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Wooyoung opened his eyes and heard the rushing of wind and sleep ringing in his ears. He was standing in an entirely new dream—not his own, but someone else’s.
Looking around, it was difficult to get his bearings right away. He was in the middle of an enormous garden. Aside from how sprawling it was, it seemed normal at first. There were flowering bushes and neatly trimmed hedges and lush trees. Then he walked a little closer to a bush full of weird-looking flowers.
They weren’t actually flowers. They were Taekwondo medals hiding in the leaves. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow and checked another plant to his left. That one had miniature plushies blooming on it. Some of them were Pokémon.
He grinned. Oh, he was so not going to let San live this down.
Speaking of his friend, Wooyoung heard a familiar voice behind him and turned around.
In a sunny, grassy clearing was San, looking just as handsome and broad-shouldered as he was in real life. He wore a simple, black t-shirt.
Someone stood next to him, and Wooyoung had to do a double take.
It was him. It was Dream Wooyoung. Despite all the times that Wooyoung had hopped into his friends’ dreams before, he hadn’t yet run into himself. Honestly, he felt slightly insulted if he thought too hard about it…what sorts of friends never dreamed about you? It was sort of on his bucket list to stand eye-to-eye with himself in dream form.
Finally, finally, here was a Dream Wooyoung. Now Real Wooyoung felt like he could cause some true chaos. Seeing a doppelganger would definitely throw San off, and the face his friend made when he was confused was adorable. So, Wooyoung pushed his shoulders back and started to approach.
Then Dream Wooyoung shifted so that he turned toward him a little more, and Real Wooyoung stopped. He got a good look at the other Wooyoung’s face as he gazed at San.
This version of him had hair that was oddly perfect. Like, his hair was shiny and his bangs lay just right and everything. That was strange.
Also, his skin was flawless, and Wooyoung had never seen his own face look so…even? Well-proportioned? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His eyes were still a little asymmetrical, but it was like Wooyoung was looking at himself through a weird, new camera lens.
Dream Wooyoung was talking with San and standing close. San cracked a joke, and Dream Wooyoung smiled.
Suddenly, as he watched them, Wooyoung’s expression twisted into a sour glare.
Even Dream Wooyoung’s laugh sounded way more pleasant than Wooyoung’s actual laugh…he had been a bit self-conscious of his laugh lately. This other Wooyoung was dressed well, too. He wasn’t even wearing anything fancy or expensive, but the outfit still flattered him.
Wooyoung looked down at his ratty t-shirt and pajama pants, simultaneously remembering he still wore his stupid pink headband.
He clenched his teeth. He knew he was being dumb about this, but he stalked off to a different part of the garden anyway.
“Wooyoung?” came San’s voice.
“Shit,” hissed Wooyoung. He glanced over his shoulder to see San following him.
San stared. Twice, he glanced back at Dream Wooyoung. Clearly, he was processing that there was more than one of them.
“There are two of you…” he said intelligently.
“Guess so,” said Wooyoung moodily. He crossed his arms.
Then he couldn’t bear to see San look back at Perfect Dream Wooyoung again, so he left. He squeezed his eyes shut, thought hard about waking up in his own bed, and then the dream closed around him like a rush of wind. He felt himself lying down wrapped in his bed sheets. He had woken up.
Over the course of the day, San texted him. And when Wooyoung didn’t feel like answering, San called. When Wooyoung didn’t answer, San left voicemails.
The cryptic way that San said he wanted to “check in” with Wooyoung in these voicemails sounded suspicious. He kept asking if Wooyoung was upset with him.
Wooyoung started to wonder if San suspected the dream hopping thing. Maybe he had called Yeosang and mentioned his dream, and Yeosang had told him what Wooyoung could do.
That would be embarrassing. It would mean San knew the imperfect, post-bedtime-routine version of Wooyoung he found sulking around in his Taekwondo dream garden was actually Wooyoung. Who was a slob compared to the other, sparkly Wooyoung.
His best bet was to forget the dream ever happened and hope that San would, too. He would answer San’s texts in the next day or two and explain that he had just had a rough day or something.
And it wouldn’t be a good idea to dream hop into San’s head again the next night. Nope, not at all.
He did it anyway.
Wooyoung popped up in the back of a movie theater. The lights were low, and previews played in front of mostly empty seats. The people moving on the screen were sort of fuzzy and shapeless, and Wooyoung couldn’t hear the volume very well. Clearly, the movie itself wasn’t the point of this dream.
