When Kai awakens, there is sand on his tongue, thick, grating, and heavy.

It clings to the curve of his cheek, slips through his fingers like water, turns baby soft skin into sandpaper. The water laps at his toes as they curl one to ten, sun baking his skin honey gold under blinding rays.

He tries to breathe but sand clings to his windpipe and he chokes instead. He raises himself on wavering elbows, palms sinking into the sand like putty between his fingers and he falters, coughing and choking again with the threat of leaving his soul behind on the long stretch of beach.

A soul; it’s a funny thing, really. He can’t seem to remember having one of those.

For a moment, he almost thinks he hears Sehun call his name, almost feels those soft, languid fingers pressing against the place where his spine pokes out of his collar as if to tuck it back in, but his mind often likes to play tricks on him and he knows better than to lend it his trust.

He feels pathetic, crawling like this with nothing to anchor him down but something as passive as grains of time pressing beneath the pads of his fingers. He reaches out, struggles, stands with what feels like every last bit of strength he has, and brushes himself off.

Fall down seven times, stand up…stand up when you have something left to stand for.

He moves to take a step forward on the shore, sand dripping from his tattered clothes like the shards of a broken hour glass, but he’s halted by the sudden cool metal of the blade pressed against his throat.

“State your purpose,” growls the wielder of the blade, voice almost lost in the crashing of the waves. Kai swallows and the tip of the knife cuts against his windpipe.

“I need to speak to Wu Fan,” he rasps. His fingernails cut into his palms through clenched fists, perfect crescent moons, as the pressure against his lower back lessens and the blade slips away with a falter.

“Wu Fan?” The voice asks. It’s weaker this time, though still musical and almost timid. Kai turns and faces it, gaze locking on a boy with feline eyes and a shock of dark hair.  Kai can see spots of white clouding his vision and he rocks forward, the boy catching him almost effortlessly.

“Please,” Kai begs through his sandpaper voice, scrambling for a hold on the boy’s sleek black uniform. It must be a million degrees inside that thing, considering the fact that the sun is reaching scorching hot around them. He curls his fingers into the dark material and searches for stability as the world rocks beneath him. “Let me speak to Wu Fan.”

The boy drags him, quite literally, across the sand and out of the sun after patting him down and searching him of all of his belongings. He pulls him into a place where the brightest rays can’t reach and pure oxygen is replaced by dingy clouds of smoke.

This is Wu Fan’s ultimate domain, his castle where he is the king. Kai can already tell that he’s out of place, underdressed and characteristically unwelcome. The boy’s fingers dig sharply into the skin of his forearm as he leads the way down a steep staircase and into a small dining area. From the corner of the room, through the haze of cigars and dry clicks of a stripe hitting a solid, Kai can see Wu Fan.

The legs of his chair are tilted backwards at a dangerous angle and he’s a lot older than Kai remembers, frown lines etched into a face that still resembles unflawed marble. His eyebrows are still arched the same, though flecked with gray, and his lips are pursed as if ready to chide someone for folding the napkins wrong. He’s still decked out in a cleanly pressed suit, still nodding as if contemplating an important decision, still watching the musician as if judging them truly worthy of what he’s been paying them.

He’s swishing the liquid around in the whirlpool of his tall shimmering glass of red wine when the boy stops before him, bowing so incredibly low that Kai swears his nose brushes the floor.

“Zitao,” Wu Fan says pleasantly. He glances at Kai, brightness dimming from his eyes as he takes in Kai’s torn, drab attire. The liquid stills in his glass and he places it on the table, legs uncrossing as he sits back in his chair and knots his long fingers together. Zitao ushers Kai into the seat across the table and there’s a waiter by his side in an instant, filling a glass of ruby liquid.

Zitao bends to mutter something in Wu Fan’s ear before he places something in his hand, fingers brushing for a fleeting moment before he moves to stand a few feet away from the table. He stands as a stoic guard, arms crossed but ready to reach for his knife at any moment.

Kai takes a sip of his wine as Wu Fan turns to face him, fingers mulling over something clutched in his palm. Kai swallows and feels it wash away a bit of stinging sand, though a sharp burn is left behind in the column of his throat. It isn’t until Wu fan flips open the little book of matches that Kai realizes it’s his and his fingers instantly itch for a cigarette.

“I’ve seen this before,” Wu fan muses slowly, running his thumb over the hexagon imprinted on the front of the book. Kai can barely hear him over the purr of the saxophone and he leans forward slightly, bumping the table with his forearm and watching as the wine trembles in his glass.

Wu Fan gives him a disapproving glance before he strikes a match and watches as it burns, the only pure light in the haze hanging in the air around them. It doesn’t go out until he dampens his fingers with his tongue and crushes it between them.

“It reminds me of someone I once knew,” he says, pointing the book of matches at Kai. Kai watches it but doesn’t reach for it, busying his fingers with his glass instead.

He really wants that cigarette.

They had spoken for the first time in another world, a half remembered dream, in a swanky club much like the one they were in now. But that was back when Wu Fan was called Kris and Kai could still smirk without it feeling forced. Then again, hadn’t it always felt forced in a way?

He had been dressed a bit more appropriately then, sitting across from Kris in their private dining area with a neatly pressed suit clinging in just the right places and his hair coifed in neat dark waves. Suho was perched beside him with an identical suit and auburn hair slicked into place, hands folded against the tablecloth.

“Tell me, Kris? Was that it? Yes, tell me Kris, have you ever considered the thought of an infection of the mind?” Kai smirks easily, words dripping off of his tongue and into his glass. It’s champagne this time, fizzy and bitter. Flute made of finely cut crystal.

Kris watches him with dark eyes flecked with gold, chair still pushed back and suspended on its hind legs as he crosses his ankles. Kai takes it as a sign to continue and leans forward in his chair, brows disappearing beneath the fringe of his hair. “It’s something that takes over with the possibility to become anything, even if it isn’t fathomable. Something real, or maybe not, something solid, or…maybe not. Either way, an infection, a disease, one that spreads faster that it can be processed. It’s all a matter of-”

“Kai,” Suho cuts in, smiling pleasantly. Kris raises an eyebrow at him as Kai takes a cursory sip of the champagne, rings clinking against the glass. “Listen, Kris, the reasoning behind Kai’s words is-”

“It’s called an idea, Kris; a word you are most certainly familiar with. An idea is all it takes, and with it comes endless possibility. And of course, as you are also familiar with, ideas tend to stick around in the corners of our mind, don’t you agree? Contagious things, really, always jumping round and infecting those close to you. But it’s no inkling that we’re talking about; no sir, I’m talking about a full fledged, well processed idea, something worth creation.” He tips his glass towards Kris as the musician announces their next number, a jazzy type that Kai has always had a weakness for.

“And you’re saying that you could…rob someone of this so called idea, slip into their subconscious and take it without them even noticing?” Kris drums his fingers against the table and tilts his head in curiosity as Zitao’s eyes burn against his back, always cautious, always watching.

“Bingo,” Kai says, grinning. “That’s the ticket.”

Suho leans forward and folds his hands carefully. “You see, the dream is the key. Dreams are the definition of vulnerability, leaving you open and unlocked for thieves to pick at your thoughts like vultures. Otherwise known as extraction.”

Kai nods his head at the waiter and his glass is filled to the brim, tiny bubbles threatening to spill over. He takes a long leisurely sip before exhaling, knotting his fingers behind his head. “There’s a way to prevent from having your subconscious robbed, however,” he adds. “A barrier of protection if you will. And we,” he says, gesturing between him and Suho. “We can teach you how to do that. How to create a barrier that will guard your most precious ideas.”

