Work Text:
Round ■■■■
The knife is in his hand again.
He doesn't remember getting up from the bed, or crossing the room. doesn't remember opening the drawer where he keeps those things, an old bureau ID, a phone that stopped working, a photograph he stopped looking at because the face in it changes every time. It made him sick.
The knife is there, he never held it with this intention before.
Kim Soleum is sitting with his back to him. The light from the window catches the edge of his uniform collar, the curve of his shoulder, the small movement of his hand as he turns a page of something, a report, a novel, it doesn't matter.
What matters is the stillness of him. the unawareness. the terrible vulnerability of a person who does not know they are being watched by someone who has already buried them a thousand times
'If I kill him first, he stops dying.'
Choi raised his sleeves and looked at the ceiling for a moment.
the logic is perfect. the logic is the sound of his own mind cracking open like an egg, yolk and shell and nothing inside that could ever be put back together.
He has lost count of the rounds. Somewhere after eighteen hundred the numbers started to blur. eighteen hundred and sixty-four. or maybe sixty-five. maybe he passed two thousand without noticing.
he remembers the important ones that carved themselves into him.
───
Round 47
He was stupid
at that time he still believed, in the weak and foolish way of people who have never lost anything, that he could save him.
The Glass Prison. He remembers the way Soleum's body looked suspended inside it, stopped like a photograph. Agent Choi had broken the door with his bare hands. Had pulled Soleum out and felt him breathe.
And then the ceiling came down.
the only thing he remembers after that is the feeling of rubble pressing against his back while he tried to dig with fingers that were already bleeding, and when he found Soleum's hand in the dark, it was already cold.
He woke up in his own bed. The alarm blinked 6:00AM The same light through the same blinds. He lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes waiting for the memory to fade like a dream.
His phone rang with a notification from the same one that stopped breathing moments ago.
"The vending machine is broken."
He smiled wearily and ran his hands through his sweat-drenched hair.
"Do you want me to buy one for you?"
"No?"
"Haha ^^"
───
Round 312
What was he supposed to say?
"Don't go to work today?" He tried that in round 89. Soleum went anyway.
"There's a ghost in the basement?" Round 112. Soleum investigated anyway.
"I love you and I have watched you die and I cannot do it again?" Round 156. Soleum looked at him with those dark calm eyes and said something..Choi doesn't remember what, the words didn't matter because the death came anyway.
in round 312 he tried staying away entirely. He did not recruit Soleum, did not speak to him, did not look at him in the hallways. He watched from a distance as Soleum walked out of the bureau with his shoulders slumped as he disappeared into the city.
for three weeksnothing happened Choi started to believe-that weak, foolish belief again-that maybe the deaths were tied to the bureau. maybe if Soleum never joined, never investigated, never put himself in harm's way—
the call came on a Tuesday.
convenience store robbery. a ghost in the refrigerated section. young man with dark hair who had just been buying ramen. Choi arrived at the scene an hour after it was over, the yellow tape was already up and the body was already gone.
He woke up on his bed, his phone rang with a notification.
"The vending machine stopped working."
He looked at the bright screen with tired eyes and began to cry.
───
Round 891
they were happy while it lasted.
the apartment, the thin walls, the radiator that clanked all night, the string lights Soleum had hung across the ceiling, cheap ones, the kind that came in a box from the convenience store, but they made the room feel like somewhere safe.
he remembers waking up next to Soleum, the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing, slow and even, the way it changed when he was dreaming.
Choi used to lie there and count the breaths. he wasn't thinking about the other rounds, the other deaths, the other versions of his lover who had not been lucky enough to wake up in this bed. he was selfish enough to forget about them, because Soleum is his now. Isn't that enough?
a year of quiet mornings and takeout containers and the way Soleum would steal his coffee when he wasn't looking.
The fever came in winter.
'a fever should not kill a healthy man in his twenties.'
Choi sat by the bed for five days, held Soleum's hand and pressed cold cloths to his forehead.
watched the color drain from his face and the light fade from his eyes.
on the fifth night Soleum opened his eyes, he looked at Choi and said something. they sounded like goodbye.
