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she’s seen this film before, and she didn’t like the ending.
she’s drenched, all the tears and the rain and the blood mixing in her face and hands.
it’s loud and it’s deafening and it’s a mess, but to her it’s quiet and calm and suddenly there’s only the two of them in the whole wide world, kneeling there on the ground with yuri in her arms, iron on her tongue and salt in her eyes.
this is a scene she’s seen over and over and over, looping in her head like a broken record. she’s tried to stop it, change the ending, save her best friend over and over again, but time always has its way in the end. the ending is always the same. yuri always slips through the cracks.
it’s pouring, hitting her back and head almost painfully, thunder crackling overhead and lightning illuminating their faces if even for a split second. it’s just like in the movies. in the movies it always rains. in the movies they always brush it off and live another day and laugh and do all the stupid crazy beautiful things in life that no one ever has time for.
but this isn’t a movie. this is real life and this is her trying to hold it together and trying to hold them together.
“i… i can still s-save you… i can fix it this time, i can make it all right again…”
it comes out as a choked sob, barely a whisper, lost in the sirens and the pouring rain.
there’s silence in the chaos. trembling, she reaches into her pocket for the little silver pocket watch, tarnished and scratched and stained with blood. her fingers, slippery with blood, fumble for the winding crown, clumsily turning it once, twice, thrice.
the wind picks up, whipping at her and the dying girl in her arms, and all she can do is cry.
“this time, this time i swear i’ll make it right.”
the wind stops, the rain slows, but minju is already gone.
-
“ya, kim minju!”
“get out of the frame, i’m trying to take a picture!”
“let me take one with you too!”
“we already have so many pictures together— ya, jo yuri! give that back!”
minju remembers that trip clear as day – yuri had laughed then, waving the instant camera above her head and sticking her tongue out at minju in a wordless challenge to take it back herself. minju didn’t really have the heart to point out that she was taller than yuri and could easily grab the camera back if she really wanted to, so she played along, half-heartedly swiping at the camera whenever yuri lowered her arm.
“here, dumbass,” yuri grinned, handing it back, “you’re so much taller than me, why didn’t you just grab it?”
“oops,” minju said, rolling her eyes as soon as yuri turned away. “come on, didn’t you want a picture?”
yuri’s eyes widened before she nodded excitedly, running up to minju and draping her arm around her shoulder. minju pretended not to see yuri giving her bunny ears behind her head as she snapped the photo.
“here, since you wanted a picture so bad,” minju said, holding the polaroid out for yuri to take. “it’s not a bad photo, you can see the waves pretty clearly.” yuri shook her head, pushing minju’s hand away.
“you keep it. put it in your phone case or something, and if someone asks you can say that’s your girlfriend.”
“as if i’d date you,” minju scoffed, earning a smack on the arm from yuri, but she pulled her phone out of its clear plastic casing and slipped the photo in anyway.
it was a good day – they’d gotten lucky with the weather, which had mercifully decided to bestow clear skies and gentle winds upon them on that day. the smell of salt hung in the air from the seas behind them, which rolled up to the shore in timid little waves. the sand under their feet was cool and soft despite the sun still hanging in the sky, setting the scene for a perfect beach day.
and then of course, there was yuri.
yuri, with her galaxy-filled eyes and childlike, carefree grin. yuri, with her sun-kissed skin and long, wavy hair that flowed in the wind. yuri, with her voice of fresh honey and that laugh that could cure any broken heart.
yuri, with her innate ability to take minju’s breath away, among other things.
“keep up, kim minju!” yuri cried, tearing minju away from her thoughts. she glanced at the direction of her voice to find that yuri was halfway to the beachfront shops by now. “the crabs are gonna sell out!” yuri continued, looking suitably distressed at the thought of not getting to eat any.
minju shook her head, chuckling, but trekked up the sand anyway.
-
clear skies and sandy beaches fade from her mental vision, and minju opens her eyes to the sight of an alley wall – one that’s become painfully familiar to her.
she doesn’t mind the cockroaches scuttling by her feet, the rats squeaking just out of sight, the smell of rotting vegetables… all that is beneath her now, superficial worries for the minju of past to be worried about. minju of present has far more important things to attend to.
she pulls out her phone, which comes out of her pocket back-side up, the polaroid of her and yuri at the beach staring back at her from under the case. minju freezes for a second, eyes raking over the photo.
she was smiling so freely in it. they both were, before fate had gone and screwed them over.
minju pushes those thoughts aside, flipping her phone over to check the date.
it’s 3.29pm on the 5th of march. she has nine hours and thirty-nine minutes to save yuri.
she shoves her phone back into her pocket and sets off.
