Over two decades of life had boiled down to this ultimatum for Zitao: red jacket and black scarf or black jacket and red scarf?

“Please,” Sehun rolled his eyes. “You look fine in either. Just pick one, or I’m leaving without you.”

It was an empty threat since they were going to use Zitao’s car to get there.

Zitao glared at his best friend. “If I’m going to the mall, I need to look good.”

Sehun plopped down on Zitao’s couch with a sigh and took out his phone, probably to kill time with a few rounds of solitaire. It was no use arguing with Zitao because he was too stubborn to reason with and could cry on command. Even if they were crocodile tears, Sehun knew he couldn’t stand to see Zitao cry. Zitao smirked because he knew this too.

Planting his hands on his hips, Zitao carefully studied both of his outfit choices, and after a few moments of painstaking deliberation, he settled on the black jacket and red scarf. After he slipped on his designer sunglasses, he opened the door and slipped outside.

“See you later!”

At this, Sehun gladly pocketed his phone (after losing four consecutive games of solitaire), scrambled off of the couch, and ran after Zitao.

“I call shotgun!” Sehun yelled, even though it was just the two of them.

It was just something they always did, a small sliver of their friendship that outsiders would never really understand.

As Zitao adjusted the rearview mirror, he couldn’t help but feel glad that Yixing, Sehun’s boyfriend of three years, wasn’t tagging along. There had been a time when it was just the two of them, just Zitao and Sehun against the world. 

They met each other before Sehun had a growth spurt, so he was this tiny thing with broomstick arms and legs and an embarrassing bowl cut that will never be mentioned again. And then there was Zitao, a year above him, who flaunted his newly earned yellow belt in martial arts to anybody who would listen, and to Sehun, he was the coolest kid in the school.

Zitao smiled as he remembered that time when he first stumbled upon Sehun, who was being pummeled by some older kids. With a few flashy punches and a lot of screaming and headbutting, Zitao took down the bullies, but only because he wanted to show off his skills as a yellow belt. Saving Sehun was just a side effect of gathering glory, but Sehun was thankful anyway. He became Zitao’s unofficial sidekick, and he would tag along like an infatuated puppy.

Their friendship grew on more equal terms when Sehun hit his growth spurt a few years later. Since Sehun now towered over those who used to look down on him, and since Zitao finally earned his black belt, they were unstoppable.

They also got into a lot of trouble—they had the bruises and grass stains to prove it—but that’s what made it fun. Those were the good old days, Zitao reminisced.

But then a few years after Sehun’s graduation, Yixing waltzed into the picture. He stole Sehun’s smiles and made them his own. He selfishly hoarded Sehun for himself when Zitao was the one who knew him first, when Zitao was the best friend. Sometimes Sehun would have this stupid smile on his face and giggle to himself, and when Zitao asked him what was so funny, Sehun would say it was nothing, just that something reminded him of Yixing.

Hot jealousy pulsed through Zitao, and he tightened his grip around the steering wheel. At a stoplight, Sehun cranked up the volume of the stereo to blast some ballad by some boy group.

“What is this?” Zitao groaned.

“Yixing’s been humming this a lot,” Sehun said. “It’s called ‘Miracles in December,’ I think. It’s actually not a bad song.”

Yixing. It was always about Yixing, wasn’t it? Yixing was the ing sun, and Sehun orbited around him. Yixing, Yixing, Yixing, the center of the universe.

“I hate ballads. They’re so sappy,” Zitao grumbled.

Sehun tried but failed to hide his smile. “Maybe I’m in a sappy mood.”

“Gross! Get out of my car if you’re going to be like this,” Zitao whined, although he was only half-joking.

Even if Yixing wasn’t physically there, his presence was still lingering in the back seat. And Zitao hated him for it.

When they arrived at the mall, Zitao cursed when somebody stole his parking spot at the last moment.

“Motherer!” Zitao called after the douchebag in the suburban, honking his horn for good measure because that guy should know he was a motherer and a douchebag and a mothering douchebag.

“You’re pissy today. Who spit in your cereal this morning?” Sehun laughed.

Yixing did, Zitao thought bitterly.

It took an entire three minutes of circling around the parking lot to find a parking spot. The mall was crowded because it was a few days before Christmas, and everybody was scrambling to buy last-minute presents.

“Hey, Zitao, there’s a place that I want to go first,” Sehun said as they were finally walking through the mall entrance.

“Sure,” Zitao said, “as long as we can hit that one hat shop. I need a new beanie.”

Sehun seemed giddy as he led Zitao across the mall to the—no, was this some sick joke?—jewelery store.

“Why are we here?” Zitao asked, a lump forming in his throat.

A faint blush powdered Sehun’s face, and he his lips. ”I’m going to ask Yixing to marry me on Christmas Day.”

“What?” Zitao squeaked.

It was finally happening. Yixing had sunk his claws into Sehun, and he was going to drag him away from Zitao forever.

Sehun and Yixing. It hurt to think that Yixing’s name would always be stuck next to Sehun’s from now on.

“C’mon, you should be happy for me,” Sehun said, slapping Zitao on the back. “Yixing’s a great guy. I don’t really deserve someone like him, but he loves me back.”

No, Sehun had it backwards. It was Yixing who didn’t deserve Sehun.

“I’m happy for you, Sehun. Of course I am,” Zitao said, trying not to sound disappointed. “It’s just that I wasn’t really expecting this. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m kind of, you know, your best friend.”

Sehun looked sheepish. “It’s something that I just figured out myself. But you’re the first person I told, and it would mean the world to me, since you’re my best friend, if you could help me pick out a ring.”

Zitao smiled weakly as he followed Sehun into the jewelery store. Rewind a few years back, it was Sehun who followed Zitao around everywhere. When had everything changed so much?

An eager sales attendant greeted them and asked them if they needed help looking for anything. Sehun nodded, his face flushed with pride, and said he wanted to buy an engagement ring. The sales attendant must have interpreted their relationship incorrectly because she gave this sickeningly sweet smile to Zitao.

“Ah, my best friend is helping me look today,” Sehun said, quickly straightening out the misunderstanding. “He’s going to be my best man.”

And that’s when it became too much. He couldn’t watch this anymore, the beginning of the end. Without a warning, he ran out of the store, leaving a startled Sehun calling out his name.

Zitao was halfway across the mall when he realized that Sehun never ran after him. Sehun would never follow Zitao ever again.

At that moment, Zitao wanted nothing more than to erase Yixing’s existence. He was a stain on Zitao and Sehun’s friendship. He was the reason why Zitao had disappointed Sehun when he needed him the most. It was all Yixing’s fault, not Zitao’s. After all, the entire universe (or at least Sehun’s universe) revolved around Yixing.

The red scarf wrapped around Zitao’s neck felt more like a noose.

 

 

 

Without checking the price tags, Joonmyun handed his sweaters to the sales clerk and whipped out his credit card. Joonmyun didn’t care how much they cost; he had to have them.

It was the perfect Christmas gift, he thought. They were matching couples sweaters, bright red with cute snowflake designs on them. Joonmyun smiled, imagining Jongdae wearing his sweater, cuddling with him on Christmas Day. Jongdae would probably pout that Joonmyun was being embarrassing when he ran his fingers over the snowflakes sprinkled across the front, but he would secretly like it.