Then the hand went limp.
Choi sat there until morning, the string lights flickered and died when the battery ran out.
when the reset came, he woke up alone on his bed. he didn't bother to read the notification.
───
Round 1042
He tried telling him everything.
Pulled him aside. Held him by the shoulders. Looked into his face, that beautiful face, the one he had watched die in so many ways, the one he had memorized down to the smallest freckle and the smallest scar.
He told him about the regressions. The deaths. He told him everything.
Soleum listened, his face didn't change. and when Choi finished, Soleum was quiet for a long time.
Then he said, "You're sick."
"I'm not sick."
"You are, agent, your face is burning up. you need help."
Choi laughed. It was an ugly sound, rusty and broken.
"I need you to live."
Soleum stepped back, his shoulders were stiff. His hands were at his sides, fingers curled slightly.
"do you want me to report this?"
"No, please don't. Podo- Soleum, listen to me.. please."
Soleum's face flickered. Something passed across it like a shadow from a bird flying overhead, then it was gone.
He reported it. Agent Choi was put on leave. While he was confined to the medical wing Soleum was sent on a mission.
He did not come back.
Choi learned about it from a report.
He read it seventeen times then he folded it into a small square and put it in his pocket.
'What should I do now?'
He sighed and looked at the ceiling with annoyance.
Then he waited for the reset.
───
Round 1337
Choi remembers Jaekwan's silhouette in the doorway of the bullpen. he stood with his arms crossed, watching him. Choi avoided his gaze and burried his face in his hands.
'What should I do now?'
'Would he know? Should I just tell him?'
Choi recalled looking at Jaekwan's frowning face for a moment.
'No.. I did that in round 983'
He sighed and looked back at the ceiling.
Jaekwan stood next to him at the back of the chapel. Their shoulders almost touched but either of them spoke. after the service Jaekwan handed him a tissue.
Choi didn't realize he was crying.
'What should I do now?'
───
Round 1560
He tried letting go completely.
did not join the bureau.
did not go to the same city.
did not even look for Soleum's name in any database.
he moved to a small town near the coast, the kind of place where nothing ever happened, and the biggest news was a stray cat or a broken streetlight.
For six months he heard nothing.
that weak, foolish belief, always returning anx always betraying him, he believed that maybe the deaths were tied to proximity. maybe if he stayed far enough away Soleum would live.
then he saw the news. small segment on the evening broadcast. supernatural incident at a university library. young man with dark hair who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
the photo on the screen showed a face Choi knew better than his own.
He turned off the television, sat in the dark, did not move.
'What should I do now, Sol-ah?'
the reset came three hours later.
"The vending machine stopped working"
He looked at the screen for a long time.
"can we meet? I want to see you ^^"
───
Round 1700
he started to lose the time in between.
the days and weeks of each round, the ordinary moments, the cups of coffee and the walks to work and the conversations that meant nothing.
those started to blur together and became a gray fog that he walked through without seeing, feeling, without anything except the mechanical motion of one foot in front of the other.
He would find himself in rooms and not remember how he got there, look at his hands and not recognize them as his own, hear his own voice speaking and think who is that? who is saying those words?
'What is happening to me'
in round 1700, Soleum drowned.
bathroom sink. Something from the drain. Something with too many fingers and too much strength. Choi found him with his head in the basin, the water still running and his hands gripping the porcelain edges, his knuckles white.
he looked beautiful.
Choi pulled him out. Laid him on the floor. Performed CPR even though he knew it was too late.
He gazed at it for a while and didn't want to get up; it was so beautiful. How could someone be so beautiful in death?
He doesn't remember how long he stayed there. the water seeped through his pants, the fluorescent light buzzed overhead, the body grew colder in his arms.
when the reset came, he woke up in his bed, he lay there for three days.did not eat. did not drink. did not answer the door when someone knocked.
on the fourth day the reset happened again.
Soleum died somehow.
he doesn't even know.
the universe had its own rhythm and its own cruelty. it did not wait for him to be ready.
