Mark took a deep breath as he emerged from Seoul Station, relieved to be away from the crush of people and out in the fresh air. It seemed like everyone in the city was leaving on summer vacation, and the trains had been a clutter of suitcases and their cranky owners en route to Incheon and Gimpo. Mark had regretted leaving the house almost immediately, but the rumbling in his stomach reminded him why he'd left in the first place. He was starving, and there was a free meal waiting for him just three minutes away at the Thai restaurant his friend's family owned. Putting up with a little inconvenience was worth it for that.

As the crowds of people thinned out as they went off in their separate directions, one of the nearby pedestrians caught Mark's eye. He was limping severely, making slow progress as everyone wove around him in their hurry to get where they were going. Some even bumped him in the arm and shoulder as they passed, but didn't bother to turn around to apologize. Mark tsked under his breath. What was it about living in the city that made people so unnecessarily rude to each other? The poor guy seemed to be struggling enough keeping the duffel bag he was carrying hoisted on his shoulder, nevermind the fact that something was wrong with his leg on top of it.

Feeling a bit sorry for him, Mark jogged over so that they were walking side by side. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, glancing over to meet the stranger's eyes. He was shockingly handsome, but not in the unearthly, unapproachable way where you wondered how such a person could actually exist. There was something familiar to how he looked, like he was a blend of the kinds of guys at school who everyone knew and liked, and who all the girls had a crush on but never fought over because he in a sense belonged to everyone. Just looking at him, Mark felt an immediate sense of comfort, like this was someone he could talk to without anxiety, falling into it as easily as he did with his old friends.

“Oh no,” the stranger said, smiling a little though there was an edge of pain to it as well. “I was waiting for someone to bother me. I need help. Badly.”

“I see that. Can I take your bag, maybe?”

“Ah, actually, I was going to ask you for directions. You don't have to trouble yourself.”

“Please. I insist.” Mark extended his hands. “Just for a few minutes, so you can get your balance.”

“Right. Thanks.” The stranger passed the bag to Mark, then rolled his shoulder a little, wincing in discomfort. “God, that hurts.”

“Heavy bag,” Mark said as he hoisted it on his shoulder. “Did you rob a bank?”

“Ha, I wish! They're books. I don't have enough room for them in my new apartment, so I was going to sell them at a used shop. But I got off at the wrong station because of an incident on the train, and now I'm a bit turned around. I'm trying to get to Myeongdong?”

“That's the second stop from Seoul Station. It would be a short trip if you got back on the train.”

“Uh, well, I just went through the trouble of going up all those stairs and escalators because I thought it would be in walking distance, but I guess not?”

“Sorry, but it's a bit out of the way on foot. I guess you're not from around here?”

“Nope. Just moved to Seoul yesterday, in fact. I have no idea what I'm doing. Clearly.” He chewed on his lip, looking despairingly back at the Seoul Station entrance.

“Hey, let me get you a taxi,” Mark said quickly. The stranger clearly couldn't walk that far with his bum leg and evidently didn't want to go back into the crowded station to be pushed around some more. “It's so close, it will barely cost anything.”

“Actually...” The stranger looked at Mark beseechingly. “I think I really need to sit down for a bit. My ankle is seriously killing me. Is there anywhere good nearby? A cafe or something?”

“I'm on my way to my friend's restaurant right now,” Mark offered. “He'll let you prop your ankle up for a little, if you want. It's not far from here. I could go with you and carry your bag.”

“Would you?” He sighed in relief. “Thank you so much. Glad to see there's hospitality, even in the city. Unless you're a murderer...in that case...no thanks?”

“I'm not a murderer, sorry,” Mark said, grinning. “Just an ordinary university student, I swear.”

“That's what they all say.” The stranger smiled, genuinely this time. “Lead the way, ordinary-university-student.”

“Mark for short.”

“And I would be Jinyoung.” He walked forward, his wince returning. “Ow.”

Mark extended his free arm. “You can lean on me a little, if it helps. I don't mind.”

“Seriously? Are you majoring in becoming a saint?”

“Nah, just human decency. There's a lot less requirements for that one.” He accepted Jinyoung's body weight against him, putting a supportive arm on his back. “What happened to your ankle?”