It really was a bad habit of Jongdae’s—liking anything that Joonmyun did.

Joonmyun thanked the sales clerk and smiled all the way home. At first he shoved the plastic bag under the bed, but then he thought better of it. Too obvious. So Joonmyun changed his hiding spot to the kitchen cupboards, right behind the raisin bran because Jongdae had a special hatred for raisins and wouldn’t go anywhere near them.

When Jongdae got home from the market, he placed the plastic bags on the counter and raised an eyebrow. “You look pretty happy. Care to explain?”

“No reason,” Joonmyun said.

He walked over to the counter and rifled through the bags, looking for the onions. Joonmyun turned around, about to ask Jongdae if he remembered to buy them when Jongdae smashed his lips against Joonmyun’s. Instantly, Joonmyun responded, moving his lips along with Jongdae’s, deepening the kiss because, really, he could never get enough of Jongdae. When Jongdae playfully bit his bottom lip, Joonmyun let out this embarrassing moan, but he could tell it pleased Jongdae, whose eyes were clouded with lust.

When they finally pulled away, they were both grinning.

“I like it when you smile because of me,” Jongdae said.

Joonmyun laughed. “Of course.”

Sometimes they were so in love, so happy, that Joonmyun was afraid that he was just dreaming, that Jongdae was a figment of his imagination, a perfect fantasy that Joonmyun conjured up to escape from his corporate job.

But then Jongdae would kiss him, would prove to him that he wasn’t just Joonmyun’s imagination; he was better than his imagination. 

And then Joonmyun would explore Jongdae’s body, memorizing every dip and curve, and it reminded him that Jongdae was real, and more importantly, Jongdae was his.

“Oh,” Joonmyun suddenly remembered what he wanted in the first place, “did you buy the onions?”

Jongdae frowned. “, I forgot. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Joonmyun waved his hand. “We can just go back to the grocery store. We’ve got all the time in the world, after all.”

“Yeah,” Jongdae said quietly.

Whenever Joonmyun mentioned the possibility of forever, Jongdae’s unenthusiastic responses stung him a bit, swelling his insecurities. Maybe it was unhealthy to dwell on things like that, but sometimes Joonmyun couldn’t shake off the feeling that one day Jondae would leave him behind.

Jongdae must have sensed his distress because he smiled and tried to salvage the mood. “Do we even need onions? Let’s eat breakfast for dinner! That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

“But all we have is raisin bran,” Joonmyun pointed out.

And Joonmyun couldn’t let Jongdae near the raisin bran.

“Maybe we can make pancakes?” Jongdae suggested.

“I think you mean that I can make pancakes while you watch me,” Joonmyun smirked.

Jongdae crossed his arms. “It’s not my fault frying pans don’t like me.”

“I still can’t believe you almost burned down the apartment,” Joonmyun groaned, remembering that fateful day when Jongdae tried to make an omelette.

“It was the frying pan’s fault!” Jongdae huffed.

Joonmyun shook his head with a smile. He was already digging the cabinets for a frying pan and a spatula. He stumbled upon half a carton of blueberries in the fridge and waved them in front of Jongdae, who smiled in approval. After whipping up the batter, Joonmyun tossed in the blueberries. This breakfast for dinner idea was actually working out.

As Joonmyun poured the batter onto the oiled frying pan with a satisfying sizzle, Jongdae studied him with his head in his hands and his elbows on the counter.

“What are you thinking about? How I’m clearly the superior cook?” Joonmyun asked.

He laughed at his own joke, although most people wouldn’t even think it was a joke.

Jongdae cracked a smile. “Actually, I’m undressing you with my eyes.”

“I see,” Joonmyun coughed.

Then Joonmyun waved his spatula threateningly at Jongdae because he didn’t want to be distracted and set the entire apartment on fire.

When Jongdae wrapped his arms around Joonmyun’s waist, Joonmyun tried resisting, but maybe it was a bit half-hearted because a few moments later Joonmyun let out a breathy moan, gripping the counter for dear life.

On the bright side, they didn’t burn down the apartment. But the blueberry pancakes were ruined.

 

 

 

It took Yifan a few jumps, but he finally found who he was looking for. Hidden in plain sight in a mall parking lot, a male wearing a red scarf clutched the steering wheel of his parked car. Traitorous tears escaped from the corners of his eyes, but he made no move to wipe them. Instead, he bit his bottom lip to stifle a sob and stared straight ahead at the sea of parked cars.

Yifan tapped the window of the car, which startled the male out of his trance. He quickly brushed his sleeve against his eyes and looked even more startled when Yifan climbed into the seat next to him.

“Hey,” Yifan said. “I’m Yifan.”

The male dug into his pockets, pulled out his wallet, and unceremoniously handed it over to Yifan. “Just take it and leave.”

Yifan looked at the wallet, dumbfounded. On the front, a cartoon panda smiled at him, but its colors had long since faded. It was empty except for two half-used gift cards and a photo ID. His name was Huang Zitao. Huh, that almost sounded familiar.

“I don’t want this,” Yifan held the wallet out, but when Zitao made no move to take it, he placed it in a cup holder.

Zitao laughed, although he clearly didn’t find the situation funny. “So if you’re not going to rob me, what are you doing inside of my car?”

Was he seriously playing dumb?

“I know what you are,” Yifan said, looking him in the eye.

“What are you talking about?” Zitao asked.

Yifan could hear the agitation in his voice, as if Zitao thought he had the right to be angry, not Yifan.

Yifan growled, “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better get out of my car, or I’ll call the police,” Zitao said.

Yifan pointed at the windshield. “Look at the sky.”

When Zitao saw the sight before him, his eyes widened. Yifan checked to confirm that, yes, the sky still had a giant rip in the middle of it. The rip opened up to show a black abyss, void of stars and planets. Yifan knew that the abyss wasn't some black hole; it didn’t lead to another part of the universe. It was much worse. It was nothingness, a threat of inexistence.

“What the hell is that?” Zitao asked, trembling at the sight.

His eyes betrayed raw fear. After all, inexistence was a fate worse than death.

That’s when Yifan realized that Zitao wasn’t playing dumb; he really didn’t know what was happening. Zitao didn’t know he was the reason why the universe was slowly crumbling.

“I think,” Yifan said slowly, “we need to have a talk.”

Zitao nodded to show that he was listening, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sky.

Yifan didn’t know how to begin. There was so much to explain, an entire history of information. But he only had time to shave everything down to the bare minimum. If they were lucky, they had three days to fix everything. Just in time for Christmas, Yifan thought sarcastically.

“Think of the universe as a giant clock. Everything needs to be in its place for the clock to keep ticking,” Yifan said. “But what you did was take a cog out from one part of the clock and try to jam it somewhere else. You can’t do that. The universe wasn’t made that way.”

“What do you mean?” Zitao asked.

Zitao had finally tore his eyes away from the sky. Instead, he studied the rings on Yifan’s fingers, trying to wrap his mind around everything.

Yifan gestured between them. “You and me, we’re Time Deviants. We have the ability to leap through time without messing up the universe. We can also send other people too, but we have to do it a certain way, or the universe stops ticking. And I think that's what happened. You sent somebody.”

