2.15 ARTIFICIAL LOVE: Unthinkable

Beomseok stops at the bathroom door. He considers grabbing a weapon but the only thing he spots is a broom tucked behind the washer.

"…" It's better than nothing he decides because there's panic in his blood and his pulse is in his ear. He cannot guess what is going on. Maybe an old friend of his had magically sauntered in to rescue him from his drunken stupor but that makes no sense when Beomseok hasn't even been on social media.

Queenie and Dayoung, the two people he's closest to are back in the city with their own affairs to tend to and do not have time to show up randomly at his mother's home.

The voice doesn't even sound like either of them, but it's decidedly male.

Still, there's a hint of familiarity to it and Beomseok is helplessly drawn in.

Carefully, he turns the handle and steps outside. The creaking under his soles is obscenely loud and he curses at his own clumsiness. The broom knocks against the door frame but it's all too late now. If this is some weird killer that's staked out at his place then he's one hundred percent fucking screwed. Beomseok has watched enough horror movies to know.

So when he hears a noise that rounds the corner where the stairs lead upstairs, Beomseok does the unthinkable.

Or rather, he does things completely unthinking.

The broom is raised, pulse pounding in his ears as Beomseok lunges around the corner, attacking the invader that approaches.

There's a startled yelp, The broom handle catches on a forearm and Beomseok realizes only belatedly that the cheap plastic of the broomstick won't do much. It bends but that's not even the biggest issue.

The biggest issue is that his eyes lock with dark, familiar ones, wide and shocked at his assault. Beomseok freezes from shock alone, his mind racing at the speed of light and still failing to unravel any glimmer of an answer. But even when he tenses, and his muscles lock, Beomseok already accumulated too much forward momentum and he crashes headfirst into the stranger— Into some weird Kang Siwoo look-alike who wears one of Beomseok's mom's aprons over a plain and casual attire. 

What the fuck!? He thinks as he sends them both tumbling. It's only by some miracle that the stranger is strong enough to catch Beomseok and maneuver the both of them while they roll across the ground so that they're not sent down the stairs.

There are stars in his eyes and Beomseok needs a moment to figure out what the heck happened. His hands clutch onto another person, their warmth melting into Beomseok's heartbeat. They are in his arms and he in theirs. Beomseok has his head rested on a wide shoulder and he notices that there's a hand around his waist and another holding onto his shirt. 

Their legs are tangled too.

And for a moment, Beomseok doesn't even dare pull away because he's too scared to verify the identity of this intruder. What's going on? He thinks stupidly, mind racing. Surely it's all a dream because there's no other explanation for the strange shit he's experiencing because honestly, nothing feels real.

"…Ow…" He hears that melodic voice beneath him and there's no mistaking it. Beomseok doesn't even want to back off because it means he would have to look at the face of the person beneath him. "—seok, my leg. You're on my leg ah… it's going numb…"

Beomseok holds his breath and shifts his bodyweight off the person beneath him. His eyes are pointedly on the ground. Courage takes its sweet time to build in his churning gut and he's freaking out.

"…Beomseok?" The voice is tentative, sweet, and tries to lure him away from reasoning. A hand reaches for his arm and Beomseok flinches. He slaps the offensive limb away. He scuttles backward eyes wide and finally snaps up to face the intruder.

Kang Siwoo's expression is pained. He holds the wrist that Beomseok slapped away in his other hand and grumbles to himself, "Ow…" 

For a second he feels sorry and there's an apology on his lips but Beomseok swallows it down and spits, "Why are you here?"

Kang Siwoo's eyes go wide. His hair is a different color than the fansign, Beomseok notes. It's brown and that signature flare of red is nowhere to be seen. An impostor perhaps? Beomseok's heart is in his throat and he feels nauseous all over again. Bile creeps up from the ache in his muscles while the fight or flight response fails him and Beomseok is left there frozen.

"Beomseok…" Kang Siwoo says slowly, with his signature puppy look on his face. "You're the one that called me over. I-I came because you… You were…" He stutters and there's sadness in his voice. 

