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When he turned around, there he was. The man. The scenario shifted, his brain only allowing him to focus on the other. The light was warm, but overwhelmingly bright, and he was wearing a red sweater. Jisung wanted to talk to him, to approach him and grab him by the arm so he couldn’t disappear, but the atmosphere was suddenly too much, and he felt disconnected. He reached forward, trying to get close to him. They made eye contact, the man looked like he was about to say something. Jisung prayed to hear him call out his name for the first time, to say anything at all, but then all the other did was give him that cat-like smile that he was already too familiar with, and everything turned into a blur.
Ugh.
He covered his eyes from the burning light that trespassed through his window and went right into his face. He felt dizzy, still confused from waking up so suddenly and the alarm ringing through his ears. He stirred, groaning and feeling way too tired to get out of bed, so he shut it off and stayed there for a bit more.
It was the same every week: Jisung would be sleeping peacefully, dreaming, until the same guy would appear and steal all his attention. They never talked. He didn't know his name, he didn't know who he was, but it was the same person every single time. And it was slowly driving him crazy.
Why would his brain create a… character and put him into every single one of his dreams, during his entire life? When he was little, he used to think that he was communicating telepathically with the other kid, as if their heads were connected. But as time passed, he sort of accepted that it was probably just his brain being unstable. That’s another thing: he didn’t know how old the other was, or was supposed to be (being a product of his brain), but he must’ve been near his own age, since they practically grew up together, as weird as that may sound.
And obviously, it would be foolish to say that Jisung didn’t care about it anymore. He was insanely curious, after all these years. He couldn't help but to space out during the day thinking about the mysterious man. And sometimes he would fantasize about it too. What if they could actually talk to each other in a dream, how would it be if the other was a real person? He often found comfort in these scenarios, losing himself in these thoughts.
But they were simply that, thoughts.
He finally reunited enough strength to get up from the bed and get ready for his day. He worked part-time at a café next to Chan and Changbin, where they actually met and talked about their aspirations in life, ultimately deciding to form a band because they got along really well. Jisung thought he must’ve been the luckiest to find these friends, he genuinely loves them.
So, getting up, putting on his glasses and throwing some sweats on, he went to the kitchen of his little apartment and made himself some coffee, not really having the appetite to eat anything so early in the morning. Once he poured it in a cup, he sat on his sofa and started revisiting the lyrics he had written in his notebook the day prior. Jisung read through them slowly while he drank. Ambiguous descriptions about an undefined individual and how the singer wants to get to them, but is faced with the impossibility of doing so because of their own self. Again.
How subtle.
Well, they weren't perfect, but it could work if he showed it to the rest of 3racha and changed some things up. And besides, he hadn't told anyone about the guy so, as obvious as it was for him, the rest couldn't really know. He just didn't want people to think he was crazy, y'know?
He downed the rest of his cup and went to get ready for work. The coffee shop wasn't very far from his house, it was just a couple of bus stops away, and since he would wear an apron the whole time, he just put on his black skinny jeans and a graphic white tee. He tied his converse and after making sure he wasn't forgetting anything, he left his flat.
The streets were weirdly calm in the mornings. Sitting in the bus, listening to music while the rising sun taints the sky brighter, watching only a few people walking on the streets either to go to work or to school. There was something about it that made him relax, feel like he wasn't the only one trapped in a routine.
When he reached his stop, he started walking towards the café, meeting a couple of stray cats that lived around the area. Jisung was more of a dog person, but he adored both and he kind of wished he could take them in his apartment.
He heard a little chime as he opened the door to the café, the little bell on top of it announcing his arrival, making the other two men turn their heads to look at him. As always, he was the last one of the three to arrive.
—Jisung! Good morning, how are you feeling? —Chan greeted him with a smile, as per usual.
—Insanely tired, but you know how it is —he smiled sleepishly as Changbin patted his shoulder—. Ah, by the way, I have some new lyrics I'd like to revise with you guys, they might work after some polishing. We could… head to the studio after we’re done?
