Archive of Our Own

The dreams started coming a month ago and Hyunjin doesn’t know how to make them stop.

He’d wake up at different hours of the night (or sometimes morning), and stare at the slanted strips of light on the ceiling, his heart thumping in his chest. He has no idea why he’s so afraid. It’s not like the dreams are terrifying in the usual sense that nightmares are, but rather they feel so real and inescapable, and dream-Hyunjin can tell that something is wrong but not that this isn’t really happening. The thick fog haunts his waking mind.

He’s no stranger to dreams. They say that Pisces are dreamers, and while he doesn’t buy the daily horoscopes, he will allow that the archetypal Pisces describes him rather well. He dreams often, of vivid topics closely related to his recent experiences and feelings. They’re a manifestation of whatever has been on his mind and elicited strong feelings from him, conscious or not. Sometimes the fact that an event happens in his dreams is an indicator that it’s been weighing on his mind more so than he thought. The way he deals with it? He closes his eyes and acknowledges the significance of his dream, and tries to figure out what it means and what he needs to do to find peace.

Something about this new series of dreams, though subtle, terrifies him and he has no idea how to navigate the fog surrounding it. When he looks to his members, he sees more uncertainty than safety, because among them is the subject of his distress. These recent dreams always revolve around Jeongin.

It’s raining and Hyunjin is grateful for the shelter of the bus stop. The air smells of the earth and of blossoms. Tires splash tiny droplets on the gravel. It’s the kind of beautiful spring day that you would see in a music video for a heart wrenching ballad. Someone ducks under the roof of the shelter with their umbrella, and struggles a little to close it. “Excuse me. Do you happen to know if the 38 bus has already left?”

The voice is uncannily familiar and Hyunjin looks up. It’s Jeongin, wearing a button up shirt and slacks with crisply ironed lines, dark-rimmed glasses, and a lanyard around his neck. He has a leather bag slung over his shoulder. For some reason, Hyunjin has a strange feeling that Jeongin doesn’t recognize him and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He barely recognizes Jeongin himself; it’s as if this is a different person standing next to him.

Is it a prank? Who would set them up? All he could manage was, “Innie?”

“Yes, how did you—ah, you saw my name tag. I’m Jeongin, and I’m an elementary school teacher.” Jeongin says with his typical disarming smile, a little forced so as to be polite. “Did you see the bus come by at all?”

“I’ve been waiting for a while and haven’t seen the bus, so it must be running late,” Hyunjin says, deadpan.

He remembers Jeongin saying once that he wanted to be a teacher if he hadn’t become an idol, so this is a fitting role.

“Thank you. I was almost sure I’d missed it,” Jeongin grins and gets back to shaking off the excess water from his umbrella, taking care not to let the water splash on himself or Hyunjin. “I stayed behind after school today to keep a student company until her parents picked her up. It’s a shame that a lot of parents these days don’t have enough time to spend with their kids, so I try to be there with them as much as I can.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to do except play it cool and keep his eyes trained on the road. What kind of reaction should he be giving for this kind of joke? Should he be shaking Jeongin’s shoulders until he bursts into laughter and drops the act? Should he show his confusion and be made a fool of when the cameras finally show themselves? Strangely enough, he doesn’t feel the presence of cameras, and yet he feels just as watched.

Jeongin is still talking. “…I was lucky to have very attentive and loving parents. They were supportive with everything I’d wanted to do, even when I said I wanted to be a singer,” he chuckles. “I want to make my students feel supported like that, even just for a couple hours every day at school. I used to think I would go on to become famous or something, but here I can make a difference in these children’s lives. So it’s worth it even if the pay isn’t great, and the education system is still so inherently flawed that I can only do so much to shield them from the undue pressure. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. I just don’t get to have enough daily conversation with people my age…”

“It’s alright. Children are more fun to talk to than adults, I imagine,” Hyunjin offers. He wonders how much longer he can stay neutral, talking without actually saying anything. He just doesn’t know what to say.

“You remind me of the Little Prince. Do you know the book?” Jeongin asks, out of the blue.

“Yeah, I loved it growing up. Got it for Christmas when I was eight.”

Jeongin beams. “I actually assigned it as a leisure reading for my class because it’s a personal favorite of mine, and we had a class discussion about it and the kids did a reenactment of some of the scenes too. They were so adorable, would you like to see photos?” He pulls out his phone and shows Hyunjin some classroom photos. “They did so well, especially the scene with the prince and the fox. I nearly cried.”

Jeongin sounds so earnest and Hyunjin starts panicking, now that he knows it can’t be an act. “Jeongin. Do you really not remember me? It’s your Hyunjin hyung. Do you really not know me?”

He reaches for Jeongin’s hand, but the other suddenly takes a step back and cowers, his eyes wide with alarm. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know who you are. I take this bus every day, so maybe you’ve seen me before, but… Are you a recruiter? From JYP Entertainment? I’m sorry, but I have to decline again. I already have a job, and I don’t think I’ll have a future in the K-pop industry…” The low hum of the bus comes from behind them and offers Jeongin a way out. “I’m sorry, this is my bus and I have to go. Please do not follow me.”

Hyunjin stays where he is, hurt and confused, but he respects Jeongin’s wishes. Jeongin quickly boards the bus and shoots Hyunjin one last nervous glance before the bus leaves and soon disappears around the corner as it takes a turn.

Finally coming back to his senses, Hyunjin tries to remember where he was heading to, which bus he was going to take, how he ended up here in the first place. But despite his efforts to recall, nothing comes to mind. All he remembers is a thick fog.

He wakes up, and the fog clears to reveal the underside of the upper bunk where Chan is sleeping. The clock reads 5:04 AM.