He scanned the seats. Sure enough, there was San a few rows down sitting with someone to his right.
Wooyoung blinked to bring them both into focus in the dim light, then felt hot anger fill him as he realized that was Dream Wooyoung next to him. Again.
It was weird seeing the back of his own head. He wanted to punch it.
He stood up, not bothering to keep quiet, and San’s head turned. He stood the moment he saw Wooyoung. His eyes went wide.
“It is you! You’re real! Yeosang said—” he started, pointing at him.
So, Wooyoung was right. He scoffed. “Of course I’m real.”
San was gaping at him. Then he blinked rapidly and looked all around the theater.
“Hold on, am I dreaming?”
Wooyoung glanced down his nose at Dream Wooyoung. The doppelganger was still seated and staring at the previews.
“What the hell is this?”
San hesitated, and Wooyoung rolled his eyes.
“Um…did I do something wrong?” San asked.
“You tell me! Why are you hanging out with a dream version of me that’s way hotter than I am? Do you wish I looked different or something?”
In a split second, San went from looking mildly confused to shocked. His eyebrows lifted almost to his hair line and his mouth fell open. At the same time, his ears turned slightly pink.
“I—”
Satisfied that he caught San off guard, Wooyoung cut him off. “Sorry, but not everyone can be as naturally sculpted and effortless and sexy as you, okay? Some of us are ordinary, don’t build muscle as easily, have bad hair days, and don’t have time—”
“Wooyoung,” San interrupted.
“No, I’m not finished! Just because you—”
“You both look the same!” cried San.
His jaw was set and his hands were on his hips. He looked irritated now, and he was staring at Wooyoung intensely. Wooyoung had to stop in surprise and rewind what San had just said in his head.
“Huh?”
San huffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dream you being hotter than real you? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Wooyoung looked down at the seat where Dream Wooyoung was. He had disappeared. San wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and at some point he just…evaporated. Probably while Wooyoung had been ranting.
That was good news. The bad news was that apparently, San was going blind.
“What do you mean we look the same? That thing looked nothing like me! He looked perfect.”
“He looked like you! I don’t know why you’re mad at me for having a dream with you in it. We’re friends. It happens.”
Wooyoung took a pause to really think about what San was saying. He drew in a breath to speak.
“So…” he started slowly, “that’s how I look to you?”
“Yeah. Obviously.”
The jealous, ugly feeling in Wooyoung’s chest lightened. It was possible he had this all wrong. After all, he was in San’s dream. Everything around them was built and projected from San’s memories and subconscious. Maybe it made sense that Dream Wooyoung would look completely different through San’s eyes than he would to Real Wooyoung.
A giddy, hopeful feeling needled its way into his mind.
“You…you think I’m that hot?”
San didn’t answer. His ears had turned bright red, though.
Wooyoung glanced around the theater again. He felt like someone was slowly turning on the lights inside his ridiculous, insecure brain.
“Wait a minute. Is this a date?”
San shifted between his feet and refused to look Wooyoung in the eye.
“It’s kind of messed up to creep into someone’s dream without them knowing, you know. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at him. Then he stepped a little closer and tried to catch San’s eyes.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m serious! What if all this had been something embarrassing—” he argued, gesturing around him.
“You’ve had embarrassing dreams about me?” cried Wooyoung, who was smiling ear to ear now. He got in San’s personal space and wiggled his eyebrows. “Like what? Don’t skip details!”
At that, San finally looked at Wooyoung so he could glare at him stubbornly.
“What was it you called me? Sculpted and effortlessly sexy?”
“That’s not—”
Wooyoung tried to think of a comeback, but he could feel himself losing his composure. Which was annoying because Wooyoung was not a shy person.
He wanted to ask if San meant it. If he truly had a crush on Wooyoung, or if it was somehow a joke, or if the dream was a fluke. People got weird romantic dreams about people they weren't crushing on sometimes. He just had to be sure.
But the next second, a blaring, rhythmic sound flooded the theater. It blasted from the speakers and made them both flinch.
Wooyoung covered his ears. “What is that?” he shouted.
But San only shook his head, and Wooyoung watched the dream collapse in on itself as it felt like he was yanked into a wind tunnel.
San showed up at his apartment door barely an hour after he woke up.
Wooyoung's face was still puffy from sleep and he hadn't showered yet. He was pretty sure his bangs were sticking straight up.
"Hi. I'm a mess," he said.
San just grinned at him. "You look perfect."
