Work Text:
Taeyong has a recurring dream.
He’s floating among the clouds, in the vast blue sky. It’s calm, comforting even. He blinks and his surroundings pixelate into a stage, heated by the blinding lights with thousands of screaming, hollering fans. There’s a rush of adrenaline in his veins, feeling his mouth and body moving while buckets of sweat stream down his face. Every single inch of his body burning, screaming for a break.
He slips.
Fear fills his system, he braces for impact.
Instead of hitting the floor, he falls into a puff of silky white sheets. He notices the white popcorn ceiling, quite unappealing, in his opinion. Turning onto his side, he sees a mop of pink hair, in contrast to his own black fringes, and a lazy smile from a dimpled man with a ray of sunshine kissing his face.
He’s beautiful.
Finding his own lips curling up into a smile, he reaches out to brush the little hairs away from the man’s eyes. He feels happy, really happy and the other seems so too. How wonderful. They lean closer, their lips shyly pressing together. It’s so, so sweet and soft Taeyong sighs and closes his eyes. Bony fingers threading through the pink ocean as the other grips onto his thin waist.
Then, he sees red. It covers the floor, splatters on the wall and his own hands. A once silver band, fitted perfectly on his fourth finger, turned crimson. The beautiful man lays peacefully in the pool of blood, skin abnormally pale, lips a dark shade of blue.
As Taeyong reaches out to touch him, his eyes shoot open, full of anger and disgust. He points his bloody hand at Taeyong’s chest and whispers out:
“you did this to me.”
Everything goes black. Taeyong’s floating again, in an empty void, losing air by the second. He’s suffocating in what feels like goopy, sticky tar, clawing crazily at the darkness in an attempt to dig himself out. He grabs onto something; it’s a camera. Turned into thousands and thousands of flashes, he finds himself standing in line with the dimpled man beside him along with other friendly, familiar faces. He feels his left-hand waving, making cute hearts and peace signs while exiting the red carpet. Usually, a flash of silver from his hand would catch his eye but- there’s no silver band? Where did it go? There's no silver band on his ring finger, it's gone?
Panic fills his system. He turns around and asks the dimpled man beside him, who’s supposed to have a matching one with him. Their pinkies are linked. He shows a small, sad smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He whispers into taeyong's ear, "I love you, my dear", before unlinking their pinkies.
Then there’s a gunshot. Multiple.
The man snaps his head to the side before giving Taeyong a hard shove. He jolts and then falls, his dry cleaned white dress shirt becoming tainted with red, red and red, it's covering Taeyong's hands and face, he feels himself hyperventilating, he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't breathe-
Taeyong wakes up.
His chest is heaving, sweat and tears trailing down his face. He glances to his left, and oh. The pink-haired man with a drowsy look is talking. Whatever’s being said passes over his head, his focus on the silver band on his left hand, fourth finger. Carefully, carefully, he inspects it. Just like the past how many fucking times he’s had this cursed dream. Not a dash of red. Just a shiny, pretty silver.
A gentle touch brings him back to reality, the other silver ring making a small clack! sound as the hand wraps around his own.
“Taeyong,”
It’s so soothing, so calm.
“Look at me,”
Steadying his breath, he looks up. It’s dark, he can barely see anything but the worried, loving, dark brown eyes staring back at him.
“It's okay, you’re okay,” he starts softly. “I’m here with you, always and I’ll never leave your side. ..Our silver bands,” he kisses taeyong's knuckles, “what are they?”
“...matching,” the smaller finally stutters out.
“Yes, exactly and we got them made that way,”
He flashes his dimply smile, beautiful as ever.
“ J.J on yours, L.T. on mine. I love you, Taeyong, forever and ever. But even if we lose these bands, even if the world is against us, even if I can't sing anymore or even if you can't dance anymore, I’ll still love you, taeyong, you know that right?”
Taeyong exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding, biting his lip and nodding.
The soft eyes never leave his face.
“Anytime you have a nightmare or doubts, I will always be here to comfort you. I'll hold your hand, I'll remind you of anything and everything and I'll tell you how much I love you. I know what you're thinking, and no it will never become a burden to me. That's my role as your lover, as your husband. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health,"
"Until death do us apart."
His dimples pop and Taeyong lets out a small exhale.
Jaehyun flings his arm over Taeyong’s small body and tucks him between his arms and chest, so close they could feel each other's heartbeats. He snuggles his head into his neck.
It tickles.
That night, Taeyong dreamt again. The vast blue sky doming over their small cottage on the hill, three dogs, Ruby, Miko and Leita rolling in the fields with lavender flowers blooming. The wind whistles and blows, Taeyong puts a hand on his yellow sundress while setting down a basket filled to the brim with sweets to make sure their picnic blanket isn't blown away. He turns around and finds the pink-haired man in basketball shorts and a black tee on one knee, holding a shiny, silver band in a velvet box. The rings look so perfect on their hands and the man is so, so beautiful.
They share a kiss, before Taeyong sweetly whispers out,
“I love you, Jung Jaehyun.”
Taeyong never had that recurring dream ever again.