They’re finally on break for a couple of days and it’s strange to wake up in the morning naturally, without any alarms, and know in your bones that there is absolutely nowhere you have to be today, except for wherever you want. This morning in particular he’s staring at the floor, planning out his third day of break. He has spent the first two days lying around doing nothing but watching rom-coms and taking screenshots as references for when he feels like painting. The members constantly weaved in and out of the house: going out to eat, running errands they normally didn’t have time for, visiting family and going on holiday somewhere nice and peaceful.

This break he’s content with just staying in the dorms, but it’s nice to have some personal plans. He considers asking Jeongin to go out with him, but then remembers the youngest saying something about getting his in-ears molded with Jisung later today. Besides, he’s not sure how awkward it’s going to be if he was with Jeongin one-on-one, since he’s been taking measures to make sure they’re never alone together for too long until the dreams at least go away. Or until he figures out whatever the hell his subconscious is trying to tell him.

He’s reminded of the chapter with the fox in The Little Prince, which says that someone becomes special when you hold affection for them and treasure the time you get to spend with them. Their smile won’t just be any smile (though all smiles are nice!), it will be unique and will bring you joy like no other. The sparkle in their eyes and the sound of their laugh now resemble the twinkling of stars and the soft ringing of a thousand little bells. It’s been years since he last read the book, and now that he’s reimagining this part, he sees bright fox-like eyes that curves into a half moon upon every smile; while he normally wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in thoughts like these, he makes an exception this time because it’s a beautiful leisurely day where the sunlight is gentle and his bed is soft and he feels warm and content.

Thinking of Jeongin, his mind naturally settles on the dreams he has been having. In one of them, he met elementary school teacher Jeongin, and in another, just yesterday, he ran into beauty blogger Jeongin who asked him to take a photo for his #OOTD Instagram post. The only thing in common between all of them is that Jeongin doesn’t know him at all, and somehow dream Hyunjin is starting to be able to remember that, so he’s stopped freaking out and saying weird things. Instead, dream Hyunjin maintains his distance as a stranger should, while savoring their interaction because it’s like he gets to explore different aspects of Jeongin. Or rather, different Jeongin’s.

It would be uncanny if all of these visions were a product of his mad subconscious, and even more so if he has somehow gained the ability to get a glimpse into their parallel universes. Either way, he feels better now that he’s decided to embrace it, and yet he feels worse because he still doesn’t know what it all means and where it’s headed. Reality Hyunjin, when he wakes up, is left to grapple with the mystery of all mysteries. The more you observe from these dreams, the more clues you will get about what they mean, he reasons with himself. It’s convincing enough, as convincing as the idea of playing with fire can be.

Hyunjin loves reading. Though he rarely has time for it given their year-round schedule and he’s also picky when it comes to what he wants to read, later that he finds himself at a quaint little bookstore. The shelves house themed book displays with glossy covers, the special editions that cost twice as much as their run of the mill counterparts. Now that he appreciates artful objects more and has the means to afford them, he’s thrilled to see a hardcover limited reprint of The Little Prince, with the original illustrations beautifully and crisply colored. He checks out quickly, unrecognized by the storekeeper, and stops by a farmer’s market on the way home to buy a pack of fresh, juicy strawberries.

The apartment is quiet when he walks in and removes his shoes. Upon entering the living room, he sees Jeongin napping on the couch and immediately regrets the rustle of his paper bag. He can hear Jisung singing and talking behind his closed door, probably filming for one of his individual vlogs. Hyunjin gingerly puts the strawberries away in the fridge and then checks to see if Jeongin is really asleep, though he knows they’re all accustomed to sleeping amidst high noise levels.

His eyes are closed peacefully, his teal hair falling to frame his face. He has one arm across his chest and the other arm hanging loosely by his side, still holding his phone like he fell asleep in the middle of some YouTube video. He looks so tranquil that Hyunjin can’t help but feel warm too, the kind of feeling he gets when he watches his favorite movies for the tenth time. The door creaks open behind him and he hears Jisung giggling quietly, then walks out a moment later after retrieving his camera and gives Hyunjin a wink before getting up close to film Jeongin.

“You said you wanted to go. Why are you sleeping?” he whispers in false anger, but it’s clear that he finds it adorable too.

Hyunjin smiles and disappears into his room to read, finding comfort in the fact that Jeongin is sound asleep in the next room, too peaceful to be touched by strange dreams he can’t make sense of.

Hyunjin enters the cafe and internally winces at the line in front of the counter. The customers are mostly in their late teens, looking polished and rather posh in their elaborate yellow vest uniform and limited edition sneakers. SOPA students. He was among them once. He scans around and spots a table all the way in the corner that’s somehow vacant despite how busy the place is, and to his luck, by the time he finishes his order it’s still not taken.

With his iced Americano in hand, Hyunjin makes a beeline for the table only to find it crooked and wobbly, and not exactly clean. For a split second, he feels foolish for not seeing that sooner but then manages to get over himself. It’s not like he’s in this area every day, and the sight of yellow uniforms makes him feel a little nostalgic. He grabs a small stack of napkins and wipes the table down, then uses the rest as padding for the crooked foot to stabilize the table. Finally settled, he takes a sip of his coffee, idly looking out the glass window of the cafe, remembering a student he was especially close with when he went to this school.

“Excuse me?”

He looks up. Jeongin, the name comes to him, as he realizes the person standing in front of him is the person he was just thinking of. Jeongin isn’t wearing the SOPA uniform, but a sweatshirt and baggy faded jeans. He has a lanyard around his neck and an overstuffed bag slung over his shoulder, and under his arm is an old bulky MacBook. Pretty much the typical college student attire. At this point, Hyunjin feels a strange sense of deja vu as it occurs to him that Jeongin doesn’t know him. Again. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows.