“I got pushed out of the train.”

“Literally?”

“Yes. When we reached Seoul Station, someone bolted out of the train and completely knocked me over onto the platform. My ankle kind of collapsed in the process and I couldn't get up for a bit, and the train left without me. I probably should have just waited for the next one, but it was so crowded today that I thought walking would be better. I guess I underestimated my ankle's endurance.”

“It's not broken, is it?”

“No, I don't think so. Just a little swollen, probably. Nothing a good rest won't fix.” He paused. “Please tell me this isn't going to be a regular occurance in the city. Because this is only day two, and already it's not going terribly well.”

“It's usually not this bad. I've personally never been pushed out of a train before. You just got unlucky, I think.”

“Figures.”

“What brings you here, anyways?”

“Work. I was getting away with just doing it from the country for the past few months, but I ended up getting dragged out here finally.”

“You're already out of school?” Mark asked in surprise. He'd thought Jinyoung was his age or younger, not older.

“I didn't go to university, actually. I'm one of those people who got lucky and got a great opportunity without needing school. Hence all the bad luck now, to balance it out.”

“Well, here's a break for you. We're here.” Mark pulled open the front door. BamBam was at the front of the restaurant, serving as the greeter for the day.

“About time you made it,” he said, lifting an eyebrow as Mark came in with Jinyoung wobbling after. “And you brought a friend?”

“Actually, he rescued a stranger,” Jinyoung corrected. “Sorry to intrude.”

“This is Jinyoung,” Mark explained. “He got a little injured on the train, and needs somewhere to sit down for awhile. Is it OK if he props his ankle up for a little?”

“Sure, no problem. The private room isn't booked today, so you can use that, as long as Mom says it's OK. You'll still be ordering lunch, right?”

“Yeah, I'll have tom yum koong.” He glanced back at Jinyoung. “Want anything?”

“Might as well. I'll have some pad thai.”

“Got it,” BamBam said. “Right this way.”

As he opened up the back room for them, Mark leaned in to talk to him privately. “Sorry about this. Since we were going to have lunch together and everything.”

“What, I'm not invited to join you?”

“Nope,” Mark said, surprising himself with how quickly the answer came out. He liked BamBam a lot, but for some reason did not want him around while he was getting to know the person who'd unexpectedly entered his life. There was no outright reason for it, but something more like instinct nagging at him. Don't waste this time. Make it count. People come and go out of life so easily, just enjoy them fully while they're there. Jinyoung in particular would be back on his feet after he finished his pad thai and would be on his way to Myeongdong, and that would probably be the last Mark ever saw of him.

BamBam wasn't getting it so easily. “What the hell, man?”

“Sorry,” Mark said feebly. “I'll owe you one.”

BamBam snorted in disbelief, but left the two of them to themselves as he went to deliver their order. Jinyoung settled in comfortably, looking palpably relieved as he got to prop up his ankle at long last.

“Sorry for intruding,” Jinyoung said again. “I take it you had other plans for the day?”

Mark shrugged. “I'm on break. I've done absolutely nothing so far but enjoy having the apartment to myself while my roommate's busy. This is already my summer's biggest adventure.”

“You have an absentee roommate? That must be nice.”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I'm rooming with an international model.”

Jinyoung's eyes bulged. “You're serious? Wait, is it a woman?”

“Nope, a guy. He's huge in China more so than here, but he relocated for love, and I just happened to answer his roommate wanted ad, and that's how I ended up living with an actual celebrity.”

“Dang.” Jinyoung paused. “If he relocated for love, why is he living with you and not his girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend,” Mark corrected. “His boyfriend is kind of stubborn. He's just a regular guy, and a student on top of it, so he's not making even close to what Jackson does and he doesn't have enough to afford the same kind of apartment Jackson can. Jackson would put him up for free, but Jaebum wouldn't accept that, and he also wouldn't accept Jackson living in a crap apartment just because that's all Jaebum can afford. So as of now, they're not living together.”

“But you can afford the luxury apartment, oh ordinary-university-student?”

Mark shrugged. “It's not that luxury. I thought it was worth it to actually have some space to myself.”

