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bangtan-madi · 2 years

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All Of Our Lifetimes — Chapter Nine: The Truth Untold

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.6k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 9 / 15

Warnings — discussion of violence/murder

Note — Sorry for the delays on this chapter, and for the format that it's being posted in. Unfortunately, between the hurricane and a broken computer, I won't be able to post in the exact format I usually do with all the pictures and everything. I also won't be able to link anything, update my master list, or put a breaker in this chapter unfortunately. For now, this is how it's going to go up. I do plan on going back and editing in the banners and the headers and all of that as soon as my computer is fixed. Hopefully that will be in the next couple weeks, so if this chapter looks different later this year, that's why lol. Thank you all for being so patient and so kind on the previous chapters, but I am finally back to writing again! Enjoy!!

Previous — Next

"Where are you going?"

"To find that curator."

"[Y/n], hold up—I'm coming with you."

Your stomach does somersaults as Taehyung grabs your hand and pulls you in the direction of the elevator. His stride is just as determined as yours, and you feel immense comfort with his hand in yours. As small a gesture as it is, it feels warm and helps subside the anxiety within you.

Despite the lack of film in the last few months of their lives, for whatever reason, you know exactly how your past lives' story ends. You've seen it your entire life. It ends in a bloodbath.

But you had no idea that they were being threatened for months before their deaths. You didn't realize the ins and outs of reincarnation, as [Y/n] told it. If what she said was true, then Taehyung should have gotten his memories back when he turned twenty-one in this lifetime. If you think back to your dream, you remember she'd said something along those lines.

"Come find me. In the next one: meet me there."

From his spot next to you in the elevator, Taehyung looks down at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" You turn and lock with his gaze. "Those were our past lives, and not only were they murdered shortly after those clips, but I now know that they were being stalked way before then. All of this, everything lines up with my dream. And god, I don't want to be skeptical or logical... I believe all of it."

"I do, too."

"You do?"

Taehyung nods, and his dark curls fall over his forehead, barely brushing over his eyes. "What I'm wondering is why didn't I get my memories back at twenty-one?"

Shaking your head, you sputter, "Maybe it's because we were murdered at the same time? From the way they were talking, that's a first. The cycle was messed up. I don't know how or why." You pause, and the elevator dings up another floor. "Do you remember anything at all? Have any memories come back?"

Taehyung bites his lower lip and turns his gaze away. "Something's there. It's like a word on the tip of your tongue. You're familiar. All of this feels...right? I don't know how to describe it."

"You said you believe it."

"I do. That film wasn't faked. Those people were us. Everything they said feels right in my heart. I just...I don't have proof to back it up."

Your hand tightens around his, fingers lacing together as you state, "Well, I know who can give us some of that."

The elevator doors open, and you pull Taehyung along as you head straight for Ms. Jwa's office. You might not know exactly where it is, but the wing of offices is just down the hall from the service elevator. She can't be far.

The middle-aged woman looks up from her computer as both of you enter without knocking. She seems surprised at the sudden entrance, but her shock dissipates quickly.

"I have to say, that was faster than I thought."

"Who were Kim Taehyung and Kim [Y/n]?" you ask, getting straight to the point.

Ms. Jwa sighs and leans back in her office chair. She gestures for you to close the door, then motions to the chairs across from her. "Have a seat." A beat of silence follows the closing of the door, and you both take your seats. "I assume you watched the film?"

"We did," Taehyung nods. "Have you?"

The curator nods. "I did."

"Then you know about reincarnation. You knew Taehyung and I might come back."

Another affirmative shake of her head. "Which is why I kept everything that belonged to you both, as you requested I do in late 1994. I was surprised, but now I see why." Her gaze shifts back and forth between you and Taehyung. "You really are mirror images of them. It's astonishing."

"You were their friend?" you inquire.

