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Chapter Fifteen : Jung Wook-jin

Dreams were always something that I always wondered about. When I was younger, I always thought that a dream was a wish your heart makes (obviously, I got that from the movie Cinderella when me and my friends wanted to watch it for fun). When I got older, that idea had vanished from my intellect. Instead, I started thinking that dream was something that your brain makes up out of random, forgotten memories.

Now, I don’t know what to think. I would like to imagine that it’s something fantastical, moreover mystical…however, it just doesn’t seem to match my intellect and thoughts anymore.

I woke in a slightly darkened room, rain pattering against my windows like a sweet tune. My phone lay right beside me, silent and dead. I turn it on. It then flickers back into life, the screen beaming with light. I checked the time. “11:45 a.m.” it read. s**t, I thought, I overslept. I place it back down onto the duvet next to me, immediately sitting up after.

I really shouldn’t have slept for long. I could’ve done something productive for once, like complete some overdue homework or something like that. Instead I sleep. However, it is said that smarter people tend to sleep more, so now I can just say to people that I’m superior and I actually am useful in life.

I step outside to the living room, all drowsy and tired. The main light hadn’t been on the whole day, and all that had been beaming with light was a crescent shaped lamp that hung over the window seating. And right below it – as though it were s spotlight – sat Yongsoo, leaning against the window with tears streaming down his eyes.

Immediately, I ran up to him, couching down so I would reach his height. “Yongsoo,” I say with a gentle voice, “What’s wrong? You alright?” He looks back up, eyes tired and bloodshot.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I just…had a really bad dream.” I then scoot up right next to him and lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Is it something you’re comfortable talking about with me?” I ask. He nodded, just ever so slightly.

“So, erm…it’s a bit of a long explanation…You alright with that?” he asked.

“Of course,” I nod.

“Right, so…where do I even start…? So, around 7 years ago, I…got into a car crash with my family. Yeah, it’s pretty cliché, I know. It’s probably something you would’ve seen in the books or movies. But yeah…I guess that’s what happened to me. I think I was around…8? I don’t remember exactly…but I had a dream about it just now. It was like I completely relived that moment in real time…” He paused for a while, and his eyes were glazed with tears.

“And…and I f*****g hate it. I didn’t want to relive through my mother’s passing again. I’ve had enough of that memory. I wish it could’ve just…all disappeared from my mind. She…never deserved to die. My family would’ve been in much better shape than how it is now. Only if she were alive…everything would’ve been better. I wouldn’t have to go through the s**t my father puts me through…and we finally get to be stable for once.”

Tears were flowing down his eyes, and my heart ached with every drop that fell. I hate seeing him cry. It’s just makes me want to cry. I stretch my arms out and try my best to give him a little smile. “Hugs?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He scoots himself into my arms and slowly wraps his hands around my torso. He leaned his head onto my chest and started sobbing, which made my heart throb even more. I gently graze my hands over his back and hold him close, already feeling the tears starting to form in my eyes.

Why am I the one that’s crying? I thought. It might just be because I’m too sympathetic. I raise a hand up to my eyes and wipe off the tears that’d managed to get through.

And we just sit there for a while, not even uttering a word. All that could be heard was his sobs and my silent sniffles. My eyes were probably bloodshot by the time he pulled away. He looked at me with utter confusion, most likely not sure to why I was the one crying.

“You okay?” he asked, “Why’re you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I just tend to cry whenever someone else cries.” He lets out a small laugh.

“That’s cute,” I hear him mutter to himself. He gazed upon the ground for a while, observing the marble floor below us. He then looks back up at me with his bloodshot hazel eyes and gives me a faint smile. “Right…I’ve got some homework I’ve got to finish. Thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“For being there when I needed you…and please don’t take it in that sense. Just think of it in a friendly way.”

“Well, that’s what I was doing from the very beginning, which means that I can finally call you a ‘dirty minded bastard’.”

“Fine, you caught me,” he said, raising up two hands showing surrender.

“That might’ve just been one of my best achievements I’ve made this month.”

“It really is…” he told me with an adorable smile on his face.