"...in!  Kim Jong...!!  Kim Jongin!!!"

Someone shakes his shoulders roughly and Jongin opens his eyes to see Sehun with a scary looking face standing over him.  Jongin's still on the floor in front of the mess hall, but the grass is gone and, though the ground is still wet from the rain, the sky is clear behind Sehun's back.

"What happened?  We thought you were dead."

Another trainee comes up behind Sehun, peering down at Jongin's grimacing face.

"Trainee Byun... what...?"  Jongin swallows thickly.

His throat is dry and as he moves to sit up, the ghost of soft white arms shifts against his waist.  He's looking down at his midsection, trying to remember, when Sehun hoists him to standing rather roughly.

"Come on.  We're going to the infirmary."

Even though Jongin protests and reassures Sehun that he's fine, Sehun takes him anyway.  It's when they're walking down the quiet hallway that Jongin realizes.

"Hey do you know when the training base was built?"

Sehun sighs.  He's used to Jongin's random questions.

"I don't know... you'd have to ask the Section Leader, but probably 50 years ago?  Why?"

"...Do you think they grew grass here back then?"

Sehun raises a brow.  Grass.  It was a word that had nearly been depleted from the world's vocabulary about 20 years ago.  It was a wistful word even back when hydroponics were a necessity for crops and real, living trees were a luxury that few could afford.

"Could be"