[CONTENTID1]1/1[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]sunshine by the sea[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

"Future has always been the curiosity of mankind. The world hasn't been kind to you, poor child. Close your eyes, and dream of a better life, the future where you love him, and he finally loves you back."

-

It's warm all over.

He's under a thick layer of white snow… wait, no. Snow? Not snow, but white… It's a bedsheet. It's a… a duvet? A crisp white blanket—

Not snow.

Not snow??!

Donghae blinks, disoriented at the completely new environment, the pillow under his head feels harder than the ones at the dorm, except it's not a pillow. It's a… it's an arm, tucked under his head, and it takes ten more seconds for him to realize that there's a pair of arms wrapping around his body like a human duvet.

Wait, where is he right now?

The next thing registered in his sleep-conducted brain is that he's pressed against someone's strong chest—bare chest.

Donghae jerks up, his head hits something hard and then someone shouts in pain—a man's voice, much to his fear. And Donghae isn't Donghae if he's not losing total control of his limbs when provoked (except he's not being provoked AT ALL right now) and whoever previously cuddled him is tumbling down from the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud.

Donghae shrieks and stumbles down from the bed, sprinting towards the corner of the room bringing the sheets with him to cover his… fully clothed body.

Fully clothed?

Wait, so he wasn't…

"What the actual , Lee Donghae!" A disgruntled groan comes from under the bed, in a voice that Donghae, much to his surprise, recognizes. A voice he will never forget until his last breath, a voice that puts him to sleep countless times, a voice that is his protection.

A messy tuft of jet black hair, sticking to all directions. Then a smooth, fair-skinned, nicely toned arm grasps the bed, hoisting himself up, and—Donghae can't believe his own two eyes—

"H-H-Hyuk—"

It's Hyukjae, it's definitely him.

But… how?

Donghae remembers the last time he saw Hyukjae that day was after their silly, childish fight over his tendency of being way too clingy. The fight actually happens on a weekly, if not daily basis, and always ends up with Hyukjae coming to his room to apologize (although it took some time) for all the possible hurtful words he was saying before.

But—today was an exception, he guesses. He's been avoiding Hyukjae since he found out about the girlfriend. Then they fought again, all childish shouting and name calling, and then Hyukjae said something so hurtful that made him run from the dorm to give himself some space and… somehow, ended up here.

"Hyukjae?!"

There's a blurred expression on Hyukjae's sleepy face. All of sudden the drowsiness vanishes from his features, and he straightens himself—wait wait wait he's ?!?!!—putting his hands on his waist, in a very Hyukjae way.

"Oh, dear," Donghae hears him sighing. "I totally forgot about this."

It's Hyukjae. The way he talks, the way he stands his stance. It's Hyukjae, but at the same time, also not Hyukjae. Not his Hyukjae. This Hyukjae is quite taller, and his hair is no longer blond—cleanly cut short jet black hair, mussed from sleep. This Hyukjae had lost almost all the baby-ish roundness from his face, his eyes are so much sharper, his jaws are more prominent—

—and on top of that… he's topless.

Donghae's lower lip quivers, and he succumbs onto the floor, shutting his eyes tight in hope to wake up from the peculiar dream he's probably having now. "H-Hyukjae?"

He hears rustle, a quick padding of feet coming closer towards him, and Donghae cowers even further inside the bedsheets cocoon he involuntarily made.

"D-don't come closer! You're not Hyukjae!"

"You just called me that name, though?"

"But you're not my Hyukjae! Hyukjae has blond hair," he peeks under the hood of the bedsheets over his head and sees the man sitting on his haunches like, half a meter away from Donghae and he looks so handsome and Donghae is freaking out. "Why won't you stay away!"

There's a humored expression on Hyukjae's face, something so gentle is evident in his sharp eyes. Something Donghae isn't familiar with. The fact that it gives him a new feeling gets his throat caught; and split second he's choking on his tears.

"Darling—" Hyukjae instantly shut his mouth tight, as if he was saying something so wrong. "Donghae, I'm not going to hurt you, alright? I'm Hyukjae, still your Hyukjae. You're eight years in the future."

