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What is a dream? A series of events or pictures that play in your mind while you’re asleep? Something that you long for, though it is unlikely? Windows to alternate realities where you’re leading a completely different life? Or are they just anything you want them to be? Undefinable, immeasurable, deep.
For as long as he can remember, Jisung's dreams have never been his own. Sometimes he'd dream of his mother, sometimes his father. Rare times, his older brother. Other times, he would dream of other prominent people present in his life. But one thing always remained constant, he was extremely aware of himself. He could probably change things if he wanted to, and could remember his dreams clearly in the morning.
He would keep these strange dreams to himself, watching the lives of his close ones from afar. He thought this was how dreaming worked, he never had any reason to doubt it. When he gathered the courage to ask about it, his parents shrugged, saying it's fine if he only dreams of others while he watches, it's probably normal. No one knows how the brain truly works. Later, when he learned the awareness part wasn't exactly normal, he decided to search it up. The closest result was a skill that was apparently inbuilt into him from the beginning.
Lucid dreaming: the state of knowing one is dreaming while asleep, which allows them to actively control the dream's narrative and environment.
Jisung was overjoyed. He couldn't dream about whatever he wanted to unfortunately, despite what the articles mentioned, but he could alter the dreams he watched in any way he liked. At first, he felt drunk on the power it brought. Then he tried it once, and it felt so wrong, that he never tried it again.
Slowly, as he matured and grew, he came to realize that his dreams were always of the person he longed for most. Whether it was his mother's comfort or his father's security when he was a child, or his best friend’s strength when he grew up.
Then he had to go and develop a crush on his enemy and ruin everything.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Lee Minho. A nice guy, a bit cold, struggles to express his emotions, and unfortunately the best target for Jisung. He didn't mean to start it, really. It was supposed to be some light teasing, a bit of annoying here and there.
They have a huge friend group of eight. Chan introduced them as a common friend. The first time Jisung laid his eyes on Minho, he knew he was screwed. The hottest but at the same time prettiest guy he's ever seen.
So of course he needed to poke at him to get his attention. Little boys pull little girls' pigtails in the playground. One thing led to another and now you could say they're enemies.
Minho pisses him off so much, but at the same time, he loves it. He loves the risk, the thrill, not knowing what he's going to say or do next. It gets his blood boiling in the best way. There was one time he swore Minho was going to pounce on him, and fuck the adrenaline rush that gave him.
It was a big surprise when Minho started appearing in his dreams, though he should've expected it. Their fights were reaching a whole new level. His desire had been building up.
The first time Jisung saw him in the dream world, it was blurry. Minho was standing alone on a dark street, under the heavy rain, just letting himself get soaked. He made no move to grab an umbrella from a nearby store. He looked… sad, unlike his usual confident demeanor. As Jisung took a step towards him, trying to figure this strange dream out, Minho's eyes snapped to him and the dream ended abruptly.
Jisung jolted awake in cold sweat, confused and terrified. Nothing like that had happened before. It felt like his control had completely disappeared. It's safe to say sleep evaded him for the following few days.
The next time he dreamed, it was black.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
“Hey, Jisung!” Hyunjin calls out.
Jisung turns around, stopping in his path to class. “Yeah?”
“Why haven't you been eating with us lately?” Hyunjin gives him a pointed look.
Shit. How can he tell him he saw Minho in his dream once and got so spooked that he can't bring himself to face him?
“I've just been super busy, you know me, haha,” Jisung says, very unconvincingly.
Hyunjin sighs. “Whatever it is, sort your shit out soon, Minho's been a sour grump without you to keep him in check.”
Jisung gapes at him. “What—?” he starts but Hyunjin has already left, leaving him to wonder what he meant.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
He knows he can't avoid him forever. But why not try for as long as possible? Jisung sighs deeply as he enters the cafeteria. It's been a week since the dream, a week since he had stopped eating with his friends, and a day since Hyunjin confronted him about it.
Minho. Why did he have to dream about him? Loud voices interrupt his thoughts.
“I can't believe you, Minho!” Chan yells.
“I can't believe you either!” Minho yells back.
Oh, they're having a fight. Chan never gets angry, no matter what you do, he’ll always understand, and especially not with Minho. He’s always been a bit jealous of Minho’s relationship with Chan. What they could have been if Jisung didn’t push his buttons. What their friendship could’ve bloomed into if he hadn’t made Minho hate him.
