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Minghao doesn’t have dreams often.
When he does, they’re always strange and confusing, bizarre scenes that blur together and people he knows melding into one, distorted fragments of his latest thoughts that bleed away like watercolors after he wakes up, leaving him foggy and disoriented every time.
It’s after a long, long day of work that he expects to find himself dropped into an odd scene that doesn’t make sense, experiencing himself walking through a film that wasn’t developed properly.
It’s weird enough already that the world he finds himself in is vividly colored and realistic, save for the too-small wooden doors haphazardly placed onto the teal wallpaper in the hall.
It's stranger he’s in charge of his own body now as he takes an experimental step, shoes clacking against the tile floor, the color and pattern a seamless continuation of the walls, approaching the hotel front desk awaiting him at the end of the hall.
Two elevator doors rest on either side of the desk, behind which sits a wooden frame of keys hanging neatly. The clock centered above them ticks, but the hands don’t move.
Minghao looks at the paper politely propped up on the desk.
Welcome to the Dream Hotel
Please ring bell for service
He taps the gold service bell, only to find himself immediately dumped into a completely different room, sitting on a lake-blue floor. Observing his surroundings, he can barely make sense of them—decorations escaping interpretation. The ceiling above appears to be made of rippling water, casting a reflection onto the floor. There’s an open window with a curtain hanging upside down.
He chances a glance outside and finds his breath taken away.
The sky above is a mesmerizing lavender, with pink clouds drifting lazily across the sky, rich purple trees as far as he can see. In the distance, a gigantic, ornate bridge sits empty.
It looks like—well, it looks like something out of a dream.
As Minghao is trying to figure out how the open books in the air seem to be suspended in space, he hears a door click. He turns around in a panic, and both he and the man trying to work himself through the tiny door scream at the same time.
“Who are you?!” Minghao yells, hand pressed over his heart. His dreams are usually populated by familiar faces—this man, crammed uncomfortably through the small door, is a complete stranger. A quite good-looking one, Minghao thinks, which seems rather inappropriate for the situation at hand.
“Who are you?” The handsome man repeats, finally squeezing his way through the door, standing tall. “Why are you in my dream?”
“Your dream? This is my dream!”
“No, I was here first! I’ve been coming here for weeks. You’re in my dream.”
“Okay. That doesn’t make sense. You’re not real, because you’re in my dream.”
The man puts a hand over his face.
“I could say the same. But I’m a real guy. In real life.”
“You’re a guy in my dream.”
“I’m a guy named Mingyu and I live in Seoul. Like, in real life.”
Minghao stares at ‘Mingyu’.
“How can I understand you?” Minghao asks suddenly.
“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”
“I’m from Haicheng. In China.”
Mingyu shrugs.
“It is a dream.”
Maybe that’s why Minghao finds himself more agreeable now, or maybe it’s because arguing whose dream it is doesn’t really change the fact that they’re both here. Even if Mingyu is just a guy in his dream, he’s certainly nice to look at. His brain did a great job of conjuring up his ideal type.
“So…we’re sharing a dream?” Minghao asks.
“I guess.”
“How does that work?”
“Don’t ask me,” Mingyu says.
Minghao doesn’t know what else to say.
“Can I at least get your name? If we’re gonna be sharing the same dream?”
“Oh. Minghao. So…where are we?”
“The Dream Hotel, apparently. That’s what the card at the front desk said anyway.”
“I was hoping the guy who’s been here for weeks would know more.”
“I can give you a tour?”
Minghao nods. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be.
The Dream Hotel is a whimsical place, evocative of its name. Minghao kind of wants to stop for drinks at the circular bar, the ring of light above holding dozens of upside-down wine glasses, but Mingyu seems terribly excited to show him around. Each hotel room is decorated differently, but all just as surreal as the last. The wooden doors are awful for two grown men each over 180cm to make their way through, but they make it work.
The room that takes Minghao’s breath away the most, though, is an open ballroom, an ocean of stars twinkling across the ceiling that looks like it holds the galaxy, small, colorful planets floating lazily just out of their reach.
“Wow,” Minghao manages to breathe out.
When he turns to ask Mingyu about the room, he’s holding his hand out with a grin.
“Do you dance?”
“Not ballroom.”
“Me neither.”
They awkwardly go through movements they think they’ve seen before, and it’s clear from the beginning neither of them know who’s leading or how to. Minghao gets his foot stepped on several times. He has fun just the same.
Minghao doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before his eyes grow tired and he yawns.
“Do you think I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Minghao asks, Mingyu’s hand warm and real in his.
Mingyu smiles.
“I hope so.”
When Minghao wakes, it’s with a memory of a dream in full color.
Minghao is surprised to see Mingyu waiting at the front desk when he falls asleep tonight.
“You’re earlier than usual,” Mingyu comments when he spots Minghao.
“I wanted to see you,” Minghao admits.
“What a coincidence. Me too.”
Mingyu stares at Minghao for a few moments too long, with that look of open warmth Minghao never knows how to react to, his heart beating a little too fast.
“Do you want to get drinks again tonight?” Mingyu asks finally. Minghao nods. Mingyu takes his hand—a feeling that never stops taking him by surprise—and rings the bell, the sound ringing crisp through the air no sooner than they find themselves at the bar again.
He still doesn’t know why he’s wearing this red suit, but it’s not like anything else here makes sense anyway. Mingyu steps behind the bar and observes the bottles of strange colors that seem to change every night.
“What are you in the mood for tonight?”
Minghao hums.
“Surprise me.”
“All of these are a surprise,” Mingyu laughs, grabbing a random bottle and pouring both of them a glass, the liquid sparkling like stars. Minghao raises it to his mouth and takes a discerning sip.
“It’s good,” he judges. He licks his lips. Mingyu is staring.
Mingyu takes a sip of his own and hums in agreement.
“Do you drink often?” Mingyu asks.
“I’m big on wine. I’ve been looking forward to this 2010 Pavillon Rouge du Chateau Margaux I have.”
“I am too!”
Minghao always drinks up information about Mingyu like a man parched, grabbing pieces of him like the stars in the ballroom.
“Maybe we can drink it together someday,” Mingyu says softly, giving voice to their shared desire.
Minghao swirls around the galaxy in his glass and brings it to his lips again, hiding his smile behind it.
“I hope so,” Minghao replies.
Minghao begins to notice cracks in the hotel walls. He doesn’t say anything, as if speaking it aloud will make it real.
Mingyu doesn’t either, so Minghao chooses to pretend he can only hear the liquid pouring into the glass Mingyu is preparing for him and not the rocks tumbling somewhere in another room.
When they look out of one of the windows that remain tonight, Minghao’s heart sinks. The sky has grown dimmer and the trees seem to be disappearing from the distance. The bridge is in complete disrepair.
Mingyu is already looking at him when Minghao turns to him.
“I guess dreams can’t last forever,” Mingyu says quietly, finally making tangible the past few days of the hotel seeming to fall apart around them.
Minghao looks around at the crumbling walls around them, watching the hotel he’s grown to love slowly break apart.
Mingyu holds his hand out.
“Let’s make the most of our time before we have to check out,” he jokes, although Minghao can see the sadness in his eyes too. “May I have this dance?”
“Do you think this is our last night here?” Minghao asks, even though he knows the answer. He doesn’t dare move, as if the ground will crumble faster if he does. He shuffles his feet out of the way, trying to stay on the small tile he has left, hand in Mingyu’s. “Our last time seeing each other?”
“It’s okay,” Mingyu reassures with a smile, even as the last of their world crumbles beneath their feet. “I’ll come find you.”