-
minju sees normalcy on the streets of seoul.
she sees families going about their day, children running around with excited little grins. she sees café workers set out little round tables on the pavement, opening for business. she sees the trees rustle and the birds chirping and life going on, the horrors of the past few weeks contained within her and only her, like some dreadful nightmare for her eyes only.
it pains her to see all that. minju thinks that in another world, another timeline, where everything hadn’t been screwed up quite so badly, that she and yuri could be like any other person on the streets, laughing in a café or running amongst the trees like they should be able to.
but this isn’t another timeline, minju reminds herself, this is real life, this is right now, and nothing reminds her of that more than the block of flats she stops in front of amidst her thoughts.
it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really, and if minju were anyone else she would have walked past it without a second glance. it’s a skinny building, about fifteen storeys give or take and built from the most generic concrete-glass mixture minju can picture. there’s a small, cookie-cutter garden area beneath the building, and as she starts walking closer, she spots tiny splotches of yellow amidst the bushes.
how curious. the flowers are in bloom.
but it doesn’t matter now, she thinks, stepping into the lobby. time is ticking.
she feels the silver stopwatch in her pocket, cool under her skin, and runs her fingers over every little nick and dent as she enters the lift.
go in don’t look get yuri get out not a sound in and out
the lift doors open. minju steps out, letting muscle memory guide her down the row of identical wooden doors, to one at the very end of the corridor. her fingers rest on the cold metal of the door handle, already knowing it’s unlocked.
taking a deep breath, she opens the door.
-
“don’t hate me!”
“i won’t, i promise!” minju laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. yuri had mumbled something – she couldn’t quite make it out, a truck had passed by the window at that very moment – before pulling a card from her hand and chucking it onto the pile on the sheets.
“plus four!” she declared triumphantly, watching minju’s eyes widen in horror and betrayal.
“you little bitch!”
“you said you wouldn’t hate— oh.”
yuri’s voice had turned become then as she turned her attention to her phone, which had just buzzed with a notification. minju watched her face closely, recognising the worry in yuri’s face. “it’s him?” minju asked, already knowing the answer. she saw the light dull in yuri’s eyes, smile dropping to a slight frown, and that told her everything she needed to know.
“sorry, min,” yuri mumbled, voice a little lower and more sluggish than she was used to. “you would probably have won, anyway, the rest of my deck is shit.” yuri stands from the bed, which creaked as she did so, as if protesting her leave. minju’s gaze fell on the angry red lines streaking her thighs, still raw in the spots where minju didn’t apply the aloe.
“you overestimate my uno abilities,” minju said, and she tried, really tried, to make her voice brighter. yuri only shrugged in a poor attempt to disguise her trembling limbs. she picked up her coat, pulling it on slowly, pupils shaking.
“you’ll call me, right?” minju asked, shifting onto the edge of the bed. “you’ll call me if anything else happens?”
yuri cast one final look at minju’s dorm – the sad, flimsy university-issued mattress, the piles of snacks and undone homework on her desk, and finally at minju herself, who’d stared back with the tiniest hint of worry in her eyes.
“maybe,” she’d said simply, sticking her hands into the pockets of her coat. “maybe i will.”
-
yuri’s father is knocked out on the couch when she enters.
he’s a large man, no doubt about it, with fat that bulges at his sides, stretching the fabric of his shirt impossibly thin. what little hair he has left is slicked back with grease, grease that’s also present on his face, giving it a light sheen as he snores, mouth open obnoxiously on the couch.
the rest of the house is exactly what you’d expect. the furnishings of the house would probably have made for a decent interior if there weren’t bottles and bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. the stench of it is in the air, too, and minju swears she could get wasted just from the smell alone. on the very far end of the living room, there’s a splatter of liquid on the wall, emerald shards of glass strewn on the ground below it.
it’s a scene that minju’s seen countless times, and yet it never fails to send chills down her spine.