“Sorry, is it okay if I shared the table with you?” Jeongin says, slightly out of breath. “My laptop is dead and I have a deadline coming up soon, and you’re sitting next to the only outlet in this place.”

“Sure,” Hyunjin smiles easily, and Jeongin visibly relaxes. He does look very stressed and more than a little sleep deprived, judging by the dark circles and puffy eyes.

Jeongin sets down his things and fumbles to plug the charger in so badly that Hyunjin has to offer to help. Then when he rushes to the counter to pick up his drink, he almost trips over someone’s foot and spills all of it on the way back. Clumsy as Jeongin is, he’s really cute. That Hyunjin remembers.

Jeongin starts typing away furiously as he gets back to his seat, and chugs away at his iced coffee with just as much urgency. At one point he pulls out a snack bar from his bag with his eyes still trained on the screen, and while he has to resort to typing one-handed when he’s eating, he finishes the job in two gigantic bites. Hyunjin absently stares out the window, amused by the incessant clacking of the keyboard and the machine-like focus with which Jeongin works to meet his deadline. Eventually he stops typing and starts clicking to submit, with an expression of absolute loathing like he never wants to see this assignment again in his life.

“You did it,” Hyunjin says, as Jeongin leans back in his chair and stretches, his joints cracking one by one.

“Thanks for letting me sit here, I was really in a crunch. This table is usually empty though.”

“You come here often?”

“Every day,” Jeongin grins. That explains how he knows about the outlet. “I can’t seem to study outside of this place, so I have to keep offering my money to them. Whatever they’re lacing their Americano with, it’s single-handedly getting me through college.”

Jeongin seems a lot more open and cheerful now that the immediate threat of the assignment is no longer looming over his head. He leans in, his eyes twinkling, his voice low. “Wanna know a secret?”

Hyunjin leans in closer too, to hear him. “Sure.”

“So this table was fine before. I messed it up a little on purpose so no one would sit here. The wobbly legs and everything. That’s how you monopolize a spot for yourself.”

Jeongin’s mischievous streak is apparent, and Hyunjin stifles a laugh. “Smart. What are you, an econ major?”

“Psychology. Lab reports as far as the eye can see.”

“That’s impressive. I really admire people who study logic and the sciences.”

“I do too, because I’m no good at it,” Jeongin says with a small shrug and his eyes drift to the window. Hyunjin can sense some of his cheerfulness drop, and he’s a little curious, but he would never push a question when he knows it’s touching a sore spot.

After a few moments of silence, Jeongin clicks his tongue. “I just don’t have a lot of positive things to say about my college career, so if our conversation heads in that direction, it’s gonna stop being fun. I don’t think you’d wanna hear it.”

“Try me. I’ll buy you another drink in exchange.”

“I don’t know…” A pause.

Their eyes meet and Hyunjin is suddenly reminded of the fact that Jeongin doesn’t know him at all. Jeongin crosses his arms and stares out the window.

“I feel like a walking disappointment, like, all the time. I thought I chose to study something that I like, but a year in and I don’t think my heart is really in it. I’m not naturally good enough to make up for the lack of passion either. My parents will be disappointed after bankrupting their savings on me and running out of funds to send my little brother to a good college, and people around me will sniff it out that I have been a fraud all along. I was never sure what I was doing, what I liked or what I even wanted. I don’t know who I really am, and I just want to feel happy with myself, but it’s so impossible.”

“Have you talked to your parents about it? I don’t think they will ever fault you for changing your mind about what you want to do.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how to talk to them about anything that matters. I just want to be a son they can be proud of, but I don’t know how to feel about myself when nothing feels like enough.”

Hyunjin notices the way Jeongin fiddles with his phone case under the table, popping it on and off his phone as he talks, and the way he sneaks in a sarcastic smile here and there even as he’s talking about his deepest worries. He seems to have a compulsive need to pretend that everything is alright in front of others; he never visibly cracks, and the worst of it he probably only allows himself to feel when he’s alone, hugging his knees and sobbing his heart out at 2 am. Not the most healthy habit, for sure, but who can blame him when it feels like being honest isn’t an option? Hyunjin feels his quiet anguish, and beneath the facade of the happy-go-lucky student, he sees a Jeongin crushed under internalized pressure. It’s always tricky to figure out what you want to do with your life, but being predisposed to this distorted sense of self-worth is an extra cross to bear.

Hyunjin thinks, “In a different universe, I know a Jeongin that’s in a better place. He doesn’t go to college yet because he’s a full time idol, and his group mates adore him because he works so hard and he’s such a funny and kind person. In every universe, Jeongin is beautiful, and there’s a twinkle in his fox-like eyes that never goes away, and he always tries his best with whatever he chooses to do. They are you, with your bright personality and your light lyrical voice and your tendency to keep your concerns to yourself. There’s so much to love about you, and every life that you touch becomes a happier one. I would know, because that’s how I’ve been feeling since you entered my life. Even now, even here, when you don’t even know me and it hurts like hell. I just know that you’re going to be okay and the world is infinitely better with you in it.”

Instead, he says, “You’re going through a lot, and it will be easier when you try to accept that and be more patient with yourself. Your parents chose to invest in you because you’re worth it, and that was their decision to make. Don’t try to decide for them what’s enough and what’s not. It’s okay to be a little selfish while you figure your life out.”

