Chapter Text
Warm, deep yellow. Streaks of light and golden glitter. It was blurring my vision, the shades of the sun bleeding together into a storm of honey-colored clouds. It seemed like the soft blow of the breeze brought about glitter instead of dust, and everything was so radiant that it almost hurt my eyes. There was no sound, only the soft sound of the wind and the faint twinkle of what seemed to be the stars shining in the daytime.
I blinked my eyes again, and amidst the glinting haze of gold, there was a silhouette. It was a tall boy with broad shoulders. He had quite the stature, and his back seemed to be turned on me, obscuring his face from my view. He was still and I subconsciously held my breath, as if I was watching a deer that stopped by to have a drink in the deeper parts of a forest.
This was where it always stopped. I settled for peaceful admiration, content with just watching the way the wind blew and played with his seemingly soft hair. But this time was different, I suppose.
Without thinking, I took a slow step closer to the mysterious boy, entranced. I blinked the stardust out of my eyes, willing myself to take another step.
“Yeonjun.”
As I got closer, the desire that was stirring in my chest, to see him, to know him, grew bigger. There was just something so mystical about him, an allure that was so out of this world.
“Yeonjun…?”
Just as soon as I reach my hand out, my fingertips grazing his shoulder, it all disappears.
“Yeonjun-ah!”
Yeonjun jolts. He blinks his eyes wide open, his chest heaving slightly, holding a hand over it. He’s sitting down, and he realizes he’s still in the car. He looks out the window and sees that the sun is beginning to set, the indigo sky blending with the amber near the horizon behind the buildings and trees that breezed by. He blinks again.
He’s quite used to his mind wandering to far-off places, whether it’s under his covers on a restless night, or in the middle of a mundane task, standing and staring into nowhere while he almost cuts his own fingers off as he’s chopping up his dinner. Perhaps it was because Yeonjun was a writer. His head was always venturing out on adventures on its own, always swimming with stories and scenarios, even though not all of them were particularly interesting. It was odd, though. For whatever reason, most of those ideas remained in his head, never making it onto actual paper for the world to see. Hidden away in the private sanctuary of his mind, with him being the sole audience.
Perhaps it was because Yeonjun was a writer. That was just how things worked in his brain. If it wasn’t, well, then he wouldn’t be in this situation right now—
“Yeonjun. Are you listening to me?” Jimin’s voice brings Yeonjun back to reality. He looks at him sternly, yet his eyes are concerned. Jimin is Yeonjun’s literary agent—he was Yeonjun’s saving grace when he first found himself lost in the literary scene—who has a knack for organization alongside his sweet and gentle demeanor. Sometimes, Jimin came off a little more on the neurotic side, contrasting Yeonjun’s more spontaneous and carefree personality.
“Sorry, sorry,” Yeonjun sighs, looking down at his lap and running a hand through his hair. “What were you saying?”
“I was saying you have a deadline to chase,” Jimin’s voice is firm, his eyes looking into Yeonjun’s intently, “The publisher said three months, Junnie. To finish your new book.”
“ Three months?! ” Yeonjun repeats in disbelief, his eyes widening. Three months was barely enough time to finish a novel, with all the drafting and editing and revising that came with it. “That’s barely enough time, hyung!”
“Yeonjun-ah,” Jimin’s expression becomes more serious, taking his hands into his as if to emphasize his next words. “You’ve been stalling. I already told you about this since the start of the year, and it’s already June, dear.” He’s speaking to him sternly, but somehow his voice was still gentle, like a blade with rounded edges. “You need to get it done. They’ll likely drop you if you don’t.”
Yeonjun’s stomach drops slightly at that, his body visibly slumping a little as he sighs deeply. Right, Jimin could be blunt and straightforward too. But Yeonjun appreciated that most of the time. He liked that Jimin was honest and didn’t try to sugarcoat things.
“I know… I’ve just been so… uninspired,” Yeonjun looks down at his lap, “Ever since my last release, I don’t know. I’ve been in a slump. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Jimin softens, his eyes a little sadder now. He hums understandingly, nodding and pursing his plump lips. He looks past Yeonjun’s shoulder and outside the car window, staring at the scenery passing them by before looking back at Yeonjun again. “I get it. Are you… okay? Like, is there anything that’s bothering you that might be causing it?”
