"Let us breathe a millennium in the space of a single day." - 'Sparkle' by RADWIMPS

     As far as lives go, SeungCheol had a pretty good one. His parents had always been proud of him, always loved him and supported him. He always got good grades, especially in physical education. The only time he'd ever brought home a bad grade, his mother had been very gentle with him. It still made him sick to his stomach at the thought of failing anything, ever again. He hated getting things wrong, or not knowing what to do.
     Either way, his life had been good. So when he woke up on his eighteenth birthday in a new bedroom, unable to move as quickly as he used to, one could imagine his surprise. It was a bit of a struggle, getting from his bed (it wasn't his bed) to his mirror (that wasn't his, either). What he met in the mirror nearly made him faint.
     Staring back at him, that wasn't his face. It was that of an elderly woman's. SeungCheol lifted his frail, wrinkled hands to his eyes and rubbed them. No, that was definitely not him. It couldn't be. But when he opened his eyes, the woman was still there.
     This cycle of waking in strange homes, as strange people continued, and SeungCheol couldn't think of anything to make it… stop.

      At some point over the years of this happening, he'd just gotten into a routine over every new person he became. He had to figure out how they lived, who they were, so he would search their rooms, pick up ID cards, try to learn the names of family members before he concerned them. Eventually, he had it all down pat, keeping up the identities of these people he didn't know for as long as he could, while also creating an identity for himself. He was damn lucky to be waking up in the same general area - South Korea - every time. He couldn't imagine the difficulty he'd face if he woke up in a different country, forced to communicate in a language he couldn't speak.
     He managed to set up a place he could normally always get to: a studio apartment in Seoul that he'd bought for himself when he woke up as a rich CEO one morning. He kept the key above the doorframe; an easy place to guess where a key might be hiding, but it's not like he could keep the key on himself at all times. He no longer had a 'self' to keep it on. This is the key he was struggling to reach for now; he wasn't used to being a 5'3 female, so when he woke up as one, you could imagine his annoyance. Eventually, he found himself climbing up a potted plant to get to his key, which just so happened to be the time one of his neighbors walked by and gave him a weird look. He smiled sheepishly and entered his apartment, which honestly, he was proud of. This… this was the company building of Asterix.
     His own songs lined the shelves; he'd even nabbed a poster of himself once. A poster of a silhouetted figure, neither male nor female, just a person. Somehow, SeungCheol liked the secrecy of it. He felt amazing, on top of the world, able to do his music without his family wishing he'd do something more productive, able to keep this going without a damn body to do it with. He'd never been more proud of himself and his work.
     On the other end of the spectrum, he'd never been so lonely, either. It wasn't like he could make friends when he kept switching bodies. Maybe that was why he'd opened a work email, so just maybe fan letters could help him feel better. Help fill a gap he had in his heart. He went right to his computer, opening up his email and reading some. Most of them were messages asking him to show his face, reveal his real name, give any details about himself. Of course, he couldn't do any of that, so he ignored most of them. But… one caught his eye. He had no idea why, there was nothing special about it. Except that the email looked like it was made by a 9 year old in 2006. '[email protected]' or something to that effect.

     [Hi! I'm Hoon. Write a song about meee, haha. XOXO]

     God, that was the dumbest email he'd ever gotten in his career. Most of them were long and filled with admiration and love and things Cheol didn't want to talk about, this message felt like it was sent to him at gunpoint. Oh, god. What if it WAS sent at gunpoint? Cheol grumbled. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Just one person out of all his fans, would it be terrible if Hoon, this [email protected] had his phone number? If push came to shove, he could just buy a new phone. It's not like this one had sentimental value to him. So, on a whim, he sent whoever this was an email back, containing his phone number. It was barely 3 minutes before his phone lit up with a message.

Unknown Number: [Hi… don't tell me this is Asterix.]

Asterix: [Yeah, actually it is. And you are… Hoon? Or should I call you jihoonieuwu?]

Unknown Number: [Disgusting. I made that email when I was like, 8. JiHoon is fine. And, if I may ask your name?]