Wait, why are they here? Jisung had been coming in late on purpose so he’d miss them. As he slowly backs away, their voices grow more distant. He misses what they say to each other next, but Minho flinches and looks down. For a second, he’s hit with déjà vu as he takes in Minho’s sad expression. A boy standing alone in the rain. It disappears as Minho’s head snaps in his direction just as he’s about to run away. His expression changes to a mix of shock and something else he can’t place. They maintain eye contact for a second before Jisung turns around and bolts.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
What was that? Jisung burrows under the covers at night. He really doesn’t want to sleep, afraid of Minho haunting his dreams again. Unfortunately, he’s had an exhausting day, and he’s dead tired. Sleep overtakes him whether he likes it or not.
He’s standing at the top of a hill. Minho is sitting under a tree nearby, a book in his lap. He looks peaceful, enjoying the fresh air and breeze. He doesn’t want to bother him. Just as he’s about to hide, Minho looks up and locks eyes with Jisung. He doesn’t look surprised to see him, he just smiles and pats the grass next to him.
Jisung slowly approaches and sits down. Minho’s head falls onto his shoulder. He stiffens in response, surprised. “Sungie, I’ve missed you, where have you been?” Minho asks softly.
Jisung doesn't reply. He never speaks. The people in his dreams rarely interact with him, he's always a spectator.
“Hmm,” he hums at his silence, then nuzzles into him. Jisung’s breath falters. He hesitantly wraps an arm around Minho’s waist, pulling him closer and molding him into his body. He rests his head on his, relaxing himself. He swears he hears a soft “I’m sorry”, but it’s quiet and gets carried away by the wind. They stay there for a while, just the noise of the wind blowing around them to keep them company. Then, all too soon, Minho sighs. “It’s time to go.”
Jisung blinks awake. He feels more refreshed than he has in ages. He reaches up to his shoulder, still feeling the ghost of a faint brush of hair on his neck. He glances at his clock which reads 6:30 a.m. That’s quite an accurate time to get up. 30 minutes before his alarm too. He groans and moves to get ready for the day.
Maybe the dream was a sign. He should stop avoiding Minho. The difference between dream-Minho and real-Minho is giving him major whiplash. The real one would never be so soft. The real one hates him too much to let him close to him like that.
He enters the building for his morning class, mentally preparing himself to face his friends during lunch, when he runs smack into Minho. Minho??? A computer science major? In the arts building?
“What- What are you doing here?” Jisung asks, trying to keep his tone sarcastic as Minho stares at him.
“Jisung.” Minho simply states, still looking at him blankly. They stand in an awkward silence for a few seconds. Jisung shuffles around nervously. Then Minho shakes his head and pushes past him, exiting the building. That was strange.
He proceeds to class, the incident not leaving his mind. That paired up with the strange dream is too much for him to process. His brain works on auto-pilot, taking notes when required, smiling at people he recognizes, packing his things up and moving from class to class. Soon, it's lunch, and before he knows it, he's sitting with his friends, who all throw him curious looks.
He only snaps out of his daze when he locks eyes with Minho, who had been pointedly avoiding looking in his direction before then. He tears his eyes away when Jeongin asks, “Where have you been, hyung?” His thoughts flash to a memory of “Sungie, I've missed you, where have you been?”. A dream, he corrects himself, and shakes it off.
“I've just been busy, Innie, but I'm back now!” He replies with clearly faked enthusiasm. Jeongin levels him with a look but shrugs and continues eating. Then, Chan arrives. The table falls into a hushed silence, gazes darting back and forth between him and Minho, who tenses up and stares at his plate as if the white flakes of rice hold all the answers in the world. Jisung shifts in his seat. He should’ve joined his friends for lunch yesterday, he feels clueless.
“I’m sorry Min, I didn’t mean what I said,” Chan begins. Always the bigger person, this guy.
Minho sighs and looks up. “It’s okay, hyung, I know. Besides, I started it in the first place.” A small smile appears on his face. On the surface, it looks genuine, but there’s something in Jisung that feels like it’s forced, it’s fake, it’s a front, and what Minho really needs right now is a tight hug—Woah, where did that come from? Maybe he’s not so well-rested after all.
“Still, I shouldn’t have escalated the argument on such a small matter,” Chan protests. “Especially since—” His eyes dart to Jisung and he cuts himself off. That’s odd.
“It’s fine, really,” Minho says firmly. Chan hesitates but nods, and takes a seat across from Jisung.