Ms. Jwa's face shifts to a small smile, but behind the expression, there's deep sadness. "I was. If you want, I can start at the beginning." When neither of you speaks up, she continues. "Taehyung and I went to the same art school in Daegu. We're both from the city and wanted to make it big in Seoul. He was kind of like the big brother I never wanted."

She flashes a grin at Taehyung. "No offense. When we moved to Seoul, we got jobs here as junior curators. I was more on the art history side, whereas Taehyung was the true artist. He always said he wanted his works to be displayed here someday." Her eyes drop to her hands, clasped in her lap. "Which is why I felt it was only right to put his memorial here and display his favorite photographs."

She shakes her head, pulling herself out of memory. "Your past selves met and fell in love very quickly. I thought it was strange. Taehyung was a...unique person. Always was, and he didn't often click with people right away. But [Y/n]? I don't believe in soulmates, but those two were the exception."

"Before they died, they were being stalked," Taehyung intervenes. "By who?"

Ms. Jwa shrugs her shoulders. "We don't know. We assume it's the same person that killed them, but there's no way to know for sure. He was practiced. He knew what he was doing. The evidence was inconclusive, and the cameras were blacked out. I have no idea how he got in after-hours, what his motive was, or how he got away."

Your breath catches in your throat at her words. Something in the back of your mind told you that he might've escaped. Your dream shows him injured, bleeding profusely, but stumbling out of sight. You'd hoped that he'd wandered off somewhere and died, and he might have—away from the Museum—but your stomach sinks regardless.

"It wasn't just stalking. Taehyung and [Y/n] received death threats for months before they died. It started with Taehyung, around the time he met [Y/n], and then she started getting them as well. Always anonymous. Even the police were baffled."

"So what you're telling us is that even after all this time, there are no answers?"

Ms. Jwa clearly sees your dismay, but can offer no condolences or closure. "I wish I had more to tell you, but that's the extent of what I know. I kept everything in that vault downstairs hoping that one day one of you would show up again and be able to tell me what happened to you. I figured Taehyung would be the one to get his memories first, based on the video footage, but when he showed up as a pop star with clearly no memory of his past, I thought..." She trails off and takes a pause before continuing. "I thought it best not to push the issue. I wasn't sure if the cycle had broken, or if he was merely trying for a different life this time. Either way, I wanted him to be happy. He looked happy to me, at least from the outside."

Taehyung heaves a deep sigh, shaking his head profusely. "How many times did I come to visit this place, and you said nothing? You must have seen me before yesterday. Why didn't you tell me anything?"

You're right." The curator's eyes drift downward as she says, "Maybe I should have said something. Perhaps that would have sped up the process. I did what I thought was right at the time. Maybe that was to quell my own guilt." She lifts her head and offers an apologetic smile to us both. "Now I can see that that was wrong. For that I apologize. All I can do now is make up for the lost time and offer you answers that I have." She gestures with a flourish of her hand to the doorway. "All of the things downstairs or yours, feel free to take any of it. But as for who killed you, or why, or what happened to them, I'm afraid no one has those answers."

You ride from your seat, take a step forward, and move closer to the curator to lower your voice. "Then tell us why were we here that night. If we knew we were being followed, I know what I would have done and it's not coming back to the one place that I knew we wouldn't be safe."

"You're correct," she says. "That is the only other thing I can tell you. You were about to leave the country that night. Like I told you, Taehyung and I were very close. He didn't have many friends, but Emelia Popescu and I were the only people he considered as such. It was fate that we all worked in the same office. Because of that, he wanted to see us one last time before you left. Both of you came here to say your final goodbyes to Emelia and I."

"And we didn't say anything that made you ask questions?" Taehyung inquires.

Ms. Jwa scoffs lightly. "I asked all the questions in the world. You wouldn't tell me anything more than the matter was urgent and leaving was necessary, and that you would send word for where you were when the coast was clear. To be honest, everything about that night terrified me even before...before the accident."

