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In the year the rains fall too early, a stray cat almost breaks into his apartment.
Jaehyun doesn't mean to take a detour from his trek home, but it's the pitiful sound he hears that guides him to the kitten shivering under the awning, and sympathy alone that causes him to guide it to his own apartment.
At least, that's the plan.
Standing at the threshold of his first floor apartment, Jaehyun spends a solid five minutes scouring the deep pockets of his suit jacket and the zippered compartments of his briefcase before he realizes he can't find his house key. Try as he might, no amount of patting down his pockets produces what he's looking for, and he feels the familiar beginnings of panic surging up his throat. Despite the frustration he feels, he does his best to maintain his composure, settling for a sigh.
"Sorry, kitty," Jaehyun laments, crouching down to gently stroke the cat's matted fur. With the grime on the creature's white coat giving the impression of dirty snow, Jaehyun wishes he could at least give it a bath. But there are more pressing issues to attend to at the moment, so he stands up again.
Jaehyun eyes the front door critically, deciding not to rule out the possibility that he just forgot to lock the door in the first place. He turns the handle cautiously before throwing some of his weight against the door (the hinges are old, and unresponsive, as inanimate things tend to be) and he sags against the door in a mixture of bewilderment and relief when it remains firmly shut. As much of a pain as it is to acknowledge, he'll have to retrace his steps for his lost key.
Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair pensively and finds himself staring at the cat as he organizes his thoughts. The most reasonable place to begin looking is the bus station. That means a thirty minute walk, and a return to his apartment well into the night. Jaehyun can't feign off a frown when he starts to think about all the places he could've left it, when his thoughts are jarred by the gentle pressure of the cat's paw against his leather shoe.
A dull, metallic clink follows, and Jaehyun watches in shock as the stray cat whom he'd met all of ten minutes ago spits his house key at his feet.
Jaehyun crouches down, examining the key with disbelief as he bites back a shocked expletive, and turns his gaze back to the cat. There is no feasible way for his key to have made it from his bag to the cat's mouth, but it had, and he has no idea how.
As Jaehyun fumbles through clumsy explanations, his guest decides to take his leave, and saunters away from Jaehyun's doorstep unaffected by his bewilderment. Gone is the timidity of the shivering stray he'd first tried to save.
As it departs, Jaehyun stares at the cat's clear blue eyes, at the sharpness in its gaze as it cuts across the street and melts into the shadows of the night.
---
Jaehyun's not a superstitious man by any means, but from a purely objective standpoint, the incident with the cat on his doorstep is the harbinger to the nonsense that soon pervades his life.
He dreams about a torrential hail, strong enough to sing along the gutters and melt puddles into the detritus along the street. All the stray cats stay well out of the way of the pebble sized chunks of hail, but the plants in his window box are not so lucky: their flimsy stems and broad leaves battered without mercy, and likely beyond repair.
Jaehyun doesn't usually pay much attention to the weather forecast, but the combination of the bizarre dream and a staggering eighty percent chance of precipitation convinces him to bring an umbrella to work the next day.
He's so unimpressed at the clear and cloudless sky that persists, however, that he forgets the umbrella in his cubicle - which is where it sits when he actually needs it the next morning.
So when Jaehyun slides into his usual seat on the 7:30 AM bus, he's slightly bitter, moderately soaked, and entirely wishing Kim Doyoung from legal affairs would stop giving him that pitying look.
Doyoung sits in a seat up and across from him, long fingers toying along the handle of a black umbrella, and for a moment Jaehyun wonders if he'd be willing to share.
But when Doyoung breaks eye contact to turn away, curt but polite, he chastises his own naivety.
Other than his obvious misery at his drenched state, Jaehyun finds himself disappointed that he didn't at least bring a book to distract himself. Because otherwise, on the ten minute ride, he finds his eyes and thoughts wandering to Doyoung: his perfectly gelled hair, his immaculate suit, the way he always seems to exist in his own bubble during these early morning commutes. He'd seen Doyoung at company gatherings, effervescent and sociable, but for the entire six months they've ridden to and from work together, he hasn't said so much of a word to Jaehyun.
