Jaejoong leaves the house, the door closing with a quiet shick that feels as loud as a slam. Yunho hears a car start in the garage, before he reaches for the phone sitting on the desk, which is presumably, his. It doesn’t look anything like the sleek Samsung V3 he has but he’s out of options. Gingerly he tries his current password. Two tries remaining, the screen flashes, warningly.

He hesitates, then types in Jaejoong’s birthday. Incorrect password! One try remaining, erase data? Yunho panics, types in DBSK’s debut date and holds his breath. To his relief, the phone unlocks, and on his phone screen is a photo of Seungjoon, giggling in a Chuseok outfit. The picture is clearly cropped and Yunho doesn’t have to guess to figure out the faceless hanbok-clad lap on his phone is Jaejoong’s.

He scrolls through his phone, a thrill of relief running down his spine when he sees the name Shim Changmin on his contact list. I need help, he texts, desperately clutching to his phone until Changmin responds.

Changmin doesn’t disappoint and two seconds later, a warning if this is about Jaejoong hyung pops up on his screen.

Yunho worries his bottom lip.

Yes, and no, he types, can you meet me somewhere I think I’m going crazy.

I’m at work hyung.

Please Changmin-ah, I woke up in Jaejoong’s house today and I’m pretty sure this isn’t my life.

Changmin is unsympathetic.

That’s generally how breakups works.

The typing bubbles appear and disappear, Yunho bites his lip for a full three minutes, and then finally Changmin calls him.

“That company event really did a number on you,” Changmin says by way of greeting. “Are you hungover?”

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho pleads, “this is crazy. We were just at the TVXQ anniversary last night. It was our 15th anniversary.”

Changmin snorts.

“First, our? Hyung, you know I don’t swing that way. I think the fact that you’re in Jaejoong’s house right now is clear evidence of that. Second, Sara and I were in watching Netflix all of last night.”

Yunho blinks, his headache starting to come back in full force.

“That’s… not what I remember. We were at the Hilton on Hangang. Super Junior was there and there were fireworks and alcohol,” Yunho bites his lip, “Changmin please, you’ve got to believe me.”

Changmin is silent for a long, awkward beat.

“I just want to clarify that I think this is stupid,” Changmin says, “but I’m only coming because you sound so desperate. You owe me big time for this.”

“Hurry Changmin.”

“I’m on my way.”

Belatedly, Yunho showers and digs through the closet to find clothes that fit him, piled neatly in a box. His things, Yunho thinks, carefully separated out from Jaejoong's. He sifts through its contents until he finds a worn pair of jeans, a serviceable t-shirt and a pair of aviators.

He shakes off the heavy feeling in his chest as he dresses, the events of the day that reminds him a little too much of the last six months of 2009, reeking of finality, sorting out the things that were his, the things that were theirs, but he swallows past the lump in his throat and stands, dusting his hands off.

The cab ride to a small cafe in Gangnam-dong feels especially long.

Changmin is already at a table when he arrives, long legs crossed, his hair long and pulled black into a ponytail, a pair of black plastic-rimmed glasses completing the look.

“Changmin,” Yunho hisses, his heart falling to his stomach, “You can’t be out in public like this.”

“Oh grow up hyung,” Changmin says good-naturedly, “how long are you gonna tease me about this. It makes me look older and it’s better for the clientele.”

He frowns, “are you sure you’re okay? You look like a crazy stalker.”

Changmin makes to tug off his face mask, frowning.

“Don’t!” Yunho says, and looks around desperately to make sure no fangirls catch a whiff of them. “People will see.”

Changmin gives him look that clearly says he thinks Yunho is crazy.

“Hyung,” Changmin says, “you’re acting really weird. Or at least, weirder than usual is everything ok?”

And suddenly the entirety of the day - waking up in a strange new world, Jaejoong’s confrontation earlier that morning, comes to a head.

“No,” Yunho says, deflating, “I’m not.”

Changmin turns around, expertly ordering two cappuccinos and breakfast sandwiches before maneuvering them to a quiet corner of the cafe. Yunho glances around, and finally pulls off his disguise, relieved.

“Okay,” Changmin says, authoritatively, “now tell me everything.”

Two hours later, sandwiches devoured, Changmin sits back and looks at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Wait," he says crinkling his nose, “so ignoring the fact that everything you’re saying is impossible, and defies every law of physics ever, hypothetically in your world I’m in a singing dancing boyband?”

“Changmin,” Yunho says, long sufferingly, “that’s not the main point."

Changmin crosses his arms over his chest, “damn, you have one hell of an imagination.”

“Changmin—”

“Ok, so let me get this straight. In your world, we were the most famous band in Asia—“

“The world,” Yunho corrects, on autopilot. “We were in the Guinness Book of Records.” 

Changmin looks like he wants to say something, then shakes his head and thinks better of it.

“Okay, the world,” Changmin says, like he can’t believe the coming out of his mouth, “then Jaejoong hyung, someone else called Junsu and Yoochun, split, and then we had a party and Jaejoong called you and you woke up in his house with no memory and no idea whats going on.”

