Chapter Text
The sun rises hesitant but gorgeous. Donghyuck watches from the window ledge- slightly moldy at the edges and a bit of an ick to push open- worth it though, for the way warmth settles in his stomach, homely.
He had dreamt, last night- of crystal-fractured glass that pierced the soft flesh of his palms, and Jaemin. Jaemin's been a common fixture in his dreams, lately. Probably because Donghyuck has something of a crush on him. Something like that.
The red-pink-orange blend of jellyfish float translucent on the horizon, through and around him in swarms. He breathes out and the air in his lungs feels ephemeral.
“Did you know, there's a jellyfish species that's biologically immortal?”
“Hm. That's cool.”
“It's called the Turritopsis Dohrnii, and its cells can regrow.”
“Huh.”
Donghyuck puts on a small pout- the slightly fake and easily reversible one of a child. “Are you even listening to me?”
Jaemin places his phone down on the window ledge beside them, the rustle of his clothes soft as he turns to look Donghyuck in the eye.
“Yeah. I'm always listening to you.” He nudges Donghyuck playfully, finger poking at his belly button.
Donghyuck looks at Jaemin- who's dripping in golden light that streams through a window, smiling delicately and beautifully human in the moment.
Then, he really looks at Jaemin, underneath the layers of reality, into the core of Donghyuck’s perception- and he is still Jaemin, and Donghyuck still wants him.
Lately, Donghyuck’s been craving strawberry shortcake. When he finally makes the time for the journey to his favourite bakery and rearranges his diet- already precariously balanced- to get a slice, he finds it doesn't taste at all as good as he'd imagined.
It's perfectly normal- there's even some kind of psychological reason behind it- but it makes Donghyuck a bit afraid.
He thinks: What if he doesn't know what he wants, and he doesn’t really want what he wants, and when he gets what he wants- if he does- all he'll be left with is bitter disappointment and the consequences of attaining what he had thought he wanted- and it'll all be worth less than nothing.
Donghyuck spaces out sometimes- says it's an aftereffect of idol-stress, all this terribly heavy pressure on his young, delicate frame- complete with an overdramatic sighing motion.
He's not too sure what the real reason is, but the running theory is similar to the excuse-story; Donghyuck thinks of too many things, switches back and forth between Haechan and Donghyuck-ie so much that when he is finally just Donghyuck he wants to think of nothing at all. Honestly, it makes being just Donghyuck seem rather dull.
The position he's in- sprawled out, on his side, hand slightly crushed under body- is a little awkward; he can feel the blood flow being cut off at his shoulder. It'll be a pain later, but Donghyuck can't quite be bothered to care at the moment.
Yawning, he shifts on the mangled nest atop the couch, stretching before maneuvering to face Jaemin- who's similarly lying on the floor below. He claims that the coolness is calming. Donghyuck holds his skepticism and tongue.
Jaemin blinks open one eye blearily- and they lie in this expanse- still moment. Donghyuck looks at Jaemin and Jaemin looks back, both just barely conscious. He wants to interlock their fingers, drag his palm down Jaemin's sweat-damp skin, something else, maybe. It doesn't feel right though, or too much for this second.
They stay like that until Jaemin turns away like a soft whisper. Donghyuck’s ears fill with the chlorinated water when you sink to the bottom of a swimming pool, he lies back pressed to the couch, eyes delicately closed.
Donghyuck dreams one night. He is floating in something like a space-ocean crossover and there is a vast bookshelf of fish before him- far and wide as the eye can see. He treads water carefully before realising he doesn’t have to at all. It is a dream.
It feels quiet in the library, but it isn’t, not really- there is the gentle hum of the ocean, white noise. It blurs almost everything out, saving the bone-deep ache of want in Donghyuck’s chest and almost nothing else.
He feels like he is waiting for something. Everything before that is surely meaningless.
Donghyuck treads three careful steps to the nearest fish- something that looks like a red snapper but purple. Running one finger up and down through its scales reveals that they are of the same sort as the sequined shirts that had been trending back in highschool- little plastic tabs you could flip over back and forth, both sides a bright neon coloured abomination. It is all rather dull. He is still waiting.
Jaemin cuts through like the sharpened butcher’s knife, slices swift and clean. He grabs Donghyuck’s shoulder with a hint of frenzy and Donghyuck is up like he’s been electrocuted thrice. A spasm runs down his spine.
“What.” Donghyuck knows he sounds panicked- he feels panicked. He feels like there is something horrible wrong and terrible about to happen to Jaemin for no good reason.
“Nothing!” Jaemin blurts, hand placating, rubbing circles of comfort down Donghyuck’s spine. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong! Nothing at all! Seriously. We’re running a little late, is all. I just wanted to wake you up.” He looks a little confused, and a little worried, but not for himself- which is a good sign he isn’t in danger.
“Okay.” Donghyuck says, sufficiently calmed down. He does not yet remember the dream. “Okay. Good.” He takes one deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “Alright. I’m not sure why I reacted like that,” There’s an urge to explain- something more concrete and reasonable than I felt the urgency in your palm when you touched me, and it was so jarringly scary I was shocked awake. “Maybe it was my dream.” It was, in part, probably. It felt like it was. “Or I’m just tense, or something.”
Jaemin nods slowly, clearly not in belief, but he seems all for pushing off the topic. They are in a hurry, after all. Donghyuck’s ears clear up as Jaemin pulls him off the bed and rushes him through getting ready, and that is that.