A Dream With an Idol
summary - You've been having dreams, oddly inexplicably realistic dreams with the man you, and the rest of the world, admires. But your heart grows tired of it when you start to fall in love with him, someone you don't actually know.
pairing - Idol!Yoongi x reader
genre - idol!au, dream!au, fluff, angst
word count - 6.8k
warnings - lil' bit of swearing
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You don't notice the surreal atmosphere engulfing you as you sit on your couch. Your apartment looks the same as it always does, yet it feels inexplicably foggier, as if you could touch your surroundings and everything would fizzle and dissipate fleetingly into thin air.
Before you're able to clock onto the hazy feeling that seems to flow through your entire bloodstream, a breaking news segment on your TV steals your attention: apparently the scientifically proven cure for a broken heart is a kitten's ballad.
Normally, you would question this, grab your phone and debunk it through the internet for the sake of your sanity and your need to always be right. Instead, your consciousness accepts it and you grab the glass of water next to you, failing to register the way it feels like and weighs nothing in your seemingly numb hand.
As you're about to take a drink, a knock on your front door unexpectedly stalls you.
You practically float towards the door, not feeling the normally cold floor on your feet. As the door swings open, you're surprised (but not sceptical) to find a very familiar face on the other side.
"Hi."
The man stares at you as if it was you who showed up to his door unannounced. His face is painted with just as much confusion as you feel.
"Hello," you breathe out, "Would you like to come in?"
"Yes?", the man unsurely says, following you to sit down on the couch.
You both say nothing, sitting in the silence you both subjected yourselves to. You stare at him in awe of how he looks close-up, the familiar features you would regularly admire in pictures is burnt in your heart with a brand new filter of details those photos would normally miss. He stares at you in a similar way, but he slowly explores the small details of your face in a way that signals to you that this is the first time he has ever seen you.
"I'm a big fan of yours." You break the silence, breaking out into a bashful smile.
He blinks.
He offers a brief smile back.
"Thank you." he replies, continuing to intensely stare at you.
You give an acknowledging nod, thanking him for his thanks. You purse your lips out in the undeniably awkward atmosphere.
"I'm y/n", you introduce yourself in attempt to hack at the silence, "I already know who you are."
This time he gives the acknowledging nod, a bit taken aback by your sudden bluntness. Yet a genuine smile sneaks out on his face and his brain doesn't catch up to the words that spill out of his mouth.
"Can I give you a hug?" He unexpectedly says, his face showing as much surprise as you feel.
In that moment, you realise he was speaking in Korean and you, despite never actually learning the language, fully understood it like you know the sun can be seen in the sky. The realisation, however, is momentary, finally processing his question. You don't even verbalise your response, instead moving forward to show him your answer.
Then all of a sudden, everything transcends into something that is inexplicable to describe in any other way except real.
He feels real.
You feel the comforting pressure from his arms around your body. You feel every soft shape, edge, and surface on his both muscly and soft body. You feel the soothing scent from him uplifting the senses in your nose. You feel the overwhelming warmth radiating from his body. The feeling is visceral, your heart drums throughout your body when you feel his heartbeat on your skin.
He is real.
As if shocked by electricity, you both move away from each other, staring at each other in pure shock. It's in that moment you take in the surreal atmosphere, the foggy surroundings, the ridiculous news on the TV.
You realise you're dreaming and yet the man in front of you is inexplicably real.
What haunts you is that his face mirrors yours. As if he feels the exact same thing you do, as if he finally registers everything around him is surreal, as if he too realises he's dreaming. He realises.
You're real too.
He moves forward towards you again and opens his mouth, about to ask you if you just felt what he did. You feel every fibre in your body about to do the same, to confirm that you viscerally feel everything, you can feel him.
But before either of you can utter a single word, everything and anything selfishly and unforgivingly rips through the existence, so brutally that it forces your eyes wide open.
You wake up.