Kris glances back over his shoulder at Zitao as the other boy instantly tenses, hand flying to his belt where the hilt of his blade pokes through. Kris shakes his head and turns back to face Kai, expression blank. “Assuming what you are telling me is true, this would mean that you are very skilled in what you do, correct?”

“Bingo,” Kai repeats. “I am the best. I am the most skilled extractor that you will ever find. Hell, I can teach you how to protect yourself from even, well, me.” He grins, a bit sloppy from the fizz of the alcohol and laces his fingers together. “I can teach you the basics, and then I can teach you the tricks that defy the basics. I can turn you into someone who never lets his guard down, even when your mind lulls itself to sleep at night.”

“Is that so,” Kris says quietly. He takes a sip of champagne, smacks his lips in decision, and sets the glass back down.

“There is,” Kai says, voice lilting as he tilts his head back. Suho watches his partner uneasily. “There is one condition. To do this correctly, I have to know you like the back of my hand, better than anyone else who has ever breathed knows you. I have to become your thoughts and know all of your secrets.”

Kris watches him and lets his eyes dart to something over Kai’s shoulder, eerily quiet, before he pushes away from the table and signals to Zitao. “Well, gentlemen, I guess we’ll just wait and see,” he says evenly. “I’ll consider your proposal; maybe I’ll sleep on it.” He slips out the door, leaving behind a cloud of smoke and unspoken words.

It only takes a few moments before the table begins to tremble, champagne rippling in crystal glasses as the trembling goes from slight to violent. Suho swallows in apprehension, fingers curling protectively around his flute of champagne, and he turns to face Kai.

“Do you think everything’s okay?” He asks timidly, looking up towards the ceiling as the chandelier clinks and stutters precariously.

“We’re fine,” Kai says, waving him off. He strikes a match but doesn’t reach for his cigarettes, instead watches as it burns continuously without a threat of going out. “The kick hasn’t hit yet.”

In the world where Kai and Suho are sedated, subconsciously dreaming with their eyes shut and wires hooked under their skin, they are most certainly not fine.

They hired some skittish, freakishly tall guy with a wary background off of the street to monitor, and though it hadn’t exactly been their smartest decision, it was really the only one they had. Park Chanyeol was his name; decent architect, though a little scatterbrained at times.

And as they sit in their dreaming stupor, Chanyeol flutters around the room and gives the door to the bathroom nervous, cursory glances. Why did they have to set up around the bathtub, for god’s sake? He could’ve used anything for the kick to wake them up, but a bathroom?

He knows that any minute the police are going to come barreling through that door, pounding on it and demanding that he open up. But for now, he’s going to have to stay strong, and make sure the dream doesn’t collapse.

He swallows and crosses himself, sending a silent prayer to the heavens. Why was it always him?

“Do you think he knows?” Suho asks.

He follows Kai as they weave their way through the gentlemen’s club and head for the balcony overlooking the shore. Night streams through panes of colored glass as men talk in hushed tones under the purr of the saxophone.

Kai straightens his tie and shoves past a burly man with a top hat. “Of course he knows, did you see the way he looked at the safe across the room when I mentioned secrets? He knows that this is a dream, and he’s going to try and use that to his advantage. Kris is no idiot.” Despite being a bit too tipsy, Kai remains headstrong, pushing past waiters balancing flutes of champagne without a care in the world.

“Alright,” Suho says slowly. “Alright. We’ll split up then, wait until we’re sure Kris has cleared the place, and we’ll go back to the dining room and break into the safe to get the information. I’ll meet you there, okay? I’m going to loop around the back.”

They slip out of the French doors. There are a few people milling about on the balcony, but one in particular catches Kai’s eye.

“Why is he here?” Suho mutters, cutting his eyes at Kai. Kai clears his throat and pats at the pockets of his dress pants as if searching for a pack of cigarettes; nervous tick.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Kai answers sharply. He sighs a cloud of exhaustion and waves Suho away. “I’ll take care of it.” He leaves Suho behind, despite the other’s protest, and steps over to the boy leaning over the balcony with a soft smile on his face.

“Sehun,” Kai says, clearing his throat when the name sticks. “What are you doing here?”

Sehun turns to face him. His eyes are wide and innocent, framed with smudges of dark kohl, and his bowtie is knotted crookedly.

“Kai,” he says warmly, sloshing the liquid in his glass. “Haven’t you missed me?”

Kai frowns and fiddles with his tie. “I said, what are you doing here?”

Sehun smiles, lips curling sweetly as he runs a small, manicured hand along Kai’s forearm. “I’m here to see you, of course.”

“You’re not even supposed to be here in the first place,” Kai growls. “You should go before things get worse.” Sehun scoffs and downs the rest of his champagne in a single gulp. He pauses, smacks his lips with a smile, and doesn’t hesitate before he drops the glass over the side of the railing, walking away before it hits the ground.

Kai doesn’t want to follow him, but he’s heading in the exact direction that Kai needs to go to complete this mission. He curses under his breath and pushes past Sehun without a single glance, blood pounding through his veins and crashing in his ears. “It’s no use, Kai, if you’re planning on sneaking back into the dining room. Kris’s safe is there but this is not your world, and you’re not going to win not matter how hard you try.”

Kai ignores him and slips back into the club, not waiting to see where Sehun goes. He doesn’t have time for this, doesn’t have time to humor Sehun’s every whim when what he really needs is that safe and the contents inside of it.

The dining room is empty when he finally makes it back inside; he’s a little upset that Suho hasn’t made it back yet but infinitely glad that Zitao isn’t here to slit his throat open. He makes quick work of the safe, pressing his ear up against the cool steel and working the tumblers until they’re putty in his hands.

It clicks open, and there they are, a stack of papers thicker than the width of his thumb. He slips them out, counts them, recounts, examines the word confidential written in bold red and-

“Who are you working for?”

Kris is almost regal in his suit, arms crossed over his chest and lips curled into a satisfied smirk. Sehun has a gun pointed to Suho’s head, caught in Zitao’s grasp so that he can’t move to Kai’s side. Kai freezes, stack of papers thick in his hands, and he holds his own pistol up in surrender.

“Why are you trying to steal my information, my ideas, Kai? Who hired you to delve into my subconscious?” Kai doesn’t answer, just remains still and swallows thickly. “Yes, I know we’re in a dream. I know that you’ve been hired to steal that information, all I’m asking is by whom.” His eyes flit between Kris, then Sehun, then Suho. The safety clicks off on Sehun’s gun as he presses it deeper against Suho’s temple and Kai fights the urge to smile wickedly.

“Sehun, what is the point of even threatening to kill him? If he dies, he’ll wake up. You’re doing him a favor.”

Sehun hesitates. His grip tightens on the gun in his hand and he narrows his eyes. “Killing him may wake him up,” he says slowly. “But pain is real whether you’re dreaming or not.” With a flash and a resounding bang, he shoots Suho cleanly in the hand. The other man cries out and falters in Zitao’s headlock, letting out a broken sob. Kai cringes and Sehun smiles maliciously. “It’s all a matter of how it’s perceived.”