It's not like this is a new development. After Doyoung had first joined the company, and Jaehyun's weekly lunch invitations were declined three consecutive times, he'd gotten the hint. Maybe his frequent invitations made Doyoung see him as more of a nuisance than not; maybe Doyoung's increasingly cryptic excuses for being unable to attend were his way of escaping from the vice of an annoying coworker.
Regardless, Jaehyun is determined to respect his space. He doesn't know if his interest in Doyoung is because of his initial attraction to him or because he still doesn't know what he's done to deserve his dislike, but either way Jaehyun hopes his wistful gaze goes unnoticed.
Not for the first time, he thinks that Doyoung framed by rain is a lovely sight.
---
"For the last time reading isn't a waste of time. Shapes your worldview and whatever." The latter half fades into a mumble as Yuta crosses his arms, long bangs falling into his eyes as his expression darkens.
"If it isn't a waste of time, then why don't you want to be seen in the library by yourself?" Doyoung taunts as he lounges comfortably on a cushioned chair.
Yuta scowls. "I don't wanna hear that from you, Doyoung. You barely even read the books that we're assigned." He turns back to the shelves with a huff as Doyoung laughs and turns back to his magazine.
"That's because it's a waste of time," he replies brightly, thumbing through the glossy pages.
From his vantage point between the shelves, Jaehyun spends a solid minute debating on whether he should duck out and greet them, or if he would just be a bother. It's not like Jaehyun had meant to just stand around and eavesdrop: it's just that he's not yet acquainted with Doyoung, and in spite of himself he feels shy.
Jaehyun's anonymity doesn't last for long, however, as Yuta peeks around the new releases shelf and rewards him with a winning smile when they lock eyes.
He likes Yuta, his sharp wit, his sense of humor, his athleticism. The melodic timbre of his voice, which Jaehyun had been able to identify immediately after he started bickering with Doyoung. Yuta shines most when he uses his own sarcastic edges to coax others out of their shell, with confidence that Jaehyun thinks he could have if he wasn't forced to rebuild his identity at every new school.
"Jaehyun! Do you like reading too? I'm trying to prove a point to Doyoung. Oh right, Dons! Have you met Jaehyun yet? He's new, but he's already joined the soccer team." By the end of his outburst Yuta has all but dragged his friend to Jaehyun's location, with his trademark grin still brightening his face.
And then they're face to face, with the narrowness of the shelves on either side.
"Um…" Doyoung's eyebrows furrow in thought, and suddenly Jaehyun feels terribly awkward just standing there. He's challenged for an agonizing couple of seconds to fight the urge to fidget, before Doyoung lets out a deep sigh, admitting defeat.
"I'm sorry. As student council president I try to at least learn the full names of the transfer students, but I guess I didn't do a very good job." Doyoung smiles, showing his teeth, and straightens his gray sweater vest before extending a hand. "Kim Doyoung. I'm a second year. It's nice to meet you."
Oh, Jaehyun thinks distantly. He didn't think anyone could make their bland school uniform look cute.
He stands, belatedly, shaking himself out of his thoughts and crossing an arm over his stomach as he shakes Kim Doyoung's hand. His grip is gentle, and Jaehyun wants it to last longer.
"I remember you," Jaehyun starts, quietly. "From transfer student orientation."
Doyoung's eyes widen, almost comically, and Jaehyun feels embarrassment creep up his neck but it's too late to go back now.
"You remember my speech?" Doyoung laughs self-deprecatingly. "You were probably bored like everyone else, right?"
"Actually," Jaehyun admits, and the flush has definitely crept up to his ears by now, "I thought you spoke well. I enjoyed it."
