Chapter Text
Dongmin is a normal person, who dreams on occasion and forgets about them almost immediately. Though, his recent research has shown that most people actually don’t dream at all, so he’s immediately not normal, contradicting his own conclusions. Among that are even less people who can recall or have vivid dreams, so obviously he’s contracted some kind of disease at this point.
Just a little less than three hours ago, after suffering in the 90-degree (Fahrenheit) heat during one of his part-time jobs loading boxes into a GameStop, he decided to drive to the nearest Asian-titled store and buy a twelve-pack of Honeydew-flavored Melona bars— cold, sweet, and soft with the perfect amount of iciness to each bite.
He ate one while driving on the way back to his apartment, blasting the air conditioner until he was colder than he was hot and the heat wafted like waves against his windows, making them hot and nearly burning to the touch. Traffic was terrible, as it always is, but he managed to blast enough contemporary rock and jazz into the Aux on the way and with some pretty lucky tracks picked while his playlist was on shuffle— he wasn’t completely dying.
All of this to say, when parking in his designated non-negotiable but also non-negotiated on in the first place spot and watching as two people fight over the parking spot next to him, he feels a little tired. Not just a little, actually, because returning from a five-hour shift at the peak of daytime would make anyone tired.
He nearly forgets the Melona bars he bought at the store, spotting them while locking his car and having to grab them before entering his apartment. The building reeks of cinnamon and lavender— a combo that, in his opinion, doesn’t go very well together— and grabs his package left in the inner section blocked by glass walls and black-painted metal architecture to unlock the second door inside and take the elevator up.
What’s inside of the package is entirely a mystery, as everything he orders comes a week late almost every single time, and he drops the plastic package onto the table in front of his couch before putting the Melona bars away far in the freezer to be lost to time. He eventually returns to collapse onto the velvety, brown fabric of his couch, scuffed shoes placed neatly in their rack.
Most of his furniture is stuff found after scouring for hours on Facebook Market and long drives with Donghyun to random countrysides and city blocks, mismatched lamps with buttons or ball-chained pull switches and tables with slightly different tints of wood, all vaguely organized or empty to keep things clean.
He reaches over, grabbing one of the IKEA couch pillows in a dark, navy blue and embroidered with white to create the image of musical notes across the fabric, and closes his eyes. The light that filters and illuminates the entirety of the half-living room half-kitchen makes it hard for him to keep them closed, but the warmth draws him in, makes it easier to fall in a state of REM sleep before he even knows it.
He already has a timer set for when he needs to pick up Donghyun from an audition— and with that thought, he’s dropped into a vision of green surroundings, grass speckled by white and yellow lilies as he walks towards a stilted house reminiscent of one unfamiliar to a plains setting and more for a swamp. It’s probably fine, he believes, and walks up to open the front door.
Unsurprisingly, Donghyun is inside. White wrappers litter the floor, covering almost the entirety of the wood, and Dongmin has to walk through the sharp crinkles and green, sticky mess before approaching his friend on a couch that looks suspiciously like his.
”Sit down,” Donghyun says, handing him an unwrapped white package. It’s the same as the ones on the floor, and when he opens it he finds a Honeydew-flavored, green Melona bar. He has the substance smeared across his face, as if he’d eaten all the ones now discarded everywhere, and before Dongmin even knows it he’s reaching behind himself to grab a napkin out of thin air.
Donghyun takes the napkin, thankful, and wipes his mouth and cheeks, throwing the now-dirty thing into the distance, pointing out in front of them.
The house, though he doesn’t remember, has been bore through and the wood stops a third of the way before completing the structure, leaving a window that shows a vision of the same green plains and flowers. Donghyun reaches behind, grabbing another Melona bar, and unwraps it to throw into the distance.
Originally, as anyone would believe, Dongmin thinks that he’s littering for particularly no reason— until bright yellow flowers sprout where the bar had disappeared, and green grass packs the area dense. A few, stray monarch butterflies fly out from the area, and Dongmin makes a noise in strange astonishment.
“That’s… cool?” He says, voice echoing and eyes fixed on the scene. He throws his own bar, which ends up creating another patch of bright colors and fluttering butterflies, and turns to Donghyun. “How do you know this?”
