“You’re such a good boy, Loey... I love you so much... It’s okay, I’ll be fine. You can go.”

He doesn’t want to go. His boy—the best boy in the whole world—his here, and he’s hurting. His boy shouldn’t be hurting; he’s the best person a dog could ever ask for. They go for walks every day. They share their meals. They play share a favorite Frisbee and a bed at night and room in their hearts.

He doesn’t want to go…

 

Chanyeol rolls onto his back and groans. It’s the same dream for the third night. Everything is foggy and distant, like the dream sequences in old black-and-white films. He never thought that was anywhere near accurate until now.

More than the dream itself, however, he always wakes up sad. He doesn’t know why; something about the place he dreams or the person who talks to him just fills his chest with a painful desperation like he’s never felt before.

But it’s just a dream.

He throws off the tangles of his blankets and sits up with a jaw-popping yawn that makes his eyes water.

It’s his day off, but he’s awake early. If he can believe the weather woman, the day should be nice except for some brief showers around noon. He doesn’t mind getting wet and has planned on being outside as much as he can before returning to his hole of a studio.

So after breakfast and pulling on jeans and sneakers, he heads to a park known by many dog walkers. It’s a bit further than the one he’ll usually visit, but it just seems like the place to be today. It isn’t as busy on weekdays, so Chanyeol can ride his skateboard without worrying about any stray tails or leashes rigged to catch his shins.

Quite a few dogs and people are still out. Some dogs are trotting along obediently with tongues lolling; others—predictably male—are stopping at literally every tree, bench, and post. Chanyeol can spot the younger dogs by how they toddle or are already being carried, fast asleep.

He finds a bench a little bit off the paved path, in the shade of a heavy oak tree. An older man pulls at the leash when his dog tries to follow a squirrel up the trunk. Deterred by its escape, the dog sniffs in Chanyeol’s direction, wags its tail, and follows its tired human.

His friends could call him silly, now, but they’re just as silly, and they’ve had discussions over beer and pizza about what kind of animal they’d be, if they were anything but human. They’ve found that they’re not all that imaginative, and it becomes more a conversation about domestic breeds they like that they share traits with.

They unanimously agree that Chanyeol is a typical Golden Retriever or Labrador: Intelligent, kind, reliable, trustworthy, confident, and friendly. All to a fault; Chanyeol rarely sees anything bad in anyone, but once he does, he doesn’t forget it.

Sometimes, he wishes he was a dog. Imagine not having to worry about work or money or wanting for anything. When he said as much, though, he earned the nickname Sugar Baby.

It’s been months, and he’s afraid he’ll never shake the name. Baekhyun even changed Chanyeol’s name in his phone contacts.

Someone whistles distantly. Not all dogs believe they have to listen once the leash is unclipped and take full advantage of the sudden freedom to explore. Those are the dogs who should always be leashed, but Chanyeol has seen plenty of either irresponsible or naive owners and has helped catch the wayward hounds when he could.

The whistling is close; closer still is a noisy snuffling and snorting. He doesn’t see anything when he turns around, but there’s a curled tail sticking out from beneath his seat.

A furry head pops up between his knees and looks back at him, one tall ear pulling free. They stare at one another and smile simultaneously.

“Hi!”

The dog squeezes between his calves and sits at his feet, tail wagging. It—he—sniffs Chanyeol’s knees and hands briefly before standing on his hind legs and throwing his head back to present his neck and chest for scratches.

Chanyeol happily obliges. There’s no leash, so this could be the one someone’s whistling for. He can occupy the dog for a bit and see if someone comes looking.

“Taozi.” A young man tiredly walks around the bench, holding a dogless leash. He apologizes and clips the dog’s collar with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s very friendly…”

“It’s alright.” He looks up from the black and tan face and feels something weird in his chest again, like a blanket of sadness is pulled over him. Strangely cool, he wonders if the front is coming in faster than predicted, but the stranger looks unaffected.

He tries to smile. “I heard you whistling and figured I’d hold onto him until whoever he belonged to came to get him.”

“Thank you for doing that. He should know better by now, but he’s always had a mind of his own. The moment he has an opportunity, he goes off to find people to give him attention.”

“That’s not such a bad thing, right?” Chanyeol asks the dog, who pants in his face and shows off healthy, white teeth. “No, you’re just a love, right? A very lovey dog. You shouldn’t make your dad so jealous.”

“You mind if I sit? I’m tired from following him around the whole park.” Chanyeol moves his skateboard. Taozi the dog jumps up to sit between them and hopefully get pet by both. The stranger immediately grabs the dog’s plush cheeks, pulling them up in a smile. “I’m babysitting this guy for the week, and he’s been nothing but trouble.”

“He’s cute, though. Doesn’t that make up for it?”

“I used to say that to my own dog all the time. You’re lucky you’re so cute, and I think he knew it, because he’d always have this broken look when he did something bad.” He shrugs and sighs. “I could never stay mad. He was a good boy.”