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The dream stayed on your mind, the feeling of his touch lingered on your skin. So much so that if you try to think back to it, you could almost relive it. It's odd. So inexplicably odd.
You mentioned it to your friends. Yet, despite their initial interest in your story, they only acknowledged the dream with a "huh, that's weird" and moved on from it. And, considering the bizarreness of the dream and the fear of being perceived as a delusional fan who was convinced that the Yoongi from BTS interacted with you through a dream, you accepted the passing commentary and told yourself that it was some sort of weird fluke.
And you kept telling yourself that until you started to get more and more dreams featuring the famous idol.
It got to a point where it was every few days. The dream always consisted of the same thing: you guys would find each other in the dream; have a chat about something random; end up hugging; feel the inexplicably, very real feeling of each others' bodies; look at each other with the recognition of the previous times this has happened; open your mouths to address the bizarre sensation; and then, of course, wake up absolutely breathless.
At first, you tried to will yourself to remember and confront the repetitive structure of the dream, like trying to remember the exact timing of a jump scare in a horror movie or the exact moment you see the romantic interest fall in love with their fated partner. But every time, you enter the dream without realising you're dreaming, never fully conscious of the repetition until you hug, always letting him slip from your grasp. Both metaphorically and (kind of) literally.
So, 6 months in, you gave up trying to confront the weird phenomena. Instead, just enjoying the dreams, enjoying his hazy company, enjoying your seemingly genuine conversations about anything and everything within the bizarre and eccentric world of your dreams.
There was something so indescribably real and authentic about dream Yoongi. You found yourself confiding in him about life, your real world life that is. You would talk about what had happened that day, the memories from your teen years, your aspirations, your likes, your dislikes, anything. In return, dream Yoongi would tell you about his day, his memories from his teen years, his struggles, what he ate that day, what music he was working on, funny stories about his friends. For instance, apparently Namjoon keeps embarrassing himself in front of an intern he may (i.e., definitely) has a crush on and you find yourself both laughing and cringing at the different moments Yoongi would retell at the cost of his dear friend's demise. It was strangely very believable and, after the fated realistic hug, you would wake up, feeling a unique sense of embarrassment for how detailed and enjoyable your made-up yet convincing conversations were with dream-Yoongi.
You felt a tiny bit more embarrassed to admit that, a year and a half in, these dream conversations were a big part of resolving your real life problems (thanks to dream-Yoongi's pragmatic but considerate advice), a big part of your life, and a big part of who you are. You hated to admit it to yourself, but these dreams weren't merely fantasies; they were a tangled web of devastatingly real emotions. The discussions were achingly genuine to you, you would pour your heart out in these moments in return for his.
Before you knew it, dream-Yoongi crept his disastrously perfect self inside your heart.
You fell in love with someone you don't know.
Was it stressful falling deeper and deeper in love with dream-Yoongi with every dream you had of him? Yes. Did you freak out that one time Yoongi mentioned he was getting ready for a comeback and then a week later that same comeback was announced? Very much so. Did it get a bit too much that you had to actively stop being a fan of the group because keeping up with them became a tragic, painful reminder that dream-Yoongi was just that: a dream? Absolutely.
The more your feelings blossomed in your chest, the more ridiculous you felt about the situation. It got to the point that you went on a date and you felt so weird, almost guilty for betraying Yoongi. You had to remind yourself that 1. you aren't even in a relationship with Yoongi and 2. you've never even met this man you felt you were betraying.
It got to the point where the ridiculousness you felt started to transform to a constant ache gnawing at your heart, your dreams overshadowing reality. You realised your unrequited love for a man you made up in your head.
You decided these dreams needed to stop.
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In all honesty, you had no idea how to try and attempt to resolve the issue at hand and neither did Reddit (unsurprisingly your experience was very, very unique). So, in a moment of pure desperation, you went to see a (very expensive) dream therapist.