This was already a lot to take in. Yifan was telling Zitao in a few minutes what took Yifan years to figure out.

“But I didn’t even know what a Time Deviant was. I couldn’t have sent anybody,” Zitao insisted.

Then realization and fear sparked in his eyes. Zitao punched the steering wheel, which consequently honked the horn. It scared a few people walking through the parking lot. One woman even dropped her shopping bags and glared at the two males sitting inside of a parked car in the middle of winter.

“I think I sent Yixing,” Zitao whispered.

Yifan raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Yixing?”

It looked like Zitao was either going to burst into tears or throw up.

“I hate him, but I didn’t mean to send him across the time ing continuum!” Zitao said. “Sehun will never look at me again.”

Zitao looked helplessly at Yifan.

“We have to bring Yixing back. That’ll fix whatever’s ing up the sky, right?”

Yifan frowned. If only it were that easy. “I wish we could, but normal humans can’t travel through the time continuum more than once. Their bodies can’t handle it. What we’ll have to do is find someone else in Yixing’s new time and send them back here. It’ll hopefully balance everything out.”

They had to choose between a few ruined lives or the entire universe. A cruel choice, but it was the only way.

Yifan instructed for Zitao to start the ignition and drive him to the nearest crafts store. When Zitao asked what the do they need to go to the crafts store for, Yifan told him to shut the hell up, since someone who ed up the fabric of the universe had no right to question Yifan.

With Zitao strangling the steering wheel and ignoring any and all traffic laws, the car ride felt tense, so Yifan the radio. When some ballad came on, Zitao immediately switched it off.

“Don’t.”

Although Yifan raised an eyebrow at Zitao, he let it go and stared out the window instead. As Yifan watched the scenery pass by, he looked anywhere but the sky. This was the way he wanted to remember the world, vibrant and dynamic. Last-minute Christmas shoppers bustled throughout the shops, and couples warmed their hands in each other’s pockets. They all looked so happy, so full of hope, so oblivious to their impending inexistence.

“Time Deviants, huh?” Zitao said after a while.

Yifan turned to see Zitao scrunching up his brow, eyes fixated on the road ahead of him.

“Yeah.”

Pursing his lips, Zitao looked like he was about to say something. He gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing. This drew Yifan’s attention to his neck. There was a small scar in the shape of a crescent moon on the side.

“But why now? Why didn’t I know about this ability before?” Zitao asked. “If I knew earlier, I could’ve prevented this from happening. It kind of that I singlehandedly started the apocalypse.”

Yifan shrugged, watching a woman adjust her snow-covered hat outside. He had no idea how she was surviving out there with heels on instead of boots.

“I’m not exactly sure about the mechanics. I only have a few theories based off of what I’ve experienced. Our abilities are mostly dormant, but I think what activates them is raw emotion. When our soul has a wish, a wish we absolutely want granted, we somehow bend the time continuum to our will,” Yifan said.

Nodding, as if he was satisfied with that answer, Zitao remained silent for the rest of the car ride. Yifan could only imagine what was racing through his mind.

Usually, when Time Deviants first discovered their abilities, they could only think of the power. If they really wanted to, if they truly wished it, they could become the gods of the universe. The world was their sandbox, and they thought could do whatever they pleased.

But that’s not what Yifan believed. To him, Time Deviants were created to protect, not control. And he had this gut feeling that Zitao agreed. There was something about Zitao that made him familiar, trustworthy to Yifan.

Zitao pulled up in front of the crafts store, not bothering to find a parking space. They exited the illegally parked car.

“You seem to know everything about Time Deviants, so I’m not doubting you or anything,” Zitao said, following Yifan into the crafts store, “but what are we doing here?”

 

 

 

Standing beside their apartment’s curtains, Jongdae looked at the sky, gulping at how the rip kept widening and widening. Inexistence loomed from above, threatening to steal the universe and everyone in it. If Jongdae’s calculations were correct, it was a countdown to Christmas.

At first, it didn’t matter to him that this universe would cease to exist. This world was rotting anyway with crashing economies, alarming levels of pollution, and corrupt governments. As the rich became richer, the poor became poorer. This universe was cruel. New, better universes could be born in its place.

But this universe had Joonmyun.

Knowing that they had limited time left, Jongdae ached to see Joonmyun, but Joonmyun was at work right now at his Important Corporate Job. It was better this way, better that Jongdae wouldn’t get too overemotional with a goodbye. If Jongdae embraced Joonmyun in one last hug, he probably wouldn’t let go.

Jongdae wanted to stay by his side, but he didn’t want to be there to listen Joonmyun’s cries of agony as the universe crumbled upon itself. He didn’t want to watch Joonmyun disintegrate into nothingness.

It was probably selfish this way, letting Joonmyun go through this agony alone, but Jongdae’s very existence was selfish.

The radio was on in their kitchen, blaring that overplayed Christmas ballad by that one boy group Jongdae could care less about. But the lyrics caught his attention, infuriating him. They belted their high notes, promising their loves that they would go back in time to be with them.

Jongdae laughed bitterly. “If only time worked like that.”

He grabbed a bag from the closet and opened the cupboards. It always guilted Jongdae that all of their food, all of their furniture, even the apartment itself, came out of Joonmyun’s paycheck. Even if Jongdae did all of the chores and the errands—but Joonmyun did the cooking because neither of them wanted to die of food poisoning—Jongdae was a free-loader.

Grabbing whatever he could from the cupboards, Jongdae shoved various boxes, cans, and bottles inside of the bag. He picked up the raisin bran, intending to move it out of the way to get to the good stuff in the back, he saw a box wrapped with bright red wrapping paper and tied with an equally bright red ribbon.

“What’s this?” he murmured to himself.

His bag full of food forgotten, Jongdae grabbed the box and shook it. Since it didn’t rattle or really give him any hint of what it was, Jongdae decided to open it. It didn’t really matter if he opened his Christmas present from Joonmyun a few days early. The universe was crumbling anyway.

Jongdae untied the red ribbon and tore the wrapping paper to reveal a cardboard box with an expensive store name branded on it. He opened the lid, lifted the tissue paper out of the way, and saw two sweaters. They were red matching couples sweaters with white snowflake designs.

It hurt.

Clutching the sweater to his chest, it really hurt to think that they wouldn’t have a chance to walk around in these sweaters. Normally, Jongdae hated couples who wore matching clothing, but if it was with Joonmyun, he might have been okay with that.

That’s when something snapped inside of Jongdae. He had to see Joonmyun, just once, before he left. Jongdae turned back to his bag, removed some of the cans, and stuffed the sweater inside of it. It was a tight fit, but he managed to zipper it up and sling it around his shoulder. Jongdae looked at the apartment one last time, reliving the memories he had made with Joonmyun.

They had made love on that couch. Joonmyun bought that lamp one day after Jongdae broke the previous one in a heated argument. Jongdae liked resting his elbows on that counter as he watched Joonmyun chop vegetables. That cord once caused Jongdae to trip and fall on his face, but it wasn’t that bad because Joonmyun kissed it better, starting from his eyelids to his temples.

Jongdae closed the door of the apartment and all the memories contained in it.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he hadn’t realized it would be so cold outside. But it was the end of December, so he should’ve known.