—Sure! We have to work on our EP anyways. We could get us something nice to eat as well, I've been craving bibimbap lately.
—Oh yeeees —satisfied with Bin’s answer, he made his way to the back of the establishment, leaving his bag there and taking the apron. Once he went back to the counter, people started coming in. Most of them were executives who wanted to get coffee and drink it on their way to their office, others were the ‘morning runners’ who wanted to get an orange juice before heading home, or something (honestly, Jisung never understood the desire to run around the city so early in the morning, but to each their own).
The local quickly got filled with life and energy, the door now left open as people constantly came in and out, occupying most of the tables. The three of them were taking orders most of the time, and then at a certain point they’d take turns to go clean the tables and take a break. It was exhausting, they definitely needed more staff, but their boss was kind of an asshole and he didn't want to spend more. One more reason to try and pursue a musical career.
Two hours passed. The movement was calming down, and there were currently only three people in the line he was attending.
—Okay, next! —he said while finishing to put some cups aside— What would you like to order…
He was left speechless as he looked up and saw his next client.
It was him. The guy from his dreams.
It was actually him. There was no doubt. And he was looking right back at him. He had his brown bangs parting in the middle and was wearing a black turtleneck, and Jisung could swear he almost fainted from the shock.
—Uh… um —god, he didn't even know what to say. Did the other even know who he was? He had no way of knowing if he recognised him! And he was insanely prettier in real life. It was the first time he ever came around here, that was for sure. Fuck, he was panicking.
—Hmmm… —the other looked at the options in the top screen.— Could I get an iced americano and… one of those sandwiches over there? Not for takeaway.
His voice, god, his voice. It was so smooth and soft, so elegant. Such a soothing tone, it almost mesmerized him, he wanted to hear it for eternity. He figured he'd just give him a good experience at the café in the hopes he'd come back. And he knew one other thing he could do.
—Right on it, what's your name? —he looked up from the cup where he was holding the marker, silently excited for his answer.
—Ah, Minho —Yes! I finally know his name! He cheered internally.
—Right, that will be would be 4.000₩, you can wait around there until i call your name —He said as he wrote his name in the plastic cup.
Minho thanked him after paying, staying on the side as Jisung prepared his order and took some more. He was lost in his thoughts, everything felt surreal. Who cares if he had ever imagined this moment in slightly more ideal ways, nothing could stop the bubbly feeling in his chest.
—Minho! —he called his name, handing out the tray with his order and serving him a smile.
—Yep, here! —Minho took the tray with one of his hands, surprisingly not dropping it— Thank you, Jisung.
Jisung watched in silence as the other slid a piece of paper through the counter with two fingers, leaving it in front of him and leaving without looking back at him.
Once Minho sat at a table, Jisung took the paper and unfolded it, wondering what it would be. He hadn't noticed him writing anything, and although he felt like he was being a bit too optimistic, he really wanted to see a phone number there.
However,
"got some time for me on your break, dream boy?"
Jisung's eyes shot up rapidly, meeting Minho's recognizable cat-like smile.
Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
He looked down at the note again, feeling a bit flustered. "Dream Boy"? God, that was one flirty way to put it.
He looked at the other once again, who was now enjoying his order while doing something on a sketchbook. What was he supposed to do? Just walk up to him and start talking? Man, now he really regretted not having dressed himself better this morning. What kind of first impression had he given? What if-
—Yah! Han Jisung! What are you doing, man? —Changbin called out, startling him— Why are you just standing there?
—Oh! I just,, —he saw Changbin approaching him and realised he was still holding the paper up— Uh..
—What is that? —Changbin pointed at the note, clearly able to read what it said— No way! Did a client give you that?
—Well-
—"Dream boy", oh, you have an admirer! Do you know who it is? —Changbin was definitely being a bit too loud (which isn't uncommon), and Jisung was starting to panic at the thought of Minho hearing him.