Asterix: [You already know it. It's Asterix.]

JiHoon: [Ha. I meant your real name. I thought Asterix was just a stage name?]

Asterix: [Yes and no.]

JiHoon: [That literally doesn't make any sense.]

Asterix: [I know. :)]

     And from there, the conversations kicked off. JiHoon was always confused by SeungCheol's erratic texting patterns. Some days Cheol wouldn't stop texting him, constantly urged by some weird nagging in the back of his mind that he had to get to know this person on the other end of the line. Some days, he couldn't get to his apartment to speak to JiHoon and he'd have to leave his new texting buddy alone. Those days killed him, because he was never sure if JiHoon would finally have enough of this unsure texting pattern and stop trying to reach him. Yet, sure enough, when Cheol returned to his phone, there would always be a message or two waiting for him. This time, there were three. He understood why.

Hoom: [You've been gone for a week again. I know you're busy. I'm busy, too. College, you know. Hope you're doing okay.]

Hoom: [You've never been gone for three weeks before, hope you're okay.]

Hoom: [It's been a whole month. Asterix, I really hope you're okay. I hope I'm not bothering you. Just concerned.]

     SeungCheol couldn't help but to smile; something about JiHoon was just so endearing, so captivating, even though he'd never seen JiHoon's face before. He desperately wanted to ask for a picture of him, maybe, but he couldn't possibly do that. Absolutely not. He couldn't show JiHoon his face, so he had no place in trying to get a picture out of JiHoon. There was some information they shared, though. SeungCheol knew that JiHoon was a college kid, majoring in music, living in Busan. He knew that JiHoon's favorite drink was cola, and that he wanted to move to Seoul, because he was sick of the fish smell in Busan. JiHoon wanted a dog, and he was an only child.
     SeungCheol shared a few things about himself, but not much. He lived in Seoul. He loved music, but his parents weren't so sure it was a good career for him. They still supported him, though. He was busy a lot, so he couldn't always text JiHoon. There were things he didn't share, though, things that would be silly to share. 'Every morning I wake up as a different person, JiHoon.' Ridiculous. 'I'd really like to meet up sometime, JiHoon.' Now, wouldn't that be a treat. Show up as a twelve year old girl, that would be his luck. 'You're so intriguing, JiHoon. We've been talking on the phone for months now and I might want to take you on a date.' The most ridiculous proposal of them all. He could never say that to JiHoon, who knows all the ways it could go wrong?
     Overall, JiHoon was one of the most interesting people SeungCheol had ever met, and god, he wanted to meet him in person. Some days, that was all he wished for when he woke in a new body, found a new place to explore.

     One day, he woke up to a fish smell assaulting his nose. He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings before something happened where he had to know who he was. He started at the mirror. And he was sure he'd never stared into a mirror for so long. The boy staring back at him had soft features, short black hair that looked like it had been through a tornado; this kid must have been a very restless sleeper. He hadn't worn a shirt to bed, just sleep pants, so SeungCheol didn't feel too awful about staring his own chest. Or, the boy's chest. Cheol still didn't know how to refer to himself when he was in someone else's body. He also didn't know what happened to the people whose bodies he inhabited. Damn, if they were sent to his body to mess around in it, SeungCheol was gonna be livid.
     SeungCheol pried himself out of his thoughts long enough to look around the room he stood in. It was tiny, and everything about it screamed college dorm room. One of SeungCheol's own posters hung on the wall, the name Asterix popping out in bright neon colors. Other than that, there was a guitar propped up in the corner of the room. A box of CD's and records was half shoved under one of the beds, and there was clothing draped on every piece of furniture except the laundry hamper. He figured it was probably a good idea to get this boy dressed before anything else, so he managed to wiggle himself into a pair of jeans and a loose white t-shirt, that was maybe two sizes too big. In fact, everything was two sizes too big, and SeungCheol couldn't stop himself from smiling at that fact.
     He made his way over to the guitar, nearly tripping over a keyboard that had been left on the floor, playing discordant notes as he tried not to break the damn thing. "Sorry," he muttered to no one in particular, getting up slowly to inspect the guitar. On the guitar strap, there was a name embroidered. JiHoon.
    "Oh my god. You're kidding me." SeungCheol whispered aloud, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment; the scowl on his face felt natural for this person, like a scowl was his resting face. Maybe it was. He couldn't be JiHoon. Not his JiHoon. He had to calm down; there were plenty of JiHoons out there in the world; this was not his JiHoon, was it? It couldn’t be. He shoved himself to his feet and picked his way back through the room, finding a phone sitting face down on a nightstand. He tried in vain to look through it, but it was locked with a password. All he needed was confirmation that this was his JiHoon, but a blank phone background was not helping. He vaguely remembered a conversation he'd had with JiHoon a few weeks back, how he'd played Detroit: Become Human and someone's password was 'ingpassword,' and how absolutely hysterical he found that. It was a long shot, but he could try, right?