she averts her eyes from the sight of the living room, and in doing so inadvertently spots that cane leaned against the wall. it’s splintering into separate strips by now, and minju shudders at the thought of how hard you’d have to be hit to get it to that state. she swallows a gulp and walks into yuri’s room, the door to which is wide open. the room seems to be empty, but minju ignores that and tiptoes over to the closet in the corner, kneeling on the ground and gingerly cracking the door open.
yuri is huddled inside, knees drawn to her chest, rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherently. when the closet door opens, she flinches, arms visibly trembling as she shuts her eyes and looks away. it makes minju’s heart break and her blood boil almost as much as the memory of them on the asphalt, because yuri’s such a happy, carefree girl and it would take a monster to terrify her to this extent. said monster is now passed out, dead drunk on the couch just the next room over, and it takes all of minju’s self-control not to just walk out and beat the crap out of him.
after all, she’s tried that before. it ended up the same as it every other attempt, with yuri bleeding on the asphalt and minju reaching for the pocket watch.
shaking those thoughts aside, minju places a gentle hand on yuri’s arm. “it’s me,” she coaxes, and yuri turns her head toward her, “it’s minju.”
yuri’s eyes flicker with the slightest hint of recognition, but she remains silent.
“it’s me, your friend minju… i’m not going to hurt you…”
yuri nods timidly, dragging her eyes upwards to meet minju’s, and somewhere along the way her hand finds its way to the front of minju’s shirt. minju smiles encouragingly. “i’m going to count to ten, alright? i need you to follow the sound of my voice and breathe.”
as minju starts to count, yuri takes deep breaths, in and out, letting minju’s quiet, soothing voice guide her. every now and then her breath will tighten, fist tightening around the fabric of minju’s shirt, but minju doesn’t protest, doesn’t speak; she just keeps counting, and when she’s reached ten yuri looks ever-so-slightly calmer.
“i’m so proud of you,” minju whispers, hugging yuri as close as she can from where she’s kneeling. “we’re going to get you somewhere safe, are you okay with moving?” yuri nods and lets minju snake an arm around her waist, helping her out of the closet.
as minju leads yuri out of the house, they pass by her father on the couch, still wasted out of his mind. yuri lets out a little whimper at the sight, but otherwise she remains impressively silent as they leave the apartment and minju shuts the door behind them.
“good job, you did so well,” minju says, her own chest un-tightening as well. she locks eyes with her best friend, who still looks a little out of it but is visibly more relaxed now. she reaches down for yuri’s hand and clasps their fingers together, not minding the clamminess of it.
“come on, let’s go back to my place,” minju says, and yuri manages to break out a smile.
-
“so, time travel, huh?”
yuri was lying on minju’s bed, hands above her head and watching minju’s movements with mild interest. minju was sitting at her desk, polishing the silver stopwatch with a small cloth. “why haven’t you used it yet?” yuri asked.
“i don’t have anything i’d like to change,” minju replied simply, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot of dirt.
yuri huffed, sitting up against the headboard. “good for you, then. i, on the other hand, have plenty of shit that went wrong in my life.”
minju looked up from the stopwatch and met yuri’s eyes. they held a deep sadness that told her the playful grin on yuri’s face was entirely fake. minju felt her heart sink, having forgotten about yuri’s… situation.
“look—”
“no, it’s fine. i get it. it’s your family heirloom, not mine,” yuri said, with just the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice. minju kept silent, not knowing how to respond, and in doing so a tense silence fell over the pair.
minju couldn’t stand the tension after a few minutes, and so she stood from her seat, putting the cloth on the table behind her. she walked over to the bed, where yuri was avoiding eye contact. “come on, grumpy cat, scooch over,” she sighed. yuri let out an indignant huff, but shifted over anyway so that minju could sit next to her.
“i know it’s tempting to just… use this, and make all your problems go away,” minju began, holding the watch up for them both to see. it glinted in the light of the room, bright enough that minju had to look away. “but… you have to understand that that wouldn’t work. time… it’s like a squishie.”
“that’s one hell of an analogy,” yuri said, stifling a laugh. minju slapped her on the wrist.
“shut up and let me finish,” minju snapped, to which yuri shrugged innocently.
