It took Joonmyun a while to realize that Sehun had reappeared. He felt frozen in place, not feeling the pain and numbness he knew he must have in his legs from kneeling there so long, not feeling the wind lash across his face, not aware of anything except for the place where he’d held Yixing’s hand a moment ago that was now empty, his own palm now pressed flat to the ground.

“Joonmyun,” Lu Han was saying, but it didn’t seem real. None of this did. “Joonmyun, we have to go inside. Please come with us. Come on.” Lu Han touched his shoulder and finally, he looked up and saw the two Guardians standing beside each other again. Lu Han had fresh tears in his eyes. Sehun wasn’t crying, but looking at him, Joonmyun almost wished that he would. He looked at Sehun and saw nothing, nothing but the horrible emptiness of someone who was so lost and so far away that there was nothing that could bring them back.

Joonmyun didn’t remember standing up or following Lu Han back into the apartment. He didn’t remember sitting down at the kitchen table or how long the other two had been talking before he started listening to what they were saying.

“Sehun, can you tell us what happened?” Lu Han asked.

“I-I’m not sure,” said Sehun after a moment’s hesitation. His voice was thin, like it might crack any second. “The portal opened like it was supposed to. Nothing seemed wrong. But then…” He broke off the sentence like he couldn’t breathe. A single sob rose in his throat, and he stared at a blank point on the wall as if it was a screen, replaying his memories of tonight. Joonmyun thought he wasn’t going to continue, but then he said, “I came back through the portal as soon as I realized that Yixing wasn’t with me, to see if I could fix whatever happened, to start over, to do something, anything, but I was too late. I...I felt his soul split apart as he crossed into his own world.” Sehun dissolved into silent tears, as if saying it out loud had made it real.

“It was an accident. You can’t blame yourself,” Lu Han told him, but Sehun shook his head, getting up from the table.

He raised his voice, even though it shook. “No. I can blame myself. And you should blame me, too, because it’s all my fault. I should have ended things with him as soon as I found out the truth. I was selfish.”

Joonmyun watched Sehun turn away from them and cover his face, his slim shoulders quaking. Even if he wanted Joonmyun to blame him, he couldn’t. And he couldn’t let him think that he did. “No,” Joonmyun said. “You weren’t selfish. You loved him.” They had that in common, and somehow it made Joonmyun feel more empathetic toward Sehun than jealous or resentful. Yixing loved you back, he thought, but didn’t say.

Sehun eventually sank back into his chair without saying anything else. Joonmyun didn’t know how long they sat there in silence before Lu Han was urging them all to get some sleep. He let himself be led into his room and he lied down on the bed out of habit.

“Try to sleep,” Lu Han whispered, covering him with the blanket a little more. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

He squinted, trying to focus on Lu Han’s fuzzy outline in the dark. “Please don’t leave,” Joonmyun called to him suddenly, his voice weak.

The mattress dipped as Lu Han’s shadowy form slowly, carefully laid down next to him. A cool hand smoothed the strands of hair away from Joonmyun’s forehead. “Okay. I won’t.”

*

Yixing blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted to the light in the room he was in, even though it was dim. He was in a bedroom, he realized, but it wasn’t his bedroom in Joonmyun’s apartment, or any one that he’d been in before. He was tucked underneath a thick quilt, and the lamp next to the bed was the only source of light, aside from the soft red glow of an either rising or setting sun that spilled in from the window.

Yixing’s head pounded in his confusion. He wanted to sit up and look around more, but he felt like it would cost too much effort to move.

“You need to stay very still.” Yixing startled at the voice that came from somewhere beside him, even though it was quiet and gentle. He turned his head toward the sound and he got a glimpse of the slight figure of a young man with short brown hair standing there before he said, “Keep your eyes closed for now.” Something about his voice was kind, comforting.

“What happened to me?” Yixing managed to ask, as he obeyed and let his eyelids flutter shut again. They felt heavy. His throat felt like it had been lined with sandpaper and he swallowed painfully.

“Your soul has been fractured.”