The very understanding and non-judgemental woman tried to reason that these dreams may be a result of issues with your love life and being single (there wasn't, you were quite content not being in a relationship) or maybe because you were a big fan of BTS (unfortunately you were not anymore). You felt a bit sorry for the therapist, especially after she admitted she doesn't really know how to help, having never seen or heard of your experience before.
In the end, the therapist suggested trying to bring your subconscious to heal and bridge that gap between your desires and reality. You weren't really sure what that could entail, and neither did she. After a moment of heavy silence, the therapist apologised for her inability to help and broadly concluded:
"The rule of thumb here is that confronting what's really been bothering you often resolves your problems in some way."
You walk out of the appointment with some form of hope.
You decide maybe the best course of action is to actually try to address the real sensations you feel when you touch dream-Yoongi and potentially this may resolve something in your unconscious? (You really weren't too sure but you thought doing something was better than nothing).
So, you went out, bought a dream journal, and tried to start lucid dreaming. You start keeping track of your dreams, investing in better sleep, and, really, following every advice page that was out there. However, when it finally works, you couldn't dream in dream-Yoongi for some reason. Instead, you "wake up" with sleep paralysis and find it genuinely terrifying.
So you give up.
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You have 3 more dreams with dream-Yoongi. In each one, you catch him staring at you with a mist of worry in his eyes, almost begging you to let him know what's wrong. You feel bad but you try to dismiss him, settling for the regular surface-level chats that seem to be engulfed with more moments of silence than normal.
It seems that something keeps throwing more and more problems your way to deal with, both with your dreams and life in general. After learning a bit about dreams from the therapist, you're not surprised to note that your dreams seem to be more mellow than usual.
3 months have passed since the sleep paralysis incident and you're in another dream.
It's not as grim as it has been recently. Instead, you're sitting on the blinding white sand with your arms around your knees, basking in the sunlight as people play volleyball in the bright blue ocean on horse-sized cats.
You think one reminds you of Yoongi.
"Is this seat taken?"
Speak of the devil.
"What, the vast land of sand?" you tease, staring out to the sea, as he rolls his eyes .
"You know what I meant," he sighs, "Can I sit next to you?"
"Yes, of course you can," you answer, stealing glances at him as he sits a foot away from you.
You both stay silent, watching the odd scene in front of you as if it's a daily occurrence to watch a form of beach cat polo. But, you will reason when you wake up, in a dream you wouldn't question it at all.
"What's been up with you recently?" Yoongi asks, mirroring your position, his head resting on his arms, staring at you.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, recently you have been a bit off," Yoongi shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant, but you can tell he feels a bit uneasy, "Every time we talk you just seem a bit out of it."
As you digest what he said, you remain silent. Huh. You guess you have been out of it.
"I..." you think about how to go about this, "I think I'm just tired about all of this?"
"All of what?" Yoongi asks, and you watch as his face scrunches in confusion.
He's so beautiful, it hurts.
Tragically, your unconscious won't let dream-you remember the true reason for your sadness. Instead, you feel the need to confess, confess you have fallen for him. Confess everything you have felt for nearly 2 years, in front of the glistening sea and purple sunset that is adorned with purring cats.
But, for once, the real-you influences dream-you a bit too much, you're too scared.
"I'm just tired of... work?", you say with as much assuredness you can muster, "Work has been really stressful, they are offering me this big transfer, well more like insisting I transfer and I don't know... I might reject it."
That was actually true (for real-world you).
"Oh shit," Yoongi raises his eyebrows, letting out a sigh of relief, "Well, transfer to what? To where?"
"To another country," you continue, thankful for the change in conversation "Away from my friends, my family, and just about everything I know."
Another wave of silence fills the atmosphere as you both take in the sunset in front of you. It's doubtlessly unrealistic yet undeniably beautiful.
The peace stops when your peripheral catches Yoongi abruptly spinning his head towards you.
"Wait, is it for that job you were talking about? The project manager role?" Yoongi asks.