Doyoung gives him a puzzled look as Yuta makes an exaggerated shudder, and Jaehyun does his best to offer a shy smile despite the embarrassment thrumming through his ears. There's a stirring in his heart that feels suspiciously like a crush, suspiciously like hope, and he wonders if it might become anything more.
It doesn't.
Four months later Jaehyun is uprooted again and is shipped to another school, this time in America, this time across an ocean. Doyoung and him fall out of contact. Jaehyun misses his smile.
---
Jaehyun wakes up with an unpleasant sheen of sweat coating his back. His mind is still reeling at the strangeness of his dream - it was a dream, not a memory, because he was happy to spend all six years of his secondary school in Korea, thank you very much.
As Jaehyun ambles over to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, he chances a glance out the window. The limp statures of his snapdragons lean precariously in the window box, backlit with the gold of morning light.
Jaehyun allows his gaze to linger for only a moment before he stretches, and sighs.
Perhaps it's time he pays the florist a visit.
He picks a fruit from the kitchen at random for breakfast, and totes the miserable plant, pot and all, during his brief walk to the florist. If he's a bit underdressed in his black tee and jeans, it's no one's business but his own.
Ten minutes later Nakamoto Yuta is appraising his plant, tsking gently as he raises a limp and yellowed leaf with the back of his finger.
"It's not a lack of water," Jaehyun laments as he sits on a stool and watches his old friend. "I keep my plants outside, so he's been getting plenty of that."
"No," Yuta hums, "it's not." He cants his head to the side inquisitively, auburn hair falling into his eyes as he touches the soil with the hand not holding the pot. He still has the same energy buzzing around him as always, as he turns the plant this way and that, murmuring under his breath.
After a few moments, he hands the pot back to Jaehyun and pulls up another stool to sit opposite him. Yuta's gardening tools clank against his hip from where they rest in the deep pockets of his green apron, and he shuffles around before getting comfortable.
Jaehyun waits.
"It's actually really common," Yuta draws out, ever the dramatic. "He's just not getting enough sunlight."
"Because of the early rainy season?"
"Mmm-hmm." Yuta nods minutely, and his earrings catch the light. There's a beat of silence and Yuta fiddles with his rings, not looking at him.
"So there's not a lot I can do about it?" Jaehyun bites his lip. He got the plant as a housewarming present, and he'd prefer to save it if he can.
"Unfortunately not. He's already pretty far gone," Yuta quips. At the realization, Jaehyun sighs, fixing the snapdragons with a morose look, and Yuta's expression turns sympathetic.
"Sometimes you can do everything right and it still doesn't end well."
Jaehyun watches a dewdrop trickle down the the snapdragon's neck, and contemplates the truth of Yuta's words.
---
The gentle pressure of Doyoung’s hand on his thigh jolts him back to reality.
“Stop,” Jaehyun hisses, trying his best to keep a straight face. “We’re in public.”
Doyoung just rolls his eyes. “Not really,” he amends. “It’s not like anyone can see anything under the tablecloth.”
“It’s still not…” Jaehyun finds his words losing their bite as his fiance’s hand gently caresses his thigh, “proper.”
“Jaehyun, we’re going to be wed in three months. I honestly don’t care how much of a heathen your parents think I am, because it’s too late for them to withdraw their blessing.”
“You’re right,” he hums contentedly. “If they didn’t want me to fall for you then maybe they shouldn’t have assigned to me the cutest servant in the palace.”
“You really only like my face? Not my shining personality?” Doyoung feigns a pout and Jaehyun wants to kiss it away. He settles for finding Doyoung’s hand under the table, and when he laces their fingers together he revels in the comfortable warmth.
“Please, Doyoung,” he sighs fondly, and his partner looks so resplendent in proper finery that Jaehyun wonders how he ever got so lucky. “I’ve loved you since I fell into the garden pond and you called me a fool.”
Doyoung laughs, and his expression is full of light.