Donghyun, smiling, leans in. He opens his mouth to speak, and Dongmin looks at him, expectant— and when he does, a loud, radiating, alarm sound leaves instead of his voice.
Dongmin stumbles, nearly jumping out of his skin, as he opens his eyes to find himself still on his couch, light pouring over the room and his phone vibrating with the force of his alarm. He turns it off, rubbing between his eyes, and sighs at the unsatisfactory wake-up call before leaving to pick up Donghyun.
Traffic, is, again, bad. Blasting music doesn’t help as much now that his mind is occupied by the strange dream he’d just had, trying to recall the details so that he can retell them to Donghyun once he arrives. There’s an uptick of wind, which helps cool him down, but the humidity of the daytime still lingers around.
“There were no popsicle sticks on the floor, so he definitely threw them all.” He mutters to himself, putting one hand up as a gesture of well-being as he stops at a light to let a family pass. His brows furrow, realizing something while halfway there. “Why did he have it all over his face then? I even gave him a napkin.”
Once he gets to the large, modernized building, it’s easy to spot Donghyun sitting on a bench in front, wearing pants despite the heat. He has blonde hair, though the roots are starting to come in strong, sweat making him look only slightly disheveled and a little too good in the light. Dongmin rolls down the window, waving directly at him— but he inevitably needs to send a text to get him to look over.
”Thanks for picking me up,” He says, which he’s said every single time Dongmin’s picked him up, and since he’s gotten scolded on it already there’s no bother to do it again. “How have you been?”
”I had a really weird dream.” Dongmin states, instantly. Donghyun hums, only half-interested, and watches the road in front of them as Dongmin describes every detail, down to the strange open-holed house and the Melona bars with extra-strong magic fertilizer.
He tells mainly the strange parts, like how Donghyun had residue on his face of the ice cream despite throwing the rest into the field, and the unlikely mossy, dark wood house with stilts being set in a bright plains. Driving is second nature when speaking to Donghyun, and he even has time to watch a crowd of people line up at a new café when they stop at a light.
“Well, you don’t know. I could’ve eaten a few of the Melona bars.” Donghyun states, having reached over halfway through the story to hold Dongmin’s hand and use his other to take control of the Aux, scrolling through the man’s playlist for certain songs to add into queue. “And threw the rest of the popcicle sticks into the field.”
Dongmin huffs. “I guess. But it’s still weird. I don’t even know where I got the napkins from.”
”All dreams are weird, probably. It actually sounds pretty nice, if you were able to just sit and watch flowers grow. Sounds like I was pretty magical.”
“Yeah, but you blasted my own alarm into my ears when I woke up.”
Donghyun hums, unbothered. “Well, that’s not my problem. You haven’t changed your alarm in three years since I switched it as a prank.”
They spend the rest of the drive back quiet, Donghyun yawning in the passenger seat and wiggling his intertwined fingers against Dongmin’s and occasionally pointing out familiar billboards beside the road, bright grass dimmed by the falling sun behind them. An air freshener shaped like a tree hangs from the rear view mirror, but it’s practically odorless from how long it’s stayed there simply because of the unique limited design of animals and instruments scattered together in an abstract style.
The air conditioner brings a constant hum to the sound around them, along with the music and the occasional car honk from road ragers around them, making the flow of traffic pass surprisingly fast until they’re parking back into the same spot and Dongmin turns to shake Donghyun awake from his nap. He blinks, bleary, rubbing his eyes as he leaves the car to follow Dongmin into his apartment.
Donghyun does have his own place, but it’s farther from the city so they often end up at Dongmin’s and practically live in the same apartment. He slips his shoes off, watching as Dongmin does the same, the man pulling at his shirt impatiently and hands already undoing the bandana around his head.
”Are you going to start stripping in front of me?” Donghyun asks, though he’s unbothered even as Dongmin pulls his shirt off and throws it into his laundry hamper by the entrance of his bedroom. Donghyun sits back on the couch, smiling as Dongmin begins to unbutton his pants. “You could at least take me out to dinner first.”