You nod. You watch as his face changes to let out his breath-taking smile. Your heart melts at the sight and the fact that he remembered.
It seems dream-Yoongi remembers everything.
"So it's not just a transfer, it's a promotion! Is that not great? You've been wanting to work with the charity for ages," he asks you, with admiration and a sense of pride in his eyes.
"But, I didn't realise I would have to actually move somewhere for it. I'm kind of scared to move to somewhere new, especially because I like where I am. What if I don't like it? I don't even speak the language!" you try to reason, letting out a groan listening to your own whines, "Is it shitty of me to give this opportunity up just because I'm scared?"
It falls silent as you both think about it.
"No. It seems there's pros and cons to both," Yoongi reasons back, "but both options do not make you a shitty person. There's a balance in helping others and putting yourself first"
You hum in contemplation. Silence washes up the shore again.
"But you do realise you can actually learn the language right?" he teases, "Like, that's what most people do when they need to move to a different country."
You give a pointed look at him, trying to remain serious, while the corners of your mouth betray your intentions. He looks at you with a seemingly genuine expression of endearment, letting out a small chuckle.
"You want my honest opinion?" Yoongi asks, continuing when you give him a nod, "Are you scared of moving to a new country or are you scared to move away from your place? Because to me it sounds like you're just scared to leave home and that's fine. But there's a difference between staying in a place because you actually like it and staying in a place just because it's comfortable."
You stare at him, a bit bewildered and struck with self-realisation that he might be right. He looks at you with a fond smile and gives a little shrug
"I would just hate to see you give up something you've been passionate about to just settle," he truthfully admits.
"What makes you think I'm just settling?" you ask, half joking, half offended.
"The way you talk about your life, I know you like your friends and your family and 'just about everything you know'. But you don't seem truly happy with where you are," Yoongi counters, "Like, where you are personally, with your job, I mean sometimes you seem bored with your city. And you always talk about wanting to start anew. I just want you to think about it before saying no"
"Yeah, I guess... " you quietly say, digesting all his words, "Thank you Yoongi."
You give him a sincere smile, and you watch as his eyes gazes around your face, as if he's trying to memorise every detail. Your heart warms at the action.
"It's no worries. I'll always be here, no matter what you choose, just let me know what you end up doing," Yoongi smiles, pausing before asking you, "So where would the transfer be?"
You pause for a moment.
"Um, it would be in the Seoul branch."
"What?" Yoongi gapes, "That's insane, you always talk about wanting to visit here. We could even meet up if you come," Yoongi suggests, unable to hide his excitement.
"I know," you let out a chuckle at his reaction, excitement spreading to you at the thought.
That won't actually happen though.
You feel your heart ache at the little voice in your head. You drop your head down, despairingly chuckling at the improbable idea.
He doesn't even know you exist.
And in that moment, you stare at him in shock.
You realise you're dreaming.
But before the now-conscious you could finally talk to dream-Yoongi, he lurches forward to bring you into an excited hug. And as always, you feel the same realistic warmth and pressure of his body onto yours, and it spreads and flutters right to your heart.
Then dread fills your entire body. No.
And just like clockwork, he instantly holds your shoulders to slightly push you away, frantically looking at your face with the same confusion you see on his face after every godforsaken hug.
Hopelessly, you try to quickly get any word out to the man in front of you, watching as he too scrambles to let even a sound out.
"You're-," you barely hear him start.
Then, you wake up.
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You decide to accept the transfer.
You have also decided that your dreams need to stop. For multiple reasons. You don’t want your heart to ache every time you see even a picture of real-Yoongi, which would probably be every day when you move to Seoul. You don’t want to keep tearing up at the realisation that the real-Yoongi is nothing like your dream-Yoongi or at the fact that dream-Yoongi isn’t real. And on the very rare chance you ever see real-Yoongi in real life and he walks past you as if you are just a stranger (which you guess you are), you don’t think your heart could actually, realistically take that kind of heartbreak.