"W-wha—"

"Look," Hyukjae grabs something from the bedside table and shows it to him. A calendar. "It's November 2018. Donghae—uh, my Donghae actually told me it would happen somewhere around this month but he never specified when exactly. Basically you switched places," he looks at Donghae, sensing his puzzled look, and shrugs. "I have no idea how it happened, but I remember the effect lasted for 24 hours. Donghae said he forgot everything so we can do nothing about it."

"Where are we?" He looks around, and the early morning sun is shining in the sky outside the window. There's no way they're in Korea. It's near winter before he was thrown into the future.

Hyukjae rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little bit embarrassed. "... We're in Hawaii."

"What?!"

"It's not important," Hyukjae reaches out, flicking his nose and surprising Donghae in the process. "Let's just talk outside the bedroom, shall we?"

He reaches his arm to carefully unbind the bedsheets cocoon from Donghae's body and ruffles his hair. At first Donghae tenses up; because his Hyukjae isn't someone who would willingly do such a thing, but then exhaustion envelopes him and he leans into the touch, almost sagging against Hyukjae's bare chest.

"I'm scared…" he sobs pitifully. "What if I cannot go back?"

"Don't be. It happened, and it will go back to normal in no time," Hyukjae smiles kindy and his hair, rubbing calming circles with his other hand along Donghae's back. "Should I hug you? You've always been the clingiest one in the group."

"But you hate it when I'm being clingy," Donghae sniffles meekly. "Besides… you're . Do you sleep ? My Hyukjae would never… is this bruises on your neck? Are you okay?"

Hyukjae raises his eyebrows and rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. "Oh, yeah, sorry. We—I was, uh, nevermind. These were probably mosquitoes."

"Hawaii has mosquitoes?"

"Shush." He snatches a random shirt from under the bed—Donghae isn't sure if it's been there the whole time—and quickly shuffles inside, ears burning red for some reason. He looks flustered, and somehow shy—like he's caught red handed doing something embarrassing.

Donghae sits there on the floor, tilting his head like a confused puppy. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Hyukjae cringes. Then he opens his arm, offering Donghae a gentle smile. "Hugs?"

Hugging this Hyukjae feels different, so much different but also exactly the same, in a way. Taut lean muscles are now filling the once softer part of his features—not like his Hyukjae isn't, but maybe being 8 years older brings a lot of change. There's something about his hug, the way his long arms wrapped securely around Donghae, and the hand gently rubbing his back.

"I forgot how tiny you were back then." Hyukjae says, fondness is evident in his tone. Donghae tries to look up.

"Your me is not tiny anymore?"

"Well he developed an obsession to work out but he's… you're still tiny in 2018, anyway." Hyukjae chuckles and then he—he leans in, kissing Donghae's forehead.

The gesture is so soft and butterflies burst out under Donghae's stomach. He feels the tears welling up again, and his nose is about to drip, embarrassingly.

"O-oh—, sorry. Did I scare you? I'm sorry, it's just—" Hyukjae releases him, but still puts his hand on both of his shoulders. "... muscle memory."

Hyukjae kissed him. On the forehead, but still. It's the softest gesture he'd ever receive from his best friend, a gesture that screams domestic morning routine. A gesture he can only dream of; thinking back to his Hyukjae back in 2011.

"No, I'm just…" Donghae sobs, stupid snot is now dripping from his reddened nose, and the tears won't stop falling. "You're so loving and so affectionate to me," he hastily wipes his face with the back of his arm, desperate to stop the flow of his tears before Hyukjae snatches his hand away. Wordlessly, the dancer offers him a tissue box.

Donghae takes one and remembers not to blow his nose in an embarrassing way.

"I'm sorry," his voice is sincere. Gentle. "I know. I wasn't so nice to you back in 2011. I'm so sorry, Hae."

Donghae just nods, because he doesn't know what to do with himself and just dives straight into Hyukjae's arms again. After some time he feels himself being lifted up; bridal style while he's still half-wrapped in a cocoon of the cotton-soft bed sheets.

"Don't cry," Hyukjae says, rocking him side to side like adults do to a little child. "Are you hungry? I bet food will make everything better—do you still like your egg sunny side up?"

-

He still does, and Hyukjae's broad back is now facing him as he busies himself making a simple breakfast for the both of them. He hums a distant, weirdly familiar tone Donghae cannot pick up, no matter how hard he tries to listen.

"Is that our song?"