Jeongin nods, his eyes welling up a little. Hyunjin can tell it’s because someone is finally kinder to him than he can ever be to himself, and the sight breaks his heart. Jeongin is going through so much here, and he wishes he could stay, but he’s only a visitor. He doesn’t know if these dreams are alternate universes or just figments of his imagination, but he knows that as soon as he wakes up, the connection will be gone.

So he sits there and tries to be a comforting presence despite how he really does not belong. The cafe is less crowded now, but still no one bats an eye— perhaps they’re just used to seeing students breaking down in here every other day? After enough time has passed that the silence becomes more awkward than welcome, Hyunjin moves to get up. “I still owe you a drink for the conversation. What would you like?”

“Strawberry smoothie,” Jeongin’s eyes light up with a smile. “Thanks. For everything, I mean.”

Hyunjin heads over to the counter to order, and when he returns with the drink not five minutes later, Jeongin is gone. His laptop, his charger, his bag, all of him. The table is wet and crooked again, and Hyunjin realizes he’s holding a cup of iced Americano instead of a strawberry smoothie.

He wakes up.

There’s something about the JYP dance practice rooms late at night that’s just so comforting. Maybe it’s the highly customizable lighting (which Hyunjin likes to keep dim and dramatic), or maybe it’s the fact that weird thoughts like to bother him at night and he doesn’t have to think about them if he’s here late, dancing until he’s so tired that every part of him gives out. It’s a healthy outlet, really, for he truly believes it’s made him a better dancer and performer. If he hasn’t had the need to channel his emotions into something, he probably wouldn’t even be dancing at all.

He’s dedicated the better part of the evening to going over the steps for a solo dance performance. Now he’s spent, partly because it’s a physically demanding choreography, and partly because his feelings are a bit all over the place. Putting on his current favorite song (Limit by Baek Yerin), he sinks onto the floor, letting his body sprawl out and feeling every scratch, every worn indent on the cool wooden surface. He’s worked hard here. Spent countless hours polishing this very floor with his soles, his sweat, his passion, and most importantly, his desire to become better. The water-like flow of his body needs to be fed with constant movement and practice, or it will go stagnant. There’s nothing Hyunjin fears more than regressing as a performer, too full of himself to respect his art, to continuously show improvements in every aspect.

He knows Jeongin can relate to that. If anything, Jeongin wears his dedication on his sleeve, while keeping the brunt of his insecurities concealed. He takes his role as a singer seriously, but Hyunjin knows it hurts him a lot as well. He’s always finding something in his performance that he could have done better, that keeps him from saying that he’s given his all and done a great job. And Hyunjin has told him many times before that he’s already so gifted with that clear, sweet voice that any practice he puts in will only perfect it. What he hasn’t yet said: Take it from me, you are good enough, and I want to see you happy with yourself more than anything. If he’s feeling unimaginably bold and selfish: I want to be with you and make you happy. Maybe: I want to hear you cover a Baek Yerin song, if you take requests.

One of those things is easier to say right now than the others. He reaches for his phone, somewhere on the ground next to him, and sends Jeongin a text. “You should cover a song by Baek Yerin sunbaenim. I think your voice would suit her songs well.”

Seconds after he puts down his phone, it buzzes.

“Haha where is this coming from? Were you just listening to her latest album?”

“Yes…”

“Are you still at the practice room?”

“Yeah. I’ll go home soon.”

“Actually stay there.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see hahaha.”

Hyunjin turns off his phone and holds it close to his chest. Jeongin must have come to the company building for one of his late night vocal practice sessions. He’s said that singing at night when there aren’t as many people around makes him feel less self-conscious, and it helps set the mood better. Everyone says that Jeongin is not a very sentimental person, but Hyunjin knows that’s not true. His heart is beating a little faster as he imagines the footsteps echoing in the hallway, Jeongin coming to him. One minute. Two minutes.

At last the door creaks open and Jeongin pokes his head in. He’s wearing an oversized yellow sweatshirt and baggy washed jeans, comfy and chic as usual.

“Did you finish practicing?”

Hyunjin doesn’t get up from the floor. “Yeah I did. Come on in.”

Jeongin sits cross-legged on the floor next to Hyunjin, his toes nudging Hyunjin’s right arm. It’s a small and inadvertent touch, but he knows he will miss it when it’s gone. He closes his eyes and thinks that he could fall asleep like this, with Jeongin’s warmth so tangible by his side.

Jeongin clears his throat. “I was going to sing you a song. Because you mentioned Baek Yerin sunbaenim, and I happened to practice one of her songs recently.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Square. But the key is really too high for me to sing, so maybe we can just listen to the original.”

Music starts blasting from Jeongin’s phone; a melancholic blend of guitar and keys that washes over both of them. Though Hyunjin stays still on the floor, he has to fight the urge to run. He knows that he will be replaying this night many times before he goes to sleep; whenever he listens to this particular song, it’s going to fill his heart with enough nostalgia to burst. The best moment is now, when Jeongin is barely touching him but is there all the same, and he’s almost too worried about the moment slipping away to really be in it. He’s here, and at the same time he’s in dozens of parallel universes where the thread that holds him and Jeongin together is gone. So he’d rather let the thread keep tugging at his wrist enough to burn, instead of pulling Jeongin closer at the risk of snapping it. He opens his eyes and realizes the music has stopped.

“I’ll see if I can ask Chan hyung to transpose it to a lower key for me.”

“Mmm.”

Hyunjin can feel Jeongin’s eyes on him. “Are you worried? About the performance?”

“Mostly,” he says. It’s a half-truth.

Jeongin scoots closer to him. He doesn’t reach out because that’s just not what he does, but the proximity is enough for Hyunjin to know he cares. “I’m not worried about you at all. I’m gonna watch your performance the moment it comes out, and I will be blown away like every other time I’ve seen you dance. Was there anything else?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Hyunjin ventures.