So, you decide you really need to sort this dream situation out once and for all before you move. As a symbol of truly starting anew.
You try to lucid dream again and again.
And, for once, it works.
You open your eyes to a vivid yet clouded scene. You take in the sights, the dark velvet seats all lined up to face the stage were illuminated by the dimmed lights on the dark gold-coloured walls. Almost half of the theatre seats are filled; there’s people you notice are your coworkers and some people you don’t recognise at all. You don’t dwell on them for too long as you notice him sitting a few rows from the front of the stage.
You feel a bit wobbly making your way down the aisle, noticing how weird everything feels in a dream. Everything is so similar to real life, yet there’s this noticeable addition that feels unexplainable and yet somewhat fuzzy-feeling. As you near him, you feel your breath hitch in your throat as he turns to look at you, as if feeling your presence nearby.
"Ah, nice of you to show up," he jokes, "I was wondering if you got lost and I would never see you again."
You instantly feel yourself smile at the sight of his face, comfort filling your heart and mind. You note how handsome he looks in the black suit he’s wearing as you sit down beside him.
"Hate to disappoint," you play along, "I'm hard to get rid of."
He laughs with familiarity, feigning disappointment with a dejected sigh.
It feels odd to sit next to him. Well, it’s odd for the real, conscious-you to sit next to dream-Yoongi. Again, you note the haziness of your surroundings, the subliminal feeling like your falling and yet, dream-Yoongi remains so realistic, almost an anchor to this whole experience. It almost makes you second guess whether you truly are dreaming in the first place. But, you don’t know if that’s because that’s just the experience of lucid dreaming or the fact you are sitting next to the man you fell in love with, well, made up man.
"I actually need to talk to you about something," you start, turning towards him awkwardly in the fixed seat.
Sensing the serious tone in your voice, he turns towards you too, also awkwardly in the fixed seat.
You huff at the uncomfortableness, not wanting this to be the place you finally say what’s been haunting you for nearly 2 years. Then you remember, you're dreaming.
With the realisation, your surroundings change to your wish.
You both are sitting down on your old couch in your house: the place where you had your first dream with Yoongi.
He looks at you with the same concerned expression, either not noticing the surroundings changing around him or, as you logically reason, not caring because he is not real with an actual conscious.
"Are you okay?" Yoongi stares at you, worry painted on his face.
You feel tears fill in your eyes at the sight of him.
A sense of finality fills the air.
And with that, you inexplicably feel in your heart that this is the last time you will ever see Yoongi. The last time you will ever see the person you have shared the most precious and sacred conversations with. The last time you will ever see that man you love.
So, you try to savour the moment, savour him.
Your eyes trace every detail, every line, everything about him. The soft slope of his nose, his naturally pouty lips that seem to say everything right, his piercing yet soft eyes that look at you with so much care and adoration.
Care and adoration you made up in your head.
"I'm in love with you."
You breathe out a shaky breath. You curse yourself feeling so nervous at confessing to someone who only exists in your head.
"Please don't say anything," you plead when he opens his mouth, about to respond.
An unreadable expression embedded on his face nearly makes you stop to try and decipher him, but the need to keep confessing takes over.
"I'm in love with you, Yoongi," you repeat, "I love you, and I just wanted you to know. and I realise how ridiculous this is, confessing to someone who doesn't even know me, let alone love me back but I love you."
You stare at him as his eyebrows furrow in confusion with his chest heaving up and down, breathless from your words.
"You've been my comfort person and the more I think about it, the more I realise that I think I've made you up in my head to get me through it all. Through my endless job rejections, through my fights with my friends, my siblings. Even through the time my childhood cat died. You've given me so much advice and comfort and laughter with your ridiculous stories and thoughts. I love all the conversations we've had together and all the times we just sat in silence. I love how you aren't afraid to set me straight if I ever say something wrong. I love your passion when you talk about your music, your friends, the people you love. I love your outlook on life and people. And I'm just so in love with you. And I don’t think any words can really get that across, Yoongi"
You raise your arm up to your face to wipe the tears off, chuckling at how good it feels to get this off your chest yet how painful this all is.