Kai hates himself for almost losing a bit of his mind to that smile; almost, because he truly has no more sanity to lose. He tightens his grip around the stack of paper in his hands before he darts forward and fires two shots, one straight at Suho’s head and another at Sehun’s. The two slump to the ground and Zitao leaps after him, but he’s already running, knocking over glasses and watching as they become shards on the floor beneath him. He’s barely out of the room before the guards of the club are on to him, firing shot after shot as he flits by.

He turns a corner down the dimly lit hall and the door at the end flies open as the frigid water rushes in after him, swallowing him whole.

Suho barrels out of his chair, panting, and rips the wires off of him. Chanyeol staggers back in surprise as Suho reaches for the bucket beside his chair, messily dunking it into the overflowing bathtub and filling it to the brim.

“What are you doing?” Chanyeol gasps. “It’s not time yet, it’s too soon, you can’t just-”

“The dream is collapsing,” Suho snaps. “Kai shot me to wake me up but he got away with the information. Keep Kris under a while longer, he can’t wake up yet, not before Kai.” Suho staggers under the weight of the bucket as pounding echoes on the door to the bathroom.

“Open up! This is the police!”

He drenches Kai with the water and the other’s eyes fly open as he sputters, gasping. Kai yanks the wires off of his arm as Chanyeol presses his back against the door to the bathroom, fighting the police on the other side. Suho fills the bucket again and Kris is the next to wake up as he’s doused with water.

The moment Suho yanks the wires from where they’re pressed against Kris’s skin, Kai has Kris by the collar. “Who told you?” He shouts, eyes flashing with fury and lips curling back. “Was it Sehun?” Kris simply smirks in response and Kai shakes his collar roughly before staggering back, choking, gasping. He rocks forward, hand pressed to his chest, and reaches for his gun to point it at Kris. “Tell me whatever information you’re holding back. I may have gotten what you kept in that safe, but I know that you’re hiding something else.”

Kris glances up at the chandelier above them and Chanyeol scrambles for footing on the slick tiles as the door reverberates with a loud bang. A smirk still stains Kris’s lips and his eyes fall back to the gun trained on him. “I’ve given you all I have,” he answers. “But it seems you’ve still failed. Your employers won’t be too happy about that, will they?” He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and his eyebrows disappear beneath his hair. “Although, I must say, I’m impressed. A dream within a dream. You did well, except for the fact that that’s not my chandelier,” he says, gesturing to it. “Though you did get the rest of the details correct. Congrats.”

He steps closer to Kai, gaze trained on the barrel of the gun. “If you shoot me, I’ll just wake up. Is that correct? We’re still in a dream; and this is my dream so I can control it how I please.”

Kai falters, lowering the gun, but after a beat smirks nonetheless. “Partly. If I shoot you, you will wake up. But this isn’t your dream.” He nods towards Chanyeol just as the door bursts open and the police storm in, flooding the place in a sea of rifles and blue uniforms. “It’s his.”

And it’s just the kick they need.

Kai wakes up on a dingy motel bed with a start, truly awake for the first time in a long time with wires taped against the tanned flesh of his forearm. He scrambles to get up and searches for his matchbox, striking one with shaking fingers. It burns for a few seconds but is out by the time Suho and Chanyeol are waking up.

“God damn it Chanyeol,” Kai growls. He cuts his eyes as where Kris is still passed out on the bed, hooked to a machine. “You couldn’t even get the chandelier right? You’re the architect, you’re supposed to know Kris’s subconscious better than anyone, you were supposed to have every detail of his bathroom down to-”

“How was I supposed to know he would notice the chandelier?” Chanyeol whines, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I had everything else right. Doesn’t that count?”

Kai stares at him, cold and furious, before he slips out of the motel room with the door slamming in his wake.

They failed.

Waking up from a dream is bitter, especially when there’s a lingering disappointment that follows you to the world of reality.

The stinging taste of failure burns on Kai’s tongue as he rolls the cigarette between his fingers, knees drawn to his chest. Sure, they got the information they had been hired to get, but they were missing components. They failed to infiltrate Kris’s subconscious completely and retrieve those missing pieces that they were sent to find. It was such a simple job, how could they have messed up so badly? Maybe it was simply the fact that Kris was already trained, he was already too advanced. Or maybe it was the fact that their architect was an absolute dimwit.

Kai scoffs. And he calls himself the most skilled extractor.

Still, it’s nice to be somewhere remotely close to a home after such an exhausting job. Curled up in his favorite armchair with a box of matches, head pressed against the soft fabric of the armrest and sun streaming through the windows of his bedroom. It’s nice, but still bitter, because he’s not going to be here for long.

The knock on the door comes a few moments later and Suho pokes his head into the room. “Kai?” He calls, one hand still on the doorknob and the other curled around the handle of his briefcase. Kai looks up from the book of matches in his hand and grimaces.

“Are they angry?” He asks.

“Did you expect otherwise?”

He pauses. He failed the job, so obviously his employers were going to be furious. If he didn’t start moving now, he’d have 48 hours to live, tops.

“We have to go now,” Suho says. He watches as Kai stands and reaches for his suitcase, throwing in only the necessities. Suho clears his throat and his grip in the doorknob tightens. “You know it was because of Sehun.”

Kai zips up his suitcase with a measured sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry”

“When are you going to let go?”

Kai cuts his eyes at him and slips out of the room.

When the sun is finally starting to set over the city, Kai and Suho board the train with wary glances over their shoulders and fingers curled securely around the handle of their suitcases. 

"Where are you going to go?" Suho asks as they move through the baggage check. Kai grunts and wipes the sweat from his brow as he finishes stuffing the last suitcase in the overhead compartment.  He brushes his hands off on his jeans and sits across from Suho, eyes fluttering shut. He hates feeling so weak and powerless. In dreams, he is always Kai, greatest extractor known to man. Here in the shadows of the train car with his half lidded eyes and the weight of failure heavy on his shoulders, he is just Kim Jongin with a flashy alias.

 "Africa maybe. Somewhere they won't think to look. I've always liked Ghana, so perhaps it will work out. You?" 

"I was thinking Brunei.” Suho peers at his phone, mouth twisted in a small smile. “You know, monkeys, jungle, cable television. It's the best of both worlds." Kai opens his mouth to answer when the door to their train car slides open and his words are caught in the constriction of his throat. 

"I have a proposition for you," Kris says. 

Zitao stands beside him, ever stoic and dark. His arms are stiff at his sides and he could probably kill just with that dark stare of his. 

"I'm not up for any propositions," Kai says carefully. "I'm a wanted man because of you." 
Kris laughs and takes the seat beside Suho as the other man stiffens considerably. "Please, Kai, you were a wanted man to begin with." 

Kai swallows but doesn't answer. It's true, so why try and deny it? 

"Despite that," Kris drawls quietly. "You impressed me with your performance. Though you didn't manage to extract all of the information you were instructed to from my subconscious, I still have to give you props for a job well done. You made me realize that you are just the man I'm looking for."

Kai pauses, grip tightening around the armrest of his seat. He can see how apprehensive about this Suho is out of the corner of his eye, lips parting in protest. 

"What kind of job is it?" Kai asks quietly.

"Kai-" 
Kris folds his hands in his lap and leans forward, lips quirking into a smile. "I want you to perform inception."

"It's not possible," Suho says curtly. 

"Yes it is," Kai answers.

Suho stares at him blankly, then turns his attention back to Kris. “Not possible. For inception to be successfully performed, that means planting an idea inside of someone’s mind, and no one could ever successfully do that. Let’s see here, for example…if I told you to think about…dogs, what are you thinking about?”

Kris hesitates. “Dogs.”

