Bambam’s always been a light sleeper, but when he’s dead tired, like right now, having just barely completed his essay and battled the slow school wifi to email the assignment to his professor before the 2359 deadline, he finds himself drifting off once his head touches the bed, even though Yugyeom is snoring softly on the other side of the small dorm room they share. On any other day, the snoring would have kept him awake for at least an hour before his need to sleep takes over, and he’ll spend the time arranging his limbs on his bed so that no part of his body is dangling off the edge (he’s always been a bit paranoid of monsters under his bed since young). Right now though, he's exhausted enough to throw caution to the wind and just flop onto his soft bed, eyes closing before he’s even properly lying fully on the bed.

Still mostly unconscious with sleep, Bambam feels something off, and he vaguely registers that his arm is hanging off the side of his bed. Ah yeah, that’s probably why it feels kind of cold, because it’s not under the blanket like the rest of his body. Hmm, and it’s also not on the bed, like the rest of his body is –

Wait.

His first reaction to realizing that he’d left his arm dangling off the bed, against all common sense (okay, maybe not common sense, but Bambamsense, whatever you want to call it), is to quickly pull it back onto the bed. But that turns out to be impossible, because his left arm is kind of numb from blood not fully circulating past where it’s pressed against the edge of the bed, and Bambam has to wait before he can feel his arm, let alone move it. He’s trying not to panic while he waits for feeling to return to his arm, but the moment some feeling comes back, Bambam’s heart speeds up in fear, because he feels something against his hand.

Something cold, freezing even.

The horrific realization is quickly followed by the physical sensation of his hand being tenderly held, now that more blood is flowing through his arm and the feeling is returning to his hand. Not comprehending what’s going on, Bambam lets his eyes slowly glance to his left while keeping his head utterly still, hoping to see if he can figure out what’s happening. All he sees is darkness, and something vaguely moving, which could be anything from a plastic bag in the room, to Yugyeom’s blanket, so Bambam decides to close his eyes and turn his body so that he’s lying on his side instead of his back, to get a better look of what’s holding his hand.

Turning while pretending to be asleep turns out to be more difficult than he expects, and the tender holding of his left hand turns into what feels like two… hands (?) cradling his own between them. Unsure if opening his eyes will scare whatever is holding his hand (or maybe whatever it is will scare him instead), Bambam lets his eyelashes slightly flutter as he tries to peek past lidded eyes. The attempt turns out to be futile because he still only sees what looks like something moving. In frustration, Bambam’s eyelids fly open before he realizes what he’s doing, and the gasp he makes is echoed by a higher pitched voice from beside his bed.

With a mouth opened in a small O, a pale translucent teenage boy stands by Bambam’s bed, holding Bambam’s left hand between both of his hands.

“What –“ Bambam’s brain doesn’t fully understand what his eyes are seeing, and apparently his mouth hasn’t caught up either. The figure in front of him looks like a normal Korean boy, around twenty or so (a bit older than he initially assumed), with dark hair and wearing a sweater and jeans. He’ll look normal, like any other student in the dorm, except that he’s also pale and translucent, and case in point, Bambam can still see Yugyeom’s sleeping face through the chest of this stranger.

“Oh my gosh, you’re not supposed to see me,” the boy says softly, eyes flickering left and right like he’s worried. He’s just fidgeting in his spot, not really moving, and still holding onto Bambam’s left hand, and Bambam wonders if he pulls, whether this boy will finally let go of his hand.

He decides to do it, because the stranger is still fidgeting, and Bambam could really at least get his hand back, so he can sit up properly and not lie awkwardly near the edge of the bed with one arm stretched out. The boy lets go of his hand easily when Bambam pulls, though his face looks startled, like he had forgotten he had still been holding on to it.

“S-sorry, I’m so sorry,” the boy mutters, head bowed, and Bambam thinks he must be slightly crazy (he’s heard that lack of sleep does funny things to the brain, and he’s been up two nights trying to finish the essay, so maybe that’s why), because he hears himself saying, “It’s alright. You can hold my hand if you want. But who are you anyway?”

The boy doesn’t seem to expect Bambam’s words, and he blinks a few times while Bambam sits up, rearranging his blanket so it’s not bunched up at his waist. When the boy still doesn’t speak, Bambam tilts his head slightly, hoping that it will prompt the boy to speak.

“Oh, erm,” the boy says, still nervous, “I-I’m a dream-eater, I consume bad dreams from people.”

“Were you… helping me consume my bad dreams?” Bambam asks, kind of curious now. The rapid nods the boy gives answers his questions, and Bambam hears himself asking again, “So, you’re a dream-eater. Do you have a name?”

“Y-Youngjae.”

The boy’s still fidgety, though less so now, and Bambam pats the bed, gesturing for him to sit down beside him, which he does.

“So Youngjae, I guess I’m not supposed to see you, but since I did, will you tell me what you were doing before I woke up?”

Youngjae’s seated cross-legged, looking at his lap with his palms facing upwards in an awkward pose, and Bambam decides to put his left hand over Youngjae’s right, hoping the contact will loosen up his stiff posture (it does). Youngjae’s hands are still freezing, but Bambam lets him lightly trace the back of his hands, because Youngjae’s expression relaxes once he’s drawing circles on Bambam’s hand. He even relaxes enough to not sound nervous when he answers, “I told you just now, I eat bad dreams. That was what I was doing before you woke up. Helping you get rid of a nightmare so you can sleep better.”

“Ah, right, of course. Thank you, Youngjae,” Bambam replies, noting the slight smile curling up on the other’s face. He’s not too sure what to do now, because who even knows what’s the best course of action when you find a dream-eater by your bed while you were sleeping? It was lucky Bambam had been too surprised to scream, and is currently exhausted and dazed enough to think it’s not too strange to be talking to Youngjae, a dream-eater who’s also translucent. He wonders if he’s dreaming, because tha