— dreamscape; repeatedly.
arcjaehwa:
(…)
“so, what?” he asks, turning around when he had finished observing his surroundings. “you’re just gonna be in all my dreams now? are you really that bored? your own dreams not cutting it out for you?” if he were to be completely honest about things, the fact that yeonghun kept appearing in his dreams wasn’t something he was that angry about, but it wasn’t something that excited him either. dreams never reflected real life memories, at least for him, and so keeping his past a secret wouldn’t be a problem. at least, he hoped so.
“or is it cause you find the idea of me so appealing that you have to follow me around, even if my dreams? cause - “ he starts off, only to be stopped by a sound coming from the end of the hallway. “what the fuck is that?” he asks, mostly to himself, though it’s out loud so it’s open for interpretation. just as soon as he had said it, it sounds again, something like a ball bouncing, echoing from the far end of the stretched marble floors.
If you boiled everything down, the two were clear representations of conflicting liquids that never found integration with one another, yet were somehow essential in divine creation. Water and oil, fire and ice. The awkward undulate balance of equilibrium would continue to swing between the strange acquaintances – who seemed much more like strangers outside of the dreamscape – like a pendulum.
With a somber – perhaps apologetic – gaze that cast a glance over towards the other, Yeonghun found Jaehwa’s wandering orbs digging into the architecture that he had concocted somewhere between concurrent memories and fictional imaginationations. The layers of regal, grandiose marble licked a line down a hall that was peppered with doors. The archways represented old rococo fashioned carvings that seemed to compliment the lavished wood that dusted like accents within the cabin. But as he found himself admiring the musings of the other, he quickly snapped back when he heard the retorts spilling out.
Bored? If he was bored, he would have wandered through the dreams of someone he was fond of. Yeonghun bit his tongue before the words crept between his teeth to expel into the open air. Honestly, he was just too tired to control who he had projected himself on to – although he had wished it was no one at all. Jaehwa was just a victim, like Yeonghun himself. But rather dwell, he had already decided to humor their time together. Besides, they always seemed to have fun when Jaehwa was asleep.
As ironic as that was.
He pursed his lips and gave his head a few nods, as if he were analyzing the words with sustenance, “…Funny, I haven’t dreamt in a while.” Clearing his throat, he dove his hands into his pockets and let them rummage through the void of cotton while he turned on his heel and pretended to continue his tour of the sculpture made by the artist before him.
“…You know what they say,” and even Yeonghun could hear the unsteady rocking the pulsed in his throat, “Opposites attract.”
Did they? Honestly, he was bullshitting himself.
“Besides, I never invite myself. You’re the one handing out the party –" A harsh ricochet drummed in the back, the timbre almost hollow to the ear. Yeonghun craned his neck and shot a look towards the other, but alas, their expressions mirrored one another. What the fuck did you do it seemed to read from their matching knitted brows to half-way scowls.
”Hey man, this ain’t my dream. It’s yours. You tell me what the fuck that is.”


