“Exactly,” Suho says. “But when you think about dogs, you also think about the root of that thought, or, well, me. I gave you that idea, planted it into your thoughts, and you can always trace back to the original source; in this case, I am the original source. So if we were to plant an idea in someone else, their subconscious would inevitably trace the idea back to us and it’s end game from there on out. Ideas require pure inspiration, and inspiration cannot be faked.”

Kris narrows his eyes. “You’re not telling me the truth.”

“Yes he is,” Kai interrupts. “For the most part. Inception is immensely difficult, because it requires doing the exact opposite of what we’ve been trained to do; we’re here to enter dreams and steal from them, not enter and leave things behind.”

“But you’ve done it,” Kris says sharply. “You’ve successfully performed inception, and that’s why I need you.”

Kai stills, spine rigid. “That doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.”

Kris opens his mouth to protest but Kai is standing, reaching for the baggage overhead. “I want off of this train. I’m done with this conversation.” He tugs his suitcase free and Suho stands to help him, Kai’s cheeks heating up in fury.

“You want to go home, don’t you Kai?”

Kai freezes. Yes he does, of course he does. He’d give anything to go back to Korea, back to Seoul, back to where he was born, back to where he met Sehun. Back to where he had been happy.

“If you do this for me, I’ll clear your name. You can go back home and live the life you’ve always wanted without any charges against you. You won’t be a wanted man any longer.”

“No,” Suho whispers under his breath, “Kai, you can’t do this, you know how dangerously impossible this is, you can’t just-”

“How do I know that you’ll keep to your word?” Kai asks. He grimaces at the suitcase in his grasp, watches as his knuckles turn white from the strength of his grip.

“Because I need you,” Kris says. “And I always keep my word.”

Kai stops. It would be so nice to go home, to be free. Sure, he can pretend to be strong and cunning and arrogant but there comes a time when all he wants is to curl up in bed in the high rise apartment he bought years ago, untouched by everything but dust after all this time. He ducks his head, lets his eyes flutter shut, ebony lashes decorating his honey hued cheeks.

“What exactly is this job?”

Kris folds his hands together beneath his chin and looks up as if pondering something. “My company has been very successful lately. We are second in the world for energy production, just behind another corporation. The head of that corporation is on his deathbed and his son is next in line to take over; Kim Jongdae, called Chen. If you can plant an idea in his head, and convince him not to follow in his father’s footsteps, I will clear your name.”

Kai hesitates. It’s not a particularly difficult job, but it’s not exactly easy on his conscience either. “You do understand that this could change his entire life, turn him into someone else entirely. We are entering his mind and leaving footprints, trampling on his identity.”

“I want to be on top,” Kris says firmly, without a beat of hesitation. “I want my company to be the best and wipe out our competition.” He locks his gaze on Kai and Zitao tenses beside him, hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Kai takes a deep breath and avoids Suho’s condescending glare beside him.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’ll…I’ll do it.” Suho grits his teeth in irritation but Kris smiles in satisfaction.

“Great,” he says, standing. “Get your team together. You going to need a much better one than you have now.”

So Kai does just that.

Considering Chanyeol is a lost cause (he really doesn’t want another chandelier incident at any cost) he decides to consult the only person who can bring him someone worthy of the job.

“Professor,” Kai greets warmly as he enters the classroom, giving the man a low bow and a small smile.

Sehun’s father might as well be barely over 25, with his youthful face, innocent, wide eyes, and lithe little body. Anyone who walked by would think that he and Kai were brothers.

“That’s Luhan to you,” the man says gruffly, polishing his glasses on the hem of his jacket. “Professor is for my students. I tell you that every time we speak and it never seems to stick, does it?” Kai nods in agreement with a sheepish smile, sitting down in one of the oak chairs at the front of the room. He can’t remember the last time he’s been in such a normal environment.

“Luhan, my apologies. How are you?”

Luhan perches on the edge of his desk, palms facing down against the curve of his knees and crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes with the half moon of his smile. 
"I think a better question would be, how are you? I've never seen you look so tired, Kai. Who told you eye bags were in season?" 

Kai toys with the torn, frayed bits of string on the thigh of his jeans and smirks half heartedly. “Times have been tough lately. The dream world is never easy on the bones.”

Luhan smiles knowingly and adjusts his glasses again. “Did you come here for anything specific? I have a meeting with a student soon but I’d like to hear you out before I have to go, so speak now.”

Kai splays his fingers against the wood of the desk, tracing the words written on the board behind Luhan with glazed eyes. A Study of Dreams, it reads. A dive into the subconscious and the possibilities it holds.

"I need an architect," he says quietly. "Or, rather, I need you to find me one."

Luhan watches him, brows furrowed. "An architect? What about yourself? You used to be able to construct marvelous dreams, why can't you do it now?"

Kai sighs and presses his fingertips against his eyes. "I can't. Every time I try, Sehun shows up and worms his way into the job. If I build the dream, we’ll never get anything done." 

At the mention of Sehun, Luhan tenses visibly.  He watches Kai with careful eyes and quirks his lips to the side in thought. "Is this...well, what kind of job is it?"

Kai hesitates. "I've been asked to perform inception.” Luhan's lips part in immediate protest but Kai continues before he can speak. "In return, my name will be cleared in Korea. I can finally go home. So all I'm asking is for you to find me an architect who is as good as I was, someone who can construct dreams on a number of levels." 

Luhan is quiet for a few moments, staring at the place where Kai's fingertips rest against the desk. He opens his mouth to speak but someone pokes their head into the room, a mess of dark hair, endless eyes, and skin made of porcelain. "You wanted to see me, professor?"
Luhan looks up in surprise and something bright flashes through his eyes. "Ah, yes! Kyungsoo, just in time! Come here, I have someone I'd like you to meet." Kyungsoo steps hesitantly into the room, a fleeting smile dashing across his lips and dark waves drooping in his eyes. His messenger bag thumps softly against the jeans hugging his thighs as he makes his way over to the front of the room, giving Kai a small bow and a polite quirk of his lips. 

Luhan shifts off of his seat on the desk and gestures to Kai, who in turn, offers a small smile of his own and a nod of his head. 

"Kai, this is Do Kyungsoo." Kai extends his hand and Kyungsoo accepts it after a hint of hesitation, almost jumping back when their hands lock warmly together. Luhan turns to face Kai, eyes crinkling with his toothy smile. 

"I think he's just the man you're looking for." 

"So, are you going to tell me anything about this...job you're offering?" 

They're sitting outside of a small cafe, hands curled around little mugs of tea for Kyungsoo and espresso for Kai. The sun hangs over the crowded corners of the city and casts the warm glow of afternoon sun over everything in sight. Kai likes the way it lights up Kyungsoo's wide eyes, brings out the little flecks of gold in pools of chocolate. He also likes the way Kyungsoo's words spill out almost timidly, dripping thick with hesitation from the pink of his tongue and igniting his cheeks with stains of blush. 

"You like to create, right? Luhan said you were interested in building things, architecture and such." Kyungsoo nods and sips from his tea, small hands folding neatly when he sets the cup down on the polished wood of the table. "What if I told you that I could offer you a line of work in another type of architecture, something only a select few have ever experienced?" 
Kyungsoo tilts his head curiously and frowns as Kai blows gently on the top of his espresso to cool it off. "I don't quite follow. Is this some sort of modern construction firm?" 

Kai smiles and leans forward in his seat, shoulders hunching slightly. "Let me ask you something Kyungsoo, how much do you know about dreams?" 