“anyway, time is like a squishie. you can stretch it, crush it, mould it into whatever you want it to be… but when that’s all over, and you let go, it always goes back to its original form. this watch can’t change anything. time always has its way in the end.”
“you’re awfully pessimistic, aren’t you?” yuri laughed, shifting closer into minju’s side.
“it’s called being realistic! anyway, that’s what my mom told me when she gave it to me. are you really trying to argue with my entire family of timekeepers?”
yuri shook her head, taking the pocket watch from minju. “i’m not trying to argue! it’s just… if you punch a squishie enough, squeeze it hard enough, then eventually, it’ll change shape even a little, won’t it? and who’s to say that isn’t the same for time?” yuri turned the watch over in her hand, running her fingers over the cool metal.
“i don’t think it’ll change much of anything, honestly,” minju said. yuri seemed to have seen enough of the watch at this point, and she pushed it back into minju’s palm, closing her fingers around it tenderly. her touch was warm, comforting; when she pulled away it left cold and emptiness on her skin. minju met yuri’s eyes once again, finding herself lost in the galaxies they contained. she hugged yuri’s arm, just touchy enough for best friends and nothing more.
“i don’t know,” yuri mused, “but i’m sure that if you tried hard enough, you could change something.”
-
minju traces her fingers over the outlines of their figures in the polaroid.
she’s taken it out of her phone case, and now she follows yuri’s smile, wide and toothy, with the nail of her thumb, desperately wishing she could smile like that forever.
she looks at herself in the picture, grinning like nothing could stop her, not minding yuri’s bunny ears hovering over the back of her head.
minju finds herself smiling, too.
it’s a bitter smile, bitter that they couldn’t be like that forever, that fate messed up and now she was stuck trying to right everything like some kind of idiot in denial. she is that idiot in denial, minju supposes, looking up from the polaroid to find yuri asleep in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin.
somewhere in the room, a clock is ticking down the seconds, hypnotizingly repetitive and begging minju to join yuri in slumberland. minju refuses at first, willing herself to stay awake in case anything happens. she’s still immeasurably nervous, jumpy at the rustle of footsteps or the rumble of engines outside her dorm, but after a while the ticking lulls her into a dazed state where she might as well close her eyes; it’s just for a second. when was the last time she slept, anyway?
minju lets her eyes flutter shut, the hypnotic ticking of the clock echoing in her ears, and she drifts off into an uneasy sleep.
-
“i think you should call social services,” minju said honestly, getting the tub of aloe from her nightstand. yuri cackled, sounding genuinely amused.
“please, min. you think they’ll do shit? that’ll just make him even more mad,” yuri said. minju pressed her lips together, staying silent, but held out her left hand for yuri, who rested her arm on minju’s palm. minju gently rubbed the gel over the welts on yuri’s skin, pausing a little every time she sucked in a breath.
while minju did that, yuri reached over for her phone, her whole face lighting up a little when she saw the polaroid still on the back of it. “has anyone asked who the pretty girl is yet?” she asked, voice bright.
“yeah, and i told them it was the person they were talking to,” minju fired back. yuri laughed, but her shoulders sagged a little.
“but then they always ask who the even prettier girl next to me is, and i tell them it’s my amazing, beautiful, talented best friend jo yuri,” minju continued, stealing a glance at yuri’s gleeful expression. she shook her head, smiling to herself at the sight.
“there, all done. is there anywhere else?”
yuri shook her head, withdrawing her arm. “thanks as always, minju.”
“it’s nothing. but i still think you should tell someone. you can’t live through this forever,” minju said.
“i need to finish university, at least,” yuri said, “there’s no way i’ll be able to pay tuition without his help.”
“but after that, you’re moving out, right?” minju said hopefully. “after you graduate… you’re cutting yourself off?”
yuri hesitated, eyes darting about and looking everywhere but at minju. she mumbled something, something along the lines of guess so as she stood from the bed and made her way to minju’s desk, helping herself to some food.
minju let the subject go after that, not willing to prod further, but in hindsight yuri’s answer wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
it all went wrong before they could get to graduation day.
-
she remembers, not long after that, getting the call from yuri.
her voice had been panicked, high-pitched and quick and with words slipping out in dialect as she spoke. “m-minju, h-he… i…” she said, pausing. she sounded as if she’d just ran ten miles, and maybe she had, in her desperation to get away from her father.