Doyoung's happiness is almost potent enough for Jaehyun to ignore the stares of his parents from where they linger at the edge of the dining hall, chatting with the chef. He hadn't noticed them there before, so they must have shuffled in only recently, Jaehyun reasons.
Less than keen on flirting with Doyoung under the cool weight of their stares, he allows the conversation to lull into a comfortable silence. For a few minutes, only the clinking of silverware and the low sounds of chewing fill the air.
Jaehyun still adores the little things, the way Doyoung's fingers brush against his when he passes the salt, and the way his napkin still lies crooked in his lap. He cuts into the marbled meats with reverence because he's never eaten so well before, but he'll have the rest of his life to get used to it. To get used to all of this, Jaehyun thinks idly, contentedly.
He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice the servant suddenly at their side.
"More wine, sir?" The servant inclines his head to Doyoung, gesturing at his near empty glass.
"Yes, thank you," Doyoung answers easily.
As Jaehyun's gaze drifts over the servant, he notices a minute tremble in their hands: a slight unsteadiness in the trickle of wine into the glass.
He doesn't comment, but privately wonders if the servant is new. He studies his face, trying to remember if he's seen him before, but under Jaehyun's scrutiny the servant only averts his eyes and quickly finishes his task.
The servant excuses himself, and Jaehyun would be able to shake off the strangeness of the situation if he didn't notice his parents still lingering in the room, saying nothing.
Jaehyun gets the feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach, that something is wrong.
He's always trusted his intuition, has known that towards someone of his status hostilities tend to run deep, and trusting the wrong person can be the difference between life and death. And now, at the peak of his happiness, he isn't willing to take that chance.
"Doyoung," he chides, gently. "Look at the flowers the gardener planted in the courtyard. They remind me of the ones you used to leave beside my bed."
When Doyoung rises from the table to look more closely out of the floor length window, he tosses back a questioning look. The vibrant clusters of flowers look nothing like the ones he used to leave him, and they both know it.
Now that he has Doyoung's attention, Jaehyun rests his hand on the stem of his own glass and carefully, almost imperceptibly, shakes his head. Doyoung's eyes alight in immediate understanding, and he smiles at him as he returns to his seat.
"You're right," Doyoung hums as he settles back down beside him, and they're silent for the rest of the meal.
After the first assassination attempt, they're careful, painstakingly so. But one of the few constants in Jaehyun's life is that his parents' ambitions have a way of always coming to fruition.
When Doyoung's death is ruled an accident, and Jaehyun is left with nothing but a staggering emptiness, he finds himself wishing he'd drank that glass of poison.
---
Johnny is late. That wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that Taeyong, bless his mysophobic heart, decides ten minutes into lunch that he needs to wash his hands again.
Had he really touched something sticky on the underside of the table? It's probable. The eatery that most of his coworkers tend to frequent for lunch is cheap, crowded, and not particularly well-maintained, but there's not many other options within walking distance.
Lunch break is supposed to be the most cathartic part of Jaehyun's day, but that hope flies out the window once Taeyong shimmies out of their cramped booth and leaves him alone, face to face, with Doyoung.
How can the other's presence be so heavy if Doyoung's not even looking at him? When Jaehyun glances at him, trying not to stare, he's made acutely aware of Doyoung's indifferent gaze, which lingers on a group of patrons from across the shop. From his periphery he can see the firm line of Doyoung's mouth, slightly drawn down at the corners, and he can hear the way he drums his fingers on the tabletop in obvious disinterest.
It's so, so awkward. Jaehyun still doesn't know if he's done anything to offend him, but Doyoung is obviously not in the mood to talk.
It's not like Jaehyun can think of anything worthwhile to say, anyway. Anytime he tries, the wrong memories swell up, swirling and sticking to his thoughts like dust and rendering his logical processes numb.
How would he even bring that up? In my dreams, I'm in love with you. And you're in love with me, and we try to be together, but it usually doesn't end well.