The name she mentioned moments ago brings back memories of a corpse at the base of a stone figure, crimson expanding along the tiles of the floor. "Emelia was the other girl that was killed, right?" You have no idea what the girl actually looked like; those memories have yet to resurface.

Ms. Jwa nods once. "Yes, I had left to take an urgent call after I had said goodbye. Emelia had offered to walk you both out. That was when you were attacked." She shudders, and Taehyung instinctively reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. At his touch, she steadies and flashes a watery smile. "Emelia was killed first as a distraction and lure, and then the both of you were..." Her sentence trails off, but you all know how that story ends.

That can't be it. This cannot be all that there is. All the memories, all the dreams, the flood of confusion and emotion that has wrapped you in a vice-grip the last few months -- it's all been leading to the moment of truth. Your heart was racing this morning, the thought of finally knowing what happened in 1995 sending you into an elated but terrified tizzy.

You never thought that the answers would be so close, yet slip between you fingers like the water from the Museum fountain where you and your lover were brutally masacred.

But you've seen the evidence yourself, all of your belongings, and spoken to someone who knew you both well. Every piece of truth she has is in her mind and in her vault below your feet. If the answers aren't there, where could they be?

How can that be all that there is?

You step back, leaning against the nearest bookshelf for support, gripping one of the shelves so tightly you know your knuckles are white. "There has to be something you can tell us about who he was," you murmur. "Something, anything."

Taehyung's gaze meets yours, and you can see for the first time that his desperation mirrors your own. Even if it wasn't obvious to you when you first arrived in South Korea, Kim Taehyung has been searching for his own answers just as fiercly -- if not more so -- than you. Whatever cycle you both have been in for god knows how many centuries has not been broken, but it is damaged. While he should have been the one to remember at twenty-one, there is a part of him that longs for rememrance. Something deep inside has been pushing him towards the truth and constantly reminding him that parts of his life are awry. Even if everything from the outside seems perfect, you can tell from those eyes that he needs this just as much as you.

"Did no one see his face, or a glimpse of anything?" he rephrases. "And how did he let you live when the only other three people in the building were murdered?"

The curator walks over to the bookshelf nearest you, searches the columns for a moment, and retrieves an old file. This one is a bright red color, different than the others on the shelves and easy to locate. She opens it and hands us a composite sketch notebook for that has Seoul Police Department written on the face.

"There was one witness that saw him in a dark alleyway. Not much detail was captured, but she did remember a few distinct details that she told the police. This is the composite sketch that was created based on her details. I'm not sure how much help it will be, but it's yours if you want it."

Taehyung joins your side, arm brushing yours as he God's affirmatively towards the notebook. He doesn't say a word, but his expression tells you everything: "Go ahead. I'm here. This might be the only answer we get."

In a burst of untethered courage, you open the pages to reveal the single composite sketch on the first page. It's merely charcoal on white paper, but the expression of a man you've seen in your nightmares stares back at you with a haunted hatred all over his face. Memories from the past flood back to you, not just from your deathly dream but further than that.

Decades.

Centuries.

You've known this man's face for as long as your soul has been a soul. The last lifetime, the one before that, all the way back to the very first one. The death in your dream from 1995 is only the beginning; this is a face you've seen in your very first life, the one you only started to remember when you came to Seoul.

Your hands begin to tremble, and a lump swells up in your throat. Taehyung steadies your grip, concern covering his features. He says your name, but your ears are ringing and his voice is drowned out by the panic racing through your body. The book drops from your hands, your knees buckle, and your eyes roll back into your head.

Never in any nightmare did you ever think you would the face of your first parent again, let alone with a smoking gun in his grasp and your blood on his hands.

Taglist — @just-call-me-trash-can @jaiennn @happyhrsme @butaes, @peter-pan @twoteen-yup @dreamcatcherjiah @aelinashryv @luvth @cheoriemoawa @xyahrinx @say-something-nice-missy @btseverafter7 @kris10duh

(Taglist is always open! Comment below!)