"And I want you to know I'm going to miss you. I don't care that you won't realise or that you might not even care that this all will end," you feel your heart break at the sudden thought, "Or maybe you will just cease to exist..."
You hiccup from all the tears, which blur your vision from the man in front of you.
"I just want to say I love you," you confess again, not caring how repetitive you sound.
You move to wipe your tears again, wanting one final look at the man you've grown to love the past years. You almost laugh at how speechless he looks.
"I'm gonna go now."
You move to stand up, heart heavy in your chest, about to take him out of your dream when you feel yourself stutter at the very real feeling of his hand around your wrist.
"Don't go, stop", the man chokes out, "I'm in love with you too."
You turn around to look at him, your heart disintegrating at the sight of his face, etched in confusion and pain.
Reminding yourself this is all in your head, you shake your head, trying to ignore the warm feeling spreading through your chest. When he sees your disbelief, he begins to stutter, unsure of what to say.
"I'm so in love with you," he repeats, "This is real, this whole time it has been real, I swear it has to be real, I'm real, so please don’t go, don't leave me. I need to see you again, you can't leave me."
You almost fall for it.
In your head you know this is just you making this up, you want to protect yourself because you want Yoongi to love you back, you want for him to be real.
But he isn’t.
You sit back down to face him, who stares at you in agony, and you give him a bittersweet smile. You move to tightly hug him, and, to your surprise, you feel his body begin to feel hazier and more indistinct the longer you hold him. For once, you can describe what this hug feels like: now it just feels dream-like. You feel him instinctively move to hug you back, even tighter, as if he would disappear if he loosens his grip even just a tiny bit.
You almost laugh at the feeling, because he will disappear, he always does.
You quickly let go and hold his head in your hands to see his face one last time. You feel his realistic smooth skin in your hands start to grow indefinite and the wetness from the stray tear that falls from his red eyes dissipate on your fingertips, regardless you move your thumbs to wipe them from his perfect face.
You feel him slip away from you.
"Goodbye, Yoongi."
For the last time, you feel a pull to move his face towards yours, wanting to touch his lips you've been dreaming about for years. He looks down at your lips and moves towards you as well.
You both are so close to each other, you feel what is left of him: his cooling warmth, his vague skin, his muted breath against your lip. You close your eyes as you feel a wisp of his soft lips against yours.
Then, you wake up.
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You don't dream of Yoongi again.
You try not to think about it for the next 5 months, somewhat succeeding (turns out moving to a new country is surprisingly a good way to try to get over the mourning of your non-existing lover you made up in your head). You also avoid the fuck out of any mention of Yoongi, which is tragically harder as he has apparently released a single. But now you are used to instinctively scrolling past any mention of him on social media or taking the longer way to the store to avoid his face on the billboards adorned in the busy streets. You’re doing better.
You settle fine in your new job, you get by fine with your improving Korean, you remember to call your family to remind them you’re doing fine because you are. You’re doing just fine.
You tell yourself that again in the mirror of the venue’s bathroom, getting ready for the celebrity charity event that you and your team had planned. You feel nervous with it being your first big project you took part in since moving here and you feel even more nervous from potentially meeting any of the celebrities on the attendance list.
You feel your heart race knowing that he was set to attend.
Truly, you've never thought that you would ever actually meet Yoongi in real life. At first, you were considering not going, the feeling of anxiousness tempting you to an apologetic sick call to your manager. But you talk yourself out of it, you don't necessarily need to meet or speak to Yoongi, or any of the celebrities for that matter. And besides, you hate to admit it, but dream-Yoongi always told you to try to not let fear stop you from living your life. So you decide to go.