Luckily, the bus arrived quickly, and after flashing the bus driver his bus pass, Jongdae chose a window seat near the back. He watched life on the outside, life that would soon no longer exist. It hurt. Why did it hurt so much?

It took him about 25 minutes, but he finally arrived at Joonmyun’s workplace. The secretary nodded at him, not giving him the time of day when Jongdae marched in. He stopped in front of Joonmyun’s office door, his bag suddenly weighing him down. Jongdae thought about knocking but decided not to. He twisted the door handle and walked in.

“Jongdae!” Joonmyun said, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

For the first time ever, Jongdae felt unsure around Joonmyun. Everything about his office was pristine and orderly, and Jongdae stood there feeling like a stain. After all, he had been a stain in Joonmyun’s existence. Jongdae inched inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Jongdae said.

He tried to keep his voice light, tried to look cheerful, despite the circumstances.

“Well, I’m pretty busy right now. As you can see, my desk is a mess,” Joonmyun laughed.

His desk had one neat stack of papers, and all of his high quality pens sat inside of a #1 Golfer mug. Messy shouldn’t even register in Joonmyun’s vocabulary.

Jongdae walked across the office to Joonmyun’s side of the desk and bent down so they were eye-level.

Joonmyun’s breath hitched. “Are you trying to seduce me while I’m at work?”

“Do you want me to?” Jongdae smirked, leaning forward.

Joonmyun closed his eyes, and Jongdae kissed him slowly, softly on the lips. It was chaste, but it felt more intimate than any kiss they shared. It was, unknowning to Joonmyun, their last kiss, and Jongdae wanted to make it count.

Then Jongdae poked Joonmyun’s cheek and said, “Hey, you should be working.”

“That’s not fair. You’re seducing me,” Joonmyun said, flustered.

His cheeks bloomed a bright red, and suddenly Jongdae wanted to kiss his cheeks too. He wanted to kiss every part of Joonmyun. But.

“Fine, I’m going,” Jongdae rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to visit because I was casually walking by, and I thought you would appreciate some company.”

“Right,” Joonmyun smirked, seeing through Jongdae’s tsundere side.

Jongdae was already in the doorway. He looked back at Joonmyun, committing his face, this moment, to memory.

“Bye.”

“See you at home!” Joonmyun chirped.

Jongdae closed the door behind him. He felt strangely hollow walking through the hallway and riding the elevator down. He stumbled out of the building and wandered aimlessly on the streets. He had no idea where he was going to go next, but it would be far, far away. The farther he was from Joonmyun’s inevitable suffering, the more Jongdae could live with himself.

 

 

 

“This is Yixing,” Yixing said. “I can’t come to the phone right now, so please leave your name and—”

Sehun pressed the goddamn button, heard the beep, and said, “Hey Yixing, it’s me. Um, it would be great if you could call me back. Bye.”

This was the seventh time he reached Yixing’s voice mail today, and he hadn’t responded to any texts either. Was Yixing avoiding him? Did he have a change of heart and realize that Sehun didn’t deserve someone as great as him?

The ring box in Yixing’s back pocket burned, tormenting him.

Maybe Yixing really never liked him in the first place. Maybe that was why Zitao had fled the jewelery store, not knowing how to deal with his pathetic, lovesick best friend.

So had everything been a lie? Those days where they linked pinkies as they walked down the streets, those nights where they slept entangled in each other’s limbs, were they all a lie? Was it a game to Yixing? A joke?

Normally, Sehun wouldn’t freak out over a few missed calls and texts. Sometimes Yixing forgot to bring his phone with him whenever he left his apartment, but Sehun specifically remembered that Yixing told him earlier that he was free today, that he should call him so they could grab lunch together. However, Sehun admitted that even something like that could be forgivable with the right excuse.

But there was also something else nagging at him. Even though his body technically felt fine, his organs seemed to be functioning properly, and he wasn't experiencing any pain or nausea, there was something inside of Sehun that felt wrong. It was inexplicable how and why a bad feeling had settled in his chest.

He thought about calling again, but someone knocked on the door. Sehun sighed, tossed his phone onto his coffee table, and answered the door. Zitao burst in, followed by some male that Sehun had never met before.

“Zitao?” Sehun said. “If this is about the jeweler’s, it’s okay. I understand that you were probably upset because I just told you without any warning, and since you’re my best friend—”

“No, it was my fault. I’m, um, a lame best friend,” Zitao quickly mumbled, not able to meet Sehun in the eye.

This was a first. A Zitao who willingly apologized and called himself lame?

“Um, is anything wrong?” Sehun asked.

The other male nodded seriously. “Actually, yes.”

“And who are you?” Sehun turned to the stranger, wondering about his connection to Zitao.

“Yifan,” he said.

Well, that was helpful.

What confused Sehun even more was that Zitao started tearing up, and he grabbed Sehun into a tight embrace. Zitao started sobbing and apologizing, his snot getting all over Sehun’s shoulder. However, Sehun took it all in stride and patted Zitao’s back in comfort. When he shot Yifan a questioning glance, Yifan didn’t offer any hints or explanations.

Sehun still didn’t know who this Yifan was, but he was very helpful.

“I’m sorry about Yixing,” Zitao hiccupped. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know I could do it.”

At the mention of Yixing’s name, Sehun stiffened. “What about Yixing?”

“I sent him across the time continuum!” Zitao bawled.

When Sehun looked at Yifan with another questioning glance, he didn’t expect much help from the other male.

“He’s telling the truth,” Yifan offered.

“Have you been giving him hallucinogens?” Sehun hissed. Then he turned to Zitao and asked, “What do you mean?”

Wiping his runny nose on Sehun’s sleeve, Zitao sniffled and released Sehun from that bone-crushing hug. Sehun would make Zitao do his laundry later. He owed him.

“Yixing is gone, and he’s never coming back,” Zitao said between hiccups. “I’m sorry, Sehun. I’m really sorry.”

Although Sehun didn’t quite know what to make of the time continuum stuff, he did know that something was wrong. He could feel it inside of him.

Maybe Sehun would feel better if the earth suddenly opened up and swallowed him whole, or if the gods struck him down on the spot with lightning. But neither of those happened, and Sehun instead felt himself going limp, as if his joints no longer wanted to hold him up, as if they had given up.

Sehun walked back to his couch and sank into the cushions. Maybe he could live on his couch forever. That sounded like a pleasant idea.

When Zitao gave Yifan a pleading look, Yifan walked over to Sehun, kneeling before him.

“I’m sorry about Yixing, but you’ll need to help us salvage what’s left of the universe,” Yifan said.

Sehun looked at Yifan as if he were speaking Mandarin. After checking with Zitao, Yifan had, indeed, spoken Korean, but Sehun didn’t understand a word.

“It’s hard to explain,” Zitao said, “but even if we can’t save Yixing, we have a duty to save everyone else.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sehun asked.

Yifan grabbed Sehun’s hand, and Sehun yanked it back, as if Yifan’s touch scalded him.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked first. I need your hand,” Yifan said, clamping his large hands around Sehun’s wrist to keep him from escaping.

Sehun’s heart sped up as Yifan dug into the plastic bag he brought. “What are you doing?”