“Right. You're from a rich family. Noted.” Jinyoung grinned. “Actually, did you know you're in the presence of a minor celebrity right now?”

“Am I?”

“You know that popular drama from last year? The Miracle Shop?”

“Uh-huh, everyone knows that.”

“And you know the OST for it? The main song-”

“Like Opening a Box of Wonders, yeah, everyone knows that song too.”

“I wrote that song.”

Mark looked at him in shock. “No kidding?”

“Absolutely no kidding. I'm a composer. And that's why I can't live in the country anymore, because I accidentally wrote a hit song.”

“Accidentally? How the heck do you write a ballad that could make a grown man cry on accident?”

“It was a favor to a friend, I guess. She was auditioning to a company, and she wanted a song to sing. Her emotional delivery was kind of so-so, so I thought I'd write her something she could relate to and make it easier for her. She still failed the audition, but they held her back and asked her about the song, and luckily she was generous enough to say it was mine. Several meetings and contracts later, and my song was being purchased by a major label for their nationally adored singer to perform for The Miracle Shop OST. And here I am now.”

“Wow,” Mark said with a whistle. “Impressive.”

“Yup. Stay tuned, too, because there's more where that came from for an upcoming drama.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Seems like you're a celebrity magnet for an ordinary university student, huh?”

“Seems so. Makes me feel a little insignificant in comparison.”

“Don't. You're a literal saint. Plus, I'm kind of surprised you're not a male model yourself.”

“Are you hinting that you find me attractive?”

“Not hinting. I'll tell you outright: I find you attractive. But I'm sure most people do.”

“Not number one charting composers, usually.”

“That could be because I'm the first one you've met.” He smiled, and Mark felt the urge to blurt out something like, if you think I'm attractive, I've actually got absolutely nothing on you, which might have sounded incredibly cheesy. He was grateful when Jinyoung cleared his throat and resumed the conversation. “So, what exactly are you studying?”

“Political Science. That's why I'm here in the first place.”

“Yeah, I assumed you were a foreigner. But politics? You now seem about 40% less trustworthy.”

“I'm grateful it's just 40%.” He shrugged. “I don't want to be one of the shady guys. I just want to improve diplomatic relations. We need it, right?”

“Can't argue with that.” Jinyoung tilted his head. “Politicians are always having affairs, right? You should be careful. It would be a shame if you were to ruin your saintlike reputation.”

“Can't have an affair if you're not seeing anyone, can you?”

“So you're single? Noted.”

“Is this a fact finding mission for you, or something?”

“Maybe I'm writing a new song. The Angel of Seoul Station. All the little details are important.” He shook his head. “Actually, outside of one of my high school friends who lives in the area, Youngjae, you're the first person I've gotten to talk to here. I'm just curious, that's all. It still feels like I'm in a different world right now. I came up here when I was signing the contracts and everything, but living here is a different story.”

“You get used to it.”

“Which is kind of sad, really. Getting used to something means it loses a bit of its magic.”

“Maybe. But still, even in a place you're used to, you never know what will happen. Someone could shove you out of a train or maybe you'll meet the love of your life one day when you're wandering around and get a year's worth of OST ballad material from it.”

“Mmm, I suppose that's true.”

Not long after, BamBam popped in with their food and some drinks, as well as some bagged ice for Jinyoung's ankle. Mark was worried he'd still attempt to stick around, but was relieved when he retreated a few minutes later with a knowing look in Mark's direction.

They dug into their meals, but after awhile, Jinyoung started to talk again. “Since you also went through the whole process of moving here, I have to ask: what was the most challenging part for you?”

“Making friends,” Mark said automatically.

“Really? You've been nailing the small talk thing so far.”

“That took a lot of practice. Anyways, when you go somewhere new, especially if you go by yourself, the people you meet there already have friends. It feels sometimes like you're always standing on the edge of that, trying to push your way through into the lives of people who were doing just fine without you.”

“Ah. Cynical, a bit?”

Mark shrugged. “Internally, yeah. But once you actually break on through, it's a nice feeling to become essential to those same people anyways. Difficult, but rewarding.”

“I get it. They have been doing fine without you before, but once you meet, they don't know how they ever could have done without you.” He smiled. “That sounds a bit like a song, doesn't it?”

