i wrote a thing
don't have to fall asleep (you're my dream)
pairing: xiumin/luhan
rating: g
word count: 1340
summary: minseok has a dream. (mama!au)
author's note: nothing inspires a girl like finals week.
He dreams of white. And normally, white would mean empty, would mean nothing, but he dreams of the kind of white that is a whole lot of something. All the colors of the rainbow combined, a canvas ready to be brought alive, to be tarnished.
In the beginning, that’s all there is to it. A solid color no matter what angle he cranes his neck. Then it starts to ease into different shades and concentrations. It takes a while, but Minseok makes out the streaks of the clouds from the piles of snow on the ground. Each night brings a new detail he hadn’t noticed before. Specks of dirt, broken twigs, dried up leaves. It’s only after a month that he sees a mountain in the horizon. Even more for him to hear a voice, soft and ominous ringing in his ears like a secret. He awakens with goosebumps on every inch of his skin.
“It’s so quiet,” it says.
They ache like bruises.
He sees the owner of the voice in fragments. Fingers pink from the cold, a bulging network of veins on the back of a hand, a black coat sleeve, a scarf that’s bright and red, contrasting with the monotone environment. “Minseok,” the voice whispers, and it sounds so different from how Minseok normally hears his name. So intimate he feels a shiver make its way up his spine.
He waits for the words that follow. Waits for the face of the speaker. “You shouldn’t set the air conditioner so low,” his sister says over breakfast. “You’ll get sick.”
When he wakes up, his sheets are moist even though he’s freezing. Moist and cold.
“I don’t.”
She squints at him, setting down her chopsticks. “I went into your room last night to borrow a book and it was like walking into a freezer. I thought you hated the cold.” He frowns. “I do.”
“Then why..”
Minseok looks at the watch on his wrist, furrows his brows. He still has time. “I’ve got to go.”
Chapped pink lips. A scar. He locks the door to his room before he goes to sleep.
The tip of a nose, long eyelashes, pale chapped cheeks. “Minseok.” It’s hard to focus, to see everything at once. Sometimes the leaves seem like they’re dusting the clouds and Minseok doesn’t know which way is up. The water bottles he leaves at his bedside table are chilled in the morning. It’s summer. The AC is never turned on.
Brown eyes that sparkle even though there isn’t much light to reflect. Minseok doesn’t look at them directly. The sky is only clouds.
Minseok.
They’re stuck in a singular moment, maybe. Sometimes the snowflakes are fixed in the air like stars. But the tone gets gradually more insistent. His friends tell him he isn’t being himself. Dull dark hair. “I’m fine.”
“Look at me.”
He wakes up with snow in his hair. His fingertips a subsiding blue. “Honey,” his mother says. “Is everything all right?” It’s easy not to think about it when he doesn’t have to. The cup of coffee in his hands is warm. “Everything’s fine.” The water bottles are solid ice.
There’s a lump in his throat, though he isn’t sure how it got there. “Look at me.” Where are they, even? Please. He can’t even tell where he’s put his hands.
“You’re hiding something,” his sister says. More hurt than accusing. “You look so tired. Do you even sleep?” He wants to look so badly, and he doesn’t understand why he’s so afraid. “Of course I sleep.” His joints are stiff. “There’s nothing to hide.”
He starts over. Fingers, hands, lips, nose. Bright, bright eyes. The minute he meets them he knows, feels.. “I’m sorry,” he says. Startling over how grim his own voice sounds. He wakes up earlier to give his room some time to thaw. “I’m sorry too.” No one can ever find out.
“Did you hear?” someone asks. “There’s a new student.”
“Seriously?” Someone else. Minseok wants to lay his head on the desk so badly, but what if he falls asleep. “Yeah, from China.” More talking. Minseok tunes them out. The click of heels. So many voices.
He stills, every hair standing on end. At the head of the classroom, staring straight at him, is..
“Lu Han,” he breathes. His lips feel numb.Thirty heads look between them curiously. Minseok forces himself to look away. Lu Han’s eyes linger a little longer. Minseok hears him stutter an introduction in accented Korean, doesn’t listen for details. His heart hammers in his chest. It’s so cold.
As soon as first period ends, Minseok walks to the bathroom and locks himself into a stall. He’s shaking and it almost looked like frost was climbing on the window pane beside him. The tips of his fingers are..
“Minseok.” There it is, that familiar fond tone, so soft. Minseok feels sick. This isn’t real. “Let’s talk.” The tiles at his feet shine like crystals. What if he slips. “Please.” Urgent, insistent, so damn familiar.
The click of a lock. It’s strange that he knows exactly what degree to angle his neck to look up at him. Concern is etched in Lu Han’s expression. That, and many other conflicted emotions. The bathroom is empty, save for them. Minseok attempts to swallow down the panic.
