Chapter Text
“To the dreams that never allowed me to see, this dream was different.”
2009, Busan Hospital
Dear Diary,
I dreamt of a boy here. It seemed all too real. His hair was black and his skin was white but the night allowed him to glow a bluish hue. I saw his face, it didn’t look familiar. He seemed to be around my age.
It was dark when the monsters set out to get us. We hid and we ran, guiding each other through the dark. We never held hands, we never spoke, though.
But it was as if we were already so close.
“He once led me to a place that he often liked to call his own. It was a forest. Imagination’s forest, he called it…”
2010, Busan Hospital
Dear Diary,
It's been a while now, but he still refuses to speak, if he can at all. In many ways, however, I know that if I listen hard enough, he will. It’s less of a concern now though, because we are closer than ever. I decided recently to call him Blue. He seems to like it.
He led me to that forest again. Sometimes I wonder if that is his home. I wonder about its significance, and what exactly I have to do with it for him to lead me there often.
“But your comforting presence shines like light against my skin; lift me up, hug me still.“
2013, Busan Hospital
Dear Diary,
I met him today. In person. Call me crazy, because that is what I am. Whether it is the medicine or my vivid imagination is beyond me. But I saw him in his truest form.
He did not start spouting words at me like I thought he would. He never spoke, and I don’t think he ever will. But everything happened too quickly. And I could’ve sworn that today would be the day I die the moment the bed shook. And then there he was, right in front of me.
Maybe I’m living in a dream.
[12:05 am]
Blue was now before him, a solidified embodiment of the boy he always saw in his dreams. What a wonder it was, as he sat watching, in a primordial paralyzation, the eyes of his dreams shadow his own.
The moonlight reflected off of his white, pale skin, painting it in a familiar blue tone. The small, delicate form of his body was draped in a midnight-blue cloth, revealing the contours of bony arms and legs.
Taehyung could see his face, no longer blurred like the one that originated in his dreams. His tousled hair resembled the night sky in its pitch-black color, framing small, slightly downturned eyes, emitting a brightness that rivaled the magnificent stars.
Trailing downwards was his narrowed nose, his pale, plump lips following suit, pursed in its refusal to speak. And his soft jawline was the finishing touch, framing his face with stark contrast.
Blue looks at Taehyung with a clouded stare, his thoughts and intentions unclear to Taehyung’s crystalline eyes. He realizes his stance in the middle of the room and, slowly, makes his way over to stand beside the bed.
With bated breath and wide eyes, Taehyung watches Blue’s tentative footsteps, his hands finding purchase in the bed sheets, knowing he couldn’t escape even if he had tried. Taehyung takes note of his bare feet as he makes his way into Taehyung’s lap, and watches as Blue examines his face with wonder, the fascination found only within a benighted child’s mind, with one hand moving to caress his frigid cheek, lightly.
Frozen still, Taehyung gulps audibly, unknowing of what to do or how to react. Blue’s hand eventually leaves his cheek, silently, trailing his fingertips lower to grasp Taehyung’s hand. The soft gesture pacifies Taehyung immediately despite his bewilderment, and in return, he clutches Blue’s hand, tightly.
“B-Blue?”
As Taehyung had half-expected, there was no response. However, as they gazed into each other’s eyes, he noticed the way Blue was attempting to communicate with him: his eyes. By the glimmering light he could see in them, Taehyung could tell Blue was delighted to meet him.
Many of the days Taehyung spent in the hospital were dull and monotonous, to the point where he began to feel the same as well. His meager forms of entertainment consisted of a number of books and one window, located on the far end of the room. Deprived of sunlight and physical activity, the tone of Taehyung’s skin had evidently faded, transitioning from its former coppery tan to a fairer, pale complexion, and his previously toned figure had become thin and wiry.
Indeed, his pallor and fatigue had offered nothing more than distasteful constraints and melancholy displeasures. But, Taehyung supposes he should be grateful at least—especially for Blue’s visits.
There was just something different with Blue, Taehyung noticed. Despite his apparently lifeless figure, he emanates with a radiant, glowing warmth that accents his silvery blue aura.
Whenever Blue would get closer to Taehyung, he was able to take note of his mannerisms in a clearer light. In this way, Taehyung was elucidated to various things he was before unaware of. It felt as if a more earnest connection had formed. He liked to think of it as music, the soulful kind only one person can hear; or the moment in which you’re awestruck by the beauty of a seemingly ethereal being, but no one else seems to find it fascinating—so you try to submerse in the beauty alone.
Taehyung knows now. He knows that, in actuality, Blue is gentle and kind. He smiles softly and laughs so quietly, discreetly, so that you can barely hear his joy; and, if Taehyung listens closely enough, Blue is always speaking.
But even with his lack of knowledge for the human language, he seemed to find ways to express himself through his artistic actions. For instance, whenever his eyes would trail with wonderment towards the scintillating constellations, he’d hurriedly guide his gaze over his shoulder to make sure Taehyung saw them as well. To Taehyung, though, Blue outshone any and every star in the galaxy.