“Sure. You should write it.”

Jinyoung thought for a moment and started humming a little bit, then in a soft and beautiful voice sang, “The moment that our eyes meet, we're pulled into a new world. Hang up your coat and take a seat, settle in. There's no way back from this moment.” He paused. “That doesn't sound too threatening, does it?”

“No,” Mark said, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “That's a good thing. Not being able to go back to the time before you met someone who changed your world.”

“I think so, too,” Jinyoung said, and something about his voice curled its way around Mark's body, sending goosebumps up his arm. “I think forward is a much happier direction than backwards.”

When they finished their meals, Mark was sure Jinyoung would insist on heading to Myeongdong, but when he asked if he should call BamBam for the check, Jinyoung emphatically shook his head. “Don't you dare. I'm staying right here.”

“What about your books?”

“I can do that any day. I have a full week to settle in before I have to report to the agency I contracted with, so I have plenty of time. Right now, I do not want to move. I am glued to this chair. My ankle forbids me from getting up for at least another hour.”

So they stayed another hour, this time talking about their hometowns and families and swapping memories that had them both laughing and indulging in a little bit of sentimentality. BamBam came back in to check on them, and they shooed him out and spent another two hours talking about their dreams for the future, their favorite vacations, their pet peeves, their favorite things to do during summer break. Mark was having so much fun that he forgot everything else that could possibly demand his attention. He hadn't checked his phone in hours, even though Jackson had been stressed and running late to a major photoshoot earlier that morning and his other friends had been tossing around the idea of going out to dinner that night. He didn't care anymore about anyone else. Today was for Jinyoung. Today was his one chance to weave himself so thoroughly into this incredible stranger's life that there would be no question of them extending their acquaintance far beyond just one perfect afternoon together.

Mark wasn't a romantic. He wasn't good at falling in love, because falling in love meant sharing yourself in a deep way and expressing your heart in words that Mark typically wasn't good at pulling out of him. But right now there were so many things welling through him. Anxiety that he wouldn't be able to keep Jinyoung a long term part of his life and this would be as fleeting as it had always had the potential of being, but also a deep sense of happiness that he'd found one particular person who stirred him so easily in a city full of people who would never touch his life in one way or another as well as an unquenchable thirst to drown himself in this person's presence until he couldn't breathe. Maybe he wasn't necessarily good at falling in love, but it seemed pretty clear to him that he was on the verge of it nonetheless.

Evening came, and BamBam once again stuck his head in. “Look, guys, I hate to do this, but someone reserved the private room and I'm going to have to kick you out.”

“I'll pay double what they paid,” Mark said without hesitation.

“No, it's OK,” Jinyoung said. “Let's not go into corrupt politician mode so easily. When we came here, I saw that there was a cafe across the street. Let's get some coffee, all right?”

Mark nodded in relief. Clearly he wasn't the only one feeling the absolute need not to separate too quickly.

They went into the cafe and ordered themselves some coffee and pastries and settled in to talk some more. This time they discussed weightier things. Jinyoung talked about his love of song writing and all the burden and pressure that unfortunately came attached. Mark talked about his homesickness and his nagging fear that he'd never fully belong in Korea while also never really being able to fully belong back in America either. Jinyoung listened to him patiently, and when he spoke to impart his perspective, Mark had never felt more confident in his life that everything would be OK for both of them and that there was really nothing to worry about.

It didn't feel like much time passed, but eventually the cafe gave the warning that closing time was coming, and Mark finally glanced at his phone. It was 9:30 at night. They'd spent almost eight hours together from meeting until now.

“The ankle still hurts,” Jinyoung said as they left the cafe. “You're going to walk me home, right?”

“Yes,” Mark said. He didn't care if Jinyoung lived five minutes away or 3 hours. Either way, he was walking Jinyoung home.

They were quiet for the first fifteen minutes, their voices a little worn out from all their talking from before. All the same, it didn't feel like they'd run out of things to say. There was still so much more, and that thought excited Mark incredibly. It felt like this was only just beginning. There was so much more left to go, now that they'd come into each other's lives.