“Hey Sung, it’s been a while, where have you been?” he asks, all smiles and dimples. Why is everyone asking him that lately? But the one he wants most had said it in a dream—
“Just here and there, nothing much,” Jisung shrugs.
“We thought you disappeared because of your last fight with Minho,” Chan replies softly. Oh, he had been so distracted by the first dream that he forgot about the terrible fight that had happened earlier in the day between them. “We were quite worried about you, you know? Even him.” He gestures to Minho.
Jisung snorts. “Sure, but what was yesterday about?”
Chan flinches. “Nothing, just a little argument.”
“Didn’t look like a small thing,” Jisung replies, raising a brow at him.
“You were there? Did you hear—nevermind.” He runs a hand down his face then turns to the rest of the table, ending the conversation with Jisung. No one else tries to talk to him after that. He finishes lunch quickly and leaves, pondering what Chan could’ve possibly been worried about him hearing.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
“Hey, Lix,” Jisung greets as his roommate enters the dorm.
“I still can’t believe you avoided Minho—and by association, everyone—for a week just because of a random dream,” Felix replies, in lieu of a greeting.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m back now,” Jisung grumbles. He told Felix about having a dream, but not about the contents of the dream, just that it was “strange”. “So, what’s up with Chan and Minho?”
Felix bites his lip as he plops down next to him on the sofa. “I don’t know how much I’m supposed to say,” he begins slowly. “It’s not my place, you should ask one of them directly.”
“I can’t ask Minho, and Chan refused!” Jisung groans. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything?” He knows he’s being nosy, it’s none of his business, but the image of how sad Minho looked just won’t leave his mind. And that stupid dream.
Felix pats his back reassuringly. “If it helps, I don’t know much either, just snippets of what I heard them say to each other.”
Jisung sighs. “It’s okay. I’m exhausted, I need a nap.” He’s lying. He still feels fresh and bright, but he just needs some time to himself to collect his thoughts. He moves to his room and lays down. Before he knows it, he’s fast asleep, an unknown force pulling him under.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Jisung’s eyes blink open. He’s back in the cafeteria, but it’s empty and dark. There’s a spotlight shining in the center, and as he moves closer, he sees a silhouette standing under it. Their posture is hunched, as if curled in on themself. There’s some sort of faint muffled sound that increases as he gets nearer. He stops a few feet away from the person he can now identify as a male as the noise becomes clear.
“Do you even care?” “Can you even feel anything?” “Useless.” “Disappointment.”
It’s a bunch of different voices overlapping to create a disembodied echo of each sentence as it’s hurled at the figure. “Stop, please,” he whimpers softly.
Jisung’s heart aches. He wants to interfere, he really does, but he can’t. Fear holds him back from reaching out and pulling the man into his arms. From cutting all the noises and playing the most beautiful music. He would sing, he would break his years long curse and sing for him. A soft lullaby, or a sweet song. Whisper soft words of comfort to him, wrap him up and never let him go. Never hurt him like these cruel voices.
Another figure walks out from the shadows and approaches the man. Chan? The figure lifts his head. Minho?! Oh. Of course. How could he forget? His brain is currently fixated on his lovely enemy. “This is just a dream, he’s not actually here, wake up,” he says to himself, slapping himself and squeezing his eyes shut. Instead of being greeted with the view of his room’s ceiling when he usually does this, he watches helplessly as Chan stops in front of Minho and sneers.
“You’re so annoying,” Chan’s voice is loud, booming, cutting through all the voices still looping from around. It has an icy dark tone to it that sends shivers down Jisung’s spine. His subconscious sure can come up with pretty interesting things. “He doesn’t like you, no one likes you, no one will ever love you, just give up,” he continues, moving closer and closer to Minho, who’s breathing heavily.
Suddenly, everything stops. Jisung sucks in a shuddering breath as he looks down at the man he’s grabbed into his arms, then up at Chan who he struck at with his mind, fading into swirling dust. The lights flicker, and the location changes to his own dorm room. Then, he breaks the one rule he swore he’d never fail to follow.
“Minho, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says softly, running his hand through his hair. His other arm is still wrapped around him tightly.
“Sungie?” Minho’s head lifts up, and upon noticing him, his face lights up. Just wishful thinking on Jisung’s end, his dreams sure are exposing him. His face would never be happy on seeing him, just scowling. Minho’s hands wrap around him, and then he’s being squeezed tightly. He thinks he hears Minho mumble something like “two dreams in a row”, but it’s unclear.