“Changbin hyung says it sounds like you’ve been having bad dreams recently. Waking up in the middle of the night and stuff.”

The thought of Jeongin talking to Changbin about him when he’s not around stirs something in him. It’s good to be reminded that Jeongin cares about him in some capacity because these days, the Jeongin he seems to see more of is the one who doesn’t recognize him at all and who refreshes with every night’s sleep. Meanwhile, the real Jeongin, flesh and blood, is sitting very close to him now. Hyunjin tugs at the hem of his jeans, and Jeongin gets it right away, because he obliges and lies down on the floor as well. Their elbows and the tip of their pinky toes touch. Hyunjin likes to note small things like this, they’re fodder to feed his romantic fantasies whenever he’s weak enough to indulge in them.

“Innie, do you think dreams show what our subconscious wants, or they’re just nonsense and we try to make sense of them when we wake up?”

“I mean dreams are produced by our subconscious, so there must be some influence there, but I don’t think they’re supposed to reveal our deepest desires. I think people only try to decode their own dreams when they want a sign from the universe. But if they know what sign they’re looking for, then they don’t need to dream it, do they? They probably already have it.”

“I don’t know if this is a sign I want. I don’t know what to do with it,” Hyunjin confesses. He only dares to skirt this close to the topic because he trusts that Jeongin wouldn’t ask for specifics.

“Then don’t read too much into it,” Jeongin says simply. “What happens in your dreams stays in your dreams. But… if they bother you, it might help to talk to them with someone so you don’t feel like you have to see these dreams alone? Like at that point it becomes kind of a curse.”

“Okay.” Hyunjin doesn’t mean it. He’d rather take it to the grave than tell another soul.

“Seriously, hyung,” Jeongin chides, gently slapping his wrist. “You can talk to me. You’ve already told me this much. I’m never going to push you, but you have to know opening up is an option. Set a good example for me.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you recently, then?” Hyunjin asks, almost defiant like a child. He doesn’t mean anything by it other than a sassy retort, but Jeongin looks away. Guilty.

“You know what, we can keep our secrets,” Jeongin decides after a while. Hyunjin doesn’t reiterate that he will always be here. Jeongin knows.

“Is everything alright?” Chan gets straight to the point after Hyunjin has settled down on the second chair in the studio.

Hyunjin glances around the room in place of an answer. He knows Chan is concerned. Chan’s Room, as this office-slash-studio space has been dubbed, is as safe a place as Hyunjin can think of, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. Chan senses his concern right away.

“The walls are soundproof. I’ll lock the door, to be safe.”

Hyunjin nods gratefully and tries to rearrange the thoughts swimming in his head as Chan takes care of the door. His palms are sweaty and he’s never felt this nervous in the cozy studio. It’s fine, he reassures himself, it’s your first time telling anyone, and Chan has always been good with secrets. That’s why his industry connections trust him with so many of them. Chan will help you handle it. That’s why you’re here.

“I have feelings for someone,” Hyunjin finally says. Chan’s smile doesn’t fade even when he adds, “He’s one of us.” Like it doesn’t matter to Chan that his feelings could tear Stray Kids apart.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. How can I help you?”

“I need you to decide whether I should try to forget all about this. And if I do, I think I need someone to help me out, keep me in check. So I don’t cross any lines.”

“Why is forgetting about it your default option? We all want you to be happy. There’s no guarantee that things will go as planned, but I think it’s worth a shot. He clearly means a lot to you, and I think you need closure one way or another.”

Hyunjin swallows. “I don’t want to ruin our career and our relationships. What we have right now as a group is really important to me. I don’t want to put my personal feelings above that.”

“And you don’t have to. You can talk to that person about your feelings, as two normal people. I think we’re all emotionally mature enough to be able to sort it out and keep making music and performing together.”

“If it goes wrong…” Hyunjin’s voice breaks. “I don’t know how I could explain it to the members. I don’t know if I’m capable of carrying on like nothing happened.”

“I will stand by you. The members will stand by you. And Jeongin will, too,” Chan’s knowing gaze is nothing but kind. “Whether he returns your feelings or not.”

He pats Hyunjin’s knee and gestures to the couch behind him, a wordless invitation for him to stay if he wants. So Hyunjin does, lounging on the couch behind Chan for the rest of the evening, getting lost in the snippets of melody that come from the random yet organized way that Chan works.

Hyunjin presses the down button on the elevator and scrolls through his playlist for a song to listen to as he waits. He settles on Affection by Cigarettes After Sex. With a ding, the doors open to reveal someone already riding inside.

It’s Jeongin, clutching the strap of his cross-body bag and barely sparing him a glance as he enters. Jeongin seems stressed, and the air is thick with tension. Hyunjin wonders what could be happening. He’s never seen Jeongin in any capacity this close to reality before; they’re literally in the JYP building. Is he still in one of those dreams? Maybe. There’s an easy way to confirm the answer he already knows. Hyunjin takes out his earbuds and turns around.

Jeongin is still staring at a spot on the elevator door, looking right past him. This time he’s wearing a checkered button-up and straight blue jeans. He’s barefaced which reveals his tiredness—dark circles under his eyes, the usual pink in his cheeks replaced with an unfamiliar pallor. Hyunjin suddenly feels in his bones, as he faces the spaced-out Jeongin, that something is wrong. The air tastes like the bitter sensation on his tongue when he realizes he’s just said the wrong thing in a conversation. Worst of all, it feels familiar, like he’s felt this before, seen this before, feared this before. Can you get deja vu for something you’ve never experienced?