"Dreams?" Kyungsoo echoes, lips parting as he struggles for something to say.  "I...I mean, everyone dreams, it's a natural phenomena. You dream when your mind is in an unconscious state."

Kai nods. "Yes, correct, but what if I told you that you could manipulate that? Mess with the rules and boundaries of an average dream?" 

Kyungsoo furrows his brows, tea growing cold on the table in front of him. The wind rustles his hair softly and he leans in closer to Kai. "How?" 

"By entering someone else's subconscious." 

"That's...that 's not possible," Kyungsoo says firmly. "It's against all rules of logic to try and enter another person's subconscious, even when they're dreaming." 

"Is it?" Kai glances around at the people milling down the sidewalks; an old woman with a bouquet clutched in the crook of her arm, a man with papers poking precariously out of his briefcase, a child dragging a stuffed animal along the pavement in small, chubby fingers. “Dreams feel like reality when you’re experiencing them. Everything seems fine when you’re asleep, and it’s not until you wake up that you realize how strange it really was.”

Kyungsoo watches him with narrowed eyes, following the lines of Kai’s shoulders and the place where the tip of his finger where it presses against his lips. Kai glance over and catches his gaze as Kyungsoo blushes. "Let me ask you something else,” he drawls, “you never really remember the beginning of a dream, do you? Somehow, you always end up right in the middle with no remembrance of how." 

Kyungsoo doesn't seem to understand as he runs a hand through his hair. He frowns and brushes his fringe from his eyes. "Uh, I guess so, yeah."

 Kai leans back in his chair and smirks, tongue dashing out to dampen the curve of his bottom lip. "So how did you get here?"

Kyungsoo gestures behind him. "We just came from...from...the, uh." 

"Think hard," Kai says. "How did you get here?" 

A moment passes by, so slowly that it's almost as if time has stopped, and recognition dawns in Kyungsoo's eyes. His voice breaks, falling into a whisper. 

"We're dreaming?" 

"Bingo," Kai says softly. "Think of this as your first exercise in training. In the real world, we're actually in the middle of my workshop, hooked up to a machine."

"Machine?" Kyungsoo asks. "Is that...legal?"

"Sure," Kai says passively with a wave of his hand. "Kind of.  Technically.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow and Kai smiles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you get in any sort of trouble. Technically this machine is legal, just…not in the way we’re using it. It was originally designed by the military to allow new troops to practice battle methods through dreams. Then we tweaked it just a bit to allow us to perform our job the way it needed to be done.”

“Job?” Kyungsoo asks. “You mean when you enter the dreams?”

“That,” Kai says slowly, tracing his fingertip around the edge of his mug. “That and…a bit more. You see, when we enter dreams, we have a purpose. We’re not there to just mess around. We’re…thieves, though I prefer the term extractor. More dignified. To put it simply, I go into a dream, the deepest, darkest recesses of someone’s subconscious, and I take the most vital information they have stored there. An idea. In the end, it all boils down to an idea.”

His fingers itch to hold a cigarette, so much that his fingers tremble with want. He settles with running his thumb over the hexagon on the front of his book of matches, tracing each side with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Come on,” he says sternly as Kyungsoo stares in silent decision at his mug. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Kyungsoo follows Kai as the latter starts down the sidewalk, brushing past other people without a passing glance. Kyungsoo takes in everything with wide eyes; the buildings are so intricate, the people so detailed, that he finds it nearly impossible to believe that he’s in a dream.

“This entire city around us is completely of your creation,” Kai says, breaking his silent awe. He glances over his shoulder at Kyungsoo, warm smile melting his usually tired features into something kinder. “We're in my subconscious right now, my dream, but you are the architect. Using information from my mind, my memory, and your background combined with a ton of pure imagination, you can build this city down to the cracks in the sidewalk." 

"So...so this is what you meant? I'm going to build...dreams? But why? There has to be some ulterior motive to this, some sort of background."

“I told you already,” Kai says. “We need the dreams to steal ideas as extractors. It’s how we make a living.” He leads Kyungsoo through the city and they take a turn down the street to find a quaint little park, sun painting the leaves on the trees the hue of pure gold and the quiet babble of running water thick in their ears.

“Though, for the job you’re going to be hired, we’re not going to be performing simple extraction.” He glances back at where Kyungsoo has stopped in the middle of the path, hands limp at his sides and eyes trained on the tree in front of him. Kyungsoo tilts his head slightly as every leaf on the tree explodes into dust before the entire thing warps in a tangle of limbs and branches.

“Huh,” Kyungsoo says, dumbfounded. “I can control it. I can mess with the physics of it all.”  A couple passes by them, chattering voices echoing in the quiet of the park and they stop to give Kyungsoo a curious glance before continuing on.

“Well, yes,” Kai says, grasping Kyungsoo’s elbow and pulling him along behind him. “But you’d better not do that anymore. The more you mess with my dream and change things, the more you’re going to anger my subconscious. They tend to act as some sort of natural defense system and they get angry incredibly easily.” As if on cue, an elderly woman bumps shoulders with Kyungsoo and gives him a sharp glare as she moves down the path. Kai smirks, eyes lighting up. “See, what did I tell you?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kyungsoo grumbles. “What were you saying before? About this job being more than just extraction?”

“For this job, we’re not going to steal information. In fact, we’re going to do the opposite; it’s called inception. We’re going to plant an idea and watch it grow.”

“Plant an idea,” Kyungsoo mumbles, voice lilting like a song. As they keep walking, he turns the path into a staircase, then warps another line of trees.

“Hey, can you not? I’m not in the mood to fight off my entire subconscious,” Kai says, only half teasing. He’s seen the people in dreams attack before, and it’s not a pretty sight. Kyungsoo starts to answer him but Kai’s attention is drawn away when he sees a figure disappear behind a tree, the profile far too familiar. When he turns back to get a better look, he realizes that he recognizes not just the figure, but the entire area. It’s a beautiful river he used to visit back when he lived in Seoul.

“Hey, is this a real place?” Kai asks, despite the fact that he knows the answer already and it’s starting to eat at him with a gnawing fear in the pit of his gut.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says happily. “I went here a few times with my family when I was younger. Gorgeous, huh?”

Yeah. Gorgeous, but dangerous. “No. No no no. You can’t do that. You know, create real places,” Kai says hurriedly, eyebrows furrowing. “Only create places you’ve imagined. Nothing real, nothing from memory, just minute details.”

“Why?” Kyungsoo asks, looking hurt. He tugs lightly on the sleeve of Kai’s shirt, cheeks flushed slightly.

“It makes it easier for the subject to realize they’re not dreaming,” Kai huffs. “You’ll give yourself away and the dream will collapse.”

“Fine, I’ll just change it then.” Before Kai can plead for him not to, Kyungsoo is warping the dream around them, demolishing trees and replacing them with buildings.

“No, Kyungsoo, I told you to stop that, you’re going to-”

And then he sees it out of the corner of his eye, the people of his subconscious with fury in their eyes rushing towards Kyungsoo with nothing but the intent of defense and destruction on their minds. And in the midst of them all, a face he’s far too familiar with, the figure in the trees, the one he used to sleep beside every night and wake up with a kiss on each eyelid. There’s a pang in his heart, and Kai almost starts to call out his name when he notices the knife brandished in Sehun’s hand. He turns back to Kyungsoo, to try and warn him, and he’s wishing for some kind of kick to get them out of here when he sees that his subconscious already has Kyungsoo by the neck.