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts fic #all of our lifetimes #taehyung fluff #taehyung fic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x yn #reincarnated au #reincarnation au #soulmate au #kim taehyung x reader #aool #husband!taehyung #boyfriend!taehyung

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

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All Of Our Lifetimes — Eight: Camera Shutter

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 4.2k

Part — 8 / 15

Warnings — language, stalking

Previous — Next

The first item in the box a plastic bag. From the label of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency on the surface, the Korean Eagle's wings spread over the mugunghwa flower, you sense that this item is from the very end of the story. The inside is full of clothing articles. Even without opening it, you see a suede trench coat, a dark sweater, and a purple scarf. Another bag has a pair of men's boots, dark slacks, and a button-down dress shirt. All of the items are covered in blood.

Taehyung takes the other bag, the one with the men's clothing, and closely inspects the label on the surface. Your eyes remain intent on the lavender scarf. Something about the item causes your heart to ache, and you replay your nightmare over in your mind in an attempt to identify it.

"Look here," he murmurs, pointing to one of the lines on the plastic. Glancing over, you see that a name is scribbled on the surface.

His name.

You should be shocked, but at this point, the number of odd coincidences that have come up the border on the insane. Instead, your gaze shifts to the bag in your lap. In your heart, you already know what name you'll see. The other Taehyung didn't reveal his wife's name in his portraits; he only referred to her as the sunlight through the rain.

Kim [Y/n].

Taehyung glances at the name, tilting his head slightly in the process. Heaving a sigh, he glances up to you. "I guess that settles it, then?"

You push the crime scene bag further away on the table, motioning for the box instead. "Let's keep going."

Between the two of you, the rest of the contents of the box are divided and browsed through in less than a half-hour. The box has everything from personal items to jewelry to documents and all sorts of things in between. It's surprisingly little for what Ms. Jwa stated it was, the entirety of Taehyung and [Y/n]'s life.

Like everything in Seoul, there's a familiarity that envelopes you. It's more than just that, though. You feel as if these things belong to you. In some strange way, you feel like you've caught a little piece of home. As bizarre as it is, with Taehyung beside you and these belongings strewn across the table, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

Peace and closure.

Closer to the bottom, you find a handful of items that appear much older than the 80s and 90s memorabilia. A silver hairpin with an intricate swan on one end and a key-like appearance at the other, a series of handwritten notes dated around the time of the Korean War, and a pair of tiny shoes that look like they once belonged to a small child. The bottom of the shoes have the inscription of the name Kim Sung-ki, and the dates 1905 — 1909. Surely, these items couldn't have been the Kim's. Maybe they belonged to their parents or grandparents?

As you're occupied with the tiny, children's shoes, Taehyung retrieved the last item from the very bottom of the crate. It's a smaller, metal box sealed with a lock. The brunet looks around for a key, mumbling to himself under his breath.

You shake your head slightly and place the shoes to the side. "Here," you reply, picking up the oddly-shaped hairpin and offering it to Taehyung. "Try this? It looks sorta like a key at the smaller end, doesn't it?"

He tilts his head, eyes glancing over the item in your hand before he takes it. He places the pin into the lock, gives it a slight turn, and watches in awe as the lock pops open.

The silence continues as Taehyung removes the metal lid. Inside, you see two distinct items: a photobook and a film reel. Reaching first for the photobook, you scoot your bench closer to Taehyung's so that you can both peer inside at the same time.

The first page says that the book belongs to Kim Taehyung. It gives his address, an apartment not far from where you are now, and his contact information at work, aka the Museum you're under right now. The second page gives the first date, only the year of 1975. The handful of pages that follow are filled with polaroid photographs. Some blurry and out of focus, but always of the beauties of daily life. There are even one or two of Kim Taehyung himself.

The man in 1975 is young, probably not even twenty. Despite the different era, it's clear to both of you that he's the same man as the one sitting beside you.

