Work Text:
He was back home again, except it wasn't the one he'd recently been at, when he'd gone home over the summer. It was his home from ten years ago. Or longer perhaps. He was right there again, vaguely aware this had to be a dream, as it made no sense otherwise, but that thought slipped his mind before he was able to grasp hold of it, as happened so often in dreams.
The old chairs were still around the old dining table. That's how he'd figured it out; that he was back in time, somehow. It didn't matter how. He wasn't interested in how. He walked quietly, like he was afraid to disturb something. But it wasn't just that. His body wouldn't respond whenever he tried to move quickly, like the air was something difficult to move through.
A noise was coming from upstairs. Quiet. Soft. Talking. Or wasn't it talking? For a brief moment it had sounded like crying, but when Woosung tried to listen more closely, the noise had stopped again. Maybe he had imagined it. Imagined it in a dream. Ha. Not that Woosung felt much humour. He felt uneasy, even if he couldn't explain why. Just a feeling. The noise coming from upstairs continued and he was becoming pretty sure that it was talking now, but who was talking?
He walked upstairs, because it seemed the only thing he could do at this point. It was the only thing that made sense. He followed the noise all the way upstairs, which led him straight to his parents' bedroom. The quiet talking continued, and he was beginning to make out words. She was crying. His mother was crying. He couldn't follow what she was saying, not properly, because the words made very little sense, but then a full sentence came out that Woosung could follow perfectly. "I just can't believe he's dead."
Who?
He was standing in the door opening now and he could see her. She was sitting on the bed, wiping her eyes on some tissues. The floor was full of them. They were everywhere. She looked weird. Not quite like she was supposed to. Something about her face was different, and her hair wasn't the right length. Woosung didn't like it, especially when she looked up at him and saw he was watching her. The phone was gone now. Or, rather, he'd never seen a phone, but he'd presumed she'd been talking into a phone, because there was no one else here she could have been speaking to. She got up, stepped over and shut the door in his face.
Who was dead?
But then he knew. Suddenly everything fell together. Of course he was dead. They'd not heard from him in a week and she'd started to worry and then she'd broken down during dinner. And-- Oh god. This was more than ten years ago, wasn't it? But he couldn't be dead, because he wasn't supposed to be dead.
Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and he was pulled back from the door, even before he could figure out who was touching him. He couldn't shrug the hand off. "Come with us."
"Who are you? No!" Woosung exclaimed, because he had to get back to his mother, who he could hear was crying at the other end of the door. It sounded too quiet and yet too loud. He was panicking at this point, because he couldn't figure out whether he was dead or not. Of course he wasn't. He'd seen him only just now, right? It had to be a mistake. But then why could he picture it. Bloody and dead in the mud somewhere in a foreign country. What... What?
"You have to come with us. Your parents need time."
"But..."
Why was it so hard to make sense of any of this? Oh right. It was a dream. No, a nightmare. Definitely a nightmare, and he would like to wake up now.
He was pulled back from the door again and then the entire world changed. He was suddenly amidst shouting and running. There was mud beneath his feet and it was getting trampled by a thousand others. The ground shook with the force of it. So many people, and they were all running, and then there was screaming and guns and--
He grabbed for his chest after sitting upright in bed. Sweat was running down from his brow and he could feel his shirt stick to his back, which meant his bed was probably soaking wet. Great. But fuck... this hadn't happened quite this badly in a little while. His whole body hurt now and he continued to clutch his chest, half expecting to feel the effects of a bullet having torn right through his flesh, but the sensation was beginning to fade when the images of the dream did too.
He moved his legs over the edge of the bed. He needed a new shirt, and a towel to sleep on. And maybe a cup of tea, or something, because he wasn't going to go straight back to sleep after this. He'd just be lying there, feeling disturbed. It was no good.
He quickly looked at his clock. Not even two o'clock yet... Well, that was some relief at least. He had the rest of the night to try and get some better rest.
He put on a clean shirt and then quietly stepped downstairs. He turned to get to the kitchen and audibly yelped at seeing a figure sit at the kitchen table, a spoon of cereal halfway up to his mouth -- and now spilled. Dojoon yanked his headphones from his head and looked at Woosung, eyes wide. "Holy shit ," he said, before letting out a breath. "You scared me."
"You scared me!" Woosung retorted. He could still feel the remnants of adrenaline in his system, of which he'd had more than enough tonight. "Shit. Jesus."
"What the hell are you doing down here?" Dojoon asked. "I thought you'd gone to sleep."
"I had," Woosung said. "I woke up from a stupid nightmare."
Dojoon's expression changed. "Oh," he said, concern spreading across his features. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just--"
"No, sit down, I can make you something," Dojoon said, while Woosung had been about to step to the kettle to switch it on. Dojoon was up on his feet before Woosung could tell him not to bother, and then Woosung decided to do as he was told and sat down at the kitchen table. He was exhausted, actually, but he needed a moment. Maybe it was a good thing Dojoon was down here, because it felt nice not to have to be alone. "What did you dream about?" he asked.
"Oh... It was really weird," Woosung said, though he wasn't entirely sure how to explain it. Everything had blurred into one strange scenario at this point, though he vaguely knew what had happened. "I dreamed my dad died, I think," Woosung said.
Dojoon turned back to face him after having switched the kettle on. "I hate dreams like that."
"I used to get them all the time," Woosung said.
"You did?" Dojoon asked.
"Yeah," Woosung replied. He wasn't sure why he'd never talked about this, and he also wasn't sure why he was talking about it now. He sighed softly.
"Why?" Dojoon was frowning. He quickly stepped to his laptop and did something, which was when Woosung noticed there had still been music coming from his headphones. "Do you think there's a reason you had dreams about that?"
"Yeah," Woosung replied. "It kinda makes sense, cause... he wasn't home and then I got worried. I was really young, okay? So, it doesn't really make sense. But... but it also does, cause... I don't really know, actually. I also used to have dreams about my mum getting hurt, like... falling down the stairs."
"Why're you so gory?" Dojoon asked, nose wrinkling a little.
"I honestly don't know," Woosung said. "But anyway, it's been a while since I had dreams like that, so that was pretty fun."
"Fun," Dojoon said with a chuckle. He turned to the counter, got a cup from one of the shelves and opened the cupboard where they kept their tea. Well, where Woosung kept his tea, mostly. "So... which of these seven hundred options would you like?"
"I honestly don't know, so... surprise me," Woosung replied. He still felt a little shaky, and he wasn't looking forward to having to get back into bed, but maybe after a cup of tea things would feel better, especially after having talked to Dojoon for a bit. "What are you doing anyway? Is this work or... getting lost on the internet?"
"Err... bit of both," Dojoon replied honestly, while he grabbed one of the boxes of tea to have a look inside. He seemed to decide it was a good pick, as he took one of the bags out. "Do you want to listen to this thing I just did, or...?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Woosung said. Dojoon seemed visibly relieved at hearing that.
"Okay good, because I'm at this point where I really don't know anymore."
"Sure, I'll try to help," Woosung said. He felt up for getting distracted. Getting distracted sounded really pretty good right now.