I've re-written and changed this blurb at least 8 times.
This is my favourite story, it was a labour of love.
It's hard story to categorize, to slot into one particular genre. Yes, it is a time travel story, a BL romance, history and magic thrown...
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When I got back from work Weirdo was gone. I was disappointed. I would have loved to talk about the jump and get his perspective on things. I noticed that he had left the Box Brownie sitting on the dresser with his mementos box. I'm not sure why, but that didn't sit well with me either.
I stripped off and left the clothes in a pile and crawled into bed....one day I might make it upstairs to my grown-up bed and my clothes to a laundry basket. I lay there physically exhausted, the cool sheets leaving me covered with goosebumps, emotionally I was elated, happy that I had met Kim Han-gyeol again. For me having a name for him makes all the difference, it gave him an identity, he existed and not just as an earlier version of Weirdo but as an individual in his own right. Somewhere on this planet, there was a record of him having been born and died.
If Weirdo and I talked my first question would have been "How did you feel meeting a version of yourself?" The second question "I wonder if at the point in his life where we met him, if the dye had been cast already and he had failed, and the rest of his life was pointless."
I should ask Weirdo or maybe Nana Ovia would be better...do you have to fail at one specific predestined thing or make a succession of bad choices to fail the purpose of your life? And if you realise your error, is there a do-over? Hmmm...tricky Afterlife questions. It occurred to me I may have stuffed up my prospects of a good Afterlife several times over already, give me another 60 odd years and I'm sure I could set a record for the worst choices and most missed opportunities
Then my thoughts went off on another tangent...should we find out what part he played in the Black Market? Could be nudge him in the right direction? Is that playing God? My mind just wouldn't stop. Eventually, I had to put on the brakes or I'd end up obsessing all night.
I rubbed my face against the pillow and realised it smelt of Weirdo's sweat, it wasn't a bad smell, comforting somehow. It made me feel like I wasn't alone. As I curled up under the covers I felt myself finally relax. I fell asleep with the image of Weirdo clutching the Box Brownie to his chest like a kid at Christmas who had just received the present he most wanted. When he wasn't being a stone-faced, sarcastic arsehole he could be quite sweet.
.....
I like Saturday mornings. Even though I only work two or three nights a week, I love weekends. I pulled the curtain above my bed open a little and saw blue sky, always a plus.
That's how my day started, all positivity, sunshine, a pot of strong coffee and toast piled high and slathered in with jam and peanut butter. Once settled out in the garden with my feast and my laptop I set about formulating a plan of action for my next jump. It would take two possible three jumps to prepare for the main one. It was mostly a jump for purely hedonistic reasons but I will be making some purchases, rare and beautiful things, as well, that will fill my coffers I'm also hoping for a chance to meet with a notorious celebrity of the time. I won't go to extremes and say he's a role model of mine but I do admire the guy's balls (not literally) after reading his biography.