“You recognise me too.” Lu Han says, almost disbelievingly. The scar is still there. Right below his.. Minseok merely says, “Later.”
For the rest of the day, Minseok only allows himself to think of the mountain. How far away it seemed, how it never got any closer. The dreams have been going on for months, but Minseok hadn’t taken a single step. Lu Han steals glances at him. Everyone notices.
Walking out of school with quick steps, Lu Han catches up to him. “Now.”
“How long?” Lu Han asks. They’re in an alleyway, out of sight. Minseok kicks at the gravel. “A few months. I haven’t really counted.” Five months. “What about you?” He’s standing too close.
They don’t know each other. “Almost a year.”
What do you see?
“I didn’t think I’d find you,” Lu Han whispers. “I wasn’t sure whether I should even be searching.” He’d wanted to hold him, be held by him. after they’d apologised. “You’re real.” The don’t know each other.
Lu Han tells him about his dream. How it’s dark and everything’s floating. Nothing on the ground but their feet, firmly planted. How it always felt like winter was coming. “I called for you for so long. It took you forever to look at me.”
The sun is setting. Minseok’s mother will be worried, maybe. Lu Han reaches out, gently touches his arm. Too familiar. “Is that what you see?” It’s so hard to swallow. “No.” It was so easy to pretend it wasn’t.. “My dream’s different.”
“Have you ever tried to..”
“No.”
“Why not?” Too many questions. “It was just a dream.” He had to replace his cellphone after he slept with it under his pillow. Lu Han tilts his head, studies him. “We should practise together. I think that would help.” His door locked twice, his sister asking him over and over if something is wrong. “I have to go home.” Lu Han doesn’t push any further, steps aside when Minseok makes to leave.
“I’m sorry too.” Dry hands grip his, only for a moment. He squeezes, releases. His room doesn’t thaw completely even though he waits for hours.
“Okay.” Just past the school gate. Dull hair. “I’ll practice with you.”
They start simply. A pebble, a puddle. “Try to control it.” It’s so hard to focus. “Again.” Focus. Weeks of the same exercises. “Tell me what you see.” A heavier rock, a larger body of water. Minseok tells him.
Minseok makes it snow, a soft powder falling over their heads and onto their faces. Lu Han doesn’t have to bend down to pick up his back bag anymore. The dreams don’t come every night.
“Minseok.” Warm hands. Real hands. Minseok isn’t afraid to look.
pairing: xiumin/luhan
rating: g
word count: 1340
summary: minseok has a dream. (mama!au)
author's note: nothing inspires a girl like finals week.
He dreams of white. And normally, white would mean empty, would mean nothing, but he dreams of the kind of white that is a whole lot of something. All the colors of the rainbow combined, a canvas ready to be brought alive, to be tarnished.
In the beginning, that’s all there is to it. A solid color no matter what angle he cranes his neck. Then it starts to ease into different shades and concentrations. It takes a while, but Minseok makes out the streaks of the clouds from the piles of snow on the ground. Each night brings a new detail he hadn’t noticed before. Specks of dirt, broken twigs, dried up leaves. It’s only after a month that he sees a mountain in the horizon. Even more for him to hear a voice, soft and ominous ringing in his ears like a secret. He awakens with goosebumps on every inch of his skin.
“It’s so quiet,” it says.
They ache like bruises.
He sees the owner of the voice in fragments. Fingers pink from the cold, a bulging network of veins on the back of a hand, a black coat sleeve, a scarf that’s bright and red, contrasting with the monotone environment. “Minseok,” the voice whispers, and it sounds so different from how Minseok normally hears his name. So intimate he feels a shiver make its way up his spine.
He waits for the words that follow. Waits for the face of the speaker. “You shouldn’t set the air conditioner so low,” his sister says over breakfast. “You’ll get sick.”
When he wakes up, his sheets are moist even though he’s freezing. Moist and cold.
“I don’t.”
She squints at him, setting down her chopsticks. “I went into your room last night to borrow a book and it was like walking into a freezer. I thought you hated the cold.” He frowns. “I do.”
“Then why..”
Minseok looks at the watch on his wrist, furrows his brows. He still has time. “I’ve got to go.”
Chapped pink lips. A scar. He locks the door to his room before he goes to sleep.
The tip of a nose, long eyelashes, pale chapped cheeks. “Minseok.” It’s hard to focus, to see everything at once. Sometimes the leaves seem like they’re dusting the clouds and Minseok doesn’t know which way is up. The water bottles he leaves at his bedside table are chilled in the morning. It’s summer. The AC is never turned on.
Brown eyes that sparkle even though there isn’t much light to reflect. Minseok doesn’t look at them directly. The sky is only clouds.
Minseok.
