don't wanna dream you
Title: don't wanna dream you
Pairing: jongin/baekhyun
Genre: angst
warnings: character death, implied suicide.
Rating: pg
Summary: jongin would rather dream forever than live with memories.
Disclaimer: I just own the story, none of the boys.
a/n: i'm sorry, i should be sleeping why did i write this.
don't wanna dream you
Jongin feels the flutter of the day reaching towards him, trying to stir him awake, but it’s only when he feels a stronger one, brushing against his legs, trailing up that his eyelashes start to flutter in a sign of awareness, but it’s still early, the sun is hurting his eyes and he lifts his arm to cover his eyes.
The feeling of something crawling up his legs vanishes and he quickly frowns, uneasy until it lands on him, heavy and straddling his hips causing the bed to bounce against his back and make him jump a little. His arm falls off his eyes and he decides it’s might be safe to open them now.
“Wake up,” he hears right after he does so, sight blurry but he can make out droplets of water falling against his cheek when the face leans in closer and he can smell toothbrush paste when he feels a breath against his mouth, soft and then firm and real, closed around his bottom lip.
He wakes up then, opens his eyes quickly and everything is blank, dark, there are no lights in his room, no weight on his body, but he can still feel it, the drop of water that fell on his cheek. But there’s nothing when he brings his finger to make sure it’s glued to his flesh.
He blinks and wonders if he should even try to get up. He should stop having these dreams, he thinks as he lifts himself off his bed, sits and rakes a hand through his hair, feeling exhausted, shoulders slumped, he turns to look at the closed curtains of his windows, with the sunlight still fighting to slide in.
But there are no lights in Jongin’s eyes, why would he need the sun to remind him of that? On an impulse though, he stands up and stretches, taking slow steps to the window, he reaches for the curtains when he stops and nervously chews on his bottom lip before pursing his mouth and pulling them open, first hesitantly then in one quick movement so he wouldn’t give up he pulls them open.
The sun does blind him and he has to blink and squint to avoid how bright it suddenly appears to be. He looks down and sees that everyone is already awake, it’s probably past morning.
The sun burns like an afternoon time.
Jongin closes his eyes and likes how warm it suddenly becomes with his eyelids closed, with how he can almost feel it, almost then he clenches his hands on the curtains and it’s there, tight around his waist, holding firmly, arms so real he wants to let go of the curtains and touch them.
But they might disappear if he does so, so he holds the curtains tighter, feels it wrinkle in his hold, he hears the soft crinkles of the plastic. Jongin sighs with the breath that tickles his neck then he opens his eyes and there’s just the sun and him and his curtains giving in the strength of his clenched fists, falling on the ground with the sound of the handlers hitting the floor making him inhale and breathe in the lingering memory.
Jongin takes a shower, brushes his teeth with memories running around him, with touches he can feel but knows aren’t real. At least now he’s dreaming wide awake, so instead of hurting when he wakes up, he just feels this longing that churns his inside and makes him nearly swallow the burning paste in his mouth.
He escapes the bathroom, filled with laughter and splash of water, he’s already strained from this routine and this is just the beginning he thinks to himself a small smile appearing on his face. He closes the door of the bathroom and kills the sound of his name being called behind.
He wishes it would stay there, locked, all those ghosts, but they follow him. He can feel his footsteps being matched on the carpet when he walks downstairs to the living room. It’s all written in the routine they used to have, and Jongin feels stinging tears when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and catches the smell of coffee brewing.
He blinks his tears away and just like that the smell fades away. His feet heavy on the floor takes him to the kitchen. He’s more than hesitant to walk inside, but he does it, walks right to the coffee machine and turns it on.
He hears the bubble of water boiling inside and turns to lean back against the counter, he can’t help but start smiling, a smile that turns into a breathless chuckle then a light laugh until he reaches for the hand held out for him and it slides through his fingers.
Jongin’s breath start coming out shorter and shorter, he’s going to lose it, if he doesn’t pay attention he’s going to lose himself in his memories. But he doesn’t want to let it go, not yet, he thinks with his skin warming up, his eyes cast down he sees them, hands bracing themselves against the edge of the counter, with a warmth that leans in till Jongin almost loses himself in this one.