The words sent a chill over Yixing’s body even though he was still covered by the blankets. It had really happened, then. In his hazy, fearful thoughts, he wondered desperately how he had gotten here, and where Sehun was. Yixing had dozens of questions, but he knew which one he had to ask first. He struggled to get the words out. “Am I...am I going to die?”

“No. It will heal.” The man was speaking in Yixing’s native language, but his voice had a lilting accent, he noticed now. “You were very lucky.”

“Where am I?” Yixing asked, starting to feel more aware of himself.

“You’re home,” he said. “In your own world, that is. You’re safe.” He turned off the lamp with a click. “It’s good that you’re awake, but you need to rest now. I promise, I’ll explain more soon.”

He left the room and Yixing fell in and out of sleep, his mind still spinning even as his body tried to rest.

“My name is Minseok,” the young man said the next time he came into Yixing’s room. His sense of time felt very off, and he couldn’t tell whether it had been a few hours or a whole day. “What’s yours?”

He offered Yixing a cup of water and he took it, wincing as he swallowed with his scratchy throat. “Yixing.”

“Well, Yixing. I’m sure there are many things you want to know,” Minseok said. “I’ll explain what I can, but first, I think a change of scenery would be a good idea. Let’s go out and sit on the porch.”

Yixing stood up on surprisingly steady legs and when he followed Minseok out to the porch, he found himself far away from the city that had become so familiar to him. Grass and trees stretched out as far as he could see, and the road that the house was on had very little traffic. He found out that the house had belonged to Minseok’s grandparents, that he’d inherited it and since then, fixed it up into a guesthouse.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you for letting me stay here,” Yixing said, and Minseok smiled kindly at him. “Minseok...how is it that you knew about my soul?” he asked next. “And...how is it that I’m alive? I thought that...splitting your soul was like dying.”

“What happened to your soul is called splintering - when only small pieces of the soul break apart. It’s very rare,” Minseok said, and Yixing tried to listen without interrupting, even though it was hard to keep the questions at bay. “You’re right. Normally, if an Enforcer makes a mistake, or if you become too attached to a world that’s not your own, your soul will fully split apart and separate from your body when you are sent back. In your case, I don’t have enough information to say why, but it seems that your soul almost split fully, but something stopped it.”

Yixing sat still. “I know why it happened,” he said. “I let myself get too close to someone.”

Minseok looked at him with an expression that was like a mix of sorrow and understanding, his angular eyebrows pinched just a little closer together than they would have been otherwise. “That could very well explain it,” he said softly.

“He’s an Enforcer,” he told Minseok. “Is it possible that he stopped my soul from splitting apart completely?”

Minseok surveyed him in silence for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Enforcers are powerful, but not that powerful.”

Yixing wondered if Sehun even knew what had happened to him, that he had ended up here with Minseok. It cut into him like physical pain that now he would never get the chance to ask, would wonder forever if Sehun himself was okay.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he added when Yixing didn’t say anything else. “I wish I did.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” Yixing said, realizing that he’d been staring off into space without acknowledging Minseok’s words.

“As for how I knew, and how I found you...when a soul is fractured, even slightly, a lot of energy is released. I could feel it when it happened,” Minseok told him. When Yixing still looked confused, he went on, “The energy that binds our souls to us exists on the subatomic level. Beneath that, even. Normal science cannot detect it, so most people don’t know it’s there at all, that we even have souls. But we do.”

Yixing stared in amazement as Minseok stood up, leaning against one of the porch posts. “Only some of us are able to sense that energy, and manipulate it. The Guardians.”

“So you’re a Guardian?” Yixing confirmed.

Minseok stared out at the horizon as if he was thinking. “Yes and no,” he said. “I’m not one of this world’s official Guardians, but I have the powers of one. I’m something of a rarity.” He traced the vines that twisted up the wooden railings with his fingers. “A normal Guardian wouldn’t be able to repair your soul, like I did. Guardians with my abilities are known as Healers.”

“You healed my soul,” Yixing repeated in disbelief.

Minseok laughed good-naturedly. “Yes. Something like that.”

“Minseok,” Yixing said after a while, still thinking of Sehun, “do you know the other Guardians? In other worlds?”

Minseok looked at him and smiled a little sadly as he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You know that each world has two Guardians, one of them is an Enforcer, and they work together as a team. Each team works independently, really. Just like the worlds themselves exist independently from each other.”