Is this really happening? Beomseok leans backward and sits on his ass. He wants to pinch his skin but there's a numbness that prevents him from doing what his brain says. "How the fuck would I—" He recalls that his phone is still missing and Beomseok visibly deflates, his shoulders falling. 

"Oh— That's right, let me show you." 

Siwoo sits up and fumbles through his pockets. Beomseok momentarily forgets all the fuckery when the dude procures his phone and he almost cries from the joy that overcomes him.  "My baby!" Beomseok coos, leaping in to snatch his phone from Kang Siwoo's hands. 

Thank god, that's one problem solved! There's only ninety-nine more to deal with!

…

There's jjajangmyun on the dining table. For whatever reason, it's Chinese style rather than Korean. Siwoo blushes quite adorably when he invites Beomseok over to sit down. He sits, and his stomach roars eagerly but Beomseok worries about weird drugs or poison instead. He doesn't totally trust the person in front of him. Heck, he doesn't totally trust reality either.

This is crazy, all too fucking crazy.

But Kang Siwoo reveals key information.

It turns out that he was the mysterious 'Hyung' after all. And Beomseok's heart sinks at the news, dread pooling in his gut. Didn't he expect something like this to happen? It's too much like the classic plot for an idol fanfiction and Beomseok finds he's not convinced.

He's not convinced until Kang Siwoo pouts and fidgets under his gaze, his new dark brown hair bouncing with each excited movement. "I have no idea why but your number is only one number off from Mihi's! I really thought I was messaging her," Siwoo is animate at the dinner table. His hands and arms move in wide arcs. The afternoon sun slips through the windows and it paints a halo around his head. Beomseok thinks he looks beautiful. Beomseok also can't handle this prolonged dream where he feels discombobulated; torn from the ground beneath his feet.

Siwoo takes out his phone and leans over the table to show Beomseok, who sits across uncharacteristically stoic. The screen is shoved in his face and sure enough, there's a Mihi saved in Siwoo's contacts, cutely titled 'Coordi Noona' next to her name. 

"Oh," is all that Beomseok has the energy to say.

Siwoo pulls away and settles back in his seat. He messes with his phone some more. "The other night you called me and I was just so worried. I…I came right away. Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"

In hindsight, Kang Siwoo did nothing wrong aside from concealing his identity from Beomseok. Which, Beomseok supposes, is a reasonable thing to do for a high-profile celebrity like Kang Siwoo. But despite all the evidence that Siwoo shows, from the messages on the text app and Kakao to all the calls in their respective call histories, there's something distinctively off that Beomseok can't seem to put his finger on.

He blames it on fate.

His strange, fucked up, twisted fate.

Because there's no other explanation, Beomseok is sure.

Kang Siwoo keeps rambling and everything is hard to focus on, the sounds and colors before Beomseok's eyes seem to stretch and grow distant. His heartbeats slows, or maybe that's just his perception.

"Beomseok?" Kang Siwoo's brows furrow with worry, "Are you okay? You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine," he chokes out, "Just still hungover."

"Have something to eat, please." Kang Siwoo scoots in closer and the air is suffocating. Beomseok's emotions are out of control and his thoughts are stolen. The jjajangmyun doesn't look very appetizing anymore even if his stomach is growling. 

Beomseok shakes his head and excuses himself, "Yeah no. Fuck that. I'm going to lie down for a bit." 

"Wait!"

Beomseok doesn't wait. He doesn't head to the stairs but instead goes outside, attracted by the countryside breeze. There's an unknown car in the parking lot and he hears the dog barking for his attention.

Everything is wrong.

Hurried footsteps chase after him. "Beomseok, it's cold outside. You're going to get sick…"

Beomseok ignores him and stands there. He's barefoot and the pavement beneath his feet prick him with cold. The ground feels like it's going to crumble away at any second and he's terrified.

He looks up. The sky looks down on him, eternal and crystal blue with scant clouds scattered. There's something that nags him in the back of his memory and surfaces from within the muddle.

"Fate comes when it is least expected, passionate, intoxicating and completely unforgiving."