“You know what,” Jinyoung said suddenly. “I wasn't unlucky at all. In fact, I'm ridiculously, unfairly, blessed-by-the-gods level lucky.”

“You think?”

“If I hadn't been shoved out of that train and if I hadn't met you, all I would have done today is sold some books and unpacked.”

“That's not so terrible, is it?”

“Maybe not any other day. But today, those two things would have been the worst things in the world. And somehow, having a swollen ankle and several bruises is the absolute best.” He took Mark's hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

“We've already established that you're hot and single. There's a few more things we need to iron out. Like your thoughts on men. Dateable or no?”

“Dateable.”

“Korean men?”

“Dateable.”

“Minor celebrities.”

“Dateable, but possibly out of my league?”

“Wrong. Completely within your league.” He paused. “And your position on having a Korean man who is also a minor celebrity's number in your phone?”

“Completely desirable.”

“Good. Give me your phone.” He accepted it with his free hand and went to Mark's contact page. “And what are the chances I'll be receiving a text from you tomorrow asking me out to dinner?”

“100%”

“Good answer. I like sashimi, and I don't mind splitting the check. I also like going out for walks in the moonlight, but that will depend on my ankle. I'd have to let you know.” He grinned, passing Mark's phone back to him. “One more thing. Me continuing to work on that song I started about you today: heart fluttering or cringe inducing?”

“Heart fluttering. Definitely heart fluttering.”

“I'm glad you think so, because I thought it had potential.” Jinyoung squeezed his hand. “All right...so here's my apartment.” He pointed to the building in front of them, not letting go of Mark's hand.

“Yes,” Mark said, swallowing.

“Like it? Here's something even better.” He tugged Mark's hand, pulling him to the side of the building. “Here's the dark alley beside my apartment.”

“Gorgeous.”

“You would know, wouldn't you?”

Without another word between them, Jinyoung pushed Mark into the wall and started kissing him. It was no small kiss either—it was a fists wound in each others shirts, tongues entwining, breath stealing, heart stopping kiss that within the first second had already beaten out every single kiss Mark had ever had before. It felt somehow like he'd been waiting for it for his entire life rather than just a few hours, and his body pulsed with it, wanting to lose himself inside it for several long eternities. Jinyoung had such soft lips, but they were taking him so roughly, at one point even biting into his skin hard enough to leave a little mark on his lip, as if to carve physical evidence into him screaming you found me, and you're never allowed to turn back from this fateful discovery.

After awhile, they pulled away, panting. “I usually don't do that,” Jinyoung said, his cheeks flushed pink. “Kissing after meeting a few hours ago, I mean. I just wanted to tell you that usually I am not easily seduced and I have ridiculously high standards, but since you passed all of them already, I just had to go and change every single one of my rules for you.”

“Generous of you,” Mark said with a delighted grin.

“What about you, or are you a budding politician of the easy to corrupt variety?”

“I would have said this morning that I'm 100% incorruptible, but I guess I hadn't counted on meeting someone like you.”

“100% weak to me and all my seductive charms. Noted.” Jinyoung kissed him again, practically grinding him into the wall. “Also, I've never invited someone into my apartment after knowing them only one day. Never.”

“Oh?” Mark said, his heart audibly thudding. There is no way. There is absolutely no way I'm going to get that lucky.

And sure enough, Jinyoung's lips curled into a smirk. “For the record, I would have been perfectly open to breaking that rule, too. But I have some repair guys coming tomorrow at seven in the morning to fix my radiator, and I have to answer the door in good condition.”

“Come on, you're already limping,” Mark murmured, staring at Jinyoung's lips, still red and moist from kissing.

“Don't misunderstand. The first time you me, I want it to be to the extent where I can't even get out of bed in the morning.” He leaned into Mark, close enough to kiss but not yet closing the distance. “So you'll be texting me tomorrow, right?”

“200%, yes.”

“Good. I'll make it worth your while.” He kissed Mark again, and it was so hard to pull away for both of them, but somehow they managed, though their bodies were both begging them to do the opposite, to join together without ever separating again. “Goodnight, not-so-ordinary-university-student. Thanks for the help.”