”I’m taking a shower.” Dongmin states, simply. He turns to Donghyun, as if to ask if he wants to join, and Donghyun shakes his head.
“You go first. I think I’m going to eat one of the Melona bars.” He says.
Dongmin squints. “Did you say that on purpose to remind me?”
“You said your coworker swore by this when they were a child?” Donghyun asks, stirring the warm bowl of spaghetti-o’s on the bedside table as Dongmin settles into bed. Really, he only plans on eating a little bit of it and then throwing the rest away if he ends up not liking it, but Donghyun seems more intrigued than himself.
”Yeah.” He responds, pulling the sheets over his lap.
”It looks… interesting.”
”Come choose the movie we’re gonna watch already.” He says, pulling Donghyun towards and over the bed so that the man is forced to crawl to the other edge and sit beside him. Both of them are dressed in matching pajamas Dongmin originally bought as a joke and now wear almost religiously, a bright teal with both of their initials pasted on the front in a bubble font with multiple different patterns used to create the letters.
They’ve already eaten dinner, having washed and dried the dishes together after consuming some familiar form of meat and rice with an ancient rice cooker painted with pink flowers and with a cap that doesn’t quite fit— but makes the best rice. Donghyun has an extensive skincare routine to go through that he forces Dongmin to follow as well, and they make sure that they don’t forget to set their alarms before playing a movie, as nine times out of ten they end up falling asleep halfway through and randomly waking up at one in the morning to clean up the mess left.
Dongmin leans over, grabbing his shallow bowl of what is essentially half a can of warmed-up Spaghetti-o’s, stirring the concoction before spooning some into his mouth. Donghyun glances over, curious, even while scrolling through pirated sites to find them a new movie series to binge watch or some cringy romcom to make fun of, stopping when he sees Dongmin take another bite.
“…How does it taste?” He asks, Dongmin eating another few spoonfuls.
He tuts, as if trying to hold onto the taste. “It’s… not bad. It’s very sweet, and less tomatoey. I think children would like this.” Dongmin states. “The O’s are kind of weirdly shaped, and mushy, but it’s not terrible. It might be kind of a sensory thing for you, though.”
Donghyun hums in understanding, turning back towards the laptop to click on some random movie title with an interesting picture on the front. “Alright then. I won’t try it.” He murmurs, exiting from what feels like a million suggestive ads before being able to start playing the movie. Dongmin looks around, spotting the familiar scene of clean, unfolded clothes and boxes they need to recycle on the floor, and leans against Donghyun’s shoulder on order to focus on the movie.
The screen is bright, brighter than expected, and he winces, reaching over to turn the brightness down as a beach scene plays out in front of them. Donghyun is as always, interested, but Dongmin yawns at the first sight of the male lead and the girl’s best friend bumping into each other for the first time.
It especially gets boring when argument scenes come up or musical-like numbers partway through the movie, and before he knows it he’s drifting off. Donghyun laughs about something, the vibrations radiating through to his body, and brings an arm to wrap around Dongmin, only adding to the white noise that begins to fuzz together in his mind.
Eventually, when Dongmin blinks, he’s surrounded by what looks like pool tile and Spaghetti-o’s. Why? Because he is.
Donghyun, apparently in the same space as him, taps his shoulder. He turns, finding the man still in his pajamas and kneeling down on the little island of tile they’re on, grabbing his hand. Dongmin, who can already assume what is about to happen, stills, mostly in shock.
”Dongmin…” The man starts.
”Yes.” Dongmin states, instantly. “Before the house, though?”
Donghyun, who only grins, pulls out the black wedding ring box— but all that is inside is a surprisingly stiff Spaghetti-o that perfectly fits Dongmin’s ring finger. He blinks, eyes wide and confused, silent as his now supposed fiancé slips the piece of food onto his finger.
“How’d you even get my ring size?” He asks.
”I just assumed you were the biggest size,” Donghyun laughs, and Dongmin smacks him over the head.
They stand, still surrounded by the Spaghetti-o’s, and Dongmin looks around, supposedly for some kind of oar to paddle them out of the red and yellow ocean. There is none, though, and he turns to Donghyun. But Donghyun is gone.