He almost leans in to fall in an empty space but the coffee machine rings and he straightens, jolts up, his eyes snap open and he lets out a delirious chuckle. Who is he kidding; he’s already lost it.
The coffee is bitter, no sugar, no milk and Jongin laughs softly with his lips curved at the tip of the cup because he can hear “You’re so boring, taking your coffee so dark and bitter, why do I love you?” But no, he doesn’t really hear it, it’s like this old song that never leaves the back of his mind.
It either fast forwards, or keeps rewinding.
Right now Jongin is savoring it slowly. He knows there’s no one talking, that he’s alone in the kitchen with his cup of coffee pressed to his mouth, that there isn’t really a head resting on his shoulder and a body half lying on the chair next to him half lying against his side.
It’s alright though, as long as he knows, it should be fine, it shouldn’t hurt so much once he finishes his cup and stands up and feels nothing but air that passes through his window left open. Jongin leans over the kitchen sink and closes the little gap.
But it’s still cold inside.
“Jongin-ah, that’s not how you wear it.” Jongin pushes his bangs off his face and looks at his reflection in the mirror, he thinks it’s good enough, but he adjusts the tie just in case. Maybe he should just drop the tie, he’s never really liked them, those were Baekhyun things.
“Jongin-ah,” No, Jongin keeps his eyes on the mirror, stop calling. “Are you ignoring me now?” Don’t sound so sad, Jongin pulls on the tie and decides he doesn’t want to wear it. He doesn’t want to wear this black vest either, or this white shirt or this black pant.
He doesn’t want to fix his hair, he settles on the bed and drops his face in his hands, he doesn’t want to do anything, hear him or see him or miss him. But he does, and it hurts, it hurts that he can feel him right now, with his hand against Jongin’s head, lightly patting, with his fingers in his hair, stroking gently like he used to.
“I’m sorry.” It’s his voice, Jongin realizes it’s also shaking, he’s crying, he’s not even there yet and he’s already crying, “I’m sorry, so sorry.” He repeats and hates how damp his hands start becoming and hates how it’s all so real, with Baekhyun pulling him closer and comforting him, like he’s there, so palpable.
Jongin opens his eyes, he’s not hoping for a better world, or for the best, or for it to be real, he’s just lost in tears and this loss, he can’t believe he’s going through this loss. Why me? Then he asks himself, wiping his tears with the sleeve of the suit.
It’s no use, Jongin thinks, feels himself being pulled backwards and he’s too tired to fight this whatever it is, a ghost, his memories, hallucinations, if he’s really going insane. He’s tired, it’s been close to a year and he’s tired, he can’t believe he’ll never have this again.
Maybe if he falls asleep and never wakes up again it will hurt less. It’d be so easy, fall asleep without any intention of waking up, it’d be so good. Jongin sighs when he falls on his bed, eyes closed, mouth open in the bliss that he’d feel if he wasn’t alive in a world with just ghost of memories dancing around him.
He wants the world where he dances to make memories back, the world where he never thought he’d ever be this happy, the world where right now Baekhyun would be there, lying next to him with his eyes on Jongin’s face. Where Baekhyun would be laughing and then sliding closer and curling up against his side with his face pressed right under his chin.
When he sleeps Jongin can believe that he’s not gone, that he’ll never get to feel this way again. Sleeping until his dreams take him away, dreaming until he’s not sure of his own reality anymore. He wants that, with Baekhyun smiling at him behind his closed eyelids, he wants that, Baekhyun holding his hand out to him and Jongin taking it and feeling it close around his fingers.
It’s not slipping right through his reach, it’s solid and Baekhyun is there, he can touch him and feel him, he’s not warm, he’s icy cold yet he’s real and that’s all Jongin really cares about.
This dream feels so real, that lying down here on his bed, he lets a smile appear on his face.
So it works, it’s not a magic potion, but it works.
Just two drops of it in a cup of water or a cup of coffee and it’s magic isn’t it? He can hold Baekhyun and he can hear him and he can talk to him, and tighten his arms around him, “I missed you.” He can also say that and hear Baekhyun laugh.