Dark spots dot the pavement, clustering closer until there’s a steady drizzle.

Man and dog stand, excusing themselves. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll have to carry Taozi home. He hates getting wet.”

Chanyeol loves the rain. He had great fun as a kid running around and jumping in puddles. His mom always got mad when he’d come inside more mud than boy.

He sits for a while longer, just to see if the rain lightens up, but heads to a cafe to wait it out. He’s always prepared with his phone and a notebook to work on his songs. Rain always draws out inspiration.

Half an hour and a melted iced coffee later, he has a rough draft of a story trying to describe the loss felt when someone who could be a friend leaves.

 

The rain lasts longer than predicted. Chanyeol spends a dreary day in his studio, again wishing that a window wouldn’t affect acoustics and soundproofing. His friends are busy at work, too, but he does get a few notifications in their group chat. Photos of meals and piles of work and dogs spotted outside.

He falls asleep at his desk and wakes up nearly in tears. Whoever is in his dream with him sounds even more lonely. It drives Chanyeol outside once the rain clears, riding his skateboard back to the park in the evening.

The same black and tan Shiba finds him, this time attached to his leash.

Chanyeol remembers to introduce himself this time. “I completely forgot last time. Taozi made me forget my manners.”

“He does have that effect on people,” Yifan remarks. His name is foreign; he says he’s a somewhat recent transplant from overseas.

Sitting on the grass is a mistake; it’s still wet from the rain. Chanyeol puts his phone in a pocket and sits on his backpack. Taozi steps all four paws on his legs and sits on his lap.

Yifan folds his sweatshirt to sit on. The dog scrambles off of Chanyeol’s lap to sit on his, instead, and Yifan extends his legs so Taozi instead reclines against his chest. “This big baby loves to be held, loves being carried… My dog was the same way.” The fond smile drops to something more wistful. Taozi stretches to sniff and his chin.

The loss of a pet, natural or not, affects everyone differently. Chanyeol’s not sure if it’s thoughtless or not, but he asks if Yifan has any photos of his dog and is immediately presented with an album of hundreds of photos on Yifan’s phone.

His dog was a big Golden Retriever with a coat so dark it was nearly red. “Kinda looks like a color I had for a while,” Chanyeol comments, brushing his hair from his forehead. It didn’t last; the upkeep was too much, so he went with a darker brown.

In every photo of the dog awake, there’s a wide dog smile or dopey expression with a pink tongue caught between his jaws. In many photos is a bright orange Frisbee. “That’s his favorite toy, right?”

Yifan nods and loops the end of the leash around his wrist. Taozi rolls to his feet and shakes his coat. “Yeah. I went through like three or four of them a year, because he liked to carry it around all the time and chewed it like a bone.” He takes his phone back and tucks it into his pocket. “He was my best friend for most of my life.”

Taozi reaches the end of his leash and spins around, lying on the grass with his collar pulling his skin up around his jaw. Yifan tugs the leash gently until the dog ambles within reach, then pulls him to his side.

“Dogs are good judges of character and have a lot of love,” Chanyeol says. “Your dog was lucky to have you.”

“I think I was more lucky to have Loey.” Yifan gets to his feet, and Taozi springs upright, tail wagging eagerly. “We should go. I need to feed him still and hope he’s tired enough to let me sleep through the night for once.”

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” He hopes he’s not being too pushy. His natural extroversion leads him to believing every stranger is just a friend he doesn’t know, yet. Not everyone else feels that way, unfortunately.

“I walk Taozi every morning and night, and this is my favorite place, so yeah. Maybe we will.” They wave; Yifan and Taozi leave. Chanyeol stretches and shakes his backpack free of clinging damp grass but doesn’t head home. Something’s bothering him, and he’s not sure what.

He walks on his own, stopping to pet dogs that sniff his pantlegs and arcing around the ones that growl.

Something about Yifan is so familiar. He doesn’t seem like any of Chanyeol’s friends, plus he’s not local, so they probably weren’t classmates. Everyone he’s dated has been shorter than him, so they didn’t date.

Chanyeol doesn’t get it. He’s looking forward to seeing a stranger, and he does not know why. Sure, he’s nice, and he’s a dog person. They could become good friends based on that alone.

Most strangers don’t make him feel so relaxed and excited all at once, though.

 

The anticipation in his veins bubbles and jumps steadily every day, keeping him awake but dreamy. He misses Yifan in the morning but runs into him in the evening. They buy dinner and feed Taozi pieces as they make one another promise not to tell his owner.

After that weekend, Taozi’s owner returns, so there’s no furry buffer between them and no excuse to meet up.

But neither run out of reasons to hang out, the most simple being “It’s a nice day out. Are you free?” Chanyeol faces teasing from his friends about Yifan, the “mystery man.” Even his own sister asks when she’s ever going to meet “tall, dark, and handsome.”