At that point, Doyoung's inevitable restraining order would be the bigger problem.
Left speechless until either Taeyong returns or Johnny actually shows up, Jaehyun finds himself getting antsy.
He keeps eyeing Doyoung's cup. It's nothing but some innocuous fountain drink, he knows, but the events of the past few nights have been trying, to say the least.
Not for the first time, Jaehyun bemoans the tangled mess of reality and surreality some of his thoughts have become, his conscious and subconscious mind so muddled by dreams he can hardly trust himself anymore.
Did the dreams really happen, in previous lives? He'd like that, Jaehyun thinks, as his eyes slide quickly over Doyoung, who taps a message out on his phone before smoothing back a strand of dark hair. In spite of everything, he'd like that.
He'd like to know Doyoung, very much. He'd like to hold a proper conversation with him, to learn more about him, to finally be beheld by those beautiful eyes. As he sits in this crowded restaurant and admires the other's poise, he thinks he could fall in love with him, easily, if it weren't for this weird pseudo-wall Doyoung is so determined to uphold.
Jaehyun wets his lips. There's no more time. But just as he opens his mouth to speak, for explanation or apology or whatever else, Doyoung firmly splays his palms on the table and finally meets his eyes.
"I need to go to the restroom too," Doyoung tells him gently, and Jaehyun is so bewildered that all he can do is nod.
Doyoung doesn't spare him another glance as he gracefully slides out of the booth, and Jaehyun is left alone with his thoughts yet again.
---
Calcite shells, frothing waves, the sound of the wind.
This one is a little more fuzzy. Jaehyun doesn't recall it in great detail, with the sheer volume of dreams that crowd the shore of his mind these days, but their last meeting contains a detail too brilliant to forget.
“You know I can't sing for you,” Doyoung says calmly, idly flicking the translucent end of his tail. "You'll fall in love instantly and then you will die."
"Oh, Doyoung," he laughs, and even in this dream Jaehyun knows what he's going to do, knows what he's going to say before his lips even form the words: "I already have."
When Jaehyun surrenders himself to the abyssal deep, it's to the sweetest sound he's ever heard.
If sirens are notorious for singing about what their victims most desire, then there's no room for speculation. As Jaehyun loses consciousness to the cold embrace of the sea, he knows exactly what it means when Doyoung sings, airy and emotional, about love.
---
His dreams continue to twist.
Jaehyun doesn't remember ever being this wary of the night, of the shades of dark that color the corners of his mind. He's always been a light sleeper, but he begins to wake up sweaty and disheveled in the dead of night, and he stares at his ceiling until the sunbeams cut across once again.
The night following the episode with the siren, there is another where he is the monster and Doyoung is the man. When Doyoung plunges an arrow through his heart, teary-eyed, Jaehyun only thanks him.
Ergo his dreams continue, in this strange, merciless spiral. In all of them, he loves Doyoung. Most of the time, Doyoung even loves him back. But through distance or time or circumstance, there is yet to be a happy ending for them.
Jaehyun thinks about Yuta's words as he wanders to the kitchen at night, aimlessly sipping coffee as he watches the stars turn.
Sometimes you can do everything right and it's still doomed, the florist had said.
He's right to some degree; Jaehyun's dreams are definitely doomed. He's felt the pain of his own death too many times to count, is numb to all the different agonies he's been subject to before his heart stops.
(But that pain still doesn't compare to the emptiness ringing through his chest when Doyoung ignores him, day after day, as they see each other on the bus.)
Although Yuta is half right, his real life is not the dreams. In real life, he isn't a wooden doll subject to the mercy of those narratives. If he tries his hardest, does everything he can, there's no reason he shouldn't be able to break out of this aimless cycle.
To stop the dreams, which are probably a byproduct of his weird obsession with Doyoung, then the only logical solution is to talk to him about it.
At least, that would be ideal.
When raindrops dot his window minutes later and eventually succumb to the yawning mouths of morning glories, Jaehyun thinks of other ephemeral things.
