Yugyeom’s been getting strange dreams lately. It might have happened for a few days already, but Yugyeom only remembers the dreams of the past two nights, the images of what he had dreamt about not particularly something he wants to remember. Scratching his knee, Yugyeom tries to stay awake in the boring morning lecture, but instead knocks his head on the table when he drifts off, drawing the lecturer’s attention to him.

It has not been a good morning so far.

When he gets back to the dorm room he shares with Bambam later in the afternoon, Yugyeom’s glad to find that his best friend is already out. This morning’s conversation with Bambam (if that is what it’s called) hadn’t been great. Somehow the guy knew or picked up on the fact that Yugyeom has been having strange dreams and decided to ask him about it. It hadn’t helped that Yugyeom’s strange dream last night had involved him and Bambam in very compromising positions (ughh, he needs to bleach his brain to get the horrible image out), and he can’t exactly tell Bambam what he had dreamt about.

“Oh yeah, I had a weird dream last night. It involved us having on every surface of this dorm, but you know, I’m totally straight and so are you, so there’s no reason to think anything of it. It’s just a dream.”

Yeah, right. That will totally go so well. If Bambam was already sniggering when Yugyeom had fled the room this morning after the guy guessed that he had dreamt of Bambam in what might have been a ual fantasy, he’s not sure what would have happened if he actually told Bambam the details because it’s probably much more explicit that what Bambam had imagined.

Trying to ignore all the thoughts about his weird dreams and deliberately shutting out the images of a Bambam in his head (because, eww, they’re just friends), Yugyeom changes into a loose t-shirt so he can take an afternoon nap. All these strange dreams recently have him feeling so tired.

Yugyeom wakes up blurrily, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin and something too warm, almost too hot to touch pressing against his forehead. His eyelids are heavy, slightly sticky with crusties, and he has to make an effort to open them fully. It’s only when he’s rubbing the sleep from his eyes does Yugyeom realize that whatever it is pressed against his forehead, it’s not his arm like he had initially assumed, because both his hands are rubbing his eyes, and the hot weight is still there. Eyes closed at the moment, Yugyeom dazedly considers that maybe he’s just too warm from sleeping without the fans on or the windows open, and quickly sits up as he opens his eyes.

Nothing’s going to happen, right? He’s just not fully awake yet, that’s all. That must be why he’s imagining things.

But instead there’s a loud “Aish”, and Yugyeom comes face to face with a very annoyed and very translucent boy sitting by his pillow.

He’s clearly still dreaming, because why else would he see this… ghost? Apparition? Boy…? (Man?) Thing…? sitting in front of him, in his very ordinary dorm room, at something like four in the afternoon? Though, Yugyeom’s never had any lucid dreams before, so he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Tentatively reaching a hand out, the ghost boy smacks his fingers away, before saying, “Sheesh, this is the first time a human has seen me, and all you think is that this is a dream.”

“Wait, what do you mean? This… this isn’t a dream?”

The boy frowns at him, lips turned up as he says sarcastically, “No, duh, this isn’t a dream. Didn’t I already say it just now?”

You didn’t, Yugyeom thinks, but he isn’t sure, so he keeps his mouth shut. The boy pulls his knees up, and Yugyeom’s almost tempted to say,don’t do it, don’t dirty my bed with your shoes, when he realizes ghost boy is barefooted. Not sure what to make of anything, Yugyeom goes for the most obvious route: when in doubt, ask.

“So if this is not a dream, why are you here in my room? Not to mention, who are you even? Or maybe I should ask… what are you?” Yugyeom had started the questions with force, but his voice gets softer with each word, because ghost boy is pinning him with a very pointed glare, like Yugyeom’s saying something very stupid. Unknowingly, his hands have started to clasp in front of him, like he’s waiting to be reprimanded, and Yugyeom forces himself to separate them and sit up straighter. (This is his room, damn it.)

With a loud exaggerated sigh, ghost boy gives him a placating look, arranging himself more comfortably on the bed (Yugyeom’s bed, mind you) before he makes a face like he’s being nice by answering Yugyeom questions. “I’m not a what. I’m a dream-eater. And I have a name. It’s Jinyoung. As to why I’m in your room… well, I can freely enter anyone’s room as I wish, not that it matters to you.”

Jinyoung’s brusque attitude doesn’t sit well with Yugyeom, and he almost forgets what he wanted to ask. “Wait… dream-eater? What’s a dream-eater?”

“A dream-eater eats dreams. Duh.”

If his eyes could roll any further, Jinyoung would have only eye whites for eyes. But they don’t, the darkness of his iris still visible even as Jinyoung rolls his eyes a second time, so Yugyeom’s kind of glad that the guy has mostly human behavior even if he’s translucent and weird as hell, because he does not need an image of a ghostly guy with only eye whites in his head.

Figuring he only needs to be as nice to Jinyoung as Jinyoung has been to him (which is not much), Yugyeom replies drily, “Yes of course. What elsewould they do? But I was only napping, and I didn’t even have a dream, so what were you doing here?”

“Eating your bad dream. But I ate too much, so you didn’t even