“What?—“ He yells, “We just got engaged! You’re going to abandon me after that?”
Now left alone, Dongmin panics. He doesn’t want to touch the Spaghetti-o ocean, though, and so he tries to step on the gelatinous substance. Weirdly enough, it holds him up, and he stands on the Spaghetti-o’s, looking down at the tile island he was previously on. The sky is surprisingly blue, as if he really is in the middle of the ocean, and as he walks into the distance of more and more Spaghetti-o’s, he finds a small, real island at the end. With beaches that have water, and palm trees and sand and everything.
He immediately makes a run for it, and when he arrives he finds that the coconuts are instead incredibly large Spaghetti-o’s, and that he’s now dressed in a dark red suit and glasses, passing a stray, full-body mirror just lingering on the beach for him to look at himself and surprisingly be satisfied with how crisp he looks. It’s all coincidental, but he strangely feels like he should be at the island for some reason.
“Dongmin!” Someone yells, and he turns to find that it’s Donghyun— dressed in a yellow, quite frankly, ugly suit since it’s painted with red speckles and stripes all over it, and Dongmin immediately points out so.
”What are you wearing? You couldn’t find anything else?”
”No. Hurry, before the guests get suspicious!” Donghyun says, and they run to the other side of the island. Where a wedding is currently taking place. He now feels like this was the reason he was dressed so nicely.
Dongmin, startled, takes the seat gestured by Donghyun and immediately reaches to hold his hand. The beach is nice, albeit surrounded by sudden Rocky Mountains and pine trees, but the water is as clear as if it were filtered. “Whose wedding is this?” He asks, “I don’t remember getting invited.”
Donghyun leans over, pointing towards the groom and the bride, and Dongmin immediately notices that he also has a Spaghetti-o on his ring finger, despite Dongmin not putting one there. He looks down, reminded of his own, and only registers the man’s voice when he whispers directly into his ear.
“Dongmin.” He says, and it feels way too close for comfort.
Dongmin jumps, startled, and suddenly the beach is a lot darker— because he’s not at the beach. He’s in his bed.
Donghyun smiles at him, sleepy-eyed and expression soft, and the familiar, comforting sight makes it much easier for Dongmin to calm down. He leans back over, exhausted, and looks over to find that the movie has finished.
“You must have been tired,” Donghyun murmurs, certainly tired enough to not even make the effort to tease him about his jumpiness. The harsh laptop brightness makes a ring of light around his head, and Dongmin gets the urge to start thanking whatever god is above for the creature currently worried about his health. “Are you gonna brush your teeth?”
“Yeah.” He responds, instead, throat strangely dry. “I need to throw away my Spaghetti-o’s.”
Donghyun hums, moving to close the laptop in front of them. “You didn’t like them?” He assumes.
”No, they were… alright. I just don’t think i can stomach them right now.”
Another hum. Then a pause.
“Did you have another dream?” Donghyun asks. Dongmin nods, and the man laughs. “About Spaghetti-o’s?”
”Yeah. You wore this really ugly suit and there was an island with giant Spaghetti-o’s for coconuts.” Dongmin retells, standing up to grab his half-empty bowl and watch as the other puts the laptop back on his desk. “Oh, and you proposed to me, so we both wore spaghetti-o’s for rings and attended a Spaghetti-o themed wedding. But it wasn’t our wedding, for some reason. It was someone else’s.”
Donghyun smiles. “That’s nice.” He says.
”No, it was really weird.” Dongmin states. Second time he’s had a weirdly vivid dream including something relevant and Donghyun.
While they’re not terrifying, they’re definitely not normal, especially when occurring during a hard-earned nap. He still feels a little unrested from the Melona bar dream earlier, running on less battery power than normal and relying on Donghyun to remind him of things he’d normally do on autopilot. That also might be the reason for him falling asleep for the entirety of the movie— he didn’t even make it halfway through the plot before drifting off on Donghyun’s shoulder.
Donghyun clears his throat, taking him out of his own thoughts. ”I mean, us getting engaged.” He states.
”Oh.” Dongmin pauses. “Yeah. That part was pretty nice.”