After pulling out a spool of red thread, Yifan unwound about a meter and bit it off. He then took the thread and tied a small knot around Sehun’s pinky finger. Yifan held the other end of the thread. Sehun was more than confused about what was happening, but then he figured that he was hallucinating, that Yixing’s disappearance had shoved him off the brink of sanity.

“Have you ever heard of the red string of fate?” Yifan asked.

Sehun didn’t know he was asking, but Zitao answered for him. “No.”

“Well, they say that soulmates are attached to each other by the red string of fate. It can be stretched across space—and time,” Yifan said. “If Sehun really is Yixing’s soulmate, we can follow Sehun’s end of the red string of fate to where Yixing is.”

Although Sehun didn’t quite understand what gibberish Yifan was talking about, his ears did perk up about seeing Yixing again. Maybe if he saw Yixing, he could straighten things out. Maybe this ominous feeling was just the result of eating funky chicken.

“Take me with you,” Sehun demanded.

Yifan bit his lip and looked over to Zitao.

“I can’t,” Zitao said. “I’ve already ed everything up. I don’t want to you up even more. If you go where he is, you won’t be able to come back. And you have a life here, Sehun. You have a job and a family that cares about you. I won’t let you come with us.”

Sehun gaped at his best friend. “Zitao.”

“I’m sorry. I really am, Sehun,” Zitao said.

Yifan grabbed Zitao’s hand and instructed him to picture Yixing in his mind and to truly wish to see him. When Zitao’s face scrunched in concentration, Sehun thought his brain vessels would explode—either that, or he was about to take a .

And then they disappeared, as if they never barged into Sehun’s apartment in the first place.

Whatever Sehun witnessed, it was probably a result of stress and food poisoning from that funky chicken he ate earlier. Yeah, that was probably it.

Sehun decided that he would hibernate on his couch for a while. When he woke up, everything would be better. Yixing would answer his calls, Zitao would be laughing by his side, and Sehun would allow himself to be happy.

 

 

 

Now that Jongdae couldn’t go back to the apartment, he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. So he walked. He must have walked miles through the streets, wandering further and further, burning with a deep desire to get lost and never find his way out. Throughout it all, the sky threatened him from above. It was a constant reminder of his sins and what he must pay for playing god.

As Jongdae passed a park, he saw two males materialize, one landing on his feet, the other meeting a face full of snow.

Jongdae’s eyes widened. They were Time Deviants.

He ran up to them, cold winter air whipping his face. “Hey, what are you doing in this time period?”

One of them widened his eyes, the one that landed on his feet, and said, “Are you a Time Deviant?”

“I’m Jongdae,” he nodded.

“Yifan,” the male said and then pointed at his friend who was wiping snow from his face. “This is Zitao. We’re here to fix a hole in the time continuum.”

Yifan was referring to the rip in the sky. Jongdae’s heart fell into his stomach, and his gastric juices ate him alive from the inside out.

“You two must be tired from jumping. Let’s go to someplace warmer to talk. I passed by a decent-looking café,” Jongdae suggested.

“Good!” Zitao said. “Ugh, why did we have to jump to a time during the winter? All this snow is pissing me off.”

Yifan nodded his consent, and Jongdae led the two travelers to the café. It might have been decent-looking on the outside, but inside it was old and worn and forgotten. It was perfect.

They crowded around a small table and ordered various hot drinks: black coffee for Yifan, green tea for Jongdae, and hot chocolate with extra marshmallows for Zitao. Once they all had their drinks, Jongdae cleared his throat.

“So I guess you’ve noticed the rip in the sky,” he said.

“Yeah, it looks like we have until Christmas to fix it. A great present, right?” Yifan smiled wryly.

Zitao took a long sip of his hot chocolate and stared into his mug. He had an absolutely miserable expression on his face. “It’s because of me. I sent Yixing to this part of the time continuum and basically ruined my best friend’s future in the process.”

Yifan looked concerned about Zitao, who sighed and took another long sip from his mug.

“The whole singlehandedly starting the apocalypse thing kind of too,” Zitao added as an afterthought.

Meanwhile, Jongdae’s drink had been left untouched. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to eat or drink anything for a long time. Stealing half of the cupboard’s food supply ended up being useless, which made him feel even guiltier about leaving Joonmyun.

“It’s not because of you,” Jongdae said. “It’s not your fault.”

Zitao didn't look convinced at all. “I wish I could say that, but you can’t just send somebody from one time to another and expect the universe to work properly.”

“Actually, that’s not exactly how it works,” Jongdae said quietly.

Yifan’s cup of black coffee was already gone by then. He basically drank the entire thing in about two big gulps. Either he was just really thirsty, or he seriously wasn’t human.

“From my experience, that’s exactly how it works, and that’s how we’re going to fix this problem. It's just that the universe is unbalanced, so we need to send somebody from this time back to our time,” Yifan mentioned.

Moving his cup to the side, Yifan folded his overly large hands on top of the table.

“Look, the universe doesn’t care if it has a Yixing-shaped hole,” Jongdae snapped. “It’s not Zitao’s fault.”

Yifan jerked his thumb to the direction of the window. “Then how do you explain what’s happening with the sky? Why the hell is inexistence seeping into our universe?”

And this was the part that Jongdae hated the most.

“The both of you are Time Deviants, so you know what it’s like to hold so much power,” Jongdae began. “It’s horrible, actually, to hold that temptation over your head. Because with this ability, we could do anything.”

Zitao finished his hot chocolate with a loud slurp. He set the mug down on the table, looking a little regretful that it was gone.

“We could even become gods if we wanted to.”

At this, Yifan visibly stiffened, his hands clenching around each other, almost as if they wanted to strangle something.

It hurt, Jongdae thought, to say this out loud. It hurt so much, but it had to be done. These two had to know the truth, or they would be condemned on a fruitless journey. As a fellow Time Deviant, Jongdae felt the least he could do was tell them the truth.

“I guess I’m pretty weak,” Jongdae laughed without mirth, “because I too thought I could be a god.”

“So you were the one who did this?” Yifan narrowed his eyes.

Jongdae nodded. He studied the water rings on their table. The table was old, worn, and slightly tilted. Somebody even carved their initials on its surface. If studied closely enough, this table, this entire café had its own history that could be uncovered. What other individual histories would Jongdae be erasing in a few days? What else would he destroy?

“For years I’ve been jumping around, finding cracks in the time continuum, stressing them until they grew wider. It was gradually getting weaker, and then it would finally collapse. Then I could step in and use the leftovers to create a new, better universe,” Jongdae said.

Although he regretted it, just thinking about all of the power he had at his disposal brightened his eyes. It sickened him that he’d become this monster.

Zitao, no longer pouting over his finished hot chocolate, gave a long, sobering look to Jongdae. “Are you even human?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Jongdae whispered.

Zitao shoved the table away and scooted his chair out. He stood abruptly, towering over the two. With eyes full of concern, Yifan watched as Zitao stormed out of the café, nuzzling his nose in his red scarf. The owner scrambled after him because he hadn’t paid the bill yet. Eventually she came back inside, tucking a few thousand won in her apron and glaring at Yifan and Jongdae. The white snowflakes looked like dandruff in her thick black hair.

Yifan made a move to get up, but Jongdae grabbed his sleeve, eyes begging him to stay and hear him out.