“Hi,” Hyunjin says lamely, too eager to break the uncomfortable silence.

When Jeongin finally looks at him, it’s with the exasperated air of someone who doesn’t want to engage. He stays silent.

“Sorry to bother you. If it’s not too personal, what business brings you here today?” Hyunjin asks, his voice wavering. He’s usually not this nervous, because he at least knows something Jeongin doesn’t. This time he feels like he’s missing something.

Jeongin finally lets out a sigh. “Why the formality? I mean, I sure wish we were strangers, but the truth is we’re not. So you can drop the act. Don’t insult me by pretending that nothing happened.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen in shock. Of all the things Jeongin could have said to him, this bitterness, this venom, is not something he could ever expect. And it seems like Jeongin knows him after all, which makes even less sense. If there has been anything in common between these dreams, it’s that he and Jeongin are strangers, no matter how tangential their paths may be.

“If you have to know,” Jeongin continues flatly, “I’m here to finalize my decision to leave the company. I’ve had enough of being criticized by the general public. No amount of hiatus will make them any nicer to me, so there’s really no chance for me to come back. I don’t know why you’re even so surprised.”

Hyunjin feels a chill down his spine. He has his guesses. “What… What did they say to you? About you?”

“I.N is a manwhore for seducing Hyunjin. I.N should leave the group, he’s not popular enough to be worth the damage to Stray Kids’ reputation by association. I.N just wanted attention, and since he doesn’t have any talent to be noticed by himself, he made a show out of rejecting Hyunjin. I.N is a fool, does he know how many people would kill to be in his shoes? I.N is unprofessional, as an idol he should have sorted out his feelings in private. I’m glad the sasaeng caught their conversation that night, or even more people would have sympathized with him,” he recites, words straight out of the poison pit that are the online discussion forums. “It’s hard enough to miss the headlines, and the company executives made sure to forward them to me so I know what a liability I am.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Hyunjin sobs, as if it can undo the damage that the Hyunjin of this timeline has caused him. He doesn’t even know the details of what happened, but he feels sorry for it nonetheless. “I never meant to hurt you at all. I’d do anything to protect you. I’ll step up and speak to the public. I’ll tell them it’s all on me. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault… You don’t deserve this.”

“I know I don’t deserve this. And I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” Jeongin says, his blank expression shifting into a grimace. Jeongin doesn’t like it when his emotions get the best of him in front of others. “That’s what makes it hurt even more. I’m sure I could stand it if you had set out to ruin me instead. But you did nothing wrong and I did nothing wrong, and we’re both suffering for it. I wanted to be mad at you so badly, just to have someone to put the blame on, but I can’t hate you.”

Hyunjin is frozen to the spot. There’s nothing he could possibly say to make the situation any better. He feels unsteady, like the ground beneath him is falling apart the way his heart is.

“You know… I think in another universe, maybe things could work out. You mean a lot to me. But in this world, we never even had a chance.”

The elevator dings and the doors slowly open. Jeongin breezes right past Hyunjin, clearly eager to exit and get out of this building for good. Get out of Hyunjin’s life for good. Hyunjin only comes to his senses just in time to call after him.

“Where are you going now?”

He doesn’t get a response, but that’s understandable. He doesn’t think he deserves any. The elevator door slowly shuts, and Hyunjin lets it drown out the silence.

Hyunjin wakes in a cold sweat. Snippets of the dream flash through his mind and he shudders at the hazy remnants, but they only sharpen as he blinks. Reaching for his phone in a frenzy, he checks his messages, social media and Naver search results for “Stray Kids I.N”. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just a dream. It’s not real.

Maybe… it’s a sign that Jeongin shouldn’t have known him at all in this life. It’s a baseless and superstitious thought, but it bothers him all the same.

But the devastating thing is that it very well could be real, isn’t it? Dating scandals have been the end of many celebrities’ careers. Worse still, it’s not just their future in the industry that’s impacted, but their own safety and wellbeing. Hyunjin has always known that. During his training period, it’s been drilled into him that you can absolutely never predict how the public will react, so you must try your best not to give them any reason to. He knows that. And yet it hurts to think that there are bigger, worse consequences than Jeongin looking at him differently. Death threats, stalkers, cyberbullying, public defamation, to name a few. It hurts so much that this love that Hyunjin has been harboring can drive them to such terrible places.

He loves Jeongin with all his heart, and he has been nursing his feelings for a long time. Seeing Jeongin’s smile lights up a candle in his mind, and hearing Jeongin’s laugh rings out the bells in his heart. Jeongin has crawled under Hyunjin’s skin, reached all the nooks and crevices, filled him up with the reverence and longing that color his dreams. His wakefulness, his sleep. Jeongin is everywhere around him. Hyunjin blinks out hot tears, wrapping his arms around himself. His love is like a rose. A rose that he shielded with a glass cover, that he watered daily and whispered nice words to, that he will pluck and present to Jeongin when the time is right. And now he’s watching it live through the glass, knowing that despite his best efforts it will die.

Hyunjin spends the next hour crying in bed, and the following half hour crying in the shower, and fifteen more minutes icing out his swollen eyelids before he goes out to sit in the living room, waiting for the others to head out together. It’s a rather light day ahead of them, Changbin has two new tracks that he wants them to record the demos for. If the members notice Hyunjin’s heartbroken eyes, they don’t comment on it.

Jeongin touches his shoulder lightly as they get out of the car. “Do you want some iced americano, hyung? Seungmin and I are going to Starbucks before it’s our turn to record.”