“I… I don’t know, hyung. Maybe it’s just burnout or something.”
“Mmm… maybe,” Jimin hums again, letting go of Yeonjun’s hands. “I hope you figure it out soon, Junnie. Well, you have to.” He puts a hand on his leg and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a half-smile on his lips. Yeonjun smiles in return, chuckling a little bit.
“Yeah. I appreciate it, Jimin-hyung.”
The rest of the ride is silent, and Yeonjun’s mind replays the dream he had earlier while he’s watching the buildings go by. He thinks of the golden, almost blinding light, the broad silhouette of the mysterious boy, and the way it all vanished before he could even begin to discover what it all meant. This wasn’t the first time he had dreamt of him—in fact, he’s been having the same dream for roughly a week now.
It was the same sequence every time: first, the strobing dancing lights and the glittery atmosphere. And then the boy’s silhouette comes into view, always with his back turned and never revealing his face. He would be playing with the butterflies or simply standing there, stroking his hair. That was where it usually stopped, until today, because this time, Yeonjun moved. But of course, before anything else could happen, he woke up, just as with any good dream.
Yeonjun props his head up on his elbow, looking out the car window and sighing softly. He wants to ponder on the recurring vision that flashes through his head every time he falls asleep, wants to rationalize why it is that he keeps having it over and over, but finds that he is too tired to. Thinking about this and his career and that deadline he needed to chase was draining his brainpower. He slumps in his seat, counting every red car he sees to keep himself awake, at least until he’s home.
It doesn’t take long until then, and Yeonjun is saying goodbye to Jimin and his boyfriend Taehyung, who kindly offered to drop Yeonjun off since his apartment was near his and Jimin’s place anyway. By the time he got there, the sun was already gone, and the sky was now a shade of navy. No stars could be seen because of the city’s light pollution, but the moon was visible overhead. It was a waning crescent tonight.
Yeonjun kicks his shoes off as he enters his apartment. It was a bit of a mess; the dishes were left unwashed in the sink, his desk was cluttered, and the coffee from that morning was still sitting on the counter, half-empty and cold. He said he would clean up a little when he got home, but all he wanted to do was have dinner and go to bed. He sighs as he flops on the couch, letting himself sink into the cushions and allowing his exhaustion to seep into his bones. After doing nothing and blanking out for a few minutes, he forces himself to get up and make himself dinner so he can finally get a good night’s sleep.
He begins the prosaic task of preparing a cup of instant ramen, filling the cup with hot water after putting in the packet of flavoring. He noticed earlier that he had barely any food left, and made a mental note to go out and get groceries sometime this week. His apartment was silent aside from the occasional sounds from his phone as he caught up with his unread messages. Although it was quite lonely, Yeonjun had gotten used to living alone, finding comfort in the quiet and basking in the seclusion.
After a few minutes, Yeonjun started eating, digging into the ramen with his chopsticks and watching the noodles swim in the orangey-red broth as he swirls it around. Slurping up his ramen while he sat on a stool, Yeonjun could forget about the world, even just for a moment. It was simple, but it provided him with an inexplicable, momentary solace from his problems.
He finishes the ramen rather quickly, sighing after he downs the broth, the warm liquid sliding down his throat. Gone too soon, he thinks. He haphazardly tosses the cup into the trash and places his chopsticks in the sink, deciding that he will wash the dishes tomorrow.
He washes up for a few minutes and then heads to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed almost immediately and exhaling in relief. He turns off the lights, gets into bed, pulls his weighted blanket (his best purchase, he believes) over his body, and gets comfortable, sinking into his mattress as he begins to doze off. He knows he’s probably going to have that same dream of that boy again, and he wonders if something new will happen tonight. He’s too sleepy to dwell on it though, falling asleep within minutes, and right before he goes to bed, he thinks of how grateful he is for the quiet tonight.
