00

Hakyeon would catch slivers of the little boy next door; he would hear the screaming, the crying. At the innocent age of eight, when he knew nothing of the world past the playground, he knew about the boy and his screaming parents. On some nights, with their windows only a few meters apart, Hakyeon would climb onto his table and crane his neck in search of the boy, hoping, more than anything to find a way to save him.

The first time Wonshik had peered out the window, his cheek blue with a new bruise, Hakyeon had fallen asleep, his head rested against the cold glass. There was a piece of paper taped onto the window, the words haphazardly written with a blue crayon.

Hi, I’m Hakyeon. I would like to buy a dream.

With a little more effort and a lot of squinting, Wonshik could barely make out the coins that the older boy had been gripping in his tiny hands. It made him smile, somehow; the feeling bubbling up his chest with an unfamiliarity that Wonshik was more than willing to welcome.

When Hakyeon had woken up, there was a small golden bottle on the windowsill; one that he’d vaguely recognized as the packaging of the dreams that they had sold next door. And when he’d opened his window to retrieve it, he’d heard the boy’s parents screaming again – about something that had been stolen. But Hakyeon was too quite young to understand. All he knew was that he was glad to know the name of the boy next door now. Written on a paper under the bottle was a reply.

Hello, I’m Wonshik.

 

01

The first time Hakyeon had climbed over to the balcony of the younger boy, it was midday. He’d waited for the Wonshik’s parents’ car to drive off that morning, a bright grin on his features as he’d pushed the sliding door to Wonshik’s room with much effort. There had been a grunt from the corner of the room then in response to the addition of light in the previously pitch dark room.

The darker boy’s smile had disappeared as soon as he’d found Wonshik, bleeding and sobbing in the corner. And most kids would have run in fear; most kids would have understood how dangerous a place that was by instinct alone. Wonshik didn’t expect much, either, despite the exchange of notes that had been happening throughout the past week. And run was exactly what Cha Hakyeon had done.

But he came back, his very confused mother in tow.

It wasn’t until he was resting on Hakyeon’s bed, the faint sounds of the sirens outside lulling him to sleep that Wonshik had realized that the dark boy that had first made him smile – Hakyeon – had saved him from the merchants of dreams.

 

02

It took ten years for Hakyeon to even bring the topic up again. And even then, it was followed by an unbearable silence. His head was on Wonshik’s lap, his body laid out on the couch of their treehouse, the unused dream that Wonshik had gotten him caught in his fingers.

He watched Wonshik take a deep breath and shake his head for a moment. Then, the younger boy spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “The dreams were their children and I was not.”

Hakyeon had felt just a little bit bad for bringing it up again. And to compensate, he’d brought Wonshik’s hand to his lips, kissing the younger boy’s knuckles. Almost instantly, the tension brought about by the topic had loosened, and Wonshik had found himself thinking about the light in Hakyeon’s eyes when they spoke.

They instead began to talk about other things. About their first trip, about the first time they drank, about the first time they’d kissed. Soon enough they’d found themselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, Hakeyon’s face pressed against Wonshik’s chest as if it were the safest place in the world for the both of them.

 

03

Wonshik hadn’t been around when Hakyeon had watched his parents return into the house. The flashlights had flickered all over the bedroom next door; in what had used to be Wonnshik’s room, and pulling the curtain back, Hakyeon’s eyes had locked on the eyes of Wonshik’s father. The same sharp eyes, but without the gentleness that his son always had when he looked up at Hakyeon.

Then he’d raised the gun. And twice, he pulled the trigger.

Shattering glass was all Hakyeon could remember. That, and the faint, faint sound of Wonshik’s voice calling for him from the living room below.

 

04

The next thing Hakyeon could remember was waking up in a hospital room, unable to make any sense of anything; unable to move. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wonshiks hand in his own.

“Shik.”

The younger boy had lifted his head at the sound of Hakyeon’s croaky voice. His thoughts interrupted by the mere consciousness of the elder boy. With a guilty, tearstained expression, Wonshik had squeezed the other’s hand, apologies spilling from his lips faster than Hakyeon could even begin to comprehend them.

When the younger boy had finally calmed down, Hakyeon had smiled weakly, shaking his head.