Hyunjin’s efforts to calm down crumble that easily, and he feels the newly formed lump of emotions in his throat. He declines. Jeongin gets him something anyway, a lightly iced ruby grapefruit tea to help clear his throat for the recording. The tea is sweet but leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

Hyunjin can’t do this. As he slouches on one of the practice room couches, waiting for his turn, he still feels like choking up as if a part of him is dying. The part that is naive, hopeful, and sincerely in love. Changbin lets him lie down on his lap and smooths out his unruly ponytail because he can’t stop fussing with it.

“You’re a little out of it today. Anything bothering you?”

“No, hyung.”

He thinks about painting when they get back to the dorm. He can envision it, a shriveled dead rose. Black and white. Instead he has to try to recall the lyrics and practice the phrasing in his head. He still has a job to do. He feels stupid for ever thinking that he had a chance, but more than anything, he’s resentful at the way things are. He’s not wrong for having feelings, any of the members would back him for that, but it still seems like an unspeakably sinful thing.

When he exits the recording booth, Jeongin is waiting on the couch, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. Hyunjin casts a glance at Changbin and their producer, silently hoping that they would ask him to go back in and re-record everything, if only so he doesn’t have to talk to Jeongin today. Just for today, he’s not ready to face the person he loves the most. But no such luck, the producers merely nod in approval and wish him a good evening.

“I don’t know if I did my best. I can stay behind and work on it some more. I don’t mind.”

“It’s okay. We’ll call you in again later if there’s anything to add,” Changbin says unhelpfully with a pointed glance Jeongin’s way. “You two should head out, you did well today.”

The air is as awkward as Hyunjin makes it out to be in the hallway. Jeongin trails behind him with the subtlety of a dash of confetti, and he tries not to notice.

“Hyung. Do you want to grab a late night snack together?”

“I’m not hungry, Innie ah. I just want to go home, actually.”

“Can we go to the rooftop? Just for a minute? I think we can use some fresh air, and it’s not even that late, it’s only nine thirty. We can spare at least ten minutes.”

Hyunjin pointedly sighs. “I’m sorry. Can it be some other day? I just need to have some time to myself tonight.”

The footsteps stop. Hyunjin fights the urge to stop walking and turn around, but he fails. Jeongin stands with his head down, his hands twisting in frustration. “You should go home first. I think I’ll stay for a while.”

“Are you going to the rooftop?”

“Why do you even care? It’s not like you wanted to go with me,” Jeongin says, his voice strained.

“No, Innie, it’s not like that. I’m just having a bad day,” Hyunjin sighs at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “I’m not turning you down for no reason. I’m sorry if it felt that way. But I can head out first, if that’s what you want.”

“I want you to talk to me, like we used to before. But you won’t even look at me, and you can’t even stand hanging around me for more than five minutes, and I don’t know what I did wrong,” Jeongin’s voice rises, his breaths growing quicker. “If you’re sorry, then why do you keep doing it?”

Hyunjin bites the inside of his cheek. “Why do I keep doing what?”

“Ignoring me, avoiding me, pushing me away. I’m not stupid, I can feel it, and I can feel how everyone knows it but isn’t acknowledging it. It’s so… after all this time we know each other, you still can’t be honest with me. None of the hyungs can, but it stings the most coming from you.”

Hyunjin winces. He should have known that telling Chan hyung would get the rest of the members involved in his problem. “This has nothing to do with the hyungs. I don’t really talk to them about it either, so maybe they just don’t know how to address it. You know I wouldn’t keep anything from you on purpose. Not unless there’s a good reason. I don’t want to drag you down, Innie, I want to protect you—”

“By shutting me out?”

“I wish I knew how else to do it. I’m sorry,” Hyunjin slumps. “I mean it, I’m really sorry. I tried to not hurt you, but you get hurt anyway. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then talk to me, and we’ll figure it out together,” Jeongin takes a step forward. His eyes are still wet with tears, but his determination shines through. Hyunjin loves that look so much. “Give me a chance to be there for you, and to decide for myself how to feel. Anything is better than seeing you slip away from my life.”

Hyunjin could only stare. It hurts, but not necessarily in a bad way. Jeongin is so beautiful and so close, he can reach out and touch Jeongin from here. It doesn’t feel real.

“I miss you, you know.”

So it can’t be a dream either. Jeongin remembers him, Jeongin knows him, here, now. Nervous energy buzzes in Hyunjin’s ears, but there’s also a newfound hope and excitement coursing through him. He blinks, and it’s like he’s seeing Jeongin for the first time, the young man he fell in love with, angular under the harsh lights, yet impeccably soft. All this time, he’s been too busy withdrawing from Jeongin out of fear that he forgot how nice it is to have Jeongin by his side. Jeongin is strong, caring, loyal, and Jeongin will help Hyunjin figure things out, even when he’s at the epicenter of the proverbial emotional storm.

For once, Hyunjin can make a choice to venture into the core of it, rather than letting the winds sweep him away. It’s a strangely peaceful feeling, knowing that even though this is going to be the most terrifying conversation he has ever had, things will settle eventually, one way or another. The way Jeongin looks at him right now has him thinking that it could actually turn out okay. For just this once, he doesn’t extinguish the spark of hope as soon as it comes.

He swallows his fears. “Okay. I’m just worried someone could hear us on the rooftop.”

Jeongin laughs softly at that, finally. “Then we’ll find somewhere else. We can talk anywhere.”

Jeongin finds him in the dance studio and gently shuts the door behind him with a click. Hyunjin is glad to see him. It’s been two weeks since they had that conversation in one of the vocal practice rooms, and though there hasn’t been a dramatic change in their dynamic like Hyunjin has feared, he can feel something shift.