-i-n-g-p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d

      And, he was in. How that worked, he had no idea. But now he was stuck with the fact that he was almost definitely in his JiHoon's body.
     JiHoon would kill him if he knew.
     He went immediately to JiHoon's messages, taking in a shaky breath upon reading the name 'Asterix' in his contacts. Sure enough, all their messages back and forth where there, everything since the beginning. Suddenly, he felt the urge to go right back to sleep and get the Hell out of JiHoon's body. He'd never felt like he was invading someone's privacy before, but now, being JiHoon, he felt terrible for something he couldn't even control. Out of all the people in South Korea, he had to wake up as JiHoon? The Lord was testing him, dammit. He was sure of it.
     SeungCheol tugged at his shirt collar and went back to inspect himself in the mirror again. And that's where he stayed, eyes locked on the mirror, fingers ghosting over JiHoon's features because he wasn't sure he'd get to see this again. Who knows when he'd go back to his body, if ever? He couldn't meet JiHoon as someone other than himself, so he had to memorize JiHoon's face as best as he possibly could now. He stayed there like that for a long time until a knock on the door startled him so badly he nearly fell over. He didn’t panic; he'd merely do what he always did: play the sick card.
     "Umm, sorry!" He called, putting on his best 'sick' voice. "I'm sick, I'm not taking visitors!" He added a cough for good measure.
     "Um, I know?" A muffled voice replied. "That's why I went to get food? You said you didn't feel well last night so I brought you chicken noodle."
     Alright, so SeungCheol had to pull out the other card: panic. "Oh! Uh, no! No, you can't come in! I'm… not decent!" He lied through his teeth, his heart hammering in his chest as he heard a rattle at the doorknob; oh come on, JiHoon, you gave someone your key?! I'm telling you off for this later. He thought to himself, panicking as he rushed to the bed to wrap himself in blankets before the door opened. A man with black hair and a smile like the sun greeted him. For some reason, SeungCheol instantly disliked him. Maybe because of the cherubic hamster features or the fact that he looked like he'd consumed so much caffeine that he was literally vibrating in place.
     "I've seen you before JiHoon, you act like I'm not your best friend!" The hamster-boy bounced his way across the room to sit on the bed, unwrapping a Styrofoam cup of soup and setting it on SeungCheol's- no, JiHoon's nightstand. "Sit up, I'll spoon feed you!" SeungCheol grimaced internally at the idea and shook his head.
     "No, thank you. I'd just like to rest," he mumbled with all the desperation of a cornered animal. The hamster-boy had only the slightest frown on his face, but he gave a resigned nod.
     "Alright, I can tell you really don't feel good, you look pale as a ghost! And you're sweating bullets, you might want to take off that blanket." He smiled, and patted SeungCheol's- JiHoon's? head, finally standing up and… plopping right down on the bed on the other side of the room.
    "What… what are you doing?" Seungcheol asked, trying not to let his exasperation and need to just get out of the situation show.
    "Um…. Sitting down to play some games on my phone?"
    "Why are you doing that, then?"
     The hamster-boy did frown now. "Um… I live here? We're roommates and I can?"