“But I want to be human again. I don’t want to be this monster anymore,” Jongdae said, urging Yifan to believe him.

And Jongdae really was telling the truth. After he had finished his work, satisfied with the destruction of the time continuum, all he had to do was sit back and watch everything fall apart. He settled into this time period, squandering his time, giddy and drunk with power.

Then he met Joonmyun.

It wasn’t part of his master plan. Jongdae was going to be a god. Falling in love would just mess everything up. Yet, he couldn’t help but melt when he heard Joonmyun’s melodic voice, laugh at his ugly crying face, and become intoxicated by the scent that was distinctly Joonmyun. Even if the rest of this universe was rotten, Joonmyun remained shining, pristine in Jongdae’s eyes. But now Joonmyun had to pay for the sins of Jongdae’s greed.

Yifan looked out the window. “If you want me to believe you, then fix this. Get rid of that abyss in the sky. You can do it, right? If you put it there, you can take it back.”

“If I could, I would do it in a heartbeat!” Jongdae cried. “But it’s too late. All we can do now is watch this universe crumble.”

Jerking his arm away, Yifan glared at Jongdae.

“I refuse to let that happen.”

Yifan quickly ran after Zitao, leaving Jongdae to drink his green tea, salty with tears.

 

 

 

After Jongdae’s little surprise visit at work, Joonmyun spent the rest of the day humming happily to himself. Not even his perpetually grumpy secretary could bring him down.

It wasn’t like Jongdae to be romantic, which made Joonmyun even more grateful for the gesture. He thought of all the ways he could pay it back to Jongdae that night. The thought made him excited to go home.

Joonmyun popped his head out of his office.

“Kyungsoo, can you have a singing telegram and a dozen roses sent to my apartment tomorrow at noon?” Joonmyun smiled.

His secretary sent him a weathering look. “You’re sending yourself flowers?”

“No,” Joonmyun said, “they’re for my boyfriend.”

“Fine, I’ll get right on it,” Kyungsoo sighed.

“Thanks, Kyungsoo!” Joonmyun chirped.

He closed the door to his office and got back to work. Soon, there was a knock at the door, and Joonmyun told the person to come in.

“Sir, I just checked, and singing telegrams don’t exist. Nobody even uses regular telegrams anymore,” Kyungsoo said.

“You have a nice singing voice. Would you like to dress up and do it?” Joonmyun joked.

The glare that Kyungsoo gave Joonmyun would kill a normal human. However, Joonmyun was used to his secretary’s rejection, so he just chuckled and dismissed Kyungsoo back to his secretarial duties, whatever those were.

When, finally, the day was done, Joonmyun turned off his computer, flicked off the lights, and left his office, saluting his secretary on the way out. He received a scowl in return.

The trip home was uneventful, but Joonmyun couldn’t help but hum happily to himself the entire way back. He was just in a good mood for no particular reason, except maybe it had to do with the fact that he had Jongdae to come home to.

Later, when Joonmyun grabbed the door handle of their apartment and turned it, he sang, “I’m home!”

However, there was no answer.

“Jongdae, are you here?” Joonmyun called out.

He opened the door wide and tried not to let his heart fall when he saw that the apartment was empty. Joonmyun opened the kitchen cupboards, deciding he might as well start cooking dinner so it would be ready by the time Jongdae got home. When Joonmyun noticed how their food supply looked mostly diminished, he guessed Jongdae was out buying groceries.

Joonmyun also noted that the raisin bran looked untouched. Good.

After checking the fridge, he decided to just make some instant noodles. It wasn’t a grandiose, romantic dinner like he had hoped, but it really was all they had right now. He cooked enough for two and settled down in front of the couch with his portion.

“It looks like we’re going to have a white Christmas!” the weatherman announced.

Joonmyun smiled, slurping his dinner.

After the weather report ended, Joonmyun switched to some drama he knew Jongdae religiously followed. The main characters acted so ridiculous that it was laughable, but they were big stars, so they could basically get away with any role. Lee Min Ho could be casted as a tree in a drama, and Jongdae would watch it.

One time, when they were watching an episode together, Joonmyun asked Jongdae what was the appeal he saw in “The Heirs.”

“How dare you ask me that! Do not question the power of Lee Min Ho!” Jongdae cried, shoving Joonmyun off of the couch.

It was a fond memory, Joonmyun thought while closing his eyes.

While he waited for Jongdae to come home, Joonmyun found himself falling asleep on the couch. Right before he drifted off, when he was on the brink of dreams, Joonmyun subconsciously wished that he had pulled a blanket over himself beforehand. His feet were cold.

 

 

 

Zitao didn’t know where he was running. He was new to this time, so he had no idea where the streets led.

Judging by the outdated fashion worn by the other pedestrians, he could tell he and Yifan had jumped to sometime in the past. Apparently they hadn’t invented skinny jeans yet. His own outfit must have looked out of place, although he thought he looked pretty stylish with his black jacket and red scarf.

“Zitao!”

When he heard someone call him, Zitao turned around to see Yifan huff after him, his breath escaping him in white puffs. He looked like a fire-breathing dragon, Zitao thought.

As Yifan ran to catch up with him, Zitao couldn’t help but notice, and not for the first time, that he looked strangely familiar. Back when Yifan first jumped into Zitao’s car, Zitao didn’t instantly punch him in the gut and run him over because he had this gut feeling that he met Yifan before.

However, that was impossible. Zitao would never forget meeting someone like Yifan.

But at this point, after learning he was a Time Deviant, Zitao could believe anything.

“Are you okay?” Yifan asked, even though he was the one who looked like he was going to fall over from getting his yearly dose of exercise.

“Does it even matter anymore?” Zitao said flatly. “We’re all going to cease to exist anyway.”

“It matters to me,” Yifan said.

Zitao stared hard at him. “Why? Have I met you before, Yifan? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

The temperature between them seemed to drop. It was the kind of chill that nibbled painfully at his face. Maybe it was just the weather—it was the end of December, after all—but maybe it was something else.

“I don’t know,” Yifan confessed. “I swear I’ve never seen you before, but everything that you do, your mannerisms, they seem familiar for some reason.”

“Maybe we’re soulmates,” Zitao joked.

“You know, that could be it,” Yifan agreed with the cheesiest wink that Zitao had ever seen in his life.

Zitao’s jaw dropped. He never wanted to see something that painful ever again. If he did, he might just throw up, even though his stomach only contained hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

“I can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or not,” Zitao groaned. “I’m scared.”

Yifan playfully poked Zitao in the cheek.

“At least I got you to smile,” Yifan said.

And Zitao didn’t know what to do but punch Yifan in the gut. It was a reflex he couldn’t really control because all of a sudden Yifan was too close, and he smelled too good. Doubling over and clutching his stomach, Yifan let out a pathetic groan.

(In truth, Zitao was touched by Yifan’s small gesture because, with all of the events happening lately, Zitao felt it had been too long since the corners of his mouth had pointed up.)

“What was that for?” Yifan asked.

“Yixing,” Zitao said, his eyes growing wide.

“What?”

“Yixing!” Zitao called out to the figure walking on the other side of the street.

It really was Yixing, hands stuffed in his pockets and feet shuffling through the snow-covered sidewalk. He looked startled to see Zitao waving at him like a maniac. Bursting with adrenaline, Zitao didn’t bother checking the roads. He immediately ran through the upcoming traffic, nearly getting hit by a car, to reach Yixing on the other side.