Jeongin spends more time looking at Hyunjin when he thinks Hyunjin doesn’t notice. They start talking and hanging out again, like they used to, and Jeongin is playful as always, but in his own discreet way, he’s more gentle with Hyunjin too. And most importantly, the dreams haven’t visited him since. He tries not to read too much into it, because doing so would be to admit that they did mean something in the first place.

“I thought about it. I think we should give it a try,” Jeongin announces.

“Give what a try?” Hyunjin blinks in surprise, though he’s already so overjoyed that a smile is stretching on his lips.

“You know what I’m talking about, silly,” Jeongin smacks him lightly on the arm. “Just as I was starting to like you back. Don’t make me change my mind.”

With no attempt at subtlety, Jisung storms out of his room one day and demands that Hyunjin switch rooms with him, and Hyunjin has to say he thought it was going to be a more dramatic change. He and Jeongin have been roommates before, but back then there was Minho and Felix, so they never had the chance to be alone long enough to even clash. Now with just the two of them, he’s found that they quickly fall into a comforting rhythm around each other that’s getting more familiar by the day. Jeongin goes to bed rather early, as he does, often falling asleep to a mukbang or ASMR video, and Hyunjin has to cross the room to the other bed to turn off Jeongin’s phone and charge it for him. In return, in the hours of the morning before Hyunjin wakes up, Jeongin gets ready for the day with the most minimal amount of noise humanly possible, and leaves the curtains drawn to shield his sleeping form from the harsh sun.

It’s Jeongin who suggests that Hyunjin start drawing the scenes he still remembers from his world-traveling dreams. Hyunjin takes to the idea right away, art being another one of his creative and emotional outlets. He fills the pages with sketches of all corners of Seoul, some familiar to him in reality, some not. There’s the bus stop where he met elementary school teacher Jeongin, who gushed about his students like they’re his world. There’s the pretty graffiti wall where beauty blogger Jeongin asked for a photo (“I know this wall!” the real Jeongin says). All of these places are now laid out on paper to the best of his memories, for some of the details have already dissolved, or have never been clear to begin with. So maybe there is a possibility that everything will be okay, now that he’s put down on paper all of the strange places that he’s been to. All of the strange paths he’s crossed. And the path that he’s currently on still feels like it’s too much of a smooth ride to be true.

He and Jeongin have already told their parents, and the absolute essential staff in Division 1 that needs to know, that they have been ‘spending time together’ and so far have no intention of going public. Other than their family, who have and always will be supportive of all that they do, the response from the higher-ups within the company are surprisingly positive. The members have promised to stand by them and stand up to the company if there was any opposition at all, but it hasn’t been necessary. There are to be several constraints, but no harsher than the rules they’re already bound by in their current idol lives, and when they’re absolutely in private they are free to get to know each other as they wish.

It’s a warm morning when he wakes up in Jeongin’s bed, with the lingering memories of a dream just beyond his grasp. The curtains are slightly parted, just enough to let a small patch of light in, so he knows Jeongin is awake. He has been sleeping on Jeongin’s arm, cradling his hand to his chest as he curled up in a fetal position, his back to Jeongin. They’re both wrapped in a floral blanket and their body warmth seeps into each other. Hyunjin turns his head around to take a look and is greeted by a sweet smiley smile as Jeongin puts down his phone. He must have been on his phone since he’s been up, his arm having been taken hostage by Hyunjin.

“I had a dream,” Hyunjin says, his voice rough with sleep. “I don’t think I remember it though.”

Jeongin props his head up on his elbow to look at him. “Good morning. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not really… I just wonder if it was an important dream.”

Jeongin understands what he doesn’t say out loud. “You usually remember those weird dreams, right? I can’t possibly think of an explanation for what they could mean, but I don’t think it matters anymore. Look where they got you. You’ve done well with the sign you think you got.”

“Until I wake up again. This is too good to be true, right? I tell Innie I like him, and he says he likes me back. Funny.”

Jeongin laughs and suddenly leans in to plant a kiss on Hyunjin’s cheek. His eyes gleam playfully when he withdraws. “If you’re dreaming, could you have predicted this from me?”

“That’s not how dreams work,” Hyunjin argues, the blush spreading on his cheeks belying his begrudged tone.

“Shh. Take it from me. Try to get some more sleep, it’s only seven.” Jeongin pats his hip the way you would put a baby to sleep, and Hyunjin obliges for a minute before a thought crosses his mind.

“Wait. I don’t know if I should push it, but I will. Will you spoon me?”

Hyunjin closes his eyes, warmth blooming in his chest at the rare display of affection from Jeongin. Unlike his bright smile, physical touch isn’t something Jeongin gives out for free, with no reservation. Even now, as they explore their needs and preferences in the context of a relationship, there’s an unspoken understanding to take things slow. Jeongin’s every gesture counts and feels certain and intentional. Exhibit A: the way he slides his arm around Hyunjin’s waist when they’re watching Deadpool on the couch at night (they always start early because Jeongin will promptly fall asleep at midnight). Exhibit B: the way he nods, closes his eyes and leans in when Hyunjin asks if it was okay to kiss him for the first time as they’re listening to music together in the dark. Exhibit C: the way he fiddles with the strands of Hyunjin’s long hair, combing his fingers through them to evenly distribute the hair oil with the care one uses to handle liquid gold. Hyunjin appreciates the gestures, needs them even—they act as a grounding force to keep him tethered to reality. They’re words of a promise: enjoy the present for what it is, everything will be okay, I will be here for you again, and again, and again.

As Hyunjin drifts back into sleep with Jeongin spooning him, his last thought is that his heart is finally awake, no longer bothered by dreams he couldn’t make sense of.