He really should put a stop to this.

 

But the familiar hallway, that familiar door beckons him, reels him in and Zitao cannot find it in himself to resist.

 

He opens the door and is greeted by sunlight pouring in from the open window. I remember closing those… he finds himself thinking until he catches himself. Ah. Right.

 

The lump of blankets on the bed stirs, and a mop of brown hair emerges from the cocoon. Zitao smiles as he sees his hyung’s pouty face, still not quite emerged from dreamland. “Taozi?” Junmyeon calls, voice still thick with sleep.

“Yes Junma, it’s me,” Zitao answers with a smile.

Junmyeon shifts and the sunlight from the windows hits him. “Who opened my curtains?” he asks with a groan, retreating back into the blessed darkness of his blankets.

“I did!” Zitao announces with glee as he jumps onto the bed, much to the annoyance of its cocooned resident.

“Brat,” Junmyeon hisses, but with no real anger laced into it.

Zitao hugs Junmyeon’s figure from behind, blankets and all. The familiar banter is comforting, intoxicating. He’s missed this so much.

“Junma.”

“What.”

“Nothing.”

He hugs his hyung tighter, not wanting to say anything else and just bask in the moment. But he knows Junmyeon is perceptive. He’d always been. Even when Zitao and the others never told him anything, even when they faked it infront of everyone else, somehow Junmyeon could always tell. I know everything, his eyes would say. But he never pressured them to tell him about it. He was always just waiting, waiting for them to be comfortable and ready enough to share it to him themselves.

Which was what he was doing now.

“I miss you,” Zitao whispers.

At first he thinks Junmyeon didn’t hear, but soon enough the older is shifting from within his blankets. Zitao loosens his grip and lies still as he feels his hyung sit up beside him. A hand comes to caress his hair. “Tao-ya. Why did you dye your hair again? Didn’t you just say you were going to stay with blond until the end of the month?”

Zitao stiffens. “I, uh… changed my mind. I won’t be keeping this, though. I don’t like it that much. I'll probably dye it back to blond tomorrow. ” Stupid, he curses at himself inwardly.

The older snorts. “I figured.” He pulls on the blankets and moves to cover the younger with it. “What’s this about missing me, though? We saw each other last night, we see each other everyday. Are you worrying about the group again? It’s okay, we’re never going to have to work separately anymore. “He finishes covering them both with the blanket and lies down beside Tao.

Zitao wastes no time and snuggles close to his hyung, hugging him at the waist and resting his head on his chest. Junmyeon’s arms automatically goes around Tao and holds him close. Junmyeon is still toasty, and Zitao tries to absorb all the warmth he can get. His hyung smells of their old fabric conditioner, like a garden in the summer that has barely been touched by the morning sun. And then there’s the faint smell of vanilla, which Tao knows was from the day before—when Junmyeon and Minseok hyung had tried to bake a cake and failed.

“It’s not that, is it,” Junmyeon says when he doesn’t get a response. “Are you feeling homesick? “

Tao takes another breath and reaquaints his lungs with the scent. You smell like home, Hyung, he says to himself. That’s cheesy, isn’t it? But it’s true. So if you say I’m feeling homesick then you must be right…

Outwardly he says, “I dunno… I just feel lonely… “

He feels the small but strong arms hug him tighter, and a hand pats him on the head. “Aigoo. Our Taozi. It’s okay. I have these kind of days, too. You’re allowed to feel lonely at times without having to explain yourself, okay?”

Zitao tears up at those words, forgetting his promise to himself that he wouldn’t cry this time.

He’s never been able to keep himself from crying. Especially not in this room. And certainly not with Junmyeon.

“Is it okay if we just stay in today?” he asks, his voice nearly that of a whimper.

“Of course, Tao-ya. Hyung will stay in with you today and we’ll just sleep and eat and maybe watch movies if you’re feeling up to it,” Junmyeon assures him. “But…I’m going to have to leave late in the afternoon. I promised I will meet up with my old friends.”

“No!” Zitao whines. “I don’t want you to go out today, hyung.”

“Zitao, I can’t do that. We’ve had this planned for weeks and—“

“Hyung, please.” Zitao looks up at Junmyeon, and the older must have sensed the desperation in his eyes.

“All right, fine, “ he relents with a sigh. “I’m going to have to call them to cancel, though.”

Junmyeon gives in to him, as he has hundreds of times before. And Zitao should feel guilty. But he doesn’t. Not in this room.

The older finishes fumbling with his cellphone and lies back down with Tao again. “So what do you want to do first, you spoiled brat?” he asks. “Wanna watch a movie? I finally got that Big Hero thing. How about that one?”

Zitao shakes his head. “I’ve seen that already, Junma.” Dozens of times now, actually. ” Let’s go with Star Wars today.”