In fact, you're kind of excited.
Tasked to make sure the ‘red’ carpet event runs smoothly, you stand behind the cameras with your clipboard and phone, ticking off who’s arriving, who’s been interviewed, who’s left to arrive. Your headset provides an appreciated distraction from your nerves, listening to the chaotic whispers on the radio. You hear one of your coworkers squeal in the mic and you stifle a laugh as she apologises about being unprofessional. But, you instantly go breathless, when she explains it is because a certain someone just arrived.
You feel your whole body warm with your heartbeat racing impossibly faster at the sight of him standing on the carpet, while everyone flashes their cameras desperately at the global celebrity. You become breathless again, he looks so familiar and so comforting. You can't help but pat yourself on the back for how accurately your brain portrayed him.
You feel your heart melt at how he looks quite nervous, eagerly looking around at everyone, you can tell from the way he clasps his hands tightly as he poses that he feels a bit on edge, yet a bit excited? Your mind goes to the one conversation you had where he mentioned even to this day events like this still make him nervous. Your mind then goes to remind yourself that the conversation wasn’t with real-Yoongi but with dream-Yoongi. And also that the conversation wasn't actually real.
Still, you can't help but block everyone and everything else out as you watch him make his way down the carpet. Posing for more pictures and answering questions that some interviewers are asking him.
You feel yourself make yourself smaller as he makes his way to the end of the carpet where you are, feeling the unnecessary need to hide from his potential gaze. Still, you listen to his interview with the interviewer.
"Hello, we have Yoongi here!" The interviewer says to the camera, "How are you today?"
You watch as he answers the questions with the very similar gait, mannerisms and patterns of speech as dream-Yoongi, you feel that comforting feeling again.
"So, how did you hear about this charity?"
"I actually first heard about this charity from a really dear friend of mine." you see Yoongi look down with a fond smile, "They honestly have the exact same beliefs and views as me so when they first told me about it so passionately, I knew it was something I care about too. And I do care about it, with the topic of mental health, I believe it is so important that we care about the younger generation."
"That's really sweet", the interviewer relatably swoons, "and we can't not talk about your new single! It is amazing! Can you talk a bit about it?"
"Thank you. Um, yeah it's been a song that I think has been kind of long overdue, overdue for years. Some people have told me it's very cheesy in its essence," he chuckles, scratching his neck bashfully, "It's written as a dedication to someone you really care about, someone who's changed your life, someone so good, you don't believe they're real, you know?"
"Yeah, no, I get that," she replies, blushing at his words, "The fans love the different new sound you use in the song. Very different from what we are used to and it’s beautiful to listen to. Feels almost… How do I describe it? Dream-like? I guess that’s why you use it, the idea of a person of your dreams? Is that what you were alluding to?”
Your breath hitches at the irony, you feel a small pang at your heart. You convince yourself out of the delusion, as he takes a bit longer to answer.
"Yeah I guess, the person of my dreams..." He pauses, and looks back up to give another smile, "That's exactly what it is."
As he finishes the interview, he glances over the room, trying to meet eyes with everyone. When his gaze sweeps in your direction, your heart races, bending down to pretend to tie your laces (you’re wearing heels). You feel a bit pathetic in admitting you don’t want him to meet your eyes and move on, solidifying that everything you experienced was, in fact, just a figure of your imaginations and dreams. When you straighten up, he’s completed his scan, his expression tinged with a hint of disappointment - maybe he lost his manager?
The night goes on and you’re thankful that you’re kept busy ensuring everything is running smoothly behind the scenes. Yet, he does linger in mind and your heart, making it hard to fully focus. When you complete your final task in seeing the catering company off, your manager tells you to enjoy the party, but you can’t. You could go in the main hall and meet new people but a tightness settles in your chest. You feel like you’re choking up.
