You’re totally right about the culprit! I hate him, damn. Okay, it’s AU of course and Junhee and the reader keep dreaming each other but the point is… they aren’t friends, they didn’t know each other! Every morning they wake up, forgetting the dream and then… BOOM! They CASUALLY bump into each other but.. Junhee doesn’t recognize the reader, instead the reader does it. so they become friends (actually the reader is dying because damn I LOVE YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!) a bit of angst but at the end that dumb FINALLY remember her for his dreams and A LOT OF FLUFF AT THE END. This is the idea (actually it’s a dream I did……) if you’re comfortable with it, just take it, it’s yours. If you’re not.. DON’T EVEN TRY TO DO IT, YOU KNOW I DON’T WANNA LOAD YOU WITH SHIT YOU DON’T LIKE IT. Well…. that’s all, love you. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 - Saturn
It was past midnight, yet you still didn’t dare to go to sleep. If you did, you’d just wake up again in a few hours in a cold sweat, your mind filled with worries. You wondered sometimes if you were going insane.
You knew you were dreaming—you had been for almost every night in the past three years—but it’d gotten especially bad these past few months. Almost as something imminent was coming for you, but you couldn’t place what it was.
It should’ve made you frightened, this feeling of not knowing. But instead, it was the opposite. It made you anxious, of course, but more than anything, you felt at peace with the thought. Something was coming for you, and you didn’t know what it was, but you weren’t scared.
In fact, most of the anxiousness came from waiting for it.
Even though you didn’t remember your dreams when you woke up, there was always a lingering warmth in them that was shattered by your sudden rousing. The fear always came at the very end, because it felt like something was slipping far, far away—out of your reach. Something important.
Something that would hurt you if you lost it.
You sighed. “I wish I knew what,” you mumbled to yourself, fogging up the glass in front of you. You wiped it away with the sleeve of your over-sized sweater, bringing the fuzzy city lights back into view.
There was one good thing about being up at this hour. You got to see the world from an angle that most people didn’t. You got to see the city in its fledgling hours from your little window nook.
As the saying goes, it truly never slept.
It always had some sort of life. Something that made it sparkle with just a little bit of wonder. You leaned your head against the window, the glass a little chilly against your forehead. You watched cars passing in the night—or early morning, as it may be—the sky become progressively lighter shades of dark blue, and the cityscape slowly becoming clearer in the distance.
You stared at your faint reflection in the window. Messy hair, tired eyes, an old, worn out sweater and no pants. Not exactly the prettiest of pictures.
“Oh, what the hell,” you muttered. You stood up, trekking across the room and grabbing some jeans out of your dresser drawers with a huff. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway.”
What better way to experience your insomniac hours than with the nightlife?
Fresh air never killed anyone.
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