Throwing his arms around Yixing, Zitao cried, “I’m really sorry, Yixing! I’m sorry you’re trapped in this timeline!”

“It’s okay, Zitao. I forgive you,” Yixing said soothingly.

This only caused Zitao to cry harder. Yixing was such a good, forgiving person, and Zitao took him away from Sehun.

Yifan caught up with Zitao, roaring, “What the was that? You just ran through the street like an idiot, and a ing car almost ran you over!”

As huge sobs racked through Zitao’s body, Yixing looked at Yifan and smiled sadly. “It seems, even after all of this, you two found each other in the end.”

“What are you talking about?” Yifan demanded. “I’m not in the mood for more plot twists.”

Zitao felt himself being wrenched away from Yixing. Yifan had grabbed him by the wrist and was currently dragging him down the sidewalk.

“He seems to know something! What if he has something important to tell us?” Zitao asked, trying to escape from Yifan’s grip.

However, it was useless. Yifan’s hold on him was iron-clad. Zitao gave Yixing an awkward wave goodbye as he followed Yifan’s lead.

Considering that there was a huge abyss threatening to them into inexistence, Zitao thought it might be a good idea to explore all possibilities. After all, they only had until Christmas to fix everything. To be honest, Zitao would rather open presents on Christmas or take selcas with mall Santas. A simple, carefree life seemed so far away.

They were silent until Yifan said, “I’ve never met him before, but I think I recognized Yixing.”

“Maybe he knows something,” Zitao pointed out.

“We don’t need him,” Yifan huffed.

They ducked into a nearby store because it was getting too cold outside to hold a conversation. It was so cold that Zitao’s nose hairs froze, and it felt awful every time his nose twitched. Why did people pray for snow?

“I’ve been trying to think of ways we could fix the cracks in the time continuum,” Yifan turned to Zitao. “All of the ideas I came up with aren’t plausible.”

Since they ended up in a video game store, Yifan picked up a copy of Pokemon Yellow, studying it. Zitao’s eyes widened. Wow, they really were in the past. Nowadays, the new Pokemon games had much better graphics and you could walk diagonally. But they still paled in comparison to the original Pokemon games. That’s why Zitao stopped buying the new generations.

“You know, since we’re Time Deviants, we can traverse time itself. We can survive the collapse of this universe and be there for the construction of the new one,” Yifan casually mentioned.

“So what? Are you giving up?” Zitao asked.

Yifan put down the copy of Pokemon Yellow and picked up the Pokemon Red game next to it.

“It’s not giving up,” Yifan said. “It’s survival.”

Zitao couldn't believe what he was hearing. After all of this trouble they went through, Yifan was giving up.

Zitao cried, “But earlier, you cared about this universe! We were going to save it! What happened, Yifan? Don’t tell me you’ve become a monster too.”

Yifan stepped back, as if he’d been burned by Zitao’s words.

Zitao knew that he was making a scene inside of the video game store, but he didn’t care. Somehow, Yifan had changed into something all too familiar.

Taking his attention away from the Pokemon games, Yifan looked Zitao in the eyes and said, “For some reason, ever since we met, I’ve been having these cryptic memories popping up in my head. I’m not sure where they’re from. Maybe a past life? I don’t know. And I still don’t get what they mean when they’re pieced together, but from what I can gather, you’re someone I need to protect. And if that means giving up on the rest of humanity, then so be it.”

For a second, Zitao played with the idea. He thought of what it would be like to become a god with Yifan. With their combined powers, they could do whatever they wished. And he realized that he did have an attraction to Yifan, a thought he had kept pushing at the back of his mind. It definitely was a tempting offer. Zitao almost found himself nodding and taking Yifan’s hand to start their forever.

But he realized that if he agreed, he too would become a monster. He would be the cause of many people’s sufferings, like Yixing’s, like Sehun’s.

And he was ashamed.

Zitao turned away to bolt, but Yifan had grabbed a hold of the end of his red scarf, which held Zitao back.

“Don’t leave me,” Yifan begged. “Please, Zitao. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zitao truly was sorry, but not sorry enough to become a monster. Quickly unwrapping the scarf that connected him to Yifan's grasp, Zitao escaped and dashed off into the night.

 

 

 

By now, the rip had opened up the majority of the sky, the abyss growing larger and more menacing by the minute.

Yixing wasn’t really afraid of inexistence. He imagined it would be a lot like sleep, except it was eternal. He only regretted that he didn’t have enough time to be with Sehun. Time had never been on his side, and when he had tried wrestling with it before, he lost everything. It was cruel, but that was the price of power.

If he had even just a little bit more time, he would have held Sehun tightly, would have told him how much he loved him.

It hurt to think that Sehun probably thought Yixing had left him by his own will. Sehun had never thought he was good enough for him, which was a complete lie. Yixing had been a power-hungry monster once, and to him, Sehun was good and pure and human. He grounded Yixing, kept him human as well.

On the streets, there was a male in a trench coat approaching Yixing. He had blond hair with dark roots growing in, and it had an awkward part in the middle. He almost looked like—

“Sehun?” Yixing called out, holding his breath.

It was too good to be true, of course.

The male ended up being a stranger who threw Yixing a disgusted look and turned a different direction just to avoid him.

Yixing’s shoulders drooped as he walked on. He was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him a few moments to register that Zitao was calling his name. Yixing looked up to see Zitao sprinting towards him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Zitao said, relieved.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. It’s not like I can jump through time anymore,” Yixing shrugged.

“Wait,” Zitao said. “You’re a Time Deviant?”

“I was a Time Deviant,” Yixing corrected.

Zitao looked like he didn’t believe him, which was why Yixing had never tried telling him before. It was better that everyone had lost their memories. If they had forgotten the past, then they could move on for a better future. But that backfired when the past repeated itself, and this time Yixing couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“What happened?” Zitao asked.

Yixing didn’t know if telling him would change anything, but he would try anyway. For Sehun’s sake, he would try.

Yixing began, “You probably think we're monsters, but Time Deviants aren’t forces of evil or anything like that. We were created to cleanse the universe of its impurities. When the universe becomes corrupted, we are the ones to end it and start it anew. Some might say we’re enemies of humanity, but it’s actually our human sides that make us succumb to greed and power, that make us want to play gods.”

When he looked at the sky, it seemed like the abyss had grown wider since the last time he checked. Did they even have until Christmas?

“Naturally, you and Yifan were just following in the footsteps of Time Deviants before you,” Yifan continued. “You couldn’t be blamed.”

Zitao looked like he was going to be sick. “So Yifan and I have done this before? We wanted to become gods?”

Yixing nodded soberly. When Zitao realized what this meant, he actually did retch on the sidewalk. His body violently shook as he hunched over, hands clutching his stomach. The sweat on his forehead had frozen in the winter air. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“But you didn’t succeed,” Yixing said, rubbing circles on Zitao's back in an effort to comfort him. “I happened to like this universe because Sehun was in it. At first I was helping you create cracks in the timeline, but after I found someone I wanted to protect, I betrayed you. It’s probably why you still had lingering distrust over me, even if you did lose your memory after the reset.”