“You’re here. I’m okay.”
“But this is my fault.”

Again, the elder shook his head, exerting just enough effort to bring Wonshik’s hand to his lips and kiss every knuckle. The younger boy could only stare at the golden bottle that he’d once given Hakyeon, set neatly on the night table.

Eyebrows furrowed, Wonshik could only fall silent. He couldn’t find it in himself to tell Hakyeon the truth of what happened. The truth of his situation. The truth behind the merchant of dreams.

 

05

When Hakyeon first found out that he would never be able to dance again, he pretended to be okay.

With tears b in his eyes, he’d nodded, manoeuvring the wheelchair to face the large window of the lobby. They’d allowed him space then; given him a chance to rethink the entire life that he had planned out for himself.

It was almost nightfall when Wonshik approached him, a reassuring hand on Hakyeon’s shoulder is if in another apology. The older could hardly manage to pretend to smile this time, his body quivering as he held tried to hold back tears that just wouldn’t stop.

That was the first time that Wonshik had seen Hakyeon so broken. And he didn’t know what to do; his hands were shaking as they pressed his palms against the older boy’s cheeks. He wanted to tell Hakyeon that they’d find a way; that they would get through this together. He wanted to convince the older boy that everything would be okay. But how could he do that when he wasn’t so sure of it himself?

Then, without thinking, he spoke.

“Do you want to know how dreams are made?” Wonshik had asked. Now was as good a time as ever.

 

06

Dreams didn’t come out of nowhere. They weren’t mixed in pots and packaged in simple bottles – not the good ones, at least. Dreams, the kind that sat in golden bottles; the kind that gave lost people direction, those kinds of dreams came with a great price.
Good dreams were taken; good dreams were stolen – harvested mainly by ruining the hopes of the hopeful; by taking away the futures of the dreamers.

When Wonshik’s dad sees a member of the youth, happy like Hakyeon had been before the accident, he means business. When Wonshik’s dad sees the light in Hakyeon’s eyes that the younger boy had loved so much in anyone, he will immediately make a move to put that light out.

That was the point when Wonshik had begun to choke on his own tears. The guilt welling up inside him, eating him from the inside out. For the first time since he’d been saved by Hakyeon, Wonshik felt like he failed the older man. And even if he knew Hakyeon would say otherwise, there was no convincing Wonshik that it wasn’t his fault.

“Use it.” Was the only thing he could manage to say. “Use it, because you need it more than me.”

 

07

Hakyeon didn’t know how Wonshik knew that he was saving the little golden bottle for the younger boy. The truth was that he’d intended to give it to the boy that day that he’d snuck into his room.

Even then, the bottle was still on his table in his hospital room, sitting there as if it were a prescription drug; as if it were an instant solution to everything he’d felt. As if he could take it and everything would be better for both him and Wonshik.

But how could he, when he knew how those things were made? How could he when he knew that that dream belonged to some innocent kid somewhere that was probably as broken as he was? How could he use something that potentially destroyed futures to come into being; knowing that that dream he was taking belonged to someone else, how could he sleep at night?

“Use it.” Wonshik had repeated, his voice gentle. “Use it, because it’s mine.”

The silence that filled the room following that statement had been deafening for them both, but for the first time since the accident, Hakyeon had spotted a light in Wonshik’s eyes when the younger boy had looked at him.

 

08

There’s a mutual trust in both of them as Wonshik picks the golden bottle up from the table. Both of them are settled on he edge of the bed then, their legs brushing against each other the slightest bit.

When Hakyeon empties the contents of the golden bottle, he isn’t sure about its effects. All he knows is that he could actually feel Wonshik’s leg pressed against his own.

It takes another moment to process the feeling of Wonshik’s lips against his knuckles and the overwhelming feeling of home that comes from their intertwined fingers.

But it’s only when Wonshik pulls the older up to stand that Hakyeon realizes that he was far past the time that he had saved Wonshik. It’s only when he takes the first few steps he’d taken in weeks that he’d looked ahead and noticed the glow of Wonshik’s smile; the light in Wonshik’s eyes. Somehow, somewhere, Wonshik’s dream had turned into a miracle.

This time around, Kim Wonshik had saved him.