The next morning, Yeonjun wakes up, winded but wonderfilled. It’s as if he unlocked the secrets of the universe in his slumber, the way his sleepy eyes were wide open with awe.
He had seen him last night.
⛧
Words are hard. They are elusive, slippery, stubborn things. Annoyingly hard to put together. Always straying from the mind the second you need to put your thoughts down, and often, at the most important moments.
Sometimes, Yeonjun finds himself wondering why he chose this profession. He wonders why he decided adamantly to pursue the life of a humble novelist. Although it was very fulfilling, the burnout constantly loomed over him, following him around like some disturbed spirit. It’s probably why he’s been sitting here for hours now, staring at the open document on his laptop screen, the few words he managed to squeeze out of his brain looking miserably measly on the vast white page.
The local library where he usually stayed to work was quieter on Thursdays, so he thought getting started on his next novel there would be a good idea. He had hoped to draw some inspiration from being surrounded by art and tranquility. Alas, he found himself sitting on a small table, alone, a few empty cups of coffee surrounding his laptop as he struggled to get into things. He had a few ideas at the back of his mind—romance probably, younger people always seem to like that, maybe a fantasy trope, and of course, the obligatory self-projection—but nothing solid to kick-start the plot.
He was starting to get frustrated. He had been here for hours , and even with the comfortingly idyllic environment of the library and the caffeine in his system, he was still staring at that (almost) empty document.
He groans, burying his face in his hands, the huge block of white almost taunting. Why is this so hard? he thinks, typing out whatever comes into mind, just wanting to fill in the annoyingly large space and hoping it would become useful later on. He starts internally praying—he never prays—begging whatever higher power is out there to give him a sign, a sudden burst of inspiration, anything. A divine intervention, a deus ex machina, to save him from the impossible plight that is writer’s block.
He could use a break, and another cup of coffee. Yeonjun pulls out his phone.
...
choi to the power of three! (3)
Yesterday, 3:04 am
choi beomgyu (brat)
[link]
yeonjun-hyung, this duck looks like you
GOOFY AHH
soobin
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
you’re right
choi beomgyu (brat)
always am
(❤️ 1)
me
you two are so annoying
I HATE COUPLES!!!!
(😂 2)
Today, 5:49 pm
soobin
i have your coffee, hyung
wru ?
me
LOCAL LIB
PLEASEEEEEEE
I’M DESPERSTE RN
soobin
be fr
how many cups have you had?????
me
like 3… and a half idk
pls just give me my coffee i’m going to die here
choi beomgyu (brat)
addict
it’s almost 6pm
me
STFU
U DONT GET IT.
i’m a single dad who works ten jobs i need the caffeine
choi beomgyu (brat)
more like just single ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
also hyung i don’t think that’s healthy
me
what the fuck.
(😂 1)
soobin
i’ll be there in like 15 mins, hyung
beomgyu’s coming, but he’ll follow
he’s just wrapping things up at the shelter
(❤️ 1)
me
OK OK AWESOME
THANKS GUYSSSS ㅎㅎ see u
(🥰 1)
...
The library was a pleasant place to lose oneself, away from what may be the monotony of one’s life. This is what Yeonjun came to rediscover, as he decided on loitering between the tall shelves of books while waiting for Soobin to arrive. It was fun to roam around the library, to re-explore its interior, even though he had already done it countless times.
There was something satisfying about seeing rows and rows of books upon books neatly compacted together, something alluring about the way the shelves were uniformly lined up, like an old, dense forest that held many secrets. Technically, it could be, Yeonjun thinks. They are just dead trees after all.
Yeonjun runs a hand across the line of spines, enjoying feeling the ridges and bumps but also cringing when he feels dust gather on his fingertips. He blows on them, wiping his hand on his burgundy hoodie with a slight frown. He continues walking, looking closely at some cool titles he spots and taking out the particularly intriguing ones, until he runs out of shelves to go through, stopping somewhere near the back of the library.
He gets bored, turns around, and starts walking back to where he came from. However, as he’s passing through the nonfiction shelf again, he notices something through gaps, the empty spaces on the shelves with no books. A mop of blond hair. It is moving slightly, left and right, accompanied by the soft thud of books being arranged on hardwood.