“So you saved everyone. But how? What's this reset you're talking about?” Zitao urged.

Determination lit up in Zitao's eyes, but Yixing knew that it wouldn't be that easy to save the universe this time. The reset had ended up being a temporary fix, not a magical cure.

“I didn’t move people or objects through time. I moved time itself. It was incredibly exhausting, but I cut off a chunk of time so you and Yifan never met. It took all of the powers I had as a Time Deviant, so now I’m just a normal human,” Yixing said. “But it didn’t work out exactly as I planned because the universe is crumbling anyway. Jongdae was never on my radar, but I guess he took yours and Yifan’s place in destroying the universe. You can’t really stop destiny, just like I couldn’t stop you and Yifan from meeting again. Even if I erased that chunk of time, you just met under different circumstances.”

Zitao remained quiet as he processed what Yixing was telling him. His nose had turned red from the cold, and Yixing noticed that he was missing his red scarf.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Zitao said, his eyes fixated on the sky. “I’m not going to give up. I don't care about being a god; I just want to go back and live a normal life. And I want that for Yifan too.”

“How are you going to do that? You can change time, but you can't change destiny,” Yixing said.

After hesitating, Zitao answered, “I’m not just going to turn back time. I’m going to erase the creation of Time Deviants, so nobody will have to turn into a monster again.”

“That’s a lot to ask for,” Yixing said slowly. “It wouldn’t cost you just your powers. It could cost you your life.”

If Zitao had longer hair, he would have done a hair flip. Instead, he settled on giving Yixing a pointed look. “You’re underestimating me. You’re talking to the guy who once ate an entire large sausage pizza in one sitting by himself. And it was stuffed crust.”

Yixing wondered how the fate of the universe had come to depend on Zitao. But he was glad it did.

 

 

 

When Sehun woke up on Christmas Day, his hair looked like an upside down broom. And, wow, his dark roots were really starting to show. It was embarrassing. Why hadn’t he gone to a hair stylist sooner?

He stared at himself in the mirror, noticing how he also had a huge zit on his nose. No, this couldn’t be happening. It was the most important day of his life so far, but he looked like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

He desperately tried gelling his hair and slathering BB cream on his face, but it just drew attention to his flaws. Yixing didn’t deserve such a train wreck.

Yet, Sehun still wanted him. And, call him crazy, but he thought that Yixing wanted him back. So Sehun put on his coat, pocketed the ring box, and headed on out, flaws and all.

It was cold outside, but there was the joy of Christmas that gave everyone a warm feeling.

He had told Yixing to meet him at the plaza next to the giant fountain, which looked so pretty now that snow had filled it overnight. There were even some birds chirping and resting on it. Sehun was glad for their company.

As the giant clock in the plaza rang out the time, Sehun wondered if Yixing forgot, or worse, stood him up. Luckily, in three minutes Yixing arrived, looking just as disheveled as Sehun, as if he too had rolled out of bed. At least, Sehun thought wryly, they matched in that way.

After a quick kiss to greet each other, Yixing asked, “So what are we doing here?”

It was now or never.

Sehun subtly reached into his coat pocket and then not-so-subtly dropped the ring box onto a pile of snow.

“,” he muttered as he bent down to pick up the box.

“That doesn’t look like ,” Yixing said, smiling so that his dimple showed.

Sehun shoved the ring box into Yixing’s hands. “Whatever, just marry me.”

Oops, that sounded kind of rude.

“Please,” Sehun added as an afterthought.

Yixing stared at the box for a moment, dumbfounded. He then opened the box, made an awkward squawking noise, and promptly threw it back on the ground. Sehun’s heart fell down with that ring, but then he watched as Yixing kneeled to pick up the box, rings still safely inside. He cradled them gently in his hands.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t romantic. But Yixing looked touched anyway. He slipped one ring onto his finger and took Sehun’s hand to slip the other ring on.

“Sorry, I was kind of surprised. I always thought I was going to be the one to ask, but I guess you beat me to it,” Yixing said sheepishly.

“So is this a yes?” Sehun asked, feeling giddy that finally, finally something was going right.

Yixing tried smoothing down a stubborn lock of Sehun’s hair, but it sprang right back up.

“Of course it’s a yes. I need to stick with you. Who else is going to remind you to brush your hair in the morning?” Yixing grinned. "You look like a broomstick, by the way. A y broomstick, but still a broomstick."

 

 

 

In another part of the universe, Jongdae groaned when he ripped opened his Christmas present. Joonmyun looked at him expectantly.

“Matching couples sweaters, Joonmyun? Really?” Jongdae whined.

Joonmyun couldn’t contain his grin. “Aren’t they cute?”

“More like embarrassing,” Jongdae coughed.

Jongdae yelped as Joonmyun tackled him, pulling off both of their shirts in the process.

“Help!” Jongdae cried. “I’m being attacked by a ert!”

Joonmyun rolled his eyes, kissing him to shut him up. It worked, to say the least. Jongdae mewled, melting into the kiss. He couldn't resist it when Joonmyun dominated him, grabbed him by the neck, and claimed every part of Jongdae his. 

When they finally pulled apart, Jongdae looked eager to dive right back in for a second round, but before he could, Joonmyun shoved the sweater in his arms.

“Wear it,” Joonmyun commanded.

Although he whined about it, Jongdae obeyed, slipping the sweater over his head. Joonmyun did the same, and he reveled over how they were both matching.

“This is too cute. We need to take pictures together and send them to Kyungsoo!” Joonmyun announced, grabbing his phone that was sitting next to them on the couch.

“I think this is why Kyungsoo hates you. You act so gross and couply,” Jongdae laughed, making a face.

Joonmyun pointed at Jongdae’s red Christmas sweater that matched his own. “You’re doing it too.”

Jongdae’s cheeks turned red, which also matched the color of their new sweaters. This time Jongdae shut Joonmyun up with a kiss. He barely even heard the click of the camera phone.

 

 

 

Tucked away in a mostly isolated corner of the universe, Yifan spent his Christmas quietly in a café. He splurged on a peppermint mocha, but after tasting it, he remembered that he didn’t like peppermint because it reminded him of cheap toothpaste. Grumbling to himself, he broke off pieces of his cinnamon scone and nibbled on them.

He looked out the window to see children running around with new toys in their hands, couples kissing under mistletoes, and lots and lots of snow. It was so bright and joyful. Even the sky agreed with everyone’s mood, the sun shining brightly.

Then a male waltzed into the café and invited himself over to sit at Yifan’s table. He grabbed Yifan’s red scarf and wrapped it around his own neck. Yifan was startled, to say the least.

“It took me a while to find you, but now that I did, I’m glad I got my scarf back,” the male grinned.

“Actually, considering it was around my neck first, it’s my scarf,” Yifan pointed out, eyebrows furrowing.

Ignoring Yifan and his silly logic, the male snuggled up to the scarf and then cried, “Hey, you got a hole in it! I trusted you with it, and this is how you repay me?”

Although Yifan was slightly annoyed, he held back what would have been raging anger because he had felt like he had met him before. It was strange, but he almost felt drawn to him.

“Who are you?” Yifan demanded.

The familiar stranger popped part of Yifan’s cinnamon scone in his mouth and smirked. “Want to find out?”