Chapter Text
It’s the same dream, always.
There is a boy Seokjin doesn’t know, big frightened doe eyes, tears threatening to spill on dirty cheeks. He is standing still on the top of a high building, too close to the edge. The sky is dark, but artificial lights spill from everywhere, colouring the scene in flickering purples and pinks.
There is blood mixed to the dirt on his face, blood mixed to the dirt on his worn grey shirt; Too much blood on such a young, innocent looking boy.
He mouths something Seokjin cannot make out for sure, and a smile spreads on his quivering lips, so heart-breaking, always so fucking heart-breaking.
And then, the fall.
Seokjin always wakes up then, the terrified look in the boy’s eyes inked in his memories as he tries to calm the rushed, loud beats of his heart.
It’s always the same dream, but Seokjin can never get used to it.
He splatters achingly cold water on his face. It’s too early, again, but he has no hopes of falling back asleep, not when all he sees when he closes his eyes is the haunting sorrow of the boy’s smile.
He sighs, leaning against the sink.
They’re always the same ever since he started having them, a few years back. He must have been 20 then. He remembers feeling distressed and confused, trying to figure out who the hell this kid is, ruling it out as just a weird dream - but then they just kept happening.
It was around every few months at first, for the longest time, so he just let it be, but nowadays they’re getting so frequent he can’t help but feel like something is really going on.
These days they’re happening every night, and it’s taking a serious toll on his mental and physical health. He barely manages a few hours of sleep a night, and even those are fitful. It’s been two weeks now - he is getting very tired, exhaustion settling deep into his bones, and the dreams aren’t getting any better.
If anything, it feels as if they’re getting worse – more intense, clearer, louder.
He can almost make out the words the boy says - almost being the key word. He feels like he's got them one second, and the next is mind comes up blank. Almost, and yet not even close.
It’s driving him up the wall, the whole fucking thing, and seriously starting to affect his daily life now.
“You look absolutely awful,” is the first thing Yoongi tells him as he dumps his bag and himself on the seat in front of him.
Seokjin gives him a look, takes a sip of his third coffee cup. It’s only 10. His body is screaming.
“Thanks, I try.”
His friend grins sympathetically at him. “Work running you down?”
Seokjin puts a hand on his neck and slowly rotates it in an attempt to soothe the tense muscles - a fickle attempt. He sighs, again.
“It’s always a bitch, but not more than usual.”
“Then why do you look like you’ve been through the apocalypse twice?” Yoongi asks, leaning against the back of his chair, looking the picture of relaxed, lazy and warm.
He looks good, well-rested, content, fluffy hair and round face. Seokjin is envious.
“Feels like I’ve been through it, too, every single night.”
Yoongi’s eyes get sharp. “You’ve been dreaming again.”
It’s not a question. Yoongi knows all about it. He was there back when it all started, the first person Seokjin told. They’d been roommate throughout college, and when Seokjin woke up in cold sweat after one particularly vivid one, Yoongi had been there. He had listened to him despite how crazy the whole fucking thing had sounded, and Seokjin was thankful.
He puts his head in his hands, frowning.
“Yeah, but this time around, it’s been happening for next to two weeks straight. It’s like…”
Like something is wrong. Like that boy is getting desperate.
He doesn’t say it, because that’s really batshit crazy, even to his sleep-deprived mind, but Yoongi probably understands it all the same.
“It’s driving me insane, Yoongi. It’s just a dream, I know, but I can’t sleep, and frankly, it’s starting to feel all too fucking real.”
His friend is silent for a bit, not an ounce of mockery on his face. He seems thoughtful, a little troubled at most. The fact that he isn’t taking this lightly is comforting, as always. Yoongi never made him feel anything but important, and Seokjin, once again, is thankful for his friendship.
“It’s definitely weird that it’s become so intense suddenly,” he states slowly, eyebrows lightly furrowed. “I mean, it’s always been quite intense to begin with, but the frequency was at least bearable.”
Seokjin nods, leaning back and letting his whole body go slack on the comfortable coffee shop chair. It’s their favourite table, their favourite coffee shop, the one they meet at frequently enough, and the familiarity of it, the familiarity of Yoongi, at least puts his heart at ease.
Their friendship is quite a funny thing to many, has always been. Seokjin had been the funny, loud, confident party kind of guy while Yoongi had been the quiet, introverted, bed-loving kid, but they worked together perfectly. They fought, sometimes, but never for long, never with harsh words, always respectful, always with each other's best interests at heart. Seokjin learned that Yoongi could be loud and enthusiastic, while Yoongi learned that Seokjin could be quiet and hardworking. They learned, they cried, they laughed, they even kissed – and still, 8 years later, they stuck together, through thick and thin.
Seokjin couldn’t dream of a better friend.
“I never even had the dream twice in a row before. It’s fucked up enough once in a while.”