They’re stuck in a singular moment, maybe. Sometimes the snowflakes are fixed in the air like stars. But the tone gets gradually more insistent. His friends tell him he isn’t being himself. Dull dark hair. “I’m fine.”
“Look at me.”
He wakes up with snow in his hair. His fingertips a subsiding blue. “Honey,” his mother says. “Is everything all right?” It’s easy not to think about it when he doesn’t have to. The cup of coffee in his hands is warm. “Everything’s fine.” The water bottles are solid ice.
There’s a lump in his throat, though he isn’t sure how it got there. “Look at me.” Where are they, even? Please. He can’t even tell where he’s put his hands.
“You’re hiding something,” his sister says. More hurt than accusing. “You look so tired. Do you even sleep?” He wants to look so badly, and he doesn’t understand why he’s so afraid. “Of course I sleep.” His joints are stiff. “There’s nothing to hide.”
He starts over. Fingers, hands, lips, nose. Bright, bright eyes. The minute he meets them he knows, feels.. “I’m sorry,” he says. Startling over how grim his own voice sounds. He wakes up earlier to give his room some time to thaw. “I’m sorry too.” No one can ever find out.
“Did you hear?” someone asks. “There’s a new student.”
“Seriously?” Someone else. Minseok wants to lay his head on the desk so badly, but what if he falls asleep. “Yeah, from China.” More talking. Minseok tunes them out. The click of heels. So many voices.
He stills, every hair standing on end. At the head of the classroom, staring straight at him, is..
“Lu Han,” he breathes. His lips feel numb.Thirty heads look between them curiously. Minseok forces himself to look away. Lu Han’s eyes linger a little longer. Minseok hears him stutter an introduction in accented Korean, doesn’t listen for details. His heart hammers in his chest. It’s so cold.
As soon as first period ends, Minseok walks to the bathroom and locks himself into a stall. He’s shaking and it almost looked like frost was climbing on the window pane beside him. The tips of his fingers are..
“Minseok.” There it is, that familiar fond tone, so soft. Minseok feels sick. This isn’t real. “Let’s talk.” The tiles at his feet shine like crystals. What if he slips. “Please.” Urgent, insistent, so damn familiar.
The click of a lock. It’s strange that he knows exactly what degree to angle his neck to look up at him. Concern is etched in Lu Han’s expression. That, and many other conflicted emotions. The bathroom is empty, save for them. Minseok attempts to swallow down the panic.
“You recognise me too.” Lu Han says, almost disbelievingly. The scar is still there. Right below his.. Minseok merely says, “Later.”
For the rest of the day, Minseok only allows himself to think of the mountain. How far away it seemed, how it never got any closer. The dreams have been going on for months, but Minseok hadn’t taken a single step. Lu Han steals glances at him. Everyone notices.
Walking out of school with quick steps, Lu Han catches up to him. “Now.”
“How long?” Lu Han asks. They’re in an alleyway, out of sight. Minseok kicks at the gravel. “A few months. I haven’t really counted.” Five months. “What about you?” He’s standing too close.
They don’t know each other. “Almost a year.”
What do you see?
“I didn’t think I’d find you,” Lu Han whispers. “I wasn’t sure whether I should even be searching.” He’d wanted to hold him, be held by him. after they’d apologised. “You’re real.” The don’t know each other.
Lu Han tells him about his dream. How it’s dark and everything’s floating. Nothing on the ground but their feet, firmly planted. How it always felt like winter was coming. “I called for you for so long. It took you forever to look at me.”
The sun is setting. Minseok’s mother will be worried, maybe. Lu Han reaches out, gently touches his arm. Too familiar. “Is that what you see?” It’s so hard to swallow. “No.” It was so easy to pretend it wasn’t.. “My dream’s different.”
“Have you ever tried to..”
“No.”
“Why not?” Too many questions. “It was just a dream.” He had to replace his cellphone after he slept with it under his pillow. Lu Han tilts his head, studies him. “We should practise together. I think that would help.” His door locked twice, his sister asking him over and over if something is wrong. “I have to go home.” Lu Han doesn’t push any further, steps aside when Minseok makes to leave.
“I’m sorry too.” Dry hands grip his, only for a moment. He squeezes, releases. His room doesn’t thaw completely even though he waits for hours.
“Okay.” Just past the school gate. Dull hair. “I’ll practice with you.”
They start simply. A pebble, a puddle. “Try to control it.” It’s so hard to focus. “Again.” Focus. Weeks of the same exercises. “Tell me what you see.” A heavier rock, a larger body of water. Minseok tells him.
Minseok makes it snow, a soft powder falling over their heads and onto their faces. Lu Han doesn’t have to bend down to pick up his back bag anymore. The dreams don’t come every night.
“Minseok.” Warm hands. Real hands. Minseok isn’t afraid to look.