Kyungsoo scrambles wildly, panic in his eyes as Kai tries to yank them off. “Kai! Kai, get them off, help me!”

“I told you,” Kai growls, tugging a furious woman with anger flooding in her eyes away from where she’s scratching at Kyungsoo’s torso. Kyungsoo reaches for him, panting and clutching his arm for stability as people continue to try and drag him away from Kai. “I told you what would happen, I told you not to change things and look what you did, I-”

He’s shoved aside roughly, Kyungsoo’s shrill scream echoing in his ears when Sehun rushes towards Kyungsoo, blade glinting almost menacingly.

“Who told you that you could touch him?” Sehun hisses, and Kyungsoo gasps brokenly when the blade cuts into his chest.

Kyungsoo springs away from his chair in the dim light of the warehouse, tearing frantically at the wires taped to the pale skin of his forearm. Suho pins him back into the chair and holds him by his shoulders until the dilated fear pulsing in his eyes dulls a notch.

“Breathe, Kyungsoo. You’re okay. It was a dream.”

But Kyungsoo just shrugs him off, reaching to grab a groggy Kai by the collar as he stirs in the chair beside him. “What the hell was that? Who the hell was that?” Kai ignores him and stands, muttering incoherently under his breath as he desperately pats at his pockets. Matches, matches, matches.

He strikes one, fingers trembling as it burns for a second and goes out, snuffed in the thin air of the warehouse. He exhales and runs a tired hand over his eyes before turning back to Kyungsoo. “I told you to stop messing around with the architecture and you did it anyway. So don’t panic so much, it’s your fault he even showed up.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect him to freak out over me just grabbing your arm and stab me in the chest!”

“Oh, so you met Sehun. Quite the charmer, huh?” Suho says pleasantly as he packs away the machine and wires. “Still kind of peeved about when he shot me in the hand. Cost us the whole job.”

Kai stalks away from them, lighting another match as if the first wasn’t convincing enough.

“Sehun?” Kyungsoo asks timidly. “Is that…”

“The guy who attacked you? Pretty face, nasty attitude?” Kyungsoo nods slowly, hand pressing over the place on his chest where the knife had sunk it as if cutting though butter.

“Who is he?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Kai’s ex-boyfriend.”

Kyungsoo can’t help but wonder why Kai would want to date that thing in the first place; sure, he was pretty, but his personality was the biggest turn off Kyungsoo had ever seen. He swallows, hands still trembling. “They…broke up?” He watches as Kai stalks back towards them, tucking his matches securely back into his pocket.

“Not exactly,” Suho says quietly.

“Okay, Kyungsoo, listen up. If you have decided to stop messing around and you promise that you’ll actually listen to me when I tell you to do something, you’ve proved yourself to be a good enough architect to help us with the job. You’re going to need a totem though, something to confirm that you’re awake and in reality.” He flips out his matchbook. “This is my totem. If I strike a match in a dream, the flame will never go out. If I strike a match in reality, it will go out after a few seconds. Clear?”

Kyungsoo watches him, hands limp and trembling by his sides. “No. Not clear. There was something wrong with that dream, even I can tell and I’m barely experienced with this at all. Sehun wasn’t supposed to-”

“Stop,” Kai says curtly. “Don’t talk about Sehun.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Kyungsoo says, voice faltering. “I don’t want to be a part of it.”

He brushes past Kai, shoulders colliding, and slips out of the warehouse leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

“Looks like you need to find another architect,” Suho says sadly. “And I liked that one. You need to stop torturing them and playing your idiotic mind games when we have a job to complete.”

Kai watches the door where Kyungsoo had slipped out. His heart races in his chest, and he can’t tell if he’s furious or aching for the other boy to come back. “He’ll come back. It’s impossible not to after you’ve had a taste of this.”

Sure enough, Kyungsoo is there the next day, eyes tinged slightly with red and lips puffy from chewing on them in indecision. Suho is hunched over the machine, tinkering with something small, when he notices Kyungsoo standing in the doorway of the warehouse.

“Kyungsoo,” he says warmly. “The architect. Kai said you’d be back.”

Kyungsoo wrings his hands and steps a bit closer, swallowing. “I couldn’t stay away. You know, after, um, the dream and everything. It was just-” He pauses, clearing his throat, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a tightly clenched fist, long, pale fingers curled around something small. “And, um, I brought this. It’s my totem.”

His fingers unfurl like long, white petals, and in his palm lies a domino; one dot on one side, one on the other.

Suho smiles. “Welcome to the team.”

Kyungsoo comes back every day after that, and Suho shows him the ropes of entering dreams and creating the world inside of them. He teaches him how to design entire cities completely from imagination and how to keep his subconscious from attacking for as long as possible. Kyungsoo is an eager student and Kai watches the two of them work everyday, dark eyes scanning the way Kyungsoo’s form hunches over the books and studies the machines made for dreams. Kai traces the diagrams Suho draws with knowing eyes and observes the way Kyungsoo drinks in the information like a taste of ambrosia.

“You see,” Suho says one day, pointing out his most recently drawn diagram. “When you construct a dream, you are basically constructing a maze. At the heart of the maze is where the information will always be stored. Your job is to make this maze complicated enough that the subject’s subconscious won’t solve it, but simple enough that we can in a short matter of time.”

“A paradox,” Kai adds from where he’s perched on the table. “That’s one of the most important tricks.” He puffs leisurely on a cigarette and Kyungsoo frowns at him, eyebrows scrunching in distaste.

“You know you really shouldn’t smoke those things. You’ll die early.”

Kai stiffens and his lips press into a thin line. Suho cringes and rests a hand on Kyungsoo’s arm. “Ah, Kyungsoo, you really shouldn’t…” Kai shoves away from the table with the cigarette burning in his hands as Suho places a warm hand on Kyungsoo’s and stalks away from the two, muttering something about how he’d get in contact sometime soon.

“Wait, where are you going?” Suho calls frantically, jogging after him.

“I’m going to find the best thief I know,” Kai answers. “We need someone else to add to our team. We’re not going to get anywhere if he’s all we’ve got on your side,” Kai says softly, nodding to Kyungsoo with unreadable eyes.

Suho frowns and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, just…be careful.”

Kai smiles back recklessly. “Always am.”

When Suho makes his way back to where Kyungsoo stands, nibbling nervously at his bottom lip and wringing his hands, he can’t help but feel a certain soft spot for the boy.

“Why did he get so angry with me?” Kyungsoo asks timidly. Suho reaches for the wires of the machine and fiddles with them, avoiding Kyungsoo’s eyes.

“Sehun used to say the same thing to him all the time whenever he caught Kai smoking. ‘You’ll die early.’ Kind of ironic, really.” Kyungsoo almost snorts at the mention of Sehun’s name and gives a dark look back at the table where Kai had sat previously.

“He must have been really hurt when they broke up, huh?” He says bitterly. Suho looks up in surprise.

“Broke up? He was hurt, yes, very, but they didn’t break up.”

“But you said…I thought…you told me that Sehun was his ex,” Kyungsoo replies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Suho sighs and musses his hair, giving him a weak smile.

“Kyungsoo, that’s because Sehun is dead.”

Kai returns a few days later alongside a lean man with a toothpick permanently stuck between his lips, pursed like he’s always displeased with something. He introduces him to Kyungsoo as Lay and Suho shakes hands with him, already familiar.