You step outside to the balcony, the designated smoking area. You quit smoking after dream-Yoongi told you he was trying to stop, and you both agreed to quit together. So, you just look out into the distance, feeling a bittersweet pang. You breathe in and out in the patterns dream-Yoongi taught you, the memories wrapping around you like a warm, comforting hug. You curse him for being such an indelible part of your life.
As your breathing stabilises, you take in the Seoul city night lights. Dream-Yoongi was right: it’s a devastatingly beautiful city at night, a beauty you can’t help but compare to him.
You hear the door open and freeze at the familiar voice speaking on the phone. You feel your whole body freeze and tense, gripping on the balcony railing for support. He ends the call, speaking in his dialect, so you only recognise bits of the conversation - turns out dream-you understanding fluent Korean didn’t mean the real-you did too.
You feel the urge to hide, but you tell yourself it’s ridiculous: he doesn’t know who you are and you need to accept that. Instead, you decide this is a rare opportunity to say hi to him as a fan because you always have been one. You’ve always admired him. You remind yourself that this would probably be the first and the last time you would ever be in this situation, even if his unfamiliarity would completely wreck you.
Taking in one final deep breath, you turn to look at him and smile, a mix of nervousness and that tragic feeling of love coursing through you. He looks at you and freezes, eyes widening slightly. You tell yourself you’re deluding yourself in imagining the recognition on his face, especially as he nonchalantly puts a cigarette between his lips and reaches for a lighter. He probably just got a shock from seeing someone there.
However, he keeps staring at you, his eyes effortlessly tracing your features and your body with a curious intensity that is so familiar yet makes you feel self-conscious. You can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile at your star-stricken expression.
Okay, so real-Yoongi is a bit of an asshole.
As he is about to light the cigarette, you let out a scoff, almost calling him a liar for betraying the promise dream-Yoongi made about smoking. But you stop yourself, reminding yourself that wasn’t real.
His head tilts at your scoff, a hint of disbelief on his face that is accompanied by his beautiful, almost cocky smile.
"뭐?" he says, his voice curious and playful.
You raise your eyebrows at him in retort. Your heart can’t help but flutter at how attractive this man is, even though he's not as sweet as dream-Yoongi used to be. The longer you guys just stare at each other, you surprisingly feel more comfortable in the presence of this man you technically just met. You can’t help but feel that warmth and familiarity that soothes you. You don’t feel as nervous as you should be meeting Suga of BTS; to you, he feels like dream-Yoongi.
So, you give him a smile back, butterflies invading your stomach
You know there’s a rumour that real Yoongi is supposedly fluent in English, but you hope he doesn’t understand you in this moment
"You said you were gonna quit with me," you say, referencing the cigarette, "You're a liar."
You’re not sure if you’re surprised when he laughs.
"So you are real then," Yoongi says in English, his eyes sparkling with disbelief.
You gasp as he puts the unlit cigarette behind his right ear. He laughs again, a warm, familiar and disarming sound that sends your heart into overdrive. He walks up to you, his breath coming a little faster, paralleling your own.
"Wait, what?" you question, your mind reeling with the implications of his words.
Your confusion deepens when he places his hands on either side of your face, his touch gentle yet firm. His intense eyes gaze over your features with what you now accept is recognition and familiarity. His gummy smile widens as he takes in the sight of you. You can't tell if the loud beating heart is yours or his (or both).
He pulls you in for a hug. It feels real, yet so familiar, like slipping into a cherished memory. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, bending down to rest his head in your neck. This time, you don't feel hazy, and for once, you don’t feel rushed. Instead, the world seems to slow down, comforting you both at this moment.
Then you hear him, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck, filled with wonder and relief.
"You're real."
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A/n: Thank you so much for reading! And please give me any feedback! This was based on an actual dream I had of Yoongi and, of course, Faye Webster’s song ('a dream with a baseball player') that reminded me of the dream. But I hope you enjoyed reading and feel free to check out my other work <3
Aaaaaa thank u 🥹