“Oh?” Junmyeon teases. “You’re actually going to watch Star Wars with me? Without me begging you to?”

Zitao whines and snuggles deeper into the bed, burying his head under and making Junmyeon laugh. His laugh is just as Zitao remembers it—light and cheery like the trickling of water in a small brook. It makes him smile and tear up at the same time.

They spend the day in, and Junmyeon stays as promised. With packs of junk food at their feet and the TV blasting the familiar background music, they stay snuggled in bed. They watch way too much Star Wars for Zitao’s liking, but he is beside his favorite hyung so he doesn’t mind. He’s not paying that much attention to the movies, anyway. He steals glances at Junmyeon whenever he can, capturing the older’s gasps of excitement and gleeful smiles at his favorite scenes. “This is a good part, Taozi! Pay attention!” he would say from time to time, giving the boy beside him eager pats on the thigh. And Zitao would try to focus on the movie for his hyung’s sake. But his eyes would always go back. Back to that face full of life, of wonder. Those captivating features he's always admired, those smiles that he never could quite capture correctly in his head.

“You have to actually watch the movie, Tao-ya,” Junmyeon softly chides as the movie credits start rolling. “Otherwise it’s not called watching movies, you’re just lying on the bed. Why do you keep staring at me, anyway?”

“I told you, Hyung. I miss you.”

“And I told you that doesn’t make sense. You keep staring at me like I’ve been gone for years!”

But you have. The familiar lump in Zitao's throat makes it hard to speak, but he didn't have words to say, anyway. Tears fall from his eyes, unbidden, saying everything his voice had no way of expressing.

Junmyeon’s eyes widen in shock, but whatever confusion he must have been feeling is brushed away as he hastily takes the younger in his arms. “What is it, Taozi? What is it? Why are you crying? Please tell Hyung. Hyung will make it better.”

“You can’t,” Zitao manages to blurt out between sobs. “You can’t make it better, Hyung.”

“Why not? Please, Tao. Tell me. Maybe I won’t be able to help, but I promise talking about it will make you feel better.”

Zitao laughs. Of course. Talking. That was always Junma’s way of doing things. Nevermind that they were a group of guys who would rather duke it out with each other when they’re upset. Junmyeon actually managed to make them all sit down and talk it out. It was awkward as hell, but no one would deny that it did wonders.

Not this time, however. Not in this room.

“Hyung…” Tao sobs into Junmyeon’s chest, dampening the older’s shirt with his tears. “Hyung, hyung, hyung.”

Junmyeon starts Tao’s hair and rocking them side to side, in hopes of making the other feel better. “Shhh. It’s all right, Taozi. Hyung’s here. Shhh…”

“Hyung, please promise me,” Zitao’s voice is tinged with desperation. “If—When I tell you that I hate you… Don’t believe me, okay? Don’t believe me. Because I won’t mean it. And I will never hate you. I can never hate you. Remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Tao-ya, I promise.”

“Don’t forget that, okay? Don’t forget that you promised. Please, hyung!”

Junmyeon hugs him tighter. “I will, my Taozi. And promise me you’ll do the same.”

And the final string holding Tao together breaks.

Because he knows.

He knows.

He knows that Junmyeon had never had it in him to actually hate anyone, let alone Tao.

And Tao was the same, but his mouth. His godforsaken mouth that mindlessly lashes out with spiteful words. Hateful words fueled by his momentary emotions, to be regretted in perpetuity.

 

 

“Why can't you just let me make my own decisions? I hate you!” he had shouted three years ago. “You don’t understand how I feel, so stop pretending like you do!”

 

And the hurt on Junmyeon’s face as the words registered. How could Zitao forget that? He never will. Nor will he ever try. He deserves to remember it, as a reminder of how despicable he is.

 

As a reminder of how he’d broken Junmyeon’s heart right before he died.

 

On that day, three years ago.

 

When Junmyeon was 24 and Zitao was 22.

 

When Junmyeon’s hair was brown and Zitao’s was blond.

 

When Junmyeon had looked at Zitao instead of the road with pleading eyes, asking him to reconsider, to talk to hyung so he could help. One hand gripping the steering wheel, and the other reaching out.

 

Never noticing the incoming car

 

Never hearing the frantic blasts of horn

 

And perhaps, as Zitao hopes,

 

 

Never feeling the pain of the crash.

 

 

“It was an accident, “ everyone told him. “You couldn’t have done anything about it.”

But Zitao knows that wasn’t true.

And he knows it was his fault.

 

He had killed Junmyeon. His favorite hyung. His only Junma.