They gather around the center of the workshop together and Lay flops down in an armchair, feet propped up on a table and fingers toying with the toothpick caught between his lips.

“I’m glad to be a part of the team, gentlemen,” he says loftily. “You won’t find a better thief in the whole world. Unless, well, we’re talking about extraction here.” He gives Kai a pointed look and a slight smirk before knotting his hands together in front of him. “Kai here tells me that we’re going to be performing inception.”

“Unfortunately,” Suho answers dryly.

“Don’t worry,” Lay says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I’ve got it all planned out. You see, the goal is to make this Kim Jongdae, or Chen, want to lead his own life, correct? He’s set to follow in his old man’s footsteps but we’ve got to change that mindset for our pal Kris’s business to boom. That is the deal?”

Kyungsoo nods when the others remain silent, rolling his domino between his fingers.

“Good, then this will work out perfectly. All we’ve got to do is convince him that his father is disappointed in him, disappointed that he never became anything bigger; all those big corporation kids have daddy problems, it really won’t be that difficult. That’s level one; aka, the first dream.”

“Wait,” Suho interjects hastily. “You mean we’re going into several dreams?”

“What, is there a problem? You’ve done it before, haven’t you?” Suho nods with a grimace and Lay grins in satisfaction. “Then we’re good. Don’t worry so much gramps, I’ve got this all worked out. Alright, so then comes level two; we convince him that it’s possible for him to start doing his own business, branch off into something entirely different. That’s won’t be that difficult, except for the fact that his father’s right hand man might get in the way. Byun Baekhyun, did you say his name was?” Kai grunts in affirmation. “He’ll be easy to get rid of. As of now, he’s in control of Chen, running all of the main business affairs until the old man keels over, but we can get him out of the picture simply by convincing Chen that he’s been working against him this whole time.” Lay glances down at a stack of papers sitting on the table, profiles of all of the subjects, and sifts through them. “Which really won’t be that hard to do, considering it looks like this guy has been trying to take over the company since he heard the old man was sick.”

He pauses and searches his pocket for a minute before producing a new toothpick and settling it between his lips. “Next comes level three,” he says, a bit muffled through the toothpick. “The final dream. Which, finally, is the last piece of the puzzle; after we’ve eliminated Baekhyun by convincing Chen that he’s been lying to him this all this time, both the old man and Mr. Byun will be out of the picture. That leaves Chen, who by now is already done with the entire company and just wants out. He’ll be off to other things, and Kris will dominate the energy industry.” He grins, saluting the other men with two fingers. “And that’s a wrap.”

They mull over the plan for a moment, Kai with a match in his hand and Suho with a worried look etched into his features. Kyungsoo’s eyes are wide and scared, with information nearly pouring out of his ears.

“It could work,” Suho says slowly. He presses his fingertips against his temples and sighs a cloud of worry. “But to be able to enter three dreams at once…do you know how strong of a sedative that would take? Is there even a sedative strong enough for that? And besides, we’ll need to synchronize a kick strong enough to wake us up from all three levels.”

“A kick?” Kyungsoo asks, tilting his head in confusion. Lay snorts.

“Wow, Suho hasn’t really taught you much, has he, honey?” Kyungsoo blushes at the pet name and Kai scoffs, glancing at his fingernails. Suho starts to protest but Lay cuts him off. “A kick is something that wakes you up from the dream; crashing your car into a wall, setting off a bomb, you get the point. It just has to have enough force behind it.” He glances over at Suho. “Is that good enough?”

“Basically,” Suho agrees. “But you still didn’t answer my question about the sedative; how strong of one will we need?”

“One with immeasurable power, that’s for sure,” Lay says, pointing his toothpick at Suho. “But don’t worry, I’ve got that one planned out too. I know just the guy for the job; he’s a chemist, makes the strongest sedative I’ve ever seen. His name is Xiumin.”

“Xiumin,” Kai says, tasting the name. “Alright. Call him up. You can never have too many people on your team.” He stands, clapping Lay on the back as he tucks his matches into his pocket. Suho mutters something that sounds suspiciously like aren’t you the picky one why are you throwing so many strangers onto this team but Kai ignores him.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Kai says. “I’m going home.”

Kyungsoo watches after him with questions dripping from his parted lips, but wipes them away when Kai steps out without a glance back.

It takes more courage than Kyungsoo’s ever been able to muster up to ask Suho where Kai lives and knock on the door to his cottage. The drive there had been long and lonely, and Kyungsoo had almost gotten lost down the winding roads several times. But he wanted to speak to Kai, no, needed to speak to Kai, or he was sure that he’d go absolutely crazy.

He waits on the doorstep, hugging his arms closer to his torso as the breeze works its way under his clothes. But despite the small light on inside, no one comes to the door. He swallows down his nerves and tries to doorknob, only to find that it’s unlocked.

“Kai?” He calls softly, poking his head in through the door. “It’s me, Kyungsoo.” There’s no answer so he steps inside, closing the door tightly behind him. Maybe he had fallen asleep. Maybe this was a bad idea.

He shakes away the prickling fear clinging to the nape of his neck and steps into what seems to be a living room where the small lamp is , the only light in the entire home. Kai is sitting rigid in an armchair, wires hooked to his arm and eyes shut serenely. Something in his heart flutters dangerously at the sight and he swallows, wringing his hands.

Kyungsoo has never stood on the outside, in the real world, while Kai is dreaming before; he wonders what it’s like in Kai’s subconscious when he’s all by himself. He wonders what a world that Kai has built looks like, who is there, what is happening. Before he knows it, Kyungsoo is reaching for a wire and rolling back the sleeves of his shirt, taping it there and settling into the chair beside Kai.

He might as well find out.

He’s in some kind of seaside cottage built much like Kai’s home when he opens his eyes, and from where he’s standing in the pitch darkness he can see the entire landscape of the shore. The wall before him is made entirely of windows and on the other side of it lays the ever changing ocean, waves pounding against the shore. He glances around in the dim light; the place is decorated with sleek furniture and flowers in sparkling vases, but there’s not a single photograph in sight.

There are voices coming from down the hallway to his right and he turns, almost stumbling in the darkness. He recognizes one as Kai’s coming from a room at the end of the hall and it lures him closer as he peeks through the crack in the door with curious eyes.

Kai is perched at the end of a bed, speaking in hushed tones as Sehun lies sprawled before him. He smiles easily and stretches his arms out.

“Remember what you told me, Jongin? You told me that we’d grow old together someday. You promised.” Kyungsoo watches with his heart beating hard in his chest and there’s a twinge of something that tastes like jealousy flat on his tongue. “Don’t you want to keep that promise? Don’t you want to fly with me?” He reaches for Kai’s hand but Kai pulls away, angry, and his voice grows a little louder.

“I told you to leave me alone, Sehun. You’re not the same person that you were before, you’re not real anymore. I can’t…I can’t stay with you, not anymore, so I have to let you go. Don’t you see how hard you’re making this for me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Sehun sits up with fury flashing in his eyes and harsh words dripping off of the tip of his tongue. He starts to snarl out a response to Kai but Kyungsoo leans a bit too hard on the door and it swings open with a small thump. Sehun’s gaze flashes to Kyungsoo instead and his fingers curl into the bedspread. “What is he doing here?” He hisses as Kai simply stares in shock. Sehun starts to get off of the bed and rushes towards Kyungsoo but Kai is faster, hopping off of the bed and running after Kyungsoo as the other boy scrambles backwards. Kai’s fingers curl around his forearm and he drags him down the hallway out of the house, slamming the door behind them as Sehun pounds furiously at it.