"Hmm?" Hyukjae proceeds to hum some more, before setting two perfectly sunny side ups on a plate. "It's actually your song."

"My song?"

"Yes," the dancer smiles softly and turns around—graceful, like he's dancing under the moonlight. The way he moves from place to place, the way Hyukjae flicks a strand of hair off his eyes, the way he spins on his heels to face Donghae. Everything screams graceful, like the way a professional dancer moves.

"You wrote it in 2014."

"What is it about?"

"Secret," he winks. "You'll find out about it in three years."

Donghae pouts—a habit, and probably awakens something in Hyukjae because the dancer chuckles fondly before reaching out to his hair. "You're so adorable."

He's not used to being praised by Hyukjae for barely doing anything so Donghae only ducks his head down to hide his pink-tinted cheeks and begins to dig into his breakfast. Hyukjae does as well, sitting across his seat with a phone on his left hand.

"Can I have it with coffee?"

Hyukjae eyes him with a frown, cheeks full of food and Donghae almost chuckles. He never changes.

"Baby shouldn't drink coffee."

"But I'm not a baby."

"You're 24. You're just a baby."

Donghae pouts. He stomps his foot during normal occasions but today is not one—besides, his mind is fogged with something else he'd been dying to ask since ever… he means, it must be it right? There's no other explanation—

“Hyukjae…”

"I can make you some chocolate milk, if you want to, since I bought too much chocolate bar—

"A-are we dating?"

Hyukjae—Donghae expects he'll sputter over the food in his mouth (which makes his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk)—only stares at him. Calmly munching on his eggs and bacon even has the audacity to sip on his coffee first thing. It does something to Donghae's stomach because how can this man look so cute, yet so hot?

"We're actually married."

"Wha—"

"Before you scream," Hyukjae surges, ears as red as the crabs Donghae would catch back in Mokpo. "try not to."

He's sure he's gaping like a fish ("Nemo!" 2011 Hyukjae would call him) and he's losing his grip on his fork. Hyukjae catches it before it falls noisily on his plate.

"B-but… how… you have a girlfriend…"

"Had…"

“We’re married?”

Hyukjae looks at him with humored eyes and flicks his nose. “Yes, darling, we are married. Should I say it again? Donghae and I are married. I married you, Lee Donghae. Back in Japan half a year ago.”

Hyukjae is his husband. Hyukjae is his husband. Donghae can’t believe his own two ears; but Hyukjae never lies no matter how harsh, or rude he was to him; Hyukjae never lied. And what did he say again? They get married in Japan?

“Ja-Ja-Japan?” Donghae feels like his eyes are going to pop off their own sockets as he opens his eyes wide in bewilderment, almost standing up from his seat. “Hyukjae and I got married in Japan??”

“Stop stuttering or I will squish your face,” Hyukjae threatens. “Listen, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say such things but… but you said you forgot everything back then, so… I guess a little sneak peek into the future won’t hurt?”

“You’ll show me?”

“Hmm, finish your food first.”

“Okay!” Donghae chirps almost too excitedly, bouncing his feet together on his seat, things he does when he gets overly excited. He hears a low chuckle from the older Hyukjae but can’t care less anymore because he will have a sneak peek of his life eight years into the future! How much more amazing can it be?

He married his best friend. He married Hyukjae. Him and Hyukjae are married. Donghae repeats the word in his head over and over again until it feels meaningless and with each second passes, he feels his excitement bubbles up until he cannot take it anymore and practically slurps down his food before his clingy side kicks in; grabbing Hyukjae’s arm with both hands, trying to pull him up from his position on the dining stool.

“C’mon, let me see!”

“Don’t you want to brush your teeth first? Your braces—”

“What braces?”

Hyukjae examines him, frowning at himself, before then reaching towards him, holding Donghae’s face between his large hands gently.

“I keep forgetting that you’re not 2018 Donghae,” he grins, almost apologetic. “But really, let’s brush our teeth first.”

So that’s how he ends up standing in the en suite bathroom, brushing his teeth with the spare hotel toothbrush (because Hyukjae isn’t sure where his Donghae stored his toothbrush) and a toothpaste that tastes like mint-choco (donghae’s choice! Hyukjae exclaimed). When he’s done, he grins at Hyukjae, showing off his clean teeth, and Hyukjae—probably out of habit—leans down—seems like he’s stopping himself from kissing Donghae on the mouth on the last moment—and instead, giving him a soft peck on the tip of his chin.