The moment the sun begins to rise, Blue would look through the window in wonder, unable to contain his amazement at the unknown phenomenon. However, despite his excitement, Taehyung questions why his starry eyes seem to fade—but every single time he does, and looks at Taehyung with sorrowful eyes; he knows that it is time for his visit to come to a much undesired end.
Seeing as the days have progressively elapsed and the years transpired, things have manifestly changed, and yet, contrarily, almost everything feels the same. Taehyung is still cooped up in the same hospital ward, and, of course, Blue continues his much-awaited nightly visits—only now, Taehyung has lost his sickly persona.
His formerly tired eyes are alight with a sparkling energy that had been absent for years, and his skin has now been endowed with a slightly more golden hue. Taehyung’s health has improved noticeably over the years, a happy result of growing in age that has enabled him to gain more immunity, weight, and strength, leading to the demise of his fatigue.
Being a newly turned adult, Taehyung was free to leave the hospital, and he couldn’t wait to leave—but one thing in particular held him back.
Blue’s demeanor danced to a different rhythm as opposed to his familiar melody, inharmonious from his fixated norm. Instead of peering around the room, seeking for any differences from the last time he came (as he always had since his first visit), he went straight to the bed.
Taehyung was sitting on the duvet, his back against the wall in a seemingly relaxed position. It was as if Blue already instinctively knew what Taehyung had planned to tell him. He climbed posthaste onto the bed and sat, cross-legged and facing Taehyung, anxiously waiting for him to do something. Taehyung straightens and looks back at Blue, confused for a moment, but then understands.
“You’re…probably wondering why I’m not wearing my gown, right?” No response, only wide and expectant eyes.
Taehyung sighs, unsure of how to tell Blue about the unfortunate news of his leave. Language was their only barrier.
He tries again. “I’m 18 now… and I've gotten better.”
Again, no answer. For the first time, Taehyung notices a lack of emotion in his eyes. Before, Blue’s eyes had always been alive, sparkling with such light and enthusiasm that Taehyung was unable to fathom and hence didn’t think they were actually real.
They reminded him of the sky at the crack of dusk, or the oceans at nightfall as they reflected the light of the moon, so vast, full of life, and unappreciated for their splendid grandeur—yet they contained an underlying element of mystery, which, Taehyung guesses, perfectly reflects Blue’s own soul.
But now…Blue looked at him with a carefully painted expression, his eyes a clouded, dull version of their former magnificence. Taehyung wasn’t sure what he should do next. Blue couldn’t understand him…but he didn't know any other way.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Taehyung says quietly. He didn’t have the heart to look Blue in the eye, uncertain if he would be able to read his expression.
Suddenly, Blue makes a quiet noise, startling Taehyung to a stunned silence. It sounded…like a whine, one of such heartbreaking disappointment and sorrow that it compels Taehyung to look slowly up at him, only to see Blue regarding him as if his words had physically injured him, presenting an essence made up of great uneasiness.
With unexpected shock, Taehyung notices that Blue’s eyes are no longer lifeless—instead, they’re deliquescing into a murky sunset, liquid golden tears cascading down his face in silent streams, and ensuing his body to dissolve into a ghostly translucence.
Taehyung and Blue are in bed, holding hands and lying down in a calming and peaceful silence. Blue has remained close to him all night, ever since he had told him of his departure. Taehyung wonders if his friend can ever truly understand him.
He glances to his right and sees Blue, who appears to be wistfully gazing up at the ceiling, alluding to the hidden, complex world resting above his distraught mind.
The night is rapidly coming into an end—the sun is peeking out slightly from the horizon—and yet they remain closer than ever. Taehyung knows this is the time for their final goodbye, so he waits in pained silence, expecting Blue to solemnly leave. Only… he doesn't.
“Blue, the sun is rising,” Taehyung exclaims, concerned. Blue tightens his grasp in response.
Taehyung zealously attempts to stay awake so that he could relish in the cordial splendor of his friend, to spend more of the precious seconds of what he called time before their dreaded departure, just the two of them—but his efforts were in vain.
Eventually, his eyelids droop closed, and he falls asleep with Blue’s hand in his.
***
When Taehyung wakes up, he’s patently alone. The spot where Blue had occupied was now empty and cold. As he reluctantly sits up, he hears something fall off the other side of the bed, landing on the floor with a dull thud.
He looks over and sees what seems to be a rock-like object. He picks it up and examines it, reluctant to see that it is unscathed. It’s a meteorite—a nickel-iron fragment of a once much larger metallic body, mottled throughout with golden-olivine speckles.
Taehyung sets it carefully on his bedside dresser, moving to dress in a more presentable attire, pulling on his shoes, and combing his hair through before at last pocketing the meteorite, the only memento Taehyung had as a physical reminder of Blue’s existence.
Painful regret stabs at Taehyung’s heart as he remembers he was never able to say a final farewell to Blue, his hand clutching the meteorite in his pocket tightly. He walks to stand underneath the doorway, scanning the empty room with melancholy and unshed tears in his eyes as he recollects the past five years he had spent in this room. Before, all he had ever known was the informal knowledge of what it meant to fall into the obscure actuality of loneliness, but within this room he saw how hollow a bond could be, his only friend being Blue.
With a small, shaky breath, Taehyung leaves, closing the door gently behind him.