Fire and Dreams

“What are they?”
“Things,” the boy says, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Dangerous things.”
Mark swallows. His heart hasn’t slowed, like it knows more than his mind, his eyes. “And what are you?”
The boy smiles. It’s a childish expression, young and unpracticed, but so pretty it hurts to look at, made for stronger eyes, a stronger being. “What am I?”
Mark asks again. “What are you?”
“A thing,” the boy says. “A dangerous thing.”

Notes:

Burn It Down - Daughter

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

When you dream every night, every time you sleep, nightmares become more frequent. It’s a sad fact, something to do with odds and numbers that Mark can’t bring himself to figure out. All he needs to know is that when he has nightmares he travels, and when he travels he wakes up somewhere else, somewhere other, somewhere unfamiliar and inhospitable and scary. He’s no coward, but closing your eyes in your soft bed and opening them to find yourself slowly baking alive under a desert sun is something that would freak anyone out.

Closing your eyes in your welcoming bed and opening them as a wave crashes over your head and drags you down into an endless ocean would terrify anyone.

Closing your eyes in your comforting bed and opening them as the last nail is hammered into your coffin, leaving you staring up at the wood of the lid as the heavy earth begins to pile on top, blocking out the last of the dim light, leaving you alone in the burning dark, vision whiting as you start to beat your fists on the wood, screaming for someone to hear you, for someone to answer, for someone to pry the lid away –

He’s shaken awake, blinks his eyes open to see Johnny staring down at him, forehead lined with concern. “Mark, you were screaming again.”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing away the remainder of sleep, trying to even his breathing now that he’s back, now that he can feel his bed beneath him, see Johnny beside him in the dim morning light. “What time is it?”

“Just after six. You got what, seven hours of sleep? That’s better than usual, at least!”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Johnny he was texting Jaemin until half past two, so he just nods lamely. “I guess.”

“Do you wanna talk about where you went?”

No, he doesn’t, but he’s going to anyway, because he doesn’t keep secrets from Johnny. He can’t. The last time he hid anything was when he ate Johnny’s birthday chocolates when he was eleven and threw up from the guilt and sugar. Johnny had laughed at him, helped him clean up the vomit, and then told their parents it had all been a misunderstanding. As far as Mark considered, the debt of honesty would never be fully repaid until he told Johnny every stupid detail of his mundane existence. “Can we talk about it over breakfast? I need a shower and stuff before I form proper sentences.”

Johnny laughs and ruffles his hair. “Sure thing, kiddo. Bacon for breakfast?”

“Please.”

Johnny nods again and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. Mark stares at the ceiling a little longer, just until his heart calms enough that it no longer feels like it could split through his ribs and run away from his body.

In the shower, he washes his hair, scrubs his body, stares at his fogged reflection in the glass until the smell of bacon reminds him why he’s awake, what he’s meant to be doing. It’s only once he’s scrubbing his body down with a towel that he notices the pain in his fingertips, the pressure of drying himself aggravating the skin under his nails. When he looks down, his nails are torn and ragged. Beneath the nail of his index finger is a splinter of wood discolouring the skin, leeching blood in red and purple hues like a pattern of ink pressed under glass.

Johnny puts way too much butter on the bread, and it leaks all over the plate when the heat of the bacon melts it. It’s perfect, and Mark’s mouth is stuffed full of sandwich when Johnny puts a glass of orange juice down in front of him and says, “Before I forget, Taeil rang me in the middle of the night, completely disorientated from a vision or something – he didn’t make much sense. He just said, ‘Tell Mark that if he needs a home mine is open’ then hung up on me.”

“Oh... okay?” Mark says, questioning. “I don’t understand what that means. At all.”

“Me neither, but you know Taeil. It’ll make sense in ten years or so.” Johnny takes a seat and starts on his own bacon, and after a comfortable moment punctures the silence with a steady, “So? You wanna tell me about it?”

Mark shrugs and finishes his mouthful before he wipes his mouth and takes a sip of the juice. “It was just another nightmare; I don’t know what to say. Thanks for breakfast, it rocks.”

“You’re welcome,” Johnny says. He stirs his coffee and stares at Mark with guilt inducing concern. “Where did you go?”

“A coffin,” Mark mumbles.

Johnny blinks. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I heard you. A what?”

“A coffin.”

“What the hell do you mean a coffin?”

Mark looks down at his plate. “I was in a coffin and people were... burying it, I guess.”

Johnny puts his coffee down and drags both hands across his face. “Mark. Fucking hell.”

“I know.”

“You can’t keep doing this – I can’t let you live like this, it isn’t fair. You deserve better than this.”

“There’s not really anything we can do, right?” Mark asks, trying for a smile. His appetite is gone, but he feels bad about leaving Johnny’s food, so he shoves the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and uses it as an excuse not to talk for a while. “Taeil said that everyone’s gift goes haywire when they’re young, that it’ll calm down eventually. I just have to wait it out like everyone else.”

“This isn’t normal. Weird dreams, yeah, that could be excused. When my gift was lashing out it just made me super popular with old people for ages, because I came across as like, the perfect grandson or something. Taeil had visions of people he’d never met, Doyoung woke up with flowers up his nose, Taeyong infested his house with rodents, but this? You can’t go to sleep and wake up being buried alive, Mark.”