───
Round 1800
He stopped counting after this.
What was the difference between eighteen hundred and hundred and one? One more death. One more funeral. One more morning.
in this round he tried something new.
he tried to save Soleum by killing the things that killed him, ghosts, monsters, accidents. he destroyed them one by one with his hands, the cold and methodical precision of someone who had nothing left to lose.
It worked for a while. Soleum lived longer than he had in any round since 891, almost a year.
and then on a day that should have been ordinary, Soleum stepped off a curb and a car came out of nowhere. a driver who didn't see him, a wet road, a moment of inattention.
Choi watched it happen from across the street.
He stood there for a long time after the ambulance came and went. the rain soaked through his coat, the blood washed into the gutter.
His eyes twitched subtly; it was impossible to tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain.
"My dearest, what should I do now?"
───
Round 1863
The round before this one.
Soleum lived for a year and three days, Choi had counted every one of them, measured time in Soleum's breaths, his heartbeats, the small sounds he made when he was thinking or reading or falling asleep.
He had been careful, watched every corner, every shadow, every person who looked at Soleum too long. eliminated threats before they became threats. Had stayed awake for days at a time, his eyes burning, his hands shaking, his mind fraying at the edges.
and then on the evening of the three hundred and sixty-ninth day, Soleum walked through a door that should have been locked.
maintenance closet, a latch that didn't catch. Soleum had been looking for a mop, or a broom, or something equally ordinary. something should not have been dangerous, and then the door closed behind him.
When Choi forced it open, the closet was empty.
Not a body, not a trace, just empty. it felt like a mouth had swallowed something whole.
'What?'
He stood in the doorway for an hour. then two. then three.
He l couldn't comprehend what had happened. was the universe planning to kill him in any way possible even if it was illogical?
'This can't be real.'
Is all of this just a high ranked darkness?
Is Kim Soleum even real?
When the reset came, he did not move from the bed, lay there with his eyes open, watching the light change through the blinds, the slow crawl of morning across the ceiling.
the knife in the drawer, how easy it would be?
He thought about how many times he had watched Soleum die, and how many more times he would watch if he didn't do something, something, anything to make it stop.
───
Round 1864
Now.
the knife is in his hand.
Soleum is still sitting with his back turned, unaware, alive for this one more moment, for the last moment before Choi makes a decision that will either end everything or begin something worse.
He thought about the first time he saw Soleum. Soleum had looked at him across the bullpen, those dark eyes curious and cautious and somehow familiar, like he was recognizing something he had never seen before.
he thought about the string lights in the apartment that doesn't exist anymore, they had made Soleum's face look golden. The way Soleum had smiled at him, that rare and quiet smile.
He thought about all the ways he has watched the same person die. drowning. burning. bleeding. breaking.
disappearing.
each death a different flavor of the same grief and he has tasted all of them, has swallowed them whole, has made a meal of loss and called it love.
He thought about how badly he wanted Soleum to be there. every death, every rebirth. alive. breathing. turning pages in a room with bad lighting and a radiator that clanks.
he thinks about what it would feel like to press the blade into Soleum's throat. the resistance. the give. the warmth of blood against his fingers.
He thinks about whether that death would count. whether the universe would let Soleum rest or whether it would simply reset again, and again, and again, with Choi's hands as the new cause instead of the old ones.
He thinks about how many times he has held Soleum's body. how many times he has felt the life leave it. how many times he has whispered apologies into hair that could no longer hear.
The knife trembles in his grip.
Soleum turns the page, the sound is small. Paper against paper.
He raises the knife.
Soleum's shoulder shifts. he is about to turn around. in a moment, he will see. in a moment, he will know.
'If I do not do this, he dies anyway..'
there is no third option. there has never been a third option. there have only been choices that hurt less and choices that hurt more, and he is so tired of choosing, so tired of hurting, so tired of waking up in the same bed with the same alarm and the same notification and the same knowledge that nothing he does will ever be enough.
Soleum begins to turn.
The knife is in Choi's hand.
The knife is in his hand.
The knife—
The End.