Out of curiosity, Yeonjun leans down and peeks through the shelf, following the head of hair as it moves around, each back and forth punctuated by a quiet thunk. When he looks a little closer, he gets a slightly better view of the person’s physique. Their back is turned, broad and shapely, their face hidden from view. Something about this feels vaguely familiar to Yeonjun, something he can’t quite recall. A misty memory.
The person steps back and stands still for a second, crouching down a little as if inspecting their work, their beige cashmere sweater taking up most of what Yeonjun could see. And then they turn around, and Yeonjun feels his breath catch in his throat.
A face so striking it makes Yeonjun’s heart stop. It was a boy, the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. Kind, almond eyes and a sharp nose. High cheekbones that cast shadows over his glass skin, and lips so pink, pinker than a rose in full bloom. His blond bangs fell over his forehead, its tips lightly brushing his eyelids and Yeonjun has never been more entranced. He wonders if he’s just dreaming.
Dreaming… dreaming…
And that’s when Yeonjun remembers.
It’s him. The mysterious boy he dreams of every night. He remembers it clearly now, just a few nights back, when he finally saw his face for the first time. The same features, the same build, the same aura. He’s having a hard time processing it, really.
The pretty boy gets closer, approaching the shelf where Yeonjun is hiding, his gaze falling on the titles and books arranged before him. For a moment, their eyes meet, and Yeonjun feels like he can’t breathe, his jaw hanging open just a little, his cheeks dusted pink. He gets flustered, eyes going wide as he scrambles backward, tripping over nothing and landing on his butt. His back hits the shelf behind him with a faint thud, and he winces softly, rubbing the spot.
By the time he scrambles to his feet and takes a peek again, the boy is gone. He deflates a little, stepping out from between the shelves and staring at the empty corridor. He looks around, going back to the reading area with renewed purpose, searching for a beautiful boy with a light blond mop of hair. His steps get faster, his head turning in every direction, and to the average person, Yeonjun looked lost, among the books and the quiet people.
But then he turns to his right near the circulation area, and Yeonjun’s heart stops for the second time that day.
“Can I help you?” Soft and gentle. Sweet, but tentative, demure. Like a petal that lands on your hair in the first bloom of spring.
Yeonjun’s breath hitches. He’s even closer now.
The boy was holding a stack of books, his head peeking out of the side, a curious look on his face. Up close, Yeonjun thinks he’s even prettier. He can see the moles littered across his face—too many to count, for now—and the little bump on his nose bridge. He has to force himself not to stare. He wasn’t trying to look like a creep.
“Um, no, no. I mean—I’m fine. I was just. Going back to my seat.” Yeonjun nods, flashing the boy a nervous version of his usual dazzling smile. He hopes he doesn’t notice.
The boy hums, nodding, a polite smile on his lips. He’s all soft-eyed, one corner of his mouth pushing against his cheek.
“Okay. Well, give me a shout if you need anything.” He begins to walk away. But Yeonjun doesn’t want him to, not yet, not when he didn’t even have his name. He calls out after him before he can even think of it.
“Wait!” Yeonjun jogs forward a little, flushing when he realizes he unintentionally raised his voice, causing a few heads to turn toward him. He’s usually good at this stuff. What was with him today?
The boy turns around and walks back, looking a little flustered. “I didn’t mean it literally,” He says quietly with a chuckle, and the sound makes Yeonjun’s chest feel all warm. “What is it?”
Right, Yeonjun didn’t think that far. His eyes dart around, and he tries to ignore how his face is slowly starting to heat up as he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before. I always go here. To the library, I mean.”
The boy’s eyes widen, and he shifts a little, adjusting his grip on the stack of books as he continues to peek at Yeonjun from the side. Yeonjun feels a little bad, realizing it must be uncomfortable for him to be conversing while holding all those heavy books.
“Oh, yeah. I am. I’m a new librarian here.”
Yeonjun brightens. He’s already thinking of going to the library more often, mapping out his schedule in his head and all.