Yoongi gives him another sympathetic smile as he takes the tea bag out of his cup, gently stirring it all together.
“Yeah, considering how messed up you were when you had it, I can’t imagine having it so often is doing you any good.”
He takes a sip of his drink then, careful and soft-looking, and Seokjin can’t help but smile a little at how soft he looks. He is a far cry from his edgy college look, when he bleached the heck out of his hair and anxiety and depression drained him of everything up to the bone. It's a good change.
He watches him put down his drink, expression careful as he stares down at the table.
Uh. Seokjin knows this look.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, and I don’t like it.”
Yoongi throws him a dazed smile, visibly taken aback that he’s been read.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s nothing bad, I swear.”
“I’ll believe you when I hear it,” Seokjin smiles back, bringing his cup to his lips.
“I think, maybe, you should seek out some help about this,” his friend carefully says, looking slightly uncomfortable.
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “Like... A psychologist?”
That didn't sound like a terrible idea.
But Yoongi nervously fiddles with his spoon, refusing to look him straight in the eyes, a sign that Seokjin won’t like what he is about to say.
“Well, I was thinking more like a – uh – psychic?”
Seokjin chokes on his sip. “I-A-Wha-… A what now?”
Yoongi’s cheeks are so red he is starting to look like a delicious tomato.
“Wait, wait, just hear me out, okay?”
“Oh, I’m all ears,” Seokjin grins, amusement taking over his tired brain. Yoongi deeply breathes in.
“It doesn’t seem like it’s, like, a normal dream, right? It’s intense, it drains you, it keeps on replaying over and over again, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You said yourself it’s starting to feel real.”
Seokjin sighs. “I did say that, but... Honestly, Yoongi, I think it’s just because I’m so tired. The lack of sleep is messing with my head.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Yoongi says with a little more confidence, eyes shiny. “It’s messing with your head. I think... It could be something deeper, you know.”
Seokjin shrugs. “If it is, if it’s something deeper, then it’s like, my sub-conscience trying to tell me something, no? Then I should go to a psychologist, not a psychic.”
Yoongi’s shoulders square up.
“Maybe, but... Do you really, really believe this is a normal kind of dream? That it's a psychological thing?”
Seokjin wants to say he does believe that, but that wouldn’t be true, not entirely. There is something off about this dream, something that leaves a bad feeling in his stomach, a sour taste in his throat - something that makes him feel deeply unsettled.
He says nothing. It’s enough for Yoongi.
“Look,” he says, voice low, bending over the table as if he is about to share a very controversial secret. “I know a guy.”
Seokjin can’t help the light snickering that comes out of his person. “You. You know a psychic?”
Out of all the people that could have told him such a thing, Yoongi was really the last one he’d expect. The poor guy gets even redder in the face.
“Yeah, uh, well, it turned out like that. I met him recently, but-…"
“Wait,” Seokjin interrupts, wheels spinning in his head. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The one you met at the bar. The one who told you your life was about to take a sharp turn, but couldn’t tell if it was for the better or the worst?”
Considering the wide eyed look of shame Yoongi has, Seokjin has got it all down. He bursts out laughing.
“Oh my god, Yoongi, I know you said he was hot, but I didn’t expect you to actually see him again!”
Yoongi hushes him with a very unconvincing cold look.
“It just happened, shut up!”
He snorts. “How many times did you meet since then? Are you, like, dating?”
“We’re not dating,” Yoongi answers firmly, pouting and looking away. “And we met, like, a handful of times. I didn’t think we’d meet again after that night, but he... He is just so fucking nice and sweet, hyung, I couldn’t refuse.”
“And very pretty,” Seokjin adds cheekily.
“And very pretty...” he starts a little dreamily, before getting a hold of himself. “But that’s beside the point.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes lightly. “Right. And what is the point? That you’re whipped?”
He gets a kick from under the table and a sharp look from above.
“The point is that he can help you figure this out.”
“Can he, now?”
“Stop being rude, I’m trying to help here,” he chastises him, and Seokjin smiles apologetically at him.
“Sorry, it’s just... Unexpected.”
Yoongi sighs. “It most definitely is. You know I don’t really believe in all that psychic jazz, but... Taehyung is definitely something. Something real.”
There is something about the seriousness in his friend’s eyes, the deep-set confidence behind his words, that makes Seokjin uneasy, all jokes aside. Yoongi really believes that this Taehyung guy can help him, and Seokjin has never had any reasons to distrust him ever.
He breathes in deeply. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll think about it.”
Yoongi gives him a soft smile.
“Good, because I really hate seeing you so distressed.”
Seokjin’s heart feels warm for the whole day.
When night comes, though, the dream is unforgiving.
As Seokjin wakes up yelling, his arm extended as if to catch the falling boy, his pitiful words echo in his head:
“I don’t want to die.”