It was 11:30 by time Mark made it home. It would have been much shorter by train, but he was in no condition to be surrounded by people, so he walked instead, practically on a road paved with clouds. He'd never felt like this before in his life, and he was excited at the certainty of it being even better tomorrow.

He thought he wasn't going to get a single bit of sleep. He wasn't tired, and his heart was racing and he was pretty sure there was no way he could get through the next hour without taking care of himself to the thought of Jinyoung, his lips, his eyes, his smile, his everything.

But when the clock struck midnight, everything went black. Almost against his will, he was pulled into sleep and a single thought screamed at the back of his head before every thought was taken away by the blackness. This had happened before. He knew what it meant.

Oh, god, no.

Jackson was having a bad day. One for the history books. One where, if he ended up with the ulcer that seemed so imminent due to his chronic stress, he could inform his doctor with 100% confidence that this was the day it firmly established itself.

It was supposed to be a monumental day, too, the day when his career in South Korea was finally cemented. There was a kind of warring sentiment about Chinese models, that could go in either direction depending on what the political environment was at the time. At the moment, if the Chinese model fell firmly enough into the narrow beauty standards, they were safe, at least for a time. If they did something even remotely unlikable, they were complete trash who should go back to their own country, insert racial slur here.

So Jackson had made himself perfect. He gave rambunctious interviews, but never crossed the line, always charming, never abrasive. He did pictorials that fit him in the ideal category they needed from him—handsome, but handsome in the way other handsome people were handsome, and exotic without being blatantly foreign. He always suggested at a healthy amount of tension between himself and the female models he posed with so no one would even remotely assume that he had a boyfriend innocently attending university in downtown Seoul, the one deviation to Jackson's “stay away from things that will make people hate you” plan.

But Jaebum was the reason for the plan to begin with. Jackson was already at the top in China, but if he wanted to be able to live in Seoul and see his boyfriend ever, he had to make it to the top in South Korea, too. If that meant shoving himself into a box when he was used to living however he pleased, that's what he'd do.

So he'd badgered his manager to help him make it in South Korea and his manager had gotten him a huge deal with a popular leather jacket company that they'd thought would never actually pan out, and the photoshoot for the ad campaign had been scheduled for that afternoon. Jackson thought he'd had the morning free to relax and get himself ready for the chaos of the afternoon, but the first thing that had happened after he'd finished breakfast was a call from his manager announcing he was quitting and going back to China.

It was an hours long argument. His manager insisted that he'd signed on to make Jackson a megastar in China, not to ship him off to a smaller market with limited expansion, and Jackson reminded him that it was a manager's job to give their clients new opportunities and launch them on a global stage. They went back and forth on it endlessly, ending with Jackson begging him to at least see the latest ad campaign through so he wasn't managing himself through a major deal that he knew nothing about when it came to technicalities, but his manager said he'd already bought his plane tickets, goodbye and good luck.

So Jackson had spent the rest of the afternoon frantically calling the rest of his staff and scrambling to put together some kind of contingency plan so they weren't all left in the lurch, especially with the photoshoot happening that day, and by time he'd finished, he was already running late to said photoshoot. Mark had left the car five minutes away from empty the day before, and Jackson didn't have time to pump gas, so he ran for the station and took it a few stops to Seoul Station, nearly killed a few passengers in his hurry to leave the train by knocking them onto the platform, and made it to the shooting location half-an-hour late with no manager and looking like he'd just rolled out of bed.

And then the photoshoot itself hadn't even gone all that well. He'd been in a bad mood, for one, and it seemed like the photographer wasn't happy with him and was going out of his way to use complex Korean phrases that Jackson wouldn't possibly be able to understand in his directions. It was sweltering, and the leather jacket clung to him in the worst way and he had to keep on mopping himself up and going back to the makeup station thanks to the sweat. The female model was treating him with grating passive-aggressiveness because apparently the company had been in talks to hire an up-and-coming Korean model named Kim Yugyeom who she would have much rather worked with instead of some random foreigner who'd snatched the contract away out of the blue. Nothing was going right.