“What else can I do? I’ve tried changing my sleeping patterns, I’ve tried alarms every hour, I’ve tried therapy and hypnosis, and none of it worked. What else can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny says miserably. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but I really don’t know. We’ll have to figure something out though, okay? I mean it. I won’t let this keep happening.”

“It’s not your fault, you know that right?” Mark says, only half joking. The guilt in Johnny’s eyes is swallowing his usually calm aura. “None of this is your fault.”

Johnny nods. “I know,” he says quietly. “I just... I’m your big brother. I should be able to fix all of your problems. I should be able to make sure you have sweet dreams.”

“Dude,” Mark says. Johnny acts like he’s a wise old man at times, like Mark is a naive baby that doesn’t understand the cruelty of the world, when in reality, there’s barely five years between them in age. At twenty five, Johnny is still too young to save the world. “This isn’t your burden. You’re not less of a brother because I don’t sleep well, you’re still the one that raised me, that’s given me a home, that fills my Christmas stocking every year, that went to all my football games when dad couldn’t make it. Please don’t feel guilt over this. You’re trying to help, and that’s what matters to me.”

Johnny’s lower lip trembles, and he looks to the window, where the sky is slowly brightening into a slightly less dull grey. It’s going to be a bleak day. “Okay,” he says quietly. He drains his coffee, then louder, he says, “Okay! Okay, no more moping. I’m gonna go visit Taeil and see if we can find anything in those old tomes of his, then I’ve gotta go to work. What are you gonna do on this fine Wednesday?”

Mark thinks of his texts from the night before and grins. “I’m meeting the guys. Jaemin has plans.”

“Jaemin? That spells trouble.”

“I know, it does, doesn’t it? At least it isn’t Renjun.”

Johnny winces. “Good point. I don’t need to have another conversation with Chenle’s parents about why everyone’s hair was purple for a month.” He frowns. “On that note, if Renjun offers you any unbranded food, say no this time. I’m not going through that again.”

Mark salutes. “You got it boss.”

“Cool. Will you be back for dinner? Jaehyun should be home tonight and he wants to cook for us.”

“Oh great! Yeah, I’ll be home. Wouldn’t wanna miss a good meal.”

Johnny gets up and collects their plates, then kicks Mark on the ankle. “I respect that, but I also resent it. Are you saying my meals aren’t good?”

“Your meals are nice, but Jaehyun...” has a perfectionist streak that makes every meal near perfect while you serve hotdogs like they’re culinary art. “You know. He just knows what he’s doing.”

“You can just tell me I’m a terrible cook, it’s okay. I’ll get over it eventually. Maybe.”

Mark kicks Johnny back, laughing. “Dude shut up, you go crazy for Jaehyun’s cooking just as much as I do.”

“He does make fantastic stew.”

“And you make great grilled cheese. They’re different, but both valid. Sometimes I want stew, sometimes I want grilled cheese.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re bisexual?”

“Are you projecting?”

Johnny flutters his lashes. “Are you asking to wash the dishes?”

Mark complains because as a younger brother that’s his job, but he dries the dishes while Johnny washes anyway, because that’s also his job. Standing next to Johnny at the sink as dawn climbs grey into the sky, towel in hand, is his job.

When Johnny nudges him with his shoulder and smiles down at him, unfairly tall and handsome and everything Mark wishes he could be, and he says, “You know I love you, right?”

Mark says, “I know. I love you too.” Not because it’s his job, but because it’s true.

Jaemin cheers when he sees Mark, ushering him over to the swings where he’s taking turns pushing both Jeno and Renjun. Chenle and Jisung are sat on the grass beside the rusty metal death trap, watching with trepidation every time Jeno kicks forward and the old chains shriek their dissatisfaction.

“Aren’t we too old to hang in the park on a Wednesday morning?” Mark asks, taking a seat next to Jisung.

“It’s only when you start asking ‘aren’t we too old?’ that you become the middle aged man in a sweater vest that you truly fear,” Jeno says wisely, blissfully unaware of his own obvious destiny clad in sweater vests.

Jaemin can see the words in Mark’s eyes before he says them, and decides intervention is the kindest option for Jeno’s pride. “Now now,” he says placating, “I summoned you here for a reason, not for you to argue who is the saddest old man.”

“Don’t say summoned,” Chenle says with a frown. “You make it sound like we’re cats.”

“I was thinking more vermin.”

“If you don’t tell me why I’m here soon I’ll go home,” Renjun says from his swing, unamused. “I could have been doing anything else. Why did you ask us to meet you here?”

“Because I have a secret to share,” Jaemin says. He smiles. “Isn’t that fun?”

“Only if the secret is fun,” Chenle says, still frowning. “My dad said he had a secret for me but it was just that my aunt’s boyfriend had been arrested for extortion. That wasn’t fun.”

“You’re ruining my good vibes,” Jaemin says, still smiling, though the expression has taken on a strained edge. “It is a fun and exciting secret. Aren’t you all having a fun and exciting time?”

“I’m seconds from going home,” Renjun says serenely. “Speak now or forever hold you peace.”

“Fine, since you all seem intent on ruining my joy,” Jaemin says. He waits a moment, until everyone is looking, and then finally bursts out, “I know how to contact fae!”

Jisung sighs. “I knew this wouldn’t be