It’s just really a sweet poison that runs in his veins.
Pairing: jongin/baekhyun
Genre: angst
warnings: character death, implied suicide.
Rating: pg
Summary: jongin would rather dream forever than live with memories.
Disclaimer: I just own the story, none of the boys.
a/n: i'm sorry, i should be sleeping why did i write this.
don't wanna dream you
Jongin feels the flutter of the day reaching towards him, trying to stir him awake, but it’s only when he feels a stronger one, brushing against his legs, trailing up that his eyelashes start to flutter in a sign of awareness, but it’s still early, the sun is hurting his eyes and he lifts his arm to cover his eyes.
The feeling of something crawling up his legs vanishes and he quickly frowns, uneasy until it lands on him, heavy and straddling his hips causing the bed to bounce against his back and make him jump a little. His arm falls off his eyes and he decides it’s might be safe to open them now.
“Wake up,” he hears right after he does so, sight blurry but he can make out droplets of water falling against his cheek when the face leans in closer and he can smell toothbrush paste when he feels a breath against his mouth, soft and then firm and real, closed around his bottom lip.
He wakes up then, opens his eyes quickly and everything is blank, dark, there are no lights in his room, no weight on his body, but he can still feel it, the drop of water that fell on his cheek. But there’s nothing when he brings his finger to make sure it’s glued to his flesh.
He blinks and wonders if he should even try to get up. He should stop having these dreams, he thinks as he lifts himself off his bed, sits and rakes a hand through his hair, feeling exhausted, shoulders slumped, he turns to look at the closed curtains of his windows, with the sunlight still fighting to slide in.
But there are no lights in Jongin’s eyes, why would he need the sun to remind him of that? On an impulse though, he stands up and stretches, taking slow steps to the window, he reaches for the curtains when he stops and nervously chews on his bottom lip before pursing his mouth and pulling them open, first hesitantly then in one quick movement so he wouldn’t give up he pulls them open.
The sun does blind him and he has to blink and squint to avoid how bright it suddenly appears to be. He looks down and sees that everyone is already awake, it’s probably past morning.
The sun burns like an afternoon time.
Jongin closes his eyes and likes how warm it suddenly becomes with his eyelids closed, with how he can almost feel it, almost then he clenches his hands on the curtains and it’s there, tight around his waist, holding firmly, arms so real he wants to let go of the curtains and touch them.
But they might disappear if he does so, so he holds the curtains tighter, feels it wrinkle in his hold, he hears the soft crinkles of the plastic. Jongin sighs with the breath that tickles his neck then he opens his eyes and there’s just the sun and him and his curtains giving in the strength of his clenched fists, falling on the ground with the sound of the handlers hitting the floor making him inhale and breathe in the lingering memory.
Jongin takes a shower, brushes his teeth with memories running around him, with touches he can feel but knows aren’t real. At least now he’s dreaming wide awake, so instead of hurting when he wakes up, he just feels this longing that churns his inside and makes him nearly swallow the burning paste in his mouth.
He escapes the bathroom, filled with laughter and splash of water, he’s already strained from this routine and this is just the beginning he thinks to himself a small smile appearing on his face. He closes the door of the bathroom and kills the sound of his name being called behind.
He wishes it would stay there, locked, all those ghosts, but they follow him. He can feel his footsteps being matched on the carpet when he walks downstairs to the living room. It’s all written in the routine they used to have, and Jongin feels stinging tears when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and catches the smell of coffee brewing.
He blinks his tears away and just like that the smell fades away. His feet heavy on the floor takes him to the kitchen. He’s more than hesitant to walk inside, but he does it, walks right to the coffee machine and turns it on.
He hears the bubble of water boiling inside and turns to lean back against the counter, he can’t help but start smiling, a smile that turns into a breathless chuckle then a light laugh until he reaches for the hand held out for him and it slides through his fingers.
Jongin’s breath start coming out shorter and shorter, he’s going to lose it, if he doesn’t pay attention he’s going to lose himself in his memories. But he doesn’t want to let it go, not yet, he thinks with his skin warming up, his eyes cast down he sees them, hands bracing themselves against the edge of the counter, with a warmth that leans in till Jongin almost loses himself in this one.