—Bin shut up, it's not-
—Who has an admirer? —Chan chimed in while finishing an order.
—No one! Can you guys be quiet?! —he whisper-shouted.
—Come on~ You do know who it is, don't you? Why won't you tell us? Are you not interested in them?
—No! I mean, it's not that, it's just… —he sighed, seeing that defending himself before his two very annoying best friends wouldn't work.— It's the guy at table four.
And just like that Minho was now being admired by Chan and Changbin as well, although he was oblivious to this fact, since he was drawing in his sketchbook.
—That's him?! —both of them whisper-shouted— Dude, he's good looking enough to be a model!
—I know! But the thing is I- I kind of already know him? A bit? And just look at him, I mean… —he gestured with his hands in the air— I'm nowhere near his league!
—Alright, now you're just saying bullshit. You're handsome and funny as hell, coming from an even more handsome and funny person such as myself—Changbin said, making Jisung stifle a laugh—. You really have nothing to be nervous about, even if you made a fool out of yourself you'd still manage to be charming.
—I don’t know, I’m just… —Jisung focused on the feeling in his stomach. It felt worse than the typical “butterflies”, it felt like his soul was flowing up and down through his body, and it kept getting worse as minutes passed— I’m weirdly nervous. Very. I feel like I’m going to die.
—Jisung. —Chan spoke in a more serious tone, adopting his "mom friend" position— You know we wouldn't force you to do anything, but I think you should actually go talk to him. I mean, if he wrote the note it's because he likes you! And, if you were to do that, I'm sure Binnie and I could take care of the clients just fine, isn't that right?
Changbin nodded enthusiastically as a response. Well, for one, Jisung wasn't sure if that made him feel any better, but they were right. And Minho surely had to be nervous to talk to him as well, right? He looked at him again. He scribbled something in his sketchbook, only to immediately cross it out, looking frustrated.
Jisung decided to get out of the establishment for a little bit, resting his back on the window while he planned his words. The fresh air blew softly in his face, and it helped him to calm down slightly. He wondered how to approach the whole dream situation without it sounding weird. He couldn't just go "Hey! Do you also dream about me every night and couldn't help but constantly imagine how we would meet and make kind of romantically written songs about me while also never talking about this with anyone????"
Wow he was spiraling. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
—You weren't gonna run away from me, were you?
Jisung got startled by the voice appearing on his left, where Minho was now standing, smirking playfully. Of course, since they were keeping the front door open, there was no chime to warn him of his movement. He took a deep breath and tried to seem confident.
—After that charming note? No way.
—Well, I didn't know how to get your attention —Minho chuckled slightly, keeping a small timid smile that was definitely affecting Jisung's heart rate more than it should.
—Honestly? You had my attention from the beginning.
They locked eyes, and Jisung couldn't look away. The moment was mesmerizing, now that they were in front of each other he wanted to look at Minho until he memorized every detail of his face, every tiny bit of expression, every mole. And Minho wasn't looking away either, hypnotized by the tension that was around them. Jisung thought that he could stay like that forever.
—So… How did you know my name? —He asked. Minho pointed to his chest while answering.
—Well, you have a name tag on your apron —Jisung almost facepalmed. He was so distracted he didn't even realize—, and I thought it'd be more shocking if I said your name while giving you the note like that.
It was shocking, I felt like fainting. Jisung said in his mind while giving him a smile. Minho spoke again.
—Then... Should I just assume that I've… also appeared in your dreams? Or is that just a "me" thing?
—Oh no, trust me it is not just a "you" thing —he looked up to the blue sky, sighing —. God, all my life thinking that my mind had made someone up and —he looked at Minho again, pausing— now you're right here.
—It's crazy, isn't it? —Minho smiled as well— I mean at least I felt like I was going crazy. I guess it's nice to know I'm not losing my mind. Or that I'm not the only one.