---
"You look like crap."
"Thank you, Ten."
Jaehyun isn't particularly surprised to see his old friend at the cafe he frequents, because that seems to be the trajectory of his life right now.
Ten slides into the chair across from him, and moments later a cat jumps up onto his lap, shaking rainwater onto his designer clothing.
Contrary to the rest of its appearance, the cat's clear blue eyes are sharp enough to dissect, and Jaehyun feels like it's looking right through him. He makes a face of disdain, unpleasant memories of his house key mishap stirring up, and Ten only shrugs.
"She's better company than humans, most of the time," he says casually, running a hand over the cat's neck before gently shooing it out of his lap. Ten's expression drops as his gaze turns critical too.
"Seriously, though. Tell me why you look like you haven't slept in a week." Ten studies him with piercing scrutiny over the round rims of his glasses, and Jaehyun feels like he wouldn't be able to hide anything from that gaze. Ten's always been uncannily perceptive, and Jaehyun is too tired to test the strength of that skill now.
"That would be because I haven't." Jaehyun pauses, hesitation sticking to his words. "Not really."
When Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair and starts from the beginning, Ten listens carefully, without interjection, and when Jaehyun is done he only takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee.
“Jaehyun,” Ten starts, and it already sounds like a sigh as he threads his long fingers together. “You’ve always been like this. You always try to be so perfect, so careful and composed, so when your emotions finally well up from wherever you hide them they destroy you.”
Jaehyun can’t deny that. “Then,” he says, wetting his lips, “am I being irrational right now? Is it selfish to confront him when he so obviously wants nothing to do with me?”
Again with Ten’s trademark sigh. Jaehyun would feel patronized if it was anyone else, but he respects Ten’s opinion, sarcasm and all. Just as Jaehyun is beginning to get nervous waiting for his friend's response, Ten levels him a pitying gaze.
"So you're just going to play it safe again? Polite as always?" Ten challenges, eyes down as he traces the rim of his cup with a finger.
"I just want to respect his space," Jaehyun defends, weakly.
"You have. And you will. I know you Jaehyun, nothing you could possibly say is going to do any more damage than him thinking you're a little crazy."
Ten meets his eyes, and his expression turns uncharacteristically soft. "It'll be fine, Jaehyun. When's the last time you've taken a risk, honestly? You work a mediocre job in a mediocre town and wonder why you feel unfulfilled, why you feel lonely. And now that you've finally found something that has the chance to make you truly happy you're just going to let it pass you by? Tell me, Jaehyun, if you think that's any way to live."
Ten's brand of tough love has always been difficult to accept.
Jaehyun finds himself unable to immediately combat his scathing words and chooses, instead, to avert his gaze. He looks at the rain carving tracks through the thin layer of grime on the window, and the flock of black umbrellas beyond.
Ten's only partially correct. It's not like he's always felt this emptiness; he used to think his life was fine the way it was.
But loving and being loved, even in dreams, has made him hungry, made him want, and when his emotions finally come tumbling out of his chest he doesn't think he'll ever be the same.
Ten studies his silence carefully. "I just want you to be happy, Jaehyun," he murmurs, finally. Jaehyun hadn't thought so, but it seems leaving his best friend to travel halfway across the world had left some burden on Ten's conscience. "I want you to try."
Jaehyun swallows. "I'll try."
---
For once, no one says anything.
Water lilies dot the surface of the lake, pretty pastel things, and when Jaehyun skims his fingertips across the water's surface his knuckles brush against their blossoms.
Everything about the lake looks as if it's straight out of an impressionist painting, but he's been a bit wary of large bodies of water lately, and is glad when his gaze turns to the man across from him.
Doyoung rows the canoe with surprising dexterity, the wiry muscles in his thin arms becoming visible with every steady stroke of the oars. His head is bent down in concentration, and other than the occasional sound of exertion he doesn't say anything, and Jaehyun doesn't ask.