“yuri, breathe,” minju replied, already grabbing her jacket. “where are you?”
“r-running,” yuri panted through the line, “i-i’m… i’m just trying to get away… c-can i m-meet you at… a-at the park?”
“i’ll be there. stay safe, yuri.”
she remembers running through the streets as thunder crackled overhead, her skin sticky with humidity. she ran, and she ran, and she ran, all the way to the entrance of the park without stopping for breath. she remembers how it started to rain just then, just a drizzle at first, but then heavier and heavier until it was a torrential downpour that blanketed the streets in water.
she remembers seeing yuri across the road, panicked and crying and checking behind her shoulder as she crossed the asphalt.
and maybe she wasn’t thinking then, or maybe she did see the car and thought she could outrun it, but minju remembers with a frightening intensity what happened next – the way her tiny body was flung through the rain, the sickening crunch when she landed, the blood that was just everywhere – she remembers it all too well, sees it when she closes her eyes or stares too long at a strip of tarmac or reaches for the pocket watch after yet another failure; it’s all she can think about, the fact that she had been right there and yet she couldn’t do anything.
minju remembers – she remembers the sound of the rain softening to a background thrum, remembers the squish of her shoes as she ran across the puddles, she remembers reaching yuri’s side and being too late, seeing the galaxies go out in her eyes.
she remembers screaming, and crying, and begging yuri to stay with her, and she remembers not caring about the rain or the lightning or the sirens in that moment; all she knows is pain and emptiness and the girl in her arms with the life slowly draining from her soul.
she remembers reaching for the pocket watch, turning it once, twice, thrice. opening her eyes to the scurry of rats and the brick wall of a back alley. running over to yuri’s place and beating her father half to death. yuri, poor yuri, seeing and screaming for her to stop, and when minju finally did she refused to move from her spot in the closet until it was late and minju let her guard down and then she ran out, out into the world, terrified of the consequences of minju’s actions, and then there was the road and the car and the blood and the rain—
minju remembers reaching for the watch again, turning it again, going back again and again and again and again until she loses count. she remembers seeing it over and over – that scene, playing over and over like some horrid nightmare but it’s not a nightmare this is real life and that’s your best friend and that’s her blood on your hands
she reaches for the watch again, promising that this is the last time, this time she’ll make it right, i can still save you and we’ll be okay and you’ll be okay.
it never is. time always has its way in the end.
she’s trying, trying as hard and as much as she can, and still their fates stubbornly refuse to change.
-
“minju?”
minju’s eyes shoot open. she looks over at the bed, where yuri is sitting up now, watching her with wide, worried eyes. “are you okay?” she asks, fidgeting with the blanket.
minju realises then that she’s crying – her eyes are wet and there’s fresh tear tracks running down her cheeks. quickly, she wipes them away with the sleeve of her shirt, clearing her throat.
“i-i’m fine,” minju says, “just had a bad dream is all.”
minju glances out the window, finding that it’s already dark outside. “what time is it?” she asks, standing and stretching out her neck, which aches slightly after the way she’d fallen asleep.
“it’s almost 11. you were out of it for quite a while. why are you so tired?”
“long day,” minju replies nonchalantly, but really, it’s been several weeks in her warped perception of time, and she hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours at a time during that period. yuri narrows her eyes, unconvinced.
“you up for dinner?” minju asks, opening one of the flimsy cabinets she has in her room to see what she has for them.
“i’m not that hungry,” yuri says softly. minju nods, closing the cabinet, and makes her way over to the bed, gesturing for yuri to shift over in a moment of déjà vu. when she’s made enough room for herself to lie next to yuri, she throws the blanket over them both, staring into the ceiling dazedly.
“after tonight, we should take another trip to the beach,” minju says. she finds it funny that she still has the capacity to think of that, to crave a beach outing in the midst of time shenanigans and car accidents, but she supposes everyone has their own ways of coping.
“after tonight i just want to run away,” yuri whispers in response, “not just a trip, minju. i want to run, and i want to go somewhere where no one knows me and he can’t find me. maybe i’ll live on a farm somewhere, who knows.”