Half of the photobook is more of the same, covering the latter part of the 70s and most of the 80s. Daegu and the Korean countryside seem to have been his home for most of his childhood, teenage years, and early twenties. His art has a veil of innocence and peace about it.

As the years progress, Kim Taehyung's photography skills become more refined and his camera quality improves. The digital era of the early 90s is when you truly see him start to take off. From 1985 onward, there are images of downtown Seoul; he must have moved sometime in that year. A plethora of urban photographs follow, as well as images of his work for the Museum.

In 1994, the images slowly shift from everyday life and scenic landscapes to a woman. Pieces of her are everywhere this year. Like the Museum, this private gallery has mostly aesthetic snapshots that make it hard to tell who she is. However, every few pages, there's a full portrait of this person, this woman who's caught Kim Taehyung's attention.

And she is you.

The last photograph is once again a polaroid. It's of Kim Taehyung and Kim [Y/n] sharing their first Christmas together. Snow flurries everywhere around Taehyung as he struggles to hang the lights on the small apartment window. His face is hidden by a familiar purple scarf, and it's turned in the direction of the camera. A hand adorned with a wedding band reaches out to him.

"Is this the person you've seen in your dreams?" Taehyung inquires, pointing a slender finger towards the last image.

Biting your lower lip, you nod once. "That's him, exactly like that."

Taehyung glances at you, dark eyes focusing intently on your face. "I don't think there's any denying it anymore. Too many things have added up. The timeline, the appearances, your dream...even finding each other in Seoul, at the Museum of all places, no one can convince me those are all coincidences."

"So...what does that mean?"

Your companion flips the pages back to the clearest portrait of the other Kim Taehyung and Kim [Y/n]. "I think—I know that in another lifetime, you and I were these two people." There's a pause as he takes a deep breath, nervousness filling his baritone voice. "What about you? What do you believe?"

Despite your shaking hands and quiet voice, you clear your throat and muster the courage to turn and return his gaze. "I've known you my entire life—and I think before it, too—so this feels more like a confirmation than a discovery."

Taehyung's hand flinches, and for a second you think he's going to reach for yours, but he pulls away and diverts his attention to the photobook. "Where does that leave us?"

"Maybe...Maybe we can see what's on the film? Maybe the Kims left us answers."

The brunet hops up from his seat, hair hiding his face as he pulls the reel from the metal box. "There's no projector. Do you think the Curator has one somewhere around here?"

Following his lead, you go back to the cabinets in search of the device. Finding nothing in any of them, you venture back into the warehouse. In the back, next to the cases of historical films, you find exactly what you're looking for. A huge grin spreads across your face as you trudge back to Taehyung, the surprisingly heavy device in your arms.

"Will this—oof—ah shit, don't fall! Will this work?"

Taehyung chuckles as you try to balance the item in your arms, haphazardly trying to keep it from falling. "That's perfect." He quickly takes it from your grasp. "So long as you don't drop it."

Heat rises in your face, and you pat your chilly palms against your cheeks as Taehyung sets up the device.

"Hit the lights," he asks over his shoulder as he places the reel onto the side of the projector.

As darkness descends, the gears begin to turn. Images flicker to life, grainy and dim against the empty wall. Taehyung sits cross-legged on the floor, and you join him. The tiny date stamp in the corner marks December 8, 1993, 12:01 A.M.

A woman sits in front of the camera. Though the area around her is hardly lit, there's an obvious ambiance of a hotel room. There are two beds, and she sits on the one nearest to the large window. Travel guides are strewn across the bed, along with a small suitcase and purple scarf.

The lone figure appears to be distressed; her hair is in disarray and her clothes are rumpled. The bags under her eyes show her exhaustion, and the way the room is hardly set up tells that she's only just arrived. She bites her lower lip in anticipation, a small smile crossing her face as she stares ahead into the camera.

There's no possibility that anyone could miss the resemblance between you two. Her hair is styled in a typical 90s fashion, and her clothes would now be considered retro, but the face is the same. Even if a bit more aged.