It's simple enough to guess where they're going, anyway. In the middle of the lake is a single, small island, just large enough to hold a rounded pavilion that's covered with chipped white paint and gilded with ivy.
With nothing to do but wait, Jaehyun loses himself to the swaying of the boat, to their gentle glide across the lake.
By the end of this dream, he knows some form of tragedy is waiting to rip them asunder and potentially devastate his body and mind.
But in this moment, alone with just his beloved and the rhythmic sound of oars hitting the water, he allows himself to feel at peace.
When they disembark minutes later, Doyoung doesn't offer his hand, doesn't even spare him a glance as he docks the boat to the shore. When Doyoung heads into the pavilion in what Jaehyun hopes is a silent invitation, he follows.
When Doyoung sits down on one of the two benches just inside the latticed walls of the pavilion, Jaehyun hesitates. But then Doyoung gives him a certain expectant look, and Jaehyun takes the cue to carefully sit beside him.
For a moment, the silence persists.
And then, there's a pair of hands on Jaehyun's shoulders, gently tugging him closer.
"Lay down," Doyoung says, still looking out at the lake, and Jaehyun allows himself to be maneuvered downwards until his head is resting snugly in Doyoung's lap.
The warmth of Doyoung's lap is so inviting, and his profile from this angle is as beautiful as he imagined - the length of his lashes, the turn of his lips.
Jaehyun almost forgets to breathe.
When a slender hand comes up to run fingers through Jaehyun's hair, scraping his nails against his scalp, Jaehyun just closes his eyes to accept the comforting touches, because Doyoung isn't looking at him anyway.
It seems an eternity passes before the hand stills, and by then Jaehyun is almost asleep. He's snapped back to his waning state of consciousness, however, when Doyoung clears his throat.
"You've been through a lot," he says, quietly. Doyoung bites his lip, and blinks hard, twice. "I'm sorry."
It's hard to think of a response to that. While Jaehyun contemplates, the sound of his breathing is drowned out by a pattering against the pavilion roof: the telltale sound of rain.
Something about this dream is different, Jaehyun thinks distantly, but he's pulled out of his thoughts when he feels Doyoung sigh.
"Go to sleep, Jaehyun," he says, cradling him impossibly closer. "It'll be okay. I promise."
The last thing he remembers before succumbing to the soft lure of sleep is the watery look in Doyoung's eyes.
---
When Jaehyun wakes up feeling rested for the first time in over a week, he chooses a front row seat on the bus ride home.
As soon as he exits the bus, he waits patiently outside, and when Doyoung locks eyes with him he doesn't look particularly surprised.
Doyoung pauses just in front of him, the edges of their umbrellas almost close enough to touch, and Jaehyun swallows before summoning his words.
"I need to talk to you," he says softly, and Doyoung just nods, almost imperceptibly.
He starts walking, long legs setting an impressive pace, and for a second Jaehyun thinks he's being ignored again before Doyoung turns and gives him a purposeful look.
It's achingly familiar, and Jaehyun finds his feet moving faster than his mind.
The sidewalk is too narrow for them to walk astride each other, so Jaehyun has no choice but to just follow.
They pass the multiple near-empty shops lining the main road, over several mortar and stone-studded paths, until at the junction where Jaehyun would normally turn in the direction of his apartment Doyoung chooses the opposite direction instead.
It's so oddly monotonous to trudge through the muddy streets that Jaehyun almost doesn't stop in time when the broad back in front of him halts. Doyoung turns the key to his door, and lets Jaehyun into his apartment without preamble.
Jaehyun shuffles awkwardly at the entranceway as he follows Doyoung in setting down his umbrella and removing his shoes.
When Doyoung invites him to sit on the living room couch, Jaehyun's eyes sweep over the cluster of succulents on the wooden table in the otherwise clean and minimalistic apartment. Doyoung's living space is as private as he is, it seems.