And of course, it all lasted hours, as photoshoots usually did. He usually loved it. Modelling was what he was good at, he loved every little detail about it, the posing, the clothes, the concepts, the lights, the photographers, his coworkers, the way he could become all these different versions of Jackson Wang for a few hours and shed them hours later to become his real self again. It was his passion, and he didn't regret for one moment the day he was scouted in China and launched into the world of editorial fashion and being on the cover of magazines. If he hadn't become a model, he would have had no reason to go to South Korea, and he would have probably never met Im Jaebum by chance after Jaebum had accidentally wandered into the staff-only section of a shopping mall where Jackson was promoting in a quest to find the men's room.

But today, he didn't love it so much. It had been a week since he'd been able to see Jaebum, and days since he'd heard his voice, due to how much time he'd needed to spend on the phone, ironing out the deal with his staff. He missed him to the point of it being a physical ache, like a dull headache that never quite went away, even if you could work through it. He wanted to collapse on Jaebum's couch in sweats and hold him close, burying his nose in his hair and just inhaling him. He wanted to be in his bed, having every single extraneous worry loved right out of him until Jaebum was the only thing on his mind and everything else no longer existed anymore.

Those thoughts were all that carried him through the day. If he just made it through this, everything would be OK. He'd make it onto ads and billboards and magazines, and people would know him, or at least know him enough to the point where he could get steady work and live in the same country as Jaebum and at long last have the life he wanted. He'd still be busy, of course, but it would be the good kind of busy, the non-stressful kind. He'd have just enough free time to spend with his boyfriend and they could date properly, though on the down low, and they'd be happy and in love and it would be perfect.

They finished around 10 pm, and Jackson took a quick shower and grabbed a taxi home, arriving around 11. Mark didn't seem to be around, and there was no leftover dinner to steal, so Jackson started boiling water to make a quick plate of pasta. He checked his phone, but there were surprisingly few messages. Nothing from his (ex) manager, nothing from Mark, and only one thing from Jaebum: call me. Short and to the point, and somehow slightly tense if Jackson wasn't mistaken. Jaebum definitely didn't write flowery messages, but he usually wrote with a little more feeling than this.

Jackson didn't want to call him in the middle of cooking or eating, so he ate his dinner first. Mark came in around 11:30 looking incredibly flustered and dazed. He didn't even seem to notice Jackson was sitting at the table, and walked right by him and up the stairs to literally jump into bed, judging by the large thump Jackson heard once the door was shut. Maybe he was drunk. At the moment, Jackson didn't particularly care. He polished off his meal, downed a quick can of beer, and cleaned up the kitchen, then at last headed up to his room to call Jaebum before going to bed.

When Jaebum picked up, Jackson instantly knew something was wrong. All Jaebum said was “Hey,” but in that one word there was the sort of flatness that Jackson usually didn't associate with his boyfriend, who, though sometimes chic, was in actuality very playful and fun. He didn't force his bad moods on you, and even if something was bothering him, he didn't herald it in a cloud of doom and gloom. He explained it frankly, and they would work through it.

“How are you?” Jackson asked cautiously.

Jaebum didn't answer. “How was the shoot?” he asked instead.

“Pretty miserable. My manager quit. The photographer was an . The clothes were uncomfortable. The paycheck was the only ray of sunshine.”

“Hmmm.” Was Jaebum's only response. It seemed like there was more he wanted to say, but it wasn't coming out just yet.

“How was your day?” Jackson tried.

“.”

“You don't sound good. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” There was a moment of silence. “Do you know what today was?”

“...Saturday?”

“Yup. That's it. Saturday.”

More silence. Jackson felt his stomach sinking. This was not good. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

“I think it was always going to be disappointing,” Jaebum said finally. “Compared to this day last year. Nothing can ever top that, how happy you were back then, and that's the problem.”

“What are you saying?”

“We started dating a year ago. You and I.”

Oh, . Jackson had forgotten. Not even in a remembered-a-few-weeks-ago but slipped-my-mind-the-day-of sense. He hadn't really thought about it much at all. He'd thought Jaebum wouldn't care that much about it, and hadn't made any special efforts to bring it up or memorialize because Jaebum would have probably rolled his eyes and yelled at him for being cheesy.

But apparently he'd read him wrong. It did matter. And now Jackson looked like an uncaring jerk for forgetting and not contacting Jaebum the entire day, until almost midnight.