“What are you doing?” Kai growls, surprise mixed with anger in his eyes. “How did you even…why are you here?” He presses his back up against the door as something shatters behind it and he winces, fingers trembling as he pats weakly at his pockets. They’re empty.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Kyungsoo says quietly. “I just needed…I thought I could maybe get some answers from you, considering it seems like you know more than you’re letting all of us know. You can’t keep stuff like this hidden, you know.”

Kai glares at him, but Kyungsoo bites at his bottom lip and glances down and Kai’s eyes soften slightly. “Listen, Kyungsoo, it’s not that easy for me to handle this, but I’d rather do it by myself. I don’t want-”

His words are cut off with the explosion behind the door that sends them reeling, and the dream collapses around them.

“What were you thinking?” Kai says curtly, venom flowing from the words without stanching as he rips the wires from his forearm with trembling fingers. “Who…who said you could just invade my dreams like that?” His voice trembles as he cuts his eyes at Kyungsoo and clenches his fists around the tangle of wires, bright hues of red and blue. Kyungsoo curls up into the chair and rolls his domino between his hands, mumbling as he blinks.

“I’m sorry. I really am, I’m so sorry, but there’s something horribly wrong and you know it.” He glances up, eyes dripping with concern. “Sehun is-”

“I’m handling it.” Kai’s tone is cold and sharp as he stares at the carpet, fists clenched, and Kyungsoo flinches at the sound. He scrambles when the domino nearly slips between his fingers and Kai catches his bottom lip between his teeth. “Just…just let me fix this. Stop intruding where it doesn’t concern you.”

Kyungsoo eyes flash, furious and hot, and he clutches the armrests of the chair with an iron grip. He hauls himself out of the chair and steps closer to Kai, trying to ignore the fact that the other stands a few inches taller and is immeasurably more intimidating than him. “I’m trying to help you. Don’t you understand that this isn’t something you can handle by yourself? You may think that you’re some big shot who can take care of his own problems and deal with everything all by yourself, but that’s not how it works, Kai. You need other people to stand by you. You need someone who will let you lean on them when you can’t stand on your own.” He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. “And I don’t know why…why I seem to care about you so much, but I do, and I want to help. I need to help. Why can’t you just let me take care of you?”

Kai opens his mouth to snap back at Kyungsoo but he falters. His hands hang weak at his sides and Kyungsoo reaches out to take one, tracing his thumbs over pale blue veins before carefully linking their fingers. “You’re tearing yourself apart because of someone who doesn’t exist anywhere but inside of your head. And no matter how much you try to hide it, it’s going to end up affecting your job and those around you. It’s going to end up wrecking you. Please, just let me do this. Let me care about you.”

Kai stares at the place where their fingers link together, swallowing hard. He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath. A measured inhale, stuttered exhale.

“If you really want to help me, the best way to do that is to make me forget,” he breathes. Kyungsoo’s lips part in surprise and Kai’s fingers curl around his wrist, digging half moons into the fragile skin.

Kyungsoo presses his lips together again and stares at the place where Kai’s dark skin contrasts against his own alabaster complexion. “What do you mean, forget?”

Kai sighs, eyes squeezing shut. “They say it’s impossible to abandon an idea once it’s lodged in your mind, but I’ve always been one for disproving the impossible. And Sehun…Sehun is nothing but an idea now. I want to forget him. I want to forget everything.” His voice breaks and vulnerability seeps out into Kyungsoo’s palms, cupped there and nearly spilled over the sides.

“I can try,” Kyungsoo says shakily. His pulse pounds beneath Kai’s fingertips and he leans close, rocking onto the tips of his toes until he’s just a breath away from Kai. “I can try my best.”

He curls one hand around the nape of Kai’s neck and tugs him close, pressing their lips together for a split second before he pulls away again. He blushes and avoids Kai’s eyes; he doesn’t want to see the distaste in them, the hesitation. When Kai taps a fingertip under his chin to force their eyes to meet, his own half lidded and dark, Kyungsoo swallows a suffocating gulp of air and tries again.

And then Kai is kissing him back, soft pressure turning desperate as Kyungsoo gasps for air. His tongue darts out, damp against Kyungsoo’s bottom lip, and the other has to scramble for a hold on the thin fabric of Kai’s shirt. They stumble through the dim hallways back to Kai’s bedroom and he pushes Kyungsoo gently back onto the messily unmade bed, heaps of blankets and warmth to cushion their fall. He crawls on top of him, straddling Kyungsoo with warm thighs flush against his sides and messy kisses pressing bruises into his lips.

It’s not until Kai breaks away, kissing a warm, damp trail down the curve of Kyungsoo’s jaw and drawing lines with his tongue along the other’s collarbone that the reality sets in. Kyungsoo arches beneath him involuntarily and shoves helplessly at his chest. “Wait, wait, Kai. Stop.”

Kai obeys, pulling away and hovering over him with his hands sinking into the mattress beside Kyungsoo’s head and half lidded eyes burning into his own. He reaches out and presses the pad of his thumb against Kyungsoo’s bottom lip, marveling at the plump rosy skin bitten raw with anxiety. “What’s wrong?” He hums softly, reaching out to brush dark hair from where it’s fallen in Kyungsoo’s eyes.

“We shouldn’t, ah, you know.” He flushes deep crimson and the corners of Kai’s lips crook upwards, not quite a smile but something that chases away a memory. “I really do have to get going because Suho is expecting me back at the warehouse tomorrow morning for lessons in architecture.”

“To hell with Suho,” Kai growls, curling possessively around Kyungsoo as the other tries to sit up. He pins him down among the pillows and quilts and presses his nose against the hollow of Kyungsoo’s throat. “At least stay here tonight and sleep beside me. I like being with you, even if you ask too many questions and talk when you’re not supposed to.”

“Hey,” Kyungsoo starts to protest, but Kai presses another kiss to the corner of his lips and he swallows the biting remark curling at the tip of his tongue, tucks it away for another day.

“Sleep here tonight, please,” Kai mumbles. It’s not a request but more of an order. He traces a finger along the line of Kyungsoo’s jaw, lets it travel down to the apple of his throat and dips into the shadows that lie there. “Please. You help me forget. You bring me back to reality.”

Kyungsoo hesitates. The sheets beneath him are so incredibly soft and they smell like Kai, like smoke and peppermint and sleep-sweat.

“Okay,” he says quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he surrenders to red hot fingertips. “Okay.”

Lay gallantly introduces them to Xiumin a few days later in the middle of the warehouse, a timid guy with nervous hands and a contagious smile. Kai perches on his usual table and keeps Kyungsoo close by with their thighs touching and Kai’s hand pressing possessively against the small of his back. Suho gives them curious glances but doesn’t say a word in protest.

“This is our chemist,” Lay announces, slinging an arm around Xiumin’s shoulder and grinning with his toothpick caught in his teeth. “He’s got the sedative we need.”

“You’re sure it’s strong enough to keep us under for three separate dreams?” Suho asks, skeptical. Xiumin nods eagerly and crosses his arms in set determination, pride spilling through the cracks in his anxious shell.

“It’s the strongest I’ve ever created, guaranteed to work for inception.”

Suho shares a small glance with Kai, smile creeping at the curves of his lips. “Well,” he says softly. “Now all we have to wait for is our cue.” 

--asianfanfics deleted the updates so i'm posting them again~