His host doesn't offer him anything to drink, and neither initiates small talk. A certain heaviness looms in the room, but Jaehyun is starting to get so, so tired of the silence.
To his utter surprise, Doyoung starts.
"It's not easy, you know. Watching you die all the time. I can't stand it." He runs a hand through his hair and exhales deeply.
"And I'm not like you, Jaehyun. I can't just… keep a level head and act like we're normal coworkers. Every time I look at you, I remember everything, and I just can't. Surely you've figured that out by now," he says, turning to Jaehyun, eyes pleading.
And deep down, Jaehyun had hoped. Some selfish part of him had hoped that the reason for Doyoung's avoidance of him wasn't out of complete disdain, but because Doyoung had been subject to the same twisted dreams he had. More shocking to Jaehyun than the implications of Doyoung's words is the bluntness with which he speaks about it - like he's bottled everything up for too long and is too tired to keep it in anymore. They are on the same page, then.
"How long?" is all Jaehyun says, and Doyoung heaves a crumpled sigh.
"Since we met. I remember thinking you were beautiful, and I wanted to see you again, and then I did. Over and over. I didn't dream every day, but often enough to not forget it."
If Doyoung has been suffering these kinds of dreams for months, Jaehyun thinks, then Doyoung is infinitely stronger than him. It's no wonder he could hardly bear to look at him.
"So that's why you avoided me."
"Mmm-hmm."
Jaehyun takes a moment to turn that over in his head as he looks at Doyoung, whose head is trained downward, fingers gripping his own knees.
"But Doyoung," Jaehyun pleads, softly. "The dreams aren't our reality. Even if terrible things happened there, that doesn't mean they'll happen in real life."
"You think I haven't thought of that?" The volume of his voice doesn't change, but it gradually starts to waver, betraying his control. "You think I haven't thought about how easy it would be to turn around and strike a conversation with you, try to make you smile? But I convince myself against it, every time." He lets out a deep, shuddering breath.
Jaehyun waits, and Doyoung's quieter, more vulnerable admission follows:
"I hate being a stranger to you. I want to be so much more than that. But it's not worth whatever what might happen to you if I am."
He's breathing even more heavily now, seemingly on the verge of panic, and Jaehyun can't stand it.
He moves closer to Doyoung, and cautiously sits beside him. "Can I hold you?" he asks gently, and Doyoung all but collapses into him.
"You want to know something?" he murmurs into Doyoung's hair. "I'm not brave either. Of course I don't want anything to happen to you too, I'd rather die myself than that - " Doyoung stiffens in his arms, and Jaehyun sighs.
"My point is that living like this, being tormented by dreams when what we want most is right in front of us - it's not really a way to live. I wasn't going to push for anything if you didn't feel the same way, but..." He pauses, but with Doyoung's warmth tangible between his arms he finds the courage to say what he wants.
"If you'll let me love you, Doyoung, I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep us both happy and safe. It doesn't have to be like those nightmares."
He thinks of Doyoung, his smile, his voice, his intelligent and compassionate nature. He doesn't want to live without him. But in the end it's Doyoung's choice.
Doyoung is silent for a long while, and Jaehyun begins to steel himself for a rejection. When he begins to sit up, Jaehyun allows him easily out of his arms even as he mourns the loss.
But Doyoung doesn't leave completely. He lingers in Jaehyun's lap, propping an arm on the couch so he can look directly into Jaehyun's eyes.
"Do you mean it?" he asks softly, haltingly, and his eyes are so expressive that Jaehyun could lose himself in them.
"Yes, love," he reassures, if only to chase away the shadow of doubt lingering in those irises. "I promise."
Doyoung doesn't say anything then, just takes Jaehyun's hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles as he sidles closer to his warmth.
"Okay," he agrees. "Okay."
---
When they sleep tangled together that night, after hours of whispered promises and belated confessions, there is nothing that perturbs their dreams but the sound of the rain.