Yixing nodded and looked down, not feeling like he could meet Minseok’s eyes when it was obvious he knew why he’d asked.

“I’ll be happy to answer any more questions you have,” he promised, “but you still need to rest.”

Yixing let himself be led back inside, not sure if being home would ever truly feel like home again.

*

Joonmyun rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples. He was still struggling to catch up on work even though he hadn’t taken much time off. At least work gave him something to focus on besides his empty apartment.

He looked down to see Lu Han’s name flashing across the screen of his phone. It showed his real number, no longer blocked, since the investigation was over. Lu Han had been calling him almost every day for the last few weeks, but he always let it go to voicemail. He didn’t know what made him pick up this time.

“Joonmyun.” He thought Lu Han’s voice on the other line sounded relieved that he’d answered, and suddenly Joonmyun regretted ignoring his calls. “How are you?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” Joonmyun said expressionlessly, staring hard at the numbers on his spreadsheet.

“You don’t have to,” said Lu Han. “I’ve just been worried about you. I wanted to hear your voice.”

Joonmyun’s heart clenched as if it was trying hard to resist being pulled apart. “I loved him, Lu Han,” he suddenly confessed, even though Lu Han already knew.

“I know,” Lu Han confirmed softly.

“I wish I could have told him.” He couldn’t keep his voice from breaking. A few teardrops fell from his eyes and landed in his lap. “I should have told him.”

“I’m sorry, Joonmyun. I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a pause while Joonmyun wiped at his face with the back of his hand. This, he realized, was why he hadn’t wanted to answer Lu Han’s calls. He knew that as soon as he started talking, he’d end up telling him everything.

“Joonmyun,” Lu Han said quietly. “I actually called to ask...would you maybe...want to come over tonight? I could use some company. I thought maybe you could, too.”

Joonmyun took in a shaky breath. He nodded, then realized that Lu Han couldn’t see him and he said haltingly, “Okay. I mean...yes. That’s...nice of you.”

“Okay,” said Lu Han. “I’ll see you later.”

Joonmyun hung up and focused on his work again, even though it was harder now that everything was fresh in his mind.

It felt odd to be going to meet Lu Han at his own home instead of at his office. He raised a hand to knock on the door, but paused when he heard voices coming from inside.

“I can’t help you. Find someone else, Lu Han.” Joonmyun recognized Sehun’s voice.

“Sehun, you have to. This isn’t a job you can quit. This is what you are,” Lu Han pleaded. Joonmyun brought his hand back down to his side, feeling awkward for overhearing but also like this was a conversation he shouldn’t interrupt.

“And I never asked for this,” Sehun said darkly. “The only person I ever loved is worse than dead, Lu Han, and it’s because of what I am. I tore his soul from his body, Lu Han. I felt it split apart beneath my hands.” Sehun had to pause, almost choking on a sob that he swallowed down.

“You didn’t do anything, Sehun, there’s always a chance--” Lu Han tried to comfort him, but it didn’t seem like Sehun was listening.

“I thought that I had no choice then,” he cut in, “but I realize that I do now. I will never risk this happening again.”

“Sehun, you were born to do this,” Lu Han insisted. “Our power is--”

“A gift, right,” Sehun scoffed. “You’re just repeating the words of our teachers. Maybe it is for you. Guardian power is a gift. The power of an Enforcer is a burden. A burden heavier than you know.”

Sehun’s words hung in silence for a moment, and then he declared, “I’m going home. To my own world.”

Lu Han’s voice was gentle as he tried to say, “Sehun, you can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can do or not, Lu Han,” Sehun interrupted, words sharp. “There has to be a way to open a portal outside the blue moon, and when I find out what it is, I’m leaving here and I’m not coming back. I’m done guarding the worlds. For good.”

The door opened before he heard Lu Han say anything else and Joonmyun stumbled backwards as Sehun trudged through it. Joonmyun thought he looked slightly surprised to see him, but he kept on walking swiftly as if he hadn’t noticed him at all.