Minho is still shaking, so Jisung begins humming softly, a tune from his childhood that his mother used to sing to him when the nightmares got bad. He slowly guides him to the bed and lays him down.
“Don't go,” he whimpers when Jisung pulls away to sit next to him.
“I'm not going anywhere, baby,” he replies softly, moving closer to run his hands through his hair, stroking gently.
Minho's brows furrow in confusion as he looks around. “This isn't my room,” he mumbles.
“It's mine,” Jisung shrugs. Why is he even talking about this to dream-Minho? This conversation will lead nowhere, it's his own dream after all, projections of a soft Minho who would let him take care of him.
“I've never seen your room, would you let me visit?” Minho asks, looking up at him with big eyes.
“Always, any time, anything for you,” he smiles down at him. Minho smiles back, eyes scrunching up, his one crooked tooth sticking out adorably. Ah, Jisung is so screwed.
It's quiet for a bit. Jisung continues stroking his hair, moving down to rub at his back, the humming evolving into singing the soft tune. Minho's voice cuts into the silence. “Your voice is beautiful, I didn't know you could sing.”
Jisung looks away. “I don't. Not anymore. Not after—nevermind.”
“Tell me, Sungie. This is a dream after all.” Minho's face is expressionless, and his words send a chill down his spine. This is the first time the people in his dream have been self-aware of it being a dream, and it's freaking him out. But then again, he hasn't interacted with them before either.
“It was just a silly dream. Being rejected from the music program proved that. And having a bunch of my music stolen on top of that too, then being accused of plagiarism for my life's work. I'm happy with doing mass media.”
“Jisung…” Minho begins, eyes sad. He didn't want to ruin the mood, he wants to keep seeing Minho happy.
“Forget about it, the little amount of music I posted in my teenage years is all I have left of that life, and I'm not going back to it.” Why is he trauma dumping in a dream? To a person who wouldn't hear him out like this in real life. He slaps himself again, in front of a confused Minho. “Wake up,” he mutters.
“I'm probably keeping you here, but I like spending time with you, even if it's not real,” Minho sighs, then closes his eyes.
Jisung’s eyes fly open and he sits up, immediately searching for Minho. He's back in his room, back to life, no Minho around. His head falls into his hands. What is he doing?
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
“Sung?” Chan calls out as he walks into the cafeteria.
“Hmm?” Jisung hums back, not really paying attention. He’s been distracted the whole day.
“Did you tell Minho you used to make music?” Chan asks, pulling him aside.
“Huh?” His head whips towards him. Only Chan and Changbin know, because they used to make music together for a little while. Changbin went into music, but Chan switched to psychology. Some part of him believes that he did that for him, so he wouldn’t feel bad, but Chan denies it every time he asks.
“Minho asked me whether you—”
“No, I heard you, but I didn’t tell him,” Jisung interrupts, confused. “And I’ve completely cut myself off from music, so he couldn’t have guessed either. You think Changbin told him?”
“No, I asked Changbin before you, because I knew that you didn’t tell him for sure,” Chan replies.
“And no one else knows.” Dread fills Jisung. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him if he wanted to know, he should ask you, but I guess that’s an answer in itself.” Chan sighs.
Jisung runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll deal with it,” he mutters and walks towards their table. Minho isn’t there yet, but Changbin is. The moment they make eye contact, understanding dawns on his face and he shakes his head lightly, as if saying, “it wasn’t me”.
Jisung nods back as he takes a seat in the corner, next to where Minho usually sits and in Chan’s usual place, who purposely sat in Jisung’s place. Slowly, all their friends join them one by one, greeting each other with full plates. Minho arrives last, and notes the seat change with a raised brow.
“Ask.” It’s a silent command, and Minho freezes, halfway to sitting down. Maybe it’s the dream that’s giving him the courage to do this. Minho sits, but remains quiet. Jisung sighs. “Yes, I did make music, but I don’t anymore, and that’s all you need to know.” He’s still quiet, but looking down at his plate with an unreadable expression. Jisung shovels down the rest of his food and gets up, leaving the awkward air behind.
“Wait,” Minho calls out. He pauses, then continues on to drop his empty plate in the place provided, before turning back and raising a brow at the waiting Minho shuffling behind him. “I’m sorry, for that day,” he apologizes. Jisung blinks. He wasn’t expecting that.