“that sounds nice,” minju muses, and she really means it. she imagines herself once all this is over, which hopefully means in just a couple of hours – she and yuri, they’d run off into the countryside or something, and they’d never have to worry about anything ever again; it sounded quiet, peaceful, mostly, and minju wants that more than anything. this time stuff, she can’t remember how long ago the original accident was, and she’s been chasing the right timeline for so long that she’s forgotten what peace feels like.
“hey, min?” yuri asks. minju hums in response, watching the lights dance about in the blur of her vision. “i… i’m not stopping you from living your life, am i?”
“what do you mean?”
“i mean… you’ve always been one phone call away from me, and i appreciate that so much, min, but… sometimes i wonder if you need to start living for yourself, too.”
minju doesn’t respond; she doesn’t know how to. why is she doing this? why isn’t she letting time have its way, why is she putting herself through the same day over and over again in the hopes that one day, one day it’ll shift and yuri will live past 1.08am on the 6th of march?
she doesn’t know. she doesn’t want to know, for fear that she won’t like the reason and she’ll give up trying and just let yuri die.
“can you promise me something?” minju feels yuri’s small fingers intertwine with her own. “can you promise me that when all this is over, you’ll start living for yourself, too?”
minju doesn’t have the words to respond, and so she doesn’t say anything, just squeezes yuri’s hand and hopes she understands.
-
minju remembers, more than anything, the crippling guilt that washes over her every time she sees yuri.
she sees yuri’s face a lot. sometimes she’s smiling, sometimes her mouth is wide with confusion, sometimes she’s got crystal tears running down her cheeks, sometimes she’s got her lips pressed together in a failing attempt at a poker face.
but no matter how yuri looks at her, minju can only look back with that deep-set guilt in her eyes.
guilt that she couldn’t pull yuri away before the original accident. guilt that she can’t tell her anything. guilt that she couldn’t save yuri the first time, or the second, or any time after that. it claws at her soul, weighs her down like a ten-pound weight strapped to her back, follows her around like a poltergeist with nothing better to do.
she doesn’t want to see yuri this way forever, doesn’t want to see her as the manifestation of all her guilt and nightmares and the demons following her around.
but she does. it’s all minju can see when she looks at yuri, and maybe that kills her more than anything.
-
somewhere along the way she lets sleep reclaim her, huddled under the blankets with yuri’s warm body nestled into her side.
minju manages to think of nothing at all during that time, something which has become quite an achievement for the girl who spends her days counting down the seconds. it’s relaxing, to finally get a few hours’ sleep without anything weighing her down, but good things never last.
she hears the distant but distinct open-shut of the front door.
her instincts kick into high gear; she shoots out of bed, fumbling for the lights, feeling her stomach drop when she finds the bed empty.
yuri’s gone.
there’s no time to think; she grabs her coat, her phone and the pocket watch still inside its front pocket, and throws it on, wrenching the door open and racing down the narrow, dimly lit corridor of her dorm building. the lift is too slow; she jumps down the steps three at a time, feeling her bones crack in protest, but she doesn’t stop to think, doesn’t slow for even a second, she’s out of the building in record time. she doesn’t mind the drizzle that’s already begun, falling into her face and hair, all that matters is that she finds yuri.
she checks her phone. 1.06am. panic seeps into her veins.
her feet are moving on their own now, going full auto-pilot. instinct guides her to that road as the rain worsens, falling so hard and so fast that minju can barely see, barely breathe. the guilt is piling in her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs, crushing her ribs with the weight of it all. the sights around her pass in a blur; all she can think about is yuri and is she okay and it’s 1.08am on the dot.
and then she sees her.
she turns, everything registering in her all at once; this is it. this is the road, and that’s the park gates, the rain and water all there, right on cue.
minju finds her, the girl she’s been trying to save for god knows how long, halfway across the street with her head bowed and hair drenched in the rain. minju sees the headlights slicing through the rain before she can react, and then it’s just like her worst nightmares all over again.
she sees it all over again – yuri’s tiny body flung through the rain, the sickening crunch as she lands, the blood that’s just everywhere – she sees it with all the horror of her first time but a hundred times as much guilt, guilt that crushes her sides as she watches everything go wrong all over again, guilt that clouds her brain and blocks out the sights and sounds around her and all she can hear is her own heartbeat pounding away in her chest, the sound of the accident echoing through her ears again and again and again and this is your fault you couldn’t save her.