Lu Han was standing in the doorway when Joonmyun took his eyes away from Sehun. “Hi, Joonmyun. Come in.” He smiled, without the small creases at the corners of his eyes that Joonmyun had become used to seeing.

“If it’s not, um, confidential or anything...what was that about?” Joonmyun asked once he was inside.

Lu Han turned to him in a resigned sort of way. “You heard everything?”

“I think so.”

Lu Han sighed, sitting down on the couch and Joonmyun slowly sat down beside him. “I found someone,” he said, “someone else in this world who shouldn’t be. Probably just crossed over during the last blue moon. I have to tell Sehun when I find them, so he can prepare to send them back during the next one, but this time, well...you heard what he said. And I can understand, after…after what happened, but...”

Joonmyun linked and unlinked his fingers in his lap as he listened.

“It’s not even possible, Joonmyun,” Lu Han went on. “You can’t cross over to another world except for during the blue moon. People have tried. Sehun is going to find that out for himself, and then…” He stopped, looking down at Joonmyun’s hands and Joonmyun stilled them in his lap even though he was sure Lu Han’s thoughts were far removed from Joonmyun’s nervous habits. “I just feel awful, Joonmyun. I want to help him, but I don’t know what to do.”

“I understand,” Joonmyun told him, but he wasn’t thinking about Yixing when he said it. He wasn’t sure he ever stopped thinking about Yixing, but right now, he looked at Lu Han and he saw how much he cared in the sag of his shoulders, the slant in the corners of his lips, and he did understand, just by watching.

“You might be the only one who does,” Lu Han said. He held Joonmyun’s gaze for a moment, but he broke it quickly. “Anyway, I’m sorry you witnessed that, with Sehun. It’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“It’s okay,” said Joonmyun. There was a silence after that, until Joonmyun decided to fill it. “Being concerned is sort of what I do.”

Lu Han laughed a little, and Joonmyun thought it was good to see him smile for real. “Thanks for coming over,” he said, the edges of his lips still soft. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Suddenly, Joonmyun was reminded of something he’d pushed out of his memory for a little while, that night in his car when Lu Han had asked him what he wanted most. Joonmyun rather thought there wasn’t one specific thing that he wanted, but many things, all of them promising to fill some gap in his life if only he could have them. But right now, in this moment, he didn’t want to fill the gaps. Filling them might mean forgetting, and he didn’t want to forget. Maybe he could be brave enough to make a new space, for new memories.

Lu Han’s eyes shimmered differently here, in the warm light of his living room. Joonmyun couldn’t see his reflection in them, and they weren’t like searchlights anymore, trying to figure Joonmyun out. They shimmered in a familiar way, like they saw Joonmyun as he was without making inferences.

Joonmyun noticed how close they were, how their lips could touch if they were only a little closer. A lock of sandy hair fell across Lu Han’s eyebrow and Joonmyun slowly pushed it back. He just barely traced the side of Lu Han’s face with his hand shaking a little, inching closer as Lu Han’s eyes began to flutter shut. The first brush of their lips was gentle, warm, like Lu Han’s laugh, and like the way his voice lowered when he asked a question.

It lasted only a moment before Lu Han was pulling away. “Joonmyun, stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joonmyun turned away, his heart beating too hard. “I-I’m sorry. I thought you…” His words trailed away as he realized he didn’t know how he wanted to phrase what it was that he’d thought.

“I know,” Lu Han said lowly. “And...And I do. But you’re not...I can’t...this isn’t right.” Joonmyun blinked up at him again, surprised to hear him stammer. “You’re not ready for this,” he finished.

This time, Lu Han was the one to look away. He hadn’t asked Joonmyun anything, but all of a sudden he was ready with an answer. “I waited until it was too late to tell someone I loved them once, Lu Han. Do you really think I’ll risk making the same mistake again?”

“Joonmyun,” Lu Han said, finally looking at him again. “There’s time. You’ll have all the time you need. So, I...I want you to take your time.”

Joonmyun wished the silence would swallow him up.

“You lost someone. I can’t replace him,” Lu Han whispered, but it seemed loud in the quiet room.

“You’re not a replacement,” Joonmyun insisted.

“We need to give it time,” Lu Han said, touching Joonmyun’s hand briefly before he took his own back.