Jisung’s eyes squeeze shut as the memories flash through his mind. “You think your mom would be proud of you now?” His dead mother is a sensitive topic. “I know we argue a lot, but we’ve never gone personal, and I’m sorry for crossing the line that day.” Minho looks away, clearly uncomfortable.
“It’s fine, forget about it,” he replies coldly. Something flashes across Minho’s face, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Jisung brushes past him and walks out of the cafeteria.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
This time when Jisung’s eyes open to an unfamiliar dorm room, he’s not even surprised to see Minho sitting on the bed.
“Your room?” he asks the dream-Minho. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen Minho’s room before, but his brain has a great imagination.
“Oh, again?” Minho asks, tilting his head, then sighs. “This is probably a sign.”
“A sign for what?”
Minho doesn’t reply. Instead, he gets up and crushes him into a tight hug. “I’m so so sorry,” he breathes out shakily. Is he crying? “I didn’t mean it, I swear, I didn’t, so stop being so cold to me. Let’s argue like we used to, but don’t push me away.” Is this his mind’s way of telling him this is the apology he wanted from Minho?
“Hey, look at me,” Jisung lifts his hands to the head crushed into his shoulder and gently pulls him off to look him in the eye. He’s crying. He never cries. He grips the sides of his face and wipes his tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, baby, I accept your apology.”
“This is just a dream, you don’t really forgive me,” he mumbles, sniffling.
“I do, trust me,” Jisung reassures him. “I could never stay mad at you for long.”
Minho blinks up at him, eyes shining. “Really?”
“Yes, you’ll see, tomorrow we’ll be back to normal, I promise.”
“Okay,” Minho snuggles back into him, clutching his shirt tightly. “Cuddle me?” he asks, voice muffled.
“Of course,” Jisung replies, and they lay down on the bed. Minho’s arm and leg wrap around him, hugging him like a koala. He turns and hugs him back, tucking him into himself. If he really focuses, he can smell the shampoo in Minho’s hair, and a real weight in his arms. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to fall asleep within a dream, but he’s so comfortable, he never wants to leave.
Maybe he does fall asleep, because when he opens his eyes next, he’s in the real world again. Is this what an addiction feels like? He just wants to go back to sleep, back to Minho. It’s going to be hard seeing the real Minho after all of that, but he did make a promise to dream-Minho, and he intends to keep it. He’ll be nice today.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
“Hey, Minho,” he greets with a smile as he takes a seat next to him again. Minho pauses mid-bite, blinking at him. Chan gives him a strange look as he passes by towards Jisung’s seat.
“Hi,” Minho replies back after a beat.
“How was your day?” Maybe he’s trying too hard, there’s no way this Minho will tolerate it.
Something softens in Minho’s expression, like relief or happiness? “Average, what about you?”
“Just fine,” he responds, then they lapse into an awkward silence. So much for normal. Or maybe… He glances at his drink, then an idea pops into his head. He grabs the straw and inspects it for a moment, before saying, “Do you think a straw has one hole or two?”
Minho snorts. “Two, of course. That’s a stupid question.”
“But like— it’s like one giant hole running through,” he protests.
“No it’s—oh.”
“Exactly, see!” He shoves the straw in his direction.
Minho takes it and inspects it seriously. “So, does a straw have two holes or one?”
“One,” Jisung says confidently, then hesitates. “But then again, it’s like an entry and exit, so it’s kinda two holes?”
“That’s like saying a donut has two holes,” Minho replies, rolling his eyes.
“If you slice the straw in half, how many holes do you get?” Jisung asks.
“Four, no wait, two, no—ugh, stop messing with my brain!” Minho complains. Jisung laughs. It’s a loud full body laugh that causes each and every one of the six men sitting with them at the table to turn their heads and stare at them in shock. Minho joins in, laughing more quietly but with equal enthusiasm. Chan and Changbin share a look.
They part ways with smiles, ignoring the confused stares of their friends. Jisung walks back to his room with a skip in his step, dodging Felix’s questions. And as he falls asleep, he almost forgets about dream-Minho. Almost.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Jisung materializes right next to Minho, in a studio. It’s a large empty room, with wooden flooring and bright lights. There are mirrors lining one wall, and a large speaker propped in the corner.
“You kept your promise,” dream-Minho beams.
“Of course, hyung,” Jisung replies. The honorific just slipped out, but Minho smiles even wider, then it drops and he takes a deep breath.