Jisung laughed. He was happy. The feeling in his stomach was still there, but Minho was nice so far, he felt nice. It was an abstract feeling, but it was oh so real and he liked it so, so much.
—I'm Han Jisung by the way. What's your full name?
—Lee Minho. Are we the same age?
—I suppose? It depends, are you 21?— the other smirked playfully.
—I guess that makes me your hyung then. I'm 23, better treat me with respect— he joked.
—Oooooh such a big difference, watch out old man— he responded, making the other chuckle—. God… I have so many questions.
—Me too, but I don't have much more time, actually. I'm kind of busy today and well, if only I had known today would be the day we met I may have cancelled some things… —Minho stated, and then his eyes widened remembering something. He opened his bag and reached for something—. Oh! Will you do me a favor though?
—Oh…? Sure thing —the sudden question left Jisung a bit confused. But then Minho took out his sketchbook, closed, and handed it to him. He pressed it to his chest, barely letting him grab it.
—I want you to have this. Open it when I leave, will you?
Jisung was surprised, to say the least. But Minho looked at him in the softest way possible, with a sort of insecurity in his eyes that his smile couldn't camouflage. Jisung slowly grabbed the sketchbook, feeling flustered.
—Yeah, okay… Alright.
Minho's smile grew bigger as he took a step back, still making eye contact with him.
—I liked meeting you, Jisung— the mentioned one couldn't help letting out a shy smile—. See you tonight?
Jisung laughed at the double meaning of that sentence.
—Of course, let's see if we can continue the conversation then.
And after giving him a smirk and a wink, Minho started to walk away. However, the feeling in Jisung's chest remained, a reminder of the object in his hands. He looked at it, once the other wasn't in sight anymore.
Should I open it now?
The doubt floated in his head. The nervousness continued. His heart was still accelerated.
Alright then.
He retired the elastic that kept the sketchbook closed, and his hand lingered on the cover for a bit before finally opening it.
Drawings.
Drawings of him.
Lots and lots of drawings of him, with their date of creation next to them, the first of them dating back to two years ago.
The first ones only kept some similarities with him, but as he advanced through the pages and the notes (some of which described his apparitions in the dreams), they grew more and more accurate.
His hands were sweating now, he was absolutely sure his face was completely red. When he reached the last filled page of the sketchbook, there was not a drawing though. He recognized the crossed out words and sentences he saw Minho write inside. Below them was what he supposed was his final choice of words, reading:
"I hope you don't find this weird if I've given it to you. Please don't find it weird!! I wanted to put my thoughts on paper"— oh well jisung could definitely relate to that. The image of his notebook filled with songs about "the man from his dreams" invaded his mind—. "If you aren't weirded out, consider using this?"
The line of text ended there. Below that, was a phone number. Minho's phone number.
Jisung couldn't control the wide smile that appeared on his face, and the nervous giggles he pronounced while bringing a hand to his forehead.
—God, we are so fucking weird.
He sighed, relieved. He was happy.
Well, he'd have to remember to sing a couple of those songs to Minho as a repayment the next time they speak.
—What is that-?
Jisung screamed as he turned around, finding his two best friends trying to peek at the object in his hands. He slammed it shut, panicked.
—Shut up! What are you doing?!
—We saw the guy leave and wanted to interrogate you about him, obviously —Changbin answered—. Is that his?
He pointed at the sketchbook, almost reaching for it. Jisung brought it behind his back and stepped further away.
—Stop! You guys are the worst! Leave me alone, I gotta go back to work!— he yelled as he ran back inside.
—Sung, come on!—Chan said while they followed him— Why are you shy, was it a confession? Is it love poems?! Ooooooooh—they teased him in unison.
For once, he couldn't wait to escape from his friends and run back home.
Wether it also had something to do with a certain phone number or not, he wouldn't admit to his best friends.