Ghost-drifting
my character has a dream or nightmare about your character.
itās happened again, he thinks, because heās being pulled into that abstract almost reality that could fool just about anyone into believing.
but kai wantsĀ to think heās not just anyone, that he can tell the difference between dream kaijus and the real thing. that he can tell an honest blood curdling shriek from something his mind has constructed. that he can convince himself the dead have not risen.
there are no shrieks though, no kaijus terrorising this dream, and eunsong is still six feet under.
jongin.
there are fingertips skimming over the ripped slits in his jeans and heās damn sure they donāt belong to him.
thereāsĀ black hair and blacker eyes and jonginās own hands are simultaneously tugging on strands and the collar of a white dress shirt.
he canāt remember where he is or how it is he got here but he canāt bring himself to care. his mind is otherwise occupied.
jongin.
sounds of bliss fill the room, the same room in which heās defiled himself one too many times under the veil of darkness and curfews that had most of the shatterdome sleeping.
myungsooās with him and heās the farthestĀ from silent that kaiās ever heard him. he can feel those same fingers from before tugging, prying clothes from his body with a ferocity that should force kaiĀ into realising that this isnāt real.
but oh how he wants to believe that it is.
ājongin, wake up.ā everything starts to shake, his vision slowly dissipating right before his eyes until all he sees around him is black.
āitās just a nightmare,ā myungsoo tries to console, but his voice is veiledĀ with a dazed drowsiness that masksĀ any possibility of sincerity. kai tries to picture himself through the elderās eyes, his hair matted to his forehead, the wide eyes, and the rapid inhale-exhale rhythm stolen from his lungs.Ā
he thinks he can pinpoint the exact second the shock turns to disappointmentĀ across his face.
āit wasnāt a nightmare.
it wasnāt real..
it was just a dream.ā


















