“Come here,” Jungsoo says, and his voice is so warm and coaxing and filled with sentiments that only the two of them know; he draws in a breath, tight and rattling against his gritted teeth, and his shoulders tremble as a shudder finds its way through his body, from his neck down his spine all the way to the tip of his toes.

“No,” he hisses out, his own voice muted but ringing too loudly in his mind, a desperate exhalation forcing its way out of his trachea. The glass fogs at the breathing out of warm air, and he reaches out almost in childlike fascination, tracing his finger over the glass in illegible scribbles.

Jungsoo slams his fist against the glass, and he flinches back with a sharp shriek tearing through his throat. Jungsoo’s expression softens almost immediately, a familiar softness overcoming his features. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, tone low and soothing, “I’m sorry. Come here.”

His breath catches in his throat; one step at a time, his footsteps move in hesitant skids - “come here,” Jungsoo breathes, and his heart hammers against his sternum and his mind goes awfully blank as his legs comply without his permission - until he’s directly in front of the clear glass door separating Jungsoo from him.

“Come here,” Jungsoo murmurs, his voice beginning to grow hoarse, little cracks making themselves known in each syllable, “Come back to me.”

His slender fingers reach out and press against the glass door against his own will - with aching slowness, as though all of his bones had turned to lead, he began to push.

The glass shatters, a piercing noise that sends spirals of paralysing panic and confusion through the depths of his hazy mind. “Come here,” Jungsoo half-whispers, his voice growing more urgent, “Come here. Come here.”

He steps past the broken glass, his senses numb as his feet tread the shards without feeling pain, his eyes fixed only on Jungsoo who tilts his head with a smile on his face, looking so vulnerable, so angelic, almost.

“Come here,” Jungsoo coaxes, “Closer. Come here, to me. Come back to me.”

Closer. One step at a time. The dragging of footsteps across the floor, hesitation weighing each step down. The sound is barely audible, yet the loudest thing he’s ever known in this stifling silence.

The footsteps slow to a halt.

He blinks. Jungsoo is directly in front of him now.

A smile graces Jungsoo’s lips, a genuine one that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. “You’re here,” Jungsoo says simply, but his voice is choked with vivid exuberance, “You came to me.”

Jungsoo reaches out. His touch is warm against his skin, electrifyingly so. Jungsoo’s scent wraps all around him, and if he closes his eyes he can almost trick himself into believing nothing ever went wrong.

“Heechul,” Jungsoo utters his name, and his eyes snap open.

“Heechul,” Jungsoo repeats, and his grip on Heechul’s arm tightens. “Heechul.”

He tries to pull away, to wrench his arm out of Jungsoo’s grasp, tries to rip his widened eyes away from Jungsoo’s smouldering gaze, tries to open his mouth and scream but only silence greets him; he can’t do this, no, this can’t be happening, this wasn’t supposed to happen — no, — dreams aren’t supposed to turn into nightmares of reality, no — , Jungsoo, I can’t — no, he feels his heart exploding in his chest — no, I can’t —

Jungsoo wraps his hands around his throat, and the scream finally bursts out of him all at once, a loud shrill sound that fills the air. His fingers are icy cold as they claw at Jungsoo’s, but Jungsoo only tightens his grip, his gaze frigid, colder than any subzero winter that Heechul has ever seen.

No, this can’t be happening —

“Why did you leave me?” Jungsoo screams, and he feels himself falling backwards, mind wrapped in moments of flashing existential panic, the horrible crooked screech of Jungsoo’s, and the look of pure hatred in Jungsoo’s dark gaze.

No —

Everything is dark.



He awakens gasping for breath, his eyes frantically searching for something, anything at all —

He’s met with only the darkness of his room, save from the slightest traces of dawn light trickling in from behind drawn curtains. He fumbles clumsily, moving his hands along the wall in an attempt to find the light switch.

“What are you doing?” a voice whispers blearily, causing him to freeze, devoid of all movement, much like a robot switched off by its owner.

A palpable fear overwhelms him for a moment as the voice washes over his senses — it’s just a dream, he tells himself firmly — before he forces himself to regulate his breathing, drawing in a shaky gasp of air before turning towards the voice.

“Jungsoo,” his moment of calm is ephemeral; Jungsoo sits up in his bed, and with a rough movement flicks on the light switch. He flinches immediately, his hands instinctively moving up to shield his eyes from the sudden influx of too-bright light.

“J - Jungsoo,” his breath hitches in his throat and the uttering of Jungsoo’s name comes out shaky. He removes his hands from his face to peer at Jungsoo sitting up with a similarly barely-awake expression, still half from the bottom up.

“Heechul...” Jungsoo’s voice trails off, and he lingers there, his lips half-upturned into an uncertain smile. When it’s made clear that no words are going to follow, Heechul offers a tight-lipped smile of his own and slips into the bathroom, more as a respite from the uncomfortably tense air than to actually wash up.

Nevertheless, he splashes water onto his face to remove the tear-stains that mark his cheek that hopefully went unseen by Jungsoo. He stares at himself in the mirror, and the glass reflects the hollow-eyed stare of a man broken inside and out over and over agai