“Now it’s my turn to show you something of mine,” he says softly.
“You don’t have to—” Jisung tries, but he shakes his head.
“I want to.” Minho moves to the speaker, taking out his phone to select a song. The music starts with a steady beat, and Jisung is surprised to know that he recognizes it. It had been trending a few years ago. As Minho moves to the center, nothing could have prepared him for when he begins to dance. His body flows with powerful movements, perfectly timed to the beat, as if he’s part of the music. His body control is flawless, and Jisung finds himself unable to look away, mesmerized. He had never seen this particular choreography to the song, but it should’ve been the official one with how amazing it looks.
Jisung bursts into applause as the song ends. Minho, flushed and panting, slaps his arm sheepishly. “Wow, hyung, that was… wow.”
“I wanted to become a choreographer, or at least dance professionally. Like you, I was robbed of that opportunity. My parents didn’t support it, and critiqued me to an extent that I never wanted to dance again.”
“I’m so sorry, Minho. They’re blind to not see your talent,” Jisung says firmly.
“It’s okay, I’m over it now. It’s been years, but I’ve been inspired lately. Maybe I’ll try dancing again one day,” Minho smiles softly.
“Was computer science something they wanted you to pursue, or was that your choice?” Jisung asks.
“That was my choice,” he laughs, amused. “As much as the illusion of choice was given to me, at least. It was either this or finance, and I’d pick it anyday.”
“May I punch your parents, pretty please?” Jisung flutters his eyelashes in a picture of innocence.
“Be my guest, I haven’t spoken to them for ages, it’ll be a great welcome,” Minho smirks.
“So, a dancer and a music producer, we’re really made for each other, huh?” Jisung chuckles.
“Don’t forget singer, and I may have forgotten to mention I can sing too,” Minho rubs his neck shyly.
“No way! I have—no—need to hear you sing, hyung,” Jisung says excitedly.
“Maybe one day,” he grins. “We can make a song together, and throw it in everyone’s faces.”
“Promise?” Jisung extends his pinky finger.
“What are you, a child?” Minho snorts, but locks pinkies with him anyways. “Promise.”
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Not once did he question if it’s a dream, and that scared him. He’s gotten used to seeing Minho like that, he forgot. And every day, the same pattern continued. In real life, Minho and Jisung’s relationship slowly improved. And in the dream world, they began writing their song, taking inspiration from his mother’s lullaby, speeding it up. Jisung would work on lyrics both inside and outside the dream world, jotting it down in his notebook that he kept in both places, constantly updated. It felt so surreal, because technically only he was working on this with an imaginary person inside his head.
Minho helped slightly with the lyrics, but it wasn’t really his department. Instead, he lent his voice for the lyrics. Often, their dreamscape would be a production studio, one Jisung always dreamed of working in. As their first song, titled “Want So Bad”, wraps up, Minho admits that he won’t be able to choreograph this, as it’s more of a song to be listened to. To Jisung, it makes sense that his subconscious can’t choreograph, because of course, Minho isn’t actually Minho.
Jisung has been letting his guard down, and it all comes crashing down on him when he can barely differentiate between reality and dreams anymore. His new seat at the cafeteria is now his fixed one, Chan now permanently in Jisung’s seat. He puts his tray down next to Minho, who greets him with a bright smile. These smiles are normal now between them.
Just as Jisung is about to begin eating, he hears an oddly familiar tune. It’s the slowed down version of his song, or in other words, his mom’s lullaby, and it’s coming from Minho’s direction. He’s humming softly, fiddling idly with his food. On autopilot, Jisung reaches for his bag and pulls out his precious notebook and a pen. Minho’s eyes land on it then widen, snapping up to him. Jisung also freezes, realizing his mistake. Then, something else clicks in his brain.
“That tune… How do you know that tune?” Jisung asks, every nerve in his body standing at attention. He clutches his head. “Is this another dream?” Minho just stares, eyes unblinking, fear flashing across his face. This is definitely not a dream. “Bunhongsaek baegyeongе keuromaki, jubyeon punggyeong,” he sings softly, just soft enough for Minho to hear.
“Lovе is so intuitive, modeun ge dallajyeo,” Minho sings back, just as soft.
Jisung releases a shuddering breath. “Ppeonhan sijagui romance, da arado deeply—” He leans closer.
Minho’s eyes tear up. “Ppajigo tto han beon gidael georeo, ah-ah, ah-ah—” his voice cracks on the last one, and a tear slips down.
