm impeccable when it comes to predictions. So, tell me what happened."

 

Kris gets up and bolts. Laughter follows him all the way out of the tent and he just has time to see the newly painted Fortune Teller sign before he rounds the corner and runs off. Just his luck, he runs right into someone but reacts quickly enough to grab onto the stranger's shoulders before he falls.

 

The person is pliant in his grip and almost feels familiar. Kris looks down and sees short, carefully styled brunet hair. The grin that lights up his face is quickly wiped away when Joonmyun glances up and scowls. "What, Wu, did the Circus reject you, too?"

 

And Kris isn't gonna lie, that kind of stings, especially when Joonmyun wrenches himself from his grip and brushes himself off, fully intent on walking away. Kris opens his mouth to fire back an insult, but what comes out instead is, "you have really nice hair."

 

Joonmyun pauses. "What?"

 

Kris backpedals. "What I mean is... I think we started off on the wrong foot."

 

Joonmyun an eyebrow. "That's what you think, is it?"

 

"Yeah, so," Kris reaches for a rope, anything, "I think we should start again. Do you want to go out for coffee tomorrow?"

 

"Coffee," Joonmyun repeats, laughing. He fixes Kris with a stare. "I have a morning class."

 

"Oh, then–"

 

"But I can do coffee after that," he prods Kris in the chest. "You're paying."

 

"Yeah, sure," Kris mumbles as Joonmyun gives him one last confused look before running off. Then he grins, and he's pretty sure he looks just like that man surrounded by his family in all of those pictures.