minsu doesn’t dream often, but when he does, they usually turn sour. nightmares have plagued him since he was a boy, though he never had the ability to wake himself up from them. very few times he can remember being graced to leave is dream early, awoken abruptly in the middle of the night by the terror his mind created for him. no, he had always suffered through the horrors, only relinquished from it when morning light came through his window or an alarm clock roused him for school. an adult now, internal clock adjusted well enough to sleep without an alarm clock at all, he is still at the mercy of the nightmares until that perfect timing is found.
it's exhausting. and anything can trigger them — a horror movie, everyday stressors, news stories of bloody true crime cases. the night terror spells can last a week or just one day — nothing really helps, nothing fights it. he just has to grit his teeth and muscle through until the exhaustion knocks him out.
this dream was different. so realistic it felt like a memory — zero’s house: @nonplayabl in the arms of his cousin like a painting, junmin’s smugly upturned lips stained red. but you love me more, right, minsu? you’d give anything for your family? the devil speaks as kangho chokes on his own blood, his neck a mangled, broken mess.
he’s up out of bed in an instant, his breath coming out in panicked wheezes. he’s in his own room, the city nightlife glittering below. the red led alarm clock next to his bed reads three-fourteen am; two hours and twenty three minutes earlier than normal. that, in and of itself, is disorienting. just a dream, he tells himself as he turns on the shower to wash himself of the sticky sweat that’s accumulated on his skin. but, no matter how hard he tried to focus his mind elsewhere, tried to let the water running over his head lull him back to peace, his heart raced with anxiety, his fingers itched to dial kangho’s number. he memorized it, after all.
shouldn’t he be back home by now, anyways? if touring is not over by now, it ought to be soon. maybe minsu should have followed him the rest of the way. maybe minsu should follow him back home, just to make sure he’s safe. he’s flirting with a world he doesn’t even know yet, being so close to minsu the way he is now — it’s minsu’s responsibility now to keep him safe.
he needs to tell him soon. but that’s a problem for later.
mostly dried now with the towel around his shoulders, he walks back into his room to pull his phone off the charger. he dials kangho’s number even though he is his most recent call, even though he has him on speeddial. each ring has his stomach tied in knots, bringing those horrible, bloody pictures back to the forefront of his mind clearer and clearer —
kangho picks up. he sounds tired, but he’s fine. minsu breathes out an audible sigh of relief.
“ sorry, did i wake you? or — oh, i don’t know what timezone you’re in right now. are you alright? ”