 

But the Junmyeon who is holding him right now does not know any of that. This Junmyeon is alive, and this Junmyeon does not know that four weeks from now, he will drive a car with Zitao and then meet his early demise. This Junmyeon does not know that he does not exist anymore outside of this bedroom. This room whose time Zitao had turned back and frozen, on a rainy day three years ago. Two months after Junmyeon had died and a week after Zitao had first thought of the possibility in his head.

The others knew, of course. And they had all expressed their varying degrees of disapproval. But they all missed their leader as well. And Zitao knew that he wasn’t the only one who comes to this room, to see the face they haven’t seen in years—the brilliant smile and gentle touches and the tinkling sound of laughter. He knows he’s not the only one who misses the tight hugs, the ever-serene voice soothing whatever turmoil they had at the moment.

And it’s sick.

It’s sick how they all come here, to be with someone who was not supposed to be there anymore, to come to him whenever they need him but never having to offer him the same. They’re all just using this Junmyeon in their own ways. This Junmyeon who is trapped in this time loop, in this room, never aging, never changing. Never knowing better.

But they do it all, anyway. Because, like Zitao, they are all like lost children.

 

 

 

Playing with time is tricky. They all had to be careful, dyeing their hair to the color that Junmyeon would recognize. Never bringing anything that was from the future. Always acting like seeing Junmyeon was an everyday kind of thing. Except Zitao, perhaps. But like the other maknaes, he could always act it off as being clingy. As always.

But careful, they had to be careful.

Because even if he was trapped in a time loop, this Junmyeon was still a part of a timeline. Even if it was a timeline that stops in four weeks.

Zitao knows this has all to stop someday. Because one day, they will all grow too old for this Junmyeon to not be able to tell the difference. And no amount of makeup will be able to help them when Junmyeon asks them why they look so old.

And when that time comes, Zitao will have to undo this loop, will have to say goodbye. A goodbye that would be permanent this time.

 

Junmyeon starts humming a song to Zitao.

 

Hyung, do you know? Zitao thinks to himself as he wills himself to stop crying. Tomorrow I will be 25. Tomorrow I will officially be older than you.

 

Tomorrow you won’t be my hyung anymore.

 

“Tao-ya.”

Zitao stills.

“I don’t know what brought this on, and I don’t know what’s making you so sad, but… I really hope you can tell me about it,” Junmyeon gently pushes the younger away from his chest. He encases Zitao’s face in his delicate hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the younger’s tears away. “It hurts hyung to see you like this, but I’m also thankful that you choose me to be vulnerable with. So trust me more, yeah? Tell me what’s making you miserable, and we’ll try to fix it.”

It’s hypnotizing, really, those brown eyes of his. And Zitao almost tells him then, but catches himself in time. He shakes his head to clear those stupid thoughts away and leans forward so his forehead touches Junmyeon’s chest.

“Not right now, Hyung,” he murmurs. “Tomorrow, maybe? Yes, tomorrow. I’ll be ready to tell you then…”

Junmyeon gives him another hug, and then lays them both down on the bed. Still hugging Zitao, he runs a hand up and down the younger’s back. And for the millionth time Zitao wonders how he feels so small and Junmyeon feels so much larger like this.

Tao’s sobs turn into occasional hiccups, until they finally die down. His breathing slows with each on his back, until he’s finally breathing evenly. He falls asleep, and when he wakes, it’s already dark outside. He finds himself still in Junmyeon’s arms, and he gently tries to wiggle out without waking the other.

“You’re okay now?”

Zitao looks up in surprise and sees Junmyeon smiling at him.

He nods. “I think so, hyung.”

Junmyeon’s smile widens. “That’s good!”

Zitao sits up. “I’m sorry for crying like that to you, hyung. I know that you have lots of things to do tomorrow, so I’ll leave you alone now, okay?”

“It’s all right with me Taozi, you can sleep here tonight if you want,” Junmyeon offers with a worried frown.

“I’m okay now, Junma. Really.” Zitao stands up from the bed and composes himself before turning back to give his hyung a smile.

“Promise you’ll tell me tomorrow?”

Zitao’s smile falters.

“Yes, hyung. Tomorrow.”

As he turns his back, Junmyeon tells him, “And could you close those curtains, maybe? I don’t want to get blinded again tomorrow.”

And ZItao gives him the usual snark, to which Junmyeon replies with his usual pout, until Zitao finally “relents” to close the curtains for him.

The curtains closed, Zitao walks back to the bed and tucks a giggly Junmyeon in before walking away.

And as his hand closes on the doorknob, he looks back one last time. His hyung is looking at him as well.

“Have a good night, Taozi,” he calls out.

“Good night, Junma,” he softly replies.

And he really has to stop doing this.

Soon, he promises.

 

But the promises made in that room hold no real weight.

And just as how inevitable it is that Junmyeon's curtains will resume their open state, how his day will repeat for the thousandth time... Zitao's resolve will break.

 

Again

 

and again

 

and again.