“Wow, the time really flew, didn't it?” Jackson said, feeling a little nervous. “It's been such a whirlwind with you, is it really already one year? Hey, I've got some time off now that the shoot is finished. Want to go out for something tomorrow? Ice cream? BBQ? Whatever you want, it's my treat. To make up for being so busy.”

There was a pained silence on the other line. “Jackson,” Jaebum said at length. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Really? Want to come over instead? Or I could come over to your place?”

“That's not a good idea either. I...” A long sigh. “Jackson, I think we should honestly just break up.”

Jackson's whole brain went gray. It felt like his entire existence turned to static, the loud, crackly kind that made it impossible to think and grated at you until you wanted to scream. What? How...? His mind was a million different thoughts and sensations, a thousand different flavors of shock and misery. How had this happened? How could Jaebum say those words to him when the two of them were in love, or at least Jackson was, in love to the point where he was ready to flip over his entire life just to have Jaebum in it? Hadn't they been happy? Hadn't Jaebum loved him back just as much?

Jackson's throat went dry. He didn't know what to say. He glanced at the clock. It was 11:58. Not enough time. And if he didn't do something, there would never be enough time.

He swallowed, trying to make himself say something, anything. “I...I...I have to...” He dropped his phone, fingers fumbling for the button to drop the call. It was already 11:59. If he missed this chance, he'd never get it back. He couldn't let the clock hit midnight before he said the words.

When he'd been seven years old, Jackson had gone to a fair with his family and had met a fortune teller. He'd been an old man with a stringy white beard and completely bald head, and for some reason he didn't have eyebrows. Jackson hadn't even wanted his fortune read and had been slightly afraid of the old man and his nearly toothless smile, but the old man grabbed him nonetheless and pushed him down into the small cushion in front of his table.

“No need to look at your palm to understand you,” the old man said in a voice that sounded as ancient as he looked. “Your fate is obvious to see. A cloud of misfortune hangs over you and influences your every move.”

“Misfortune?” Jackson had asked, eyes darting nervously.

“Yes! But worry not—they are only very small misfortunes. Little things. Small mistakes you make, little thoughtless things you say, small and unintentional acts of neglect. But little things still wreak great havoc, young man. Your little misfortunes each carry the power of a mosquito bite to nag and itch at each person you inflict, leaving frustration and annoyance enough to make them hate you. If left unchecked, your cloud of misfortune could easily ruin your life.”

“What should I do?” Jackson asked, anxiously.

“Give me your hands.” The fortune teller had taken Jackson's small hands in his gnarled ones, then closed his eyes for a moment. “All right. The cure is simple. From this day forward, you will now have the power to go back and fix these little mistakes. If you ever wish to redo your actions during a day, you must close your eyes before the day ends, clap your hands together, and say out loud I take it back! Then the day will begin again and you may correct your mistake and amend your carelessness. This is my gift to you, to make sure one so young and so innocent as you does not suffer a life of misery because the gods made you a tad bit insensible.”

Jackson had been pretty skeptical of the whole thing, and hadn't even bothered to try it out, though it always lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn't until a month later, when his mother fractured her wrist from tripping on a baseball he'd left on the garage steps that he closed his eyes and said the words, and at midnight everything went black and started again at the beginning and he could move the baseball before his mom hurt herself.

He realized right away what an enormous power this was and how easily it could be abused. He swore to himself that he would only use it for important things, things he really regretted or things that genuinely hurt someone he loved. Thus far, it really had been what the old man promised: a way to keep himself from having a miserable life and, more than that, a way to keep the others around him happy and safe.

And now was a more important time than ever to use it. He'd made Jaebum miserable. The rest of the day had been terrible and could have gone with some fixing, but nothing needed more fixing than that. He had to go back. He had to assure that Jaebum knew how strongly he was loved on the day of their anniversary, and to make it somehow just as special as the day they'd gotten together the year before had been. He couldn't leave him alone and by himself until almost 11:50 at night with no words of love to bring a smile to his face.

So Jackson closed his eyes and clapped his hands and spoke the words I take it back. The clock struck midnight, and everything went a comforting black as he lost consciousness and all the time he had wasted and misused rewound.