Woke up from a dream where jooyeon told me I was pretty, and I pulled him away to makeout with him in an abandoned stairwell. So I guess you could say I'm winning at life.
Synopsis: There's a world you go to each night in your dreams, a reality between realities. That is where you find him. That is where you feel most at home.
She/Her pronouns used
Warnings: None that I can think of, this is pure fluff. Maybe just a small, small hint of angst but more melancholic in vibes than actually sad or upsetting.
Word Count: 784
Notes: First fic posted on a new blog. I wrote this a bit ago and never really thought about doing anything with it until now. No idea of what's to come from it, but I hope you guys enjoy. I listened to Anthems For A Seventeen Year Old-Girl by yeule on repeat while writing and half ass editing this.
“Do you dream of me?”
The question hung heavy in the air as Vernon turned his head to the side to look at her, brows furrowed as he pondered over her words. The answer was so obvious and yet she had him second guessing himself.
“Is that not what I’m doing right now? Dreaming of you?” He asked, wishing she’d turn her head so he could look her in the eye. She didn’t.
Instead, she leaned to fidget with the volume of the music they’d been listening to until it was adequately regarded as background noise for their conversation before returning to her original position. His fingers itched to pull her closer- to turn her head towards him so he could get a read on her- but he hesitated and let his hands stay by his sides, twitching with the need to touch her.
“I don’t think so. I think right now…right now we’re wide awake, and when we leave these moments- whatever they really are- that’s when we sleep. Does that make sense?” She asked though from the way her voice stayed quiet, barely audible over the music she’d already turned down, he knew that she wasn’t even sure if it made sense to herself.
Vernon let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding as he dragged a hand through his dark hair, needing something to keep them occupied or else he was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep them away from her much longer.
He’d been finding himself in that situation a lot since this whole thing started, unable to stop his hands from finding their way towards her- her hands, her hair, the hem of her shirt. He could almost feel the soft fabric between his fingertips when she shook him out of his own thoughts.
“It doesn’t make sense,” She muttered as she finally turned to look at him, eyes squinting to fully make out his features as only moonlight illuminated the room. “I can’t explain it any better than that. I just can’t imagine that the world I’m awake in isn’t this one. Where you’re here, and you’re tangible, and I can always find you. I can’t have you out there but every night I have you right here beside me. I don’t want to believe you’re just a dream.”
Her words rolled down his body like condensation on a glass, starting in his mind and dripping all the way to his toes until his whole body was chilled and warm all at once. He didn’t give a damn about holding back anymore as he turned to lay on his side, one hand coming to rest on her waist as his large fingers tangled around the fabric of her shirt until it inched up enough for him to slip his hand down against her bare skin. His touch was hot but so was her skin, as if the pair were flushed head to toe just with the weight of their affections.
“I’m not,” he said, cheeks burning at how simple his statement seemed compared to her confession. “A dream I mean. I’m not a dream. I’m real out there and I’m real right here. And so are you.”
“But how are you sure? How can you know?”
Her eyebrows scrunched together, some semblance of a pout settling on her lips. He considered kissing it away for a moment before he forced the thought away. There would be plenty of time to kiss her later, but now he had to talk, he had to reassure them both.
For a moment, he pursed his own lips as his eyes darted away from hers and tried to find the right words among the millions of reasons rushing through his mind. She always did this- overwhelmed his brain with so many thoughts and words and feelings. He hated how much he loved it.
“I just know. I know it when I hear your favorite songs or when I see certain things. I could never dream up something like you.”
This time, it was her turn to lose herself within her thoughts because several moments passed by with nothing but the steady beat of a song that he was sure he could have fallen asleep to under normal circumstances.
Finally, as one song came to an end and the next began, she spoke.
“I think I’m in love with you,” she said as she turned onto her side and shifted so their noses were brushing.
“I know I’m in love with you,” Vernon responded and he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. Not quite a kiss, but not quite less. “So yes. I do dream of you.”
dededos
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
baratheonpilled