"I made it to Seoul," she sighs. "Finally."

Her voice even sounds like yours. It has an American lilt that's unmistakable.

"Shit, what timezone am I in? What time is it?" She glances down at her watch, which is no help due to travel. With an eyeroll, she turns her head towards an unseen clock on a nearby wall. "And it's my birthday. Happy birthday to meee." Though she draws out the last word sillily, her voice is quiet and disparate.

"I'm thirty-seven today. Thirty-seven." The other [Y/n] stares up at the ceiling for a moment. "I don't know why I'm making this now. I just...turned on the camera and hoped for the best, I guess?" She turns back towards the camera. "I wanted—I was hoping to document my search in Korea. Going to Europe, to France, that did nothing. He wasn't there...he never is...but damn it. I was hoping something would be different this time around. And getting into South Korea was near impossible, and I'm only here for a few weeks at a time due to my job..." She trails off, then pats her cheeks in an attempt to get her to focus.

"I'm not making any sense. Let me start over." As she straightens, [Y/n] takes a deep breath. "I'm making this mostly for the one that comes after me. This means if you're watching this, then I've already died." A sad smile tugs at her lips. "Not a fun thought, but that's reincarnation for you. I wanted to film this lifetime as much as possible so that the next time around, you don't have to wait so damn long to find each other. Next time, it can be faster. Next time, you won't waste all these years looking for each other."

She adjusts her position on the bed as she continues. "Every time Taehyung and I die, we're reborn into new bodies and new lives. It's been this way for centuries, but I'll get into the origins and the why's later. For now, all you need to know is that when you—when we die, that's not the end. Never is for us. I don't know about others.

"The next thing you need to know is that it's never as easy as retaining your memories. When you're reborn, you forget everything. All about your previous life, all the lives you had before, they're all gone. That is, until one of you turns twenty-one. That day is special for reasons I won't go into; just trust me on this one.

"Every other lifetime, one of you will remember at age twenty-one. Taehyung and I have alternated this story for lifetime upon lifetime. Last time, he was the one that woke up and found me. He had to get me to remember who I was, who he was, who we were, and everything after that. Once you find each other, the memories will start to come back. Given time and self-discovery, you will both remember. And no, it's nothing as cliche as true love's kiss or some bullshit like that."

She laughs softly, and shakes her head. "Taehyung found me last time, so this time it's my turn. I got some of my memories back when I turned twenty-one, and they've been showing up in dreams ever since. Slow at first, always the same one—the events that led up to my death—and then they started piling up. I knew I had to find him; he won't reawaken without me. And if one of us dies without remembering?" She shivers at the thought. "I don't know what might happen. Will that break the cycle? What happens if we both die at the same time? I don't have those answers. All I know is that once I had a name a little over two years ago, I've searched the world far and wide. South Korea is the only place left to look. I have plans to get to Daegu one of these days, and Seoul is massive, but things are still tricky here so I can only stay for small spurts."

There's a long pause where she stares out the dark window, shoulders sagging and eyes downcast. "I have a name now. I can feel him so close. Everything about Seoul is terrifyingly familiar. He has to be here. He has to be. Otherwise..."

The camera turns black, and the film reel keeps rolling. New images appear, B-roll from [Y/n]'s travels around Seoul. The city in its late 20th Century splendor is a welcome sight.

The next lengthy shot is of [Y/n]. She's turned the camera towards herself, an awkward angle on such an old device. "I looked for two weeks. Didn't really come up with anything, but I'll be back next month. Maybe the new year will do me good." She forces a smile, and the camera turns towards Incheon International Airport. "Cheers to 1994."

The projector ticks on, and a black screen flashes before the next shot. The timestamp says January 15, 1994, 3:34 p.m. [Y/n] sits on the balcony of the same hotel. She turns the camera around to view the city before settling it on the table to film herself.