Call him selfish, but Chanyeol puts off invitations for them all to hang out. He’s busy, or Yifan is busy, or the weather isn’t good, or someone is sick and can’t join… He just doesn’t want to share Yifan just yet. They’re still getting to know one another, and Chanyeol’s been having more dreams that feel a lot like memories.

Walking through that park together. Going to the beach together and playing with a bright orange Frisbee. Wrestling in the grass. Cuddling during a bad storm.

If they’re not memories, they’re things Chanyeol would really love to happen. Except the storm; he hates storms.

There’s more rain predicted, but the sky is still clear. Chanyeol invites Yifan to his studio, because who is going to say anything otherwise, and Yifan is interested in music. Once upon a time, he said, he wanted to be a musician of some sort. His mom forcing him to learn cello and piano as a child made him rebellious, and he quit. He regrets that.

He has good opinions, though, and Chanyeol plays some melodies he’s not sure what to do or where to go with. They make up a nonsense rap song with heavy bass that Chanyeol promises to never release, because it could damage his reputation.

They’re taking a break. Rather, Chanyeol’s taking a break, and Yifan is watching people on the sidewalk below, commenting on every dog he sees.

Conversation is easy as always. Stop and go, with varying pauses between topics or thoughts but no awkwardness.

“So here’s a question,” Chanyeol drawls, mostly focused on a Rubik’s cube that has two completed sides. “If you were a dog, what breed would you be?”

Yifan sighs. “A dog? I don’t know much about the breeds, so I dunno. Any other animal, though, and I’d like to be a dragon.”

This is the quality content Chanyeol signed up for. When his other friends talk about personality qualities and features, they always seem to get hung up on the cat versus dog debate. They also always say, without question, that Chanyeol is a pure Golden Retriever. “Why’s that?”

“They’re just really cool. They fly, breathe fire, could be the size of a gecko or a whole island…” He shrugs and laughs, embarrassed. Rubbing his palms over his thighs, he stands and sits beside Chanyeol on the sofa that’s still a bit stiff with disuse. “I’ve just always liked them.”

They discuss the virtues of Eastern and Western dragons but can’t agree on which would win in a fight.

Without realizing, call it instinct or blame Yifan’s magnetic charm, Chanyeol shifts close enough to be hip-to-hip with him. Every move they make, they bump arms or shoulders and don’t apologize. Yifan scratches the back of his head and lets his arm fall behind Chanyeol’s shoulders.

He shifts and stretches with a groan, squeezing Chanyeol for a moment before releasing him and leaning forward.

“Hey, you want to go for a walk?”

“Yeah!” Chanyeol sits up and feels his pockets for his phone and wallet. “Where to?” Yifan laughs, hiding it behind the back of his hand. Chanyeol wishes he wouldn’t do that; he likes Yifan’s laugh. It’s cute. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just nice that it’s so easy to hang out with you.”

“How do you mean?”

“All you need to be happy is to sleep well, eat good food, and go for walks.”

Chanyeol knows Yifan means that he’s low maintenance. “So you’re saying I’m a Golden Retriever?”

Yifan shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I take it as a compliment.” Goldens are too pure to be taken as anything but a compliment. Yifan leans into him and kisses him suddenly, just a quick peck on the mouth, but Chanyeol grins and feels his ears grow hot. “That reminds me of something, actually. Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Kind of. Why?”

“What do you think of them?”

Seeing that he’s actually interested, Yifan scratches an eyebrow and looks out the window. “I guess just that there are some people you just click with. Destined or fate or not, I dunno, but some people just seem to have a love more than love?” He chuckles softly. “I lost my thought, but I don’t know how to explain it, anyway.

“Why the interest, though? Reading girly magazines again?”

“They’re your magazines.” He stands and tugs his T-shirt down where it had ridden up. “But, like, are you sure we’ve never met before?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember.” There’s that smile again, soft and affectionate and drawing a pleasant heat to Chanyeol’s chest. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I know you, now.”

Chanyeol waits for Yifan at the door, locking it behind them.

“And you’re happy?”

“Very.”

Maybe it’s silly or foolish, but Chanyeol’s certain Yifan’s the one he’s been dreaming about. Maybe he really was a dog in a past life, but he’s a human, now, and he’s with the best boy in the world.

---

a/n: Written for zwolftenaugust, as part of the Yeolliepopday exchange. (prompt: Since he was a very good boy, dog!chanyeol gets reincarnated as a human right after his death. he makes it a quest to find A, his former master and a very best friend in his dog life.)

I was so excited for this prompt, because it's so cute, but as I got into it, I realized that I just don't know enough about reincarnation and really got hung up on my interpretation that I don't feel I did the prompt much justice. It's a bit more of a soulmates story, not so much reincarnation.

But oh well.