“Does your Donghae like to be kissed?” he asks boldly as they walk towards the living room.

“Don’t you?” Hyukjae returns the question, giving him a lopsided smile from his shoulder. “You've been quite an affectionate darling since you were a fetus. This,” he motions towards Donghae. “fetus.”

“Are you calling me a fetus?” He puffs his cheeks, frowning when Hyukjae laughs heartily, plopping his body on the couch. “You still like to laugh at me.”

“Because you’re such an adorable little bean. Do you know the people on Weibo are calling you ‘little bean’? Now you know.”

“I’m not little,” Donghae pouts and slams his body beside Hyukjae, leaning against his arm. “Show me the pictures!”

“What pictures?”

“The wedding pictures!”

“I don’t remember saying I will show you any.”

Donghae doesn’t want to, but he pouts. Hard. “Hyukjae,” he whines—almost childlike, and almost nuzzles his face against the crook of Hyukjae’s neck, things he usually did to his Hyukjae (or the rest of his hyungs) when he wanted something. “You still like to tease me in 2018?”

Hyukjae laughs, all gummy smiles and crinkled eyes, and for a moment Donghae can only stare in awe. “Sorry, but your scandalized face is so cute,” he pulls out his phone, still looking at Donghae with a hint of smile on his upturned mouth. “Alright—here. Scoot closer.”

So he scoots close. Hyukjae radiates warmth under his t-shirt, and his shoulder is still as broad—broader, even, than his Hyukjae, all firm and lean muscles decorating the arm Donghae leaned on—and it makes him blush hard.

This beautiful man is his husband.

Okay—soon to be, since the Hyukjae from his timeline knows nothing about it.

“Actually, I only stored some of my favorites in my phone,” Hyukjae claims, scrolling down the many picture folders in his phone. “I have everything in my laptop, but I don’t bring my laptop here, so I can only show you some. Which is good, because too many spoilers will ruin the fun.”

“But you said I said I would forget.”

“I know. Just in case,” Hyukjae mumbles back. “You never told me how you feel, back then.” He stops, glancing at the bright-eyed kid on his shoulder. He looks like he’s going to say something more, but eventually refrains and instead clicks open a folder with ‘2018’ as a title.

Donghae should’ve prepared himself, because as soon as he sees the photo—he forgets how to breathe.

He definitely looks older; his jaws are more prominent and there are fine lines on the edge of his eyes. It’s a photo taken in close-up, from the right side of his face. He had long hair. Pulled back and gathered into a small ponytail, a curl strand of hair falling neatly on the left side of his face, nicely framing his features. On the right side there’s a small part of his hair woven into a loose narrow braid, also pulled back and tucked into the ponytail, decorated with tiny white sakura, forming a half-flower crown on his head.

He was laughing in the photo—or mid-laughing, since it looks like it was taken in the midst, smiles forever frozen in time. He can’t see the suits he was wearing since it’s a close-up photo, but he knows he was wearing a white suit, minimally and elegantly decorated, intricate patterns of sequins and pearls embroidered as vines to the white velvety material. He is—astonishingly, dazzlingly beautiful.

But his look isn’t something that really catches his attention. It’s the way the him in the photo was leaning his forehead against another man’s. Against Hyukjae’s.

He had his palms pressed against Hyukjae’s lapels; Hyukjae was wearing an identical suit in black. He styled his hair simple; jet black and cut short, pushed back on one side of his head revealing his forehead. Hyukjae’s eyes were shut and crinkling from the gummy grin he had on his lips, one hand curling around Donghae’s, holding it tight.

They look happy.

He looks happy.

“Wow,” Donghae whispers, not even realizing that he was holding his breath. “It’s… you look so handsome,” he turns his head, staring at the soft almond eyes placed on him all the time. “And so do I. This picture—” he chokes, hastily wiping on his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt. “It’s so beautiful.” He manages to croak out a voice.

“Yeah?” Hyukjae scratches the hair on Donghae’s nape gently. “I know, right? You insisted on having a simple wedding under sakura trees. A very Donghae-style—cheesily romantic.”

Donghae swipes the screen, revealing another photo, this time it was taken from a distance, of them standing in the middle of their own families.