"I've decided to move to Seoul," she announces. "Quit my job last week. I'll be moving here permanently once my visa is approved. There's a much better chance of finding him if I stay for longer than a few days." She wags her finger in the direction of the camera. "Kim Taehyung, if you're watching this, you're damn near impossible to find. Maybe try making yourself easier to find next time?"

Both she and you give a small chuckle at the same time. Easier? That he most certainly did.

The montage that follows is of the Seoul Museum of Art—the exterior, the interior, and the people. From behind the camera, [Y/n] says, "This view might be familiar to you next time. I got a job as a curator. Finally, a way to put my art degree to good use!"

Cut to a week later. [Y/n] records from a new location, one you assume is her new home in Seoul. Her face is drained of color, and her eyes are wide and watery. She stares ahead, not focusing on anything in particular, letting a small laugh slip out.

"I...I finally found him. T—Taehyung. Holy shit, I can't believe it. After all these years, of all the places he could've been, he's been under my nose this whole time."

Shaking her head, she tries to get a semblance of focus back. "Sorry, I'm not making sense. Taehyung's a curator and artist at the Museum I started working at yesterday. I didn't meet him my first day because he was out, but when he came in today, I just about collapsed. I couldn't believe it. I still can't."

A tear slips from her eye, and she wipes it away quickly with the back of her hand. A smile spreads across her face, one of relief and joy and peace. "He doesn't remember me, but that's okay. I didn't expect him to. That'll come in time. At least...At least I have him back. The rest can work itself out."

The clips that follow are sporadic and unplanned. Clips of [Y/n] and her companion at the Museum, at cafes, on the streets of Seoul. You never quite see either of their faces, but from the voice, you know it has to be Taehyung. From the laughter and flirty-aura around the various conversations, you realize that these videos—which span the time from winter to spring—are the months that they fell in love.

Towards the end of the last small clip in the montage, [Y/n] is filming the skyline from her apartment. The night is dark, but the buildings twinkle like stars. "Look how stunning Seoul is," she murmurs.

A voice from behind her says, "Not as stunning as you, Jagi."

[Y/n] gives a hearty laugh. "If you keep saying cheesy things like that, I might just film you."

"Against my will?" Taehyung gasps playfully.

His companion turns the camera towards the interior of the apartment. Reclining in the chair across the space, Taehyung holds a book in one hand. His attention is split between it and the camera.

Once again, you're taken aback by the resemblance between both this person and your dreams, as well as with the man sitting silently beside you. Glancing sideways, you look at Taehyung for the first time since the projector came to life. He hasn't uttered a word, and his dark orbs are glued to the wall.

"You say you hate being filmed, but you're too pretty not to, Tae."

"I'm an artist. I prefer being behind the camera."

"But you're art, too!"

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head as his gaze evades the camera.

Another cut to black, then [Y/n] appears again. It's a month after the previous scene, and she breathes a heavy sigh from her usual spot in front of the camera.

"I told him everything," she murmurs, running a hand through her hair. "I don't think he believes me. He's remembering some things, I can tell that much, but he's still not quite there. It might take time, but I—I don't want to lose him between now and then." She shakes her head and lowers her face into her hands. "Did I speak too soon?"

Another pair of scenic shots later, and [Y/n] is all smiles again. The date is June 21, 1994, 11:10 a.m. "Taehyung remembered something big," she states with joy. "He told me he's been having dreams of his past life, and he's seen me in them. The longer we're together, the more he's remembering. He says he's been putting things together since we met but that he didn't want to believe it. I think everything's going to be okay!"

The projector continues to roll. When you glance back at it, you see the film roll is more than halfway done. Nervousness fills your stomach. The summer of 1994 was the last your previous life had. Every filmed moment that passes only brings you closer to that death.

"At first, these films were to create a shortcut for my next self," [Y/n] states with a grim demeanor. The date is July 2, 1994, 11:23 p.m. "But now I think I need to film this because I want to preserve this life, this love. It's been over six months since I met Tae, and we started dating shortly after that. It's been the greatest half-year of this lifetime, but I'm terrified it's all going to come to an end."