He almost leans in to fall in an empty space but the coffee machine rings and he straightens, jolts up, his eyes snap open and he lets out a delirious chuckle. Who is he kidding; he’s already lost it.
The coffee is bitter, no sugar, no milk and Jongin laughs softly with his lips curved at the tip of the cup because he can hear “You’re so boring, taking your coffee so dark and bitter, why do I love you?” But no, he doesn’t really hear it, it’s like this old song that never leaves the back of his mind.
It either fast forwards, or keeps rewinding.
Right now Jongin is savoring it slowly. He knows there’s no one talking, that he’s alone in the kitchen with his cup of coffee pressed to his mouth, that there isn’t really a head resting on his shoulder and a body half lying on the chair next to him half lying against his side.
It’s alright though, as long as he knows, it should be fine, it shouldn’t hurt so much once he finishes his cup and stands up and feels nothing but air that passes through his window left open. Jongin leans over the kitchen sink and closes the little gap.
But it’s still cold inside.
“Jongin-ah, that’s not how you wear it.” Jongin pushes his bangs off his face and looks at his reflection in the mirror, he thinks it’s good enough, but he adjusts the tie just in case. Maybe he should just drop the tie, he’s never really liked them, those were Baekhyun things.
“Jongin-ah,” No, Jongin keeps his eyes on the mirror, stop calling. “Are you ignoring me now?” Don’t sound so sad, Jongin pulls on the tie and decides he doesn’t want to wear it. He doesn’t want to wear this black vest either, or this white shirt or this black pant.
He doesn’t want to fix his hair, he settles on the bed and drops his face in his hands, he doesn’t want to do anything, hear him or see him or miss him. But he does, and it hurts, it hurts that he can feel him right now, with his hand against Jongin’s head, lightly patting, with his fingers in his hair, stroking gently like he used to.
“I’m sorry.” It’s his voice, Jongin realizes it’s also shaking, he’s crying, he’s not even there yet and he’s already crying, “I’m sorry, so sorry.” He repeats and hates how damp his hands start becoming and hates how it’s all so real, with Baekhyun pulling him closer and comforting him, like he’s there, so palpable.
Jongin opens his eyes, he’s not hoping for a better world, or for the best, or for it to be real, he’s just lost in tears and this loss, he can’t believe he’s going through this loss. Why me? Then he asks himself, wiping his tears with the sleeve of the suit.
It’s no use, Jongin thinks, feels himself being pulled backwards and he’s too tired to fight this whatever it is, a ghost, his memories, hallucinations, if he’s really going insane. He’s tired, it’s been close to a year and he’s tired, he can’t believe he’ll never have this again.
Maybe if he falls asleep and never wakes up again it will hurt less. It’d be so easy, fall asleep without any intention of waking up, it’d be so good. Jongin sighs when he falls on his bed, eyes closed, mouth open in the bliss that he’d feel if he wasn’t alive in a world with just ghost of memories dancing around him.
He wants the world where he dances to make memories back, the world where he never thought he’d ever be this happy, the world where right now Baekhyun would be there, lying next to him with his eyes on Jongin’s face. Where Baekhyun would be laughing and then sliding closer and curling up against his side with his face pressed right under his chin.
When he sleeps Jongin can believe that he’s not gone, that he’ll never get to feel this way again. Sleeping until his dreams take him away, dreaming until he’s not sure of his own reality anymore. He wants that, with Baekhyun smiling at him behind his closed eyelids, he wants that, Baekhyun holding his hand out to him and Jongin taking it and feeling it close around his fingers.
It’s not slipping right through his reach, it’s solid and Baekhyun is there, he can touch him and feel him, he’s not warm, he’s icy cold yet he’s real and that’s all Jongin really cares about.
This dream feels so real, that lying down here on his bed, he lets a smile appear on his face.
So it works, it’s not a magic potion, but it works.
Just two drops of it in a cup of water or a cup of coffee and it’s magic isn’t it? He can hold Baekhyun and he can hear him and he can talk to him, and tighten his arms around him, “I missed you.” He can also say that and hear Baekhyun laugh.
It’s just really a sweet poison that runs in his veins.