Yunho blinks. “Yeah, basically.”

“I think you should see a doctor. I read somewhere that slow growing tumors can make you delusional.”

“No,” Yunho says firmly, “look, I know t’s crazy but what I'm saying is true. I need you to help me figure out how I can get back to my world or at least fill me in on what the is going on in this one.”

He thinks about the way Jaejoong looked at him this morning; despite the different context, all those emotions, all those fights, felt too familiar, too much like the ones they used to have.

There had to be a link somewhere.

Changmin looks at his pleading face, makes a decision and cancels the rest of his meetings for the day.

“All right,” he says, “basics first. Your name is Jung Yunho and you’re twenty three. You’re an attorney at Lee, Yang and Park. It’s one of the most prestigious law firms in Seoul.”

“You met Jaejoong hyung in your teens and you’ve been together for years but at work you act like you’re just friends. Your colleagues assume Seungjoon is Jaejoong’s kid and you guys are college room mates. The only reason I know Seungjoon is yours is, well, I heard a really ugly flight I wasn’t supposed to, and it took you a long time to forgive me for it.”

He pauses, looks at Yunho, “I mean, the fact that you called me today, is part of why I believe you at all.”

The knowledge feels like a lump of lead in his stomach. Law school, Yunho thinks had been so close at hand, before he’d been accepted into SM Entertainment. It’s funny then, he thinks, how the Jung Yunho in this life made all the opposite choices, and yet, he still ends up here, in the same arguments, losing Jaejoong, losing, it seems, everyone else too.

Changmin continues, “last year, you took on that famous restauranteur case, Hong Suk Cheon and had him convicted for gross indecency, because he was gay.” Changmin's lips twist, his expression complicated, “Jaejoong never forgave you for that and last I heard you’d moved out.”

It's a memory - not his own - that hits him, punting him into a scenario he doesn't remember living through.

He recognizes Jaejoong’s — their— shared house from earlier in the day, Jaejoong is sitting on the bed, shoulders hunched and defeated. Yunho is kneeling on the ground in front of him, his hands clasped in Jaejoong’s, their intertwined fingers laying on Jaejoong's lap.

“It’s for us,” Yunho says, letting go so he can tuck a lock of hair behind Jaejoong's ear.

Here, Jaejoong looks so young, and so tired at the same time.

“It’s not," Jaejoong says turning his head so Yunho’s fingers skim his cheek, a quiet rebuff. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you this. We need you, we don’t need the money.”

“We do,” Yunho insists, “with Seungjoon at this age—“

Jaejoong presses his lips together.

“We don’t,” he says resolutely, “but you want to be partner, so your father will be proud of you.”

Something ugly twists in Dream Yunho’s expression, but Yunho watches in fascination as he wills it away, watches himself stand, drawing to his full height, revealing a jet black tuxedo, stunningly crisp and elegant. It's more expensive than anything Yunho's ever worn.

“How long more are you going to have to keep this up?” Jaejoong asks, voice brittle and pleading as Yunho moves to the mirror and fixes a pocket square onto his suit. “Why does it have to be Ara?”

“She’s doing us a favor,” Yunho says in the same placating voice as before. “I need more visibility with the partners, and this is a good event to mingle and talk about my cases.”

“You don’t have to bring a date,” Jaejoong says, bitterly, “Ara likes you and you’re encouraging it."

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks,” Dream Yunho says and kisses his forehead. Yunho’s heart clenches as he sees Jaejoong inadvertently lean into the touch, fingers lingering on Yunho’s wrist, as though he doesn’t want to let go. “I have you. I have Seungjoonie. It’s just for a little while, just until I get partner.”

He leaves, and as the bedroom door shuts, Yunho watches Jaejoong slide to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, small and vulnerable and alone in their large bedroom.

Now it’s just the two of them, Yunho goes to him, kneels before him, his fingers tracing the tracks of tears down his cheek, the aching loneliness in his expression.

“I wish for once you’d stay,” Jaejoong whispers to the empty room and Yunho feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

The scene changes, fading into something more familiar. A real memory, from his real life.

Yunho sits up, recognizing the familiar apartment in Incheon, the one they shared during their Mirotic promotions.

“It’s just until we release the fifth album,” Yunho says smoothing out the collar of his shirt, “then we can stop this. Mirotic’s been doing so well and we are so close.”

Jaejoong is curled up on the couch, his cheek pressed to the window glass, watching the raindrops pour outside.

“Okay,” he says noncommittally.

Yunho throws him a worried look, but Jaejoong doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at him. Yunho’s brows knit, but he sighs, stepping over to the window to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll be back soon,” Yunho promises, disappointed when Jaejoong remains silent.

Jaejoong doesn’t move, just sits, watching the rain, a Dispatch clipping of Ara and Yunho, laughing and leaning against each other clutched in his fingers.

“Hyung? Yunho-hyung? Hello?” Changmin waves a hand in front of him and Yunho jolts out of the reverie.

Yunho's mouth is dry.

"Sorry," he rasps, "sorry I had something on my mind."