“Hey, come on, how many times do I have to tell you, don’t cry baby,” Jisung smiles sadly, brushing the tear away with his thumb. Minho leans into the touch, sighing.
“It’s all real, it’s all been real,” he sniffles.
“We’re leaving early,” Jisung says to the rest of them who hadn’t noticed anything. It’s only when they get up together, Jisung clutching Minho’s hand, when they realize.
“Is Minho crying?” Chan asks, concerned. They ignore him and walk fast.
“Yours or mine?” Jisung asks.
“If your room is anything like in the dream world, then I think mine is better,” Minho laughs, wiping his tears.
“I’m not that messy,” he protests, then rethinks. “I mean, compared to you, maybe a little,” he amends. Minho beams and leads him to his dorm room. They enter, giggling.
“So, how is this possible?” Jisung asks once they’ve calmed down and taken a seat.
“I used to lucid dream to create a comfortable environment for myself to escape to. Just so that I could control it. Then one day you appeared,” Minho explains.
“The hill and the tree,” Jisung nods. Minho flushes a bit.
“Ah, so it’s really real,” he mumbles, looking away, ears glowing red.
“And the… rainy day. You kicked me out.”
“That was a memory of when I tried going against my parents wishes and auditioning, just to end up proving them right. I got eliminated, and all my dreams were crushed. I walked home in the rain without an umbrella, because I deserved every cold drop of rain that hit me.” Minho sighs deeply. “And the kicking out part, I don’t know, I felt a presence, saw you, triggered some panic response and immediately woke up.”
“First of all, you deserve the whole world, hyung. You’re seriously amazing, I can’t believe they didn’t recognize your talent,” Jisung declares. “And well, I don’t know what to tell you about my dreams, just that they’ve never been my own,” he shrugs. “I have always been part of someone else’s dream, watching someone else’s story. I would always be thrown into the dreams of people I care about, and watch their biggest dreams and greatest nightmares. Yours was the first where I felt like a part of it all.”
“I guess we’re like soulmates,” Minho chuckles.
“Literally made for each other,” Jisung grins back.
“Based on what you told me, I think you may have the ability to dream-walk, though I could be wrong,” Minho says.
“That sounds about right, why didn’t I think of that earlier?” Jisung groans.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Minho teases.
“My other half,” he agrees. Minho burrows his face into his arm. “Ah, so cute, like a little bunny.” He raises his head to pout at him, which only makes Jisung laugh harder.
“If I’m a bunny, then- then you’re a squirrel!” he declares.
“A squirrel?!” Jisung’s eyebrows raise.
“Yeah, with your cute cheeks and energetic personality,” Minho nods, proud of himself.
“Sure,” he agrees, then tackles him into the sofa. “May I have the honor of calling you my boyfriend?”
Minho wiggles under him, huffing when he can’t escape. “Boyfriend? I think we’re practically a married couple at this point.”
“Husband, then?” Jisung tilts his head, staring down at the beautiful boy trapped at his mercy.
The light flush on Minho’s face deepens. “Boyfriend is fine for now,” he grumbles.
“Good to know,” Jisung grins and leans down, lips hovering over Minho’s. He waits for any signs of hesitation or regret, but Minho closes the gap immediately. The kiss starts off slow, and it feels like everything wrong has been righted.
Minho breaks off with a gasp, then grins up at him. “Oh, so you care about me, huh? Even back when we argued so much,” he smirks.
“Of course, I’ve always cared about you,” Jisung confesses. Minho’s eyes widen, not expecting the admission. “From the start, I just wanted your attention, but then it didn’t go the way I expected.” He takes a deep breath. “I thought you hated me,” he whispers.
“Oh, baby, no, I never hated you, not even once.” Minho’s hands reach up to cup his face. “Our little fights kept me in check, gave me a little outlet to just be free, without everyone’s expectations piling up. You were—are—my anchor to reality. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel that way.”
Jisung nuzzles into him. “It’s okay, I have you now.”
“You have me, now and forever.”
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Strays [8 members]
Chan: Guys???
Chan: Are y’all okay?
Chan: Why was Minho crying?
Chan: Hello???
Seungmin: Hyung, they’re probably fine.
Jisung: [photo attachment]
Jisung: We’re married now.
Minho: Shut up.
Jisung: Make me.
Jeongin: Uh, okay then.
Changbin: I CALLED IT.