She clears her throat and shifts her eyes away from the camera. "There was an incident at the Museum yesterday evening. A guy showed up with a knife. I don't know how he got it through security, but he went to Taehyung's office and threatened him, screaming something about the order of things and how off-balanced the universe was. I wasn't there. I didn't see it, but Tae looked shaken. He's tried to hide it, but I'm too good at reading him. He's sleeping here, at my place, for now. Just to be sure. I had to hold him to get him to sleep."

She glances back at the door behind her, one you assume leads to the bedroom where Taehyung slumbers. "It was such a great day up until that happened. We went out, Taehyung only had to run by the Museum to grab something, and..." She sighs, then holds up her left hand. There's a glittery addition to her ring finger. "It was the best day."

The next several minutes show a montage of scenes. A rehearsal. A wedding. A dance. A view of Paris from the air. A pair of newly-weds exploring the city that they both remember from lifetimes ago. For a moment, there's an aura of pure joy and happiness and hope.

Then the shot changes. The camera shakes in [Y/n]'s hands as she aims it towards the window of the Parisian apartment. From the second story, the silhouette of a man can barely be seen. He stands across the street, clothed in darkness, veiled in an ominous aura. Between the shaking hands and pitch-black darkness, you can't quite make out his face.

You don't need to. You know exactly who that man is.

And from the way Taehyung draws in a sharp breath, you sense he's starting to put things together as well.

"Get away from the window, [Y/n]," the other Taehyung whispers from a place behind the camera.

"He can't see me," she retorts, voice trembling. "I wanna get him on camera."

The man walks away, heading in the direction opposite the apartment, and [Y/n] drops the camera onto the nearest table. It doesn't turn off, continuing to film as the woman stumbles into her husband's arms. Her breathing is erratic as she buries her face into his shoulder.

"He—He followed us to France," you murmur into his sleep shirt. "Why does he always find us? W—Why does he keep showing up all the damn time, and why us? Why you? Why—Oh, god."

Taehyung holds her tight, pressing constant butterfly kisses against her hair. "Shhh, love. You've gotta calm down. Just breathe. I got you." To put emphasis on his words, he clasps one hand on the small of her back while the other tangles in her hair. "You're safe; we're safe. He's gone. You're safe."

"Are we? Are we really, Tae? He could've killed you in June. He's been shadowing us for months. I never thought he'd follow us on our honeymoon, but he—shit, he was right outside!"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he reassures in a soft timbre. "Neither of us."

"You can't promise that," she whimpers, clutching him tighter. "Time has told me that. What happens if he finds you again? Or worse, what if he finds us both? What happens if we both die at the same time, Tae? Would—Would that be the end?"

A remorseful expression crosses Taehyung's face, but he quickly hides it as to not risk his wife seeing it. "I know I don't have all the answers. There's still a lot I don't remember, but I know this: I will protect you. My memory is getting stronger every day. I love you and it feels like we wasted so much time already, trying to find each other in a world that feels too big. And me putting up such a fight against the whole idea of past lives. We got through all of that. I won't lose you now. Not ever. Not in this life or the next. You hear me?"

[Y/n] offers a small nod as she pulls away slightly. Her eyes evade his, but when he cups her face in his hands, their gazes meet. Taehyung offers her a small smile, and she returns it.

"I love you, too," she murmurs.

Taehyung brushes his thumbs across her cheeks as his grin widens into a signature boxy smile. "That's my girl." Another kiss to the forehead, and he nods to the dresser. "Grab your things. We're leaving for the airport."

You hear a clicking as the last frame freezes. Both you and Taehyung look over your shoulders, seeing the film reel spinning to its end. He hops up to stop the machine, and the last picture disappears from the wall.

Taglist — @just-call-me-trash-can, @jaienn, @happyhrsme, @butaes, @peter-pan, @twoteen-yup, @dreamcatcherjiah

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