“Really? That’s cool.”
“Mhm.”
“What’s your name?” Yeonjun blurts it out. He’s slightly annoyed but also surprised at his own boldness.
“Kai,” The boy says with a sweet smile that complements the name that falls from his lips, “Huening Kai.”
Huening Kai . A smile unconsciously spreads across Yeonjun’s face as he lets the sound of the syllables sink in. His name was far more interesting than the other titles he found earlier, like a fresh book waiting to be opened. Yeonjun gets the feeling that it’s the type of book that would keep him warm on a stormy night, the type of book he would come back to over and over again.
“Kai,” Yeonjun tests the name on his own tongue. He finds that he quite likes it. “Nice to meet you, Huening Kai. It’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” Kai’s smile grows, nodding his head to the side a little, light rosy pink blooming across his cheeks. “And you are…?”
“Choi Yeonjun!”
Yeonjun snaps his head at the sound of his name, his brows furrowing. A tall, lean guy approaches, thick-framed glasses perched on his nose bridge, and he’s holding two cups of coffee. Upon recognizing him, he relaxes, waving at him with a grin of his own. “Soobin-ah!”
Soobin smiles gently. It’s distinct, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, the way his cheeks bunch up, the way his eyes almost completely disappear. He exudes the type of aura as enthralling as the sea; an aura that feels like walking along the beach during the sunrise, feeling the waves lap at your feet and the cool morning air caress your skin.
“This is a library. You’re not supposed to yell,” Yeonjun chides him with an easy chuckle.
“I wasn’t yelling,” Soobin raises his brows, his smile morphing into a slight pout.
“You pretty much were.”
“Do you want your coffee or not?”
“I do! I’m sorry.”
Soobin sighs exasperatedly, and Yeonjun only laughs. “This one’s yours,” He hands Yeonjun a tall cup, steam wafting out of the small opening. The heat from it warms Yeonjun’s hands and cheeks from the air conditioning of the library.
“An Americano, as usual.”
“Thanks.” Yeonjun takes a sip and sighs quietly, tasting the warm bitterness of the coffee.
Yeonjun turns around and notices Kai watching on awkwardly, fidgeting with the corner of the bottom book of the stack. Soobin briefly makes eye contact with Kai with an intrigued look on his face, before he looks back at Yeonjun in question.
Yeonjun’s gaze switches between the two guys, trying to figure out what to do next. He cringes internally at the empty silence that fills the air. But before he can speak, Kai beats him to it.
“I’m going to go,” He says awkwardly, peeking at Yeonjun one more time from the stack of books he’s been holding this whole time, nodding.
“Careful!” The stack tilts a little as Kai walks, and Yeonjun instinctively rushes next to him to stabilize it, his fingers grazing Kai’s knuckles for a moment. Their eyes meet, and Yeonjun’s stomach turns at their proximity.
“I’ve got it,” Kai says softly, smiling just a little at Yeonjun to get him to pry his hands off the books. “Thanks, Yeonjun. ”
Yeonjun melts. It’s music to his ears, the way Kai says his name, the way it sounds in his voice, in that slight accent he can't quite distinguish. He’s rooted to where he’s standing as he dumbly watches Kai walk away, back into the labyrinth of books. His gaze remains on Kai’s broad back, on his cashmere sweater, as he’s arranging books on the shelves again. He wasn’t doing anything special, but Yeonjun thinks he’s just as mystical as he was in his dreams.
“Who was that?” Soobin asks, nudging Yeonjun’s shoulder, a devious grin on his lips. But Yeonjun was too preoccupied to care, too busy watching the way Kai’s hands slid the books into their respective places with practiced ease, almost as if he had this job for years already.
As Yeonjun is staring at Kai, he already knows that he’s going to plague his brain for days. Perhaps he is the sign that Yeonjun so desperately prayed for, and for a moment, he believes.
When Yeonjun responds to Soobin, he doesn't look at him. He dares not look away from the blond boy, as if he would disappear if he took his eyes off him, like how he used to in his dreams.
“My deus ex machina. ”