minju thinks she’s going to be sick.
she finds herself by yuri’s side once again, the same as every other time, time had its way in the end and oh god you couldn’t save her you couldn’t save her you couldn’t you failed again and again and again and this is her blood on your hands.
she’s drenched again. all the tears and the rain and the blood mix in her face and hands again. it’s loud and it’s deafening and it’s a mess, but to her it’s quiet and calm and there’s only the two of them in the whole wide world, kneeling there on the ground with yuri in her arms, iron on her tongue and salt in her eyes. the galaxies in yuri’s eyes are dulling, the life draining from her soul, it’s happening again and she can’t breathe it’s crashing down on her all at once.
minju reaches for the pocket watch as the sobs find their way out of her. she reaches for the winding crown, slippery with blood again, and prepares to turn it—
there’s a hand on hers.
minju looks down, chest heaving, finding yuri’s bloodied hand clasping her own with all the strength she has left. slowly, laboriously, yuri takes the silver pocket watch out of minju’s palm, closing her fist around nothing shakily with the knuckles of her hand. her eyes are blank, staring into nothing as the tears flow out.
“n-no, you have to let me save you…” minju sobs, “p-please, i can save you, i can make this right, you d-don’t have to die, there’s s-still a way—”
yuri’s eyes seem to find their focus on minju’s face, and minju can see her trying to hold on for long enough to speak.
“y-you… you need… n-need… t-to start living… f-f-for y-yourself, t-too…”
minju shakes her head, lip quivering, she doesn’t want to start living for herself, she doesn’t want to live in a world where yuri isn’t there to annoy her and laugh with her and be her best friend and she doesn’t want to let yuri go, she can’t let yuri go, it’s not right, she can’t let her die…
“please,” yuri says, clearer this time, eyes sparkling with hot, fresh tears. “p-please… d-do… do this one… o-one thing for me…”
minju breaks down, a fresh wave of tears pouring from her eyes as she crouches over yuri’s body. there’s red on the asphalt and black in her heart, she has to let go now but what if she doesn’t want to?
it takes all of her willpower not to reach for the stained silver pocket watch in yuri’s loosening hand, but somehow, she manages it.
somehow it hurts less than turning back time and going back. letting go lifts a weight from her chest, a weight that’s been following her around refusing to let go ever since that day, letting go feels like the right thing to do.
but somehow, as she watches yuri’s eyes dull and feels her arms go limp, minju thinks it’s the worst decision she’s ever made.
-
“i’m sure that if you tried hard enough, you could change something.”
“if i’m a pessimist, then you’re gonna die of optimism one day.”
“at least i’ll die happy, not like your sad ass.”
“whatever. happiness is overrated, anyway.”
“that sounds incredibly depressing.”
“shut up. not everyone needs a rainbow, fairy-tale ending.”
“but if anyone deserves it, it’s you!”
“…”
“just kidding. kim minju is an idiot, everyone!” yuri laughed.
minju smiled.
-
she watches the fire crackle.
the flames lick the air, oranges and reds burning into minju’s eyes.
she doesn’t move, just turns the pocket watch over in her hands and stares blankly into the heart of the fire. yuri’s blood is still all over her clothes and hands and the watch, but she doesn’t care anymore.
the fire burns fiercer. minju grips the watch in her hands.
she stands, abruptly, and walks closer, until she can feel the flames lick her skin. looking down into the fire, she opens her fist and gives the watch one last, unfeeling look.
she drops it into the fire and watches with mild satisfaction as it blackens, curling in on itself in the heat of the fire.
minju pulls out her phone and slips it out of the clear plastic casing, taking the polaroid photo of her and yuri on the beach into her hands.
she looks it over, stares into their smiles for the thousandth time and traces their faces and the waves with the nail of her thumb. she examines yuri’s smile, carefree and gleeful, and finds her eyes blurring again as she takes it all in.
she realises now, in the aftermath when everything’s cooled down, why she didn’t let time have its way, why she put herself through the same day over and over again like some kind of idiot in denial. it was her. it was always her, from the first time minju saw her smile, to the very last seconds of her life as the galaxies dulled in her eyes.
they couldn’t stay like that forever. they didn’t get their timeline.
minju throws the polaroid into the fire, too.