Two
Limbo
The Present:
“You’re a . . . a what?”
Jongin had resumed his posture of childish annoyance, legs crossed in a haughty manner as he stared the psychiatrist down. “A Planeswalker,” he said a-matter-of-factly. “I can transcend dimensions.”
“I see,” the psychiatrist – whose name Jongin didn’t remember or care to – frowned, “And Kyungsoo told you this?”
“Yes.”
He sighed, looking awkward as he shifted in his chair. “Jongin, you do understand that none of this is real, right? Kyungsoo isn’t real, he doesn’t exist. He’s just a figment of your imagination.”
“How do you know?” Jongin challenged. “Have you ever met him?”
“Well –”
“Of course not.” Jongin snapped. “So don’t tell me he doesn’t exist, because you cannot possibly know for sure.”
“Alright, alright, just calm down, Jongin. Continue with your story.”
“You don’t even believe me, so why should I?”
“I’d still like to hear.”
Jongin looked reluctant, but finally he relented. “Where was I?”
“You’d just woken – er, returned from Limbo.”
“Oh, yeah. But after that I just went to school and had a normal, boring day as always. Not really much to tell there.”
“Did you mention what had happened to anyone at school? Any of your friends or teachers?”
Jongin shook his head, “I knew what they’d think, so I kept it to myself. And then I went back to Limbo that night.”
“Why?”
“Well, because I’d promised Kyungsoo, of course.”
The man scribbled down a few more notes. “Alright, why don’t you continue from there, then? The second time you went to Limbo.”
Jongin nodded. “Well, I ended up going to bed early that night, because I was eager to see Kyungsoo again. I wasn’t sure exactly why, but I was fascinated by him and by the existence of Limbo and Planeswalkers and all these things that I previously thought could’ve never existed.”
“You liked the idea of a world different from this one?”
“Yes.” Jongin smiled then, a soft, genuine smile. “Yes, exactly.”
The Past:
“Kyungsoo?”
Jongin’s voice echoed back at him from the shadows, sounding flat and distorted. Nothing moved, and suddenly Jongin was scared. There he was, alone in the place between Heaven and Hell, knowing very little of his powers or how to work them, and now the one person he’d met there was nowhere in sight. What if he got stuck in Limbo just like Kyungsoo had? What if he was left to wander the shadows forever, searching for a way out?
“You came back.”
Relief swept through Jongin so fast that it stole his breath away and he spun around, eyes lightening up as he saw the very person he’d been looking for standing there, just as he had the first time they’d met.
“Kyungsoo!”
Wide eyes widened even further, and Kyungsoo smiled. “Hello, Jongin.”
“Of course I came back,” Jongin murmured, suddenly registering Kyungsoo’s greeting words. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Kyungsoo shrugged. “Maybe you were afraid. Maybe you didn’t believe me. Maybe you just couldn’t find you way back. Who knows?”
“Well, here I am, so obviously none of those are true.”
Kyungsoo smiled.
Jongin wasn’t entirely sure how much time he spent there with Kyungsoo. It felt like an eternity, though it must’ve only been a few hours since he hadn’t been woken up yet. At some point he’d wondered exactly how Kyungsoo had been able to stand it, for he’d been stuck in Limbo for three years and had somehow stayed sane. But after only being there for a few hours the endlessly barren landscape and red sky and inky darkness of the scenery was getting to Jongin. But he did not ask the question out loud. For some reason, he didn’t think Kyungsoo would want to talk about it.
So he ignored the landscape and instead focused on Kyungsoo. He focused on Kyungsoo’s wide – yet somehow strangely charming – eyes and the way he crooked his mouth when he talked. He focused on the way Kyungsoo’s eyebrows shot up as Jongin told him stories of his crazy high school life, and the subsequent wistfulness of his gaze at hearing of the outside world. He focused on the slope of Kyungsoo’s neck and the angle of his jawline and really, Jongin had never previously thought that someone could be so oddly charming and beautiful and mysterious all at once.
To say Kyungsoo fascinated Jongin now would be an understatement, because he had gone way past fascination.
Now Kyungsoo was an obsession.
The Present:
“Don’t you think that’s a bit unhealthy? Obsessing over someone like that?”
Jongin smiled. “I call that love, actually.”
The psychiatrist made a sound that seemed like something along the lines of a noncommittal grunt and an exasperated sigh, spurring on Jongin’s already thin patience as he scribbled furiously in his notepad. Jongin wondered for a few seconds what he was writing, and then quickly decided that he didn’t care.
“How would you define real?”
Jongin blinked, startled by the sudden unexpected question. “Come again?”
“Let me rephrase that,” the psychiatrist murmured, leaning forward so the buttons of his suit strained against his girth. “How would you define the difference between what’s real and what’s not real, Jongin?”
Jongin frowned. He’d been instinctively about to say ‘by using my five senses’ but that was a trap and he knew it, because the senses were not good at discerning between the real and the unreal; they could be deceived very easily. Every single sense – touching, tasting, feeling, seeing, and hearing – could be tricked some way or another, whether it was through drugs, disease, or sometimes something as simple as a video game to an unstable mind. Jongin knew that. He’d paid attention in school, okay, he wasn’t an idiot.
But he also knew that Kyungsoo was definitely, irrevocably real, in every sense of the word.
“Well?” The man urged.
Jongin found his voice grating.
“Okay, Dr. Phil,” he said mockingly, “Listen closely, because the ability to perceive what’s real and what’s not is a touchy subject. Some people would go on some long rant about logic and fallacy and just end up confusing everyone around them. Others would be unforgivably stupid and spout some nonsense about the five senses being immaculate. And still others would just go on and on about something completely unrelated to the question while using big words and trying to sound wise when, in reality, they’re spouting nothing but bull. But I’m not like those people, sir, so I’m not going to reply using any of those options. However, I don’t have a degree in psychology and philosophy – unlike you do – so asking me that question is, quite simply, moronic. I’m only a high school student. I'm not learned in these things.” He leaned forward in his chair, copying the psychiatrist’s own position and throwing in a condescending smirk as an added bonus. “Still, I know enough to know what is real. The actual question here is do you?”
By the time Jongin’s parents had picked him up from his hour-long session to take him home, they were left with a very smug son and a very anxious psychiatrist. But despite their prodding, Jongin would not tell them what had been said. It wouldn’t matter anyway, though. They’d be getting a report from the psychiatrist himself soon enough.
“Mr. Park is only trying to help you, Jongin.” His mother told him later that evening around the dinner table. “It’s his job.”
Jongin sighed and pushed his plate of food away, realizing he had no appetite whatsoever. “May I be excused?”
His mother looked sad. His father was expressionless.
“Go ahead, dear.” His mom finally said. “Get your rest. You start back school tomorrow.”
Jongin froze halfway up the stairs. Oh, school. He’d almost forgotten. He didn’t want to go back, he really didn’t, but the last thing he needed was for his parents to think he was emotionally unstable – they already thought he was insane, hence the reason they sent him to a ing shrink – so he hurried up the stairs to his room without another word, locking the door and falling back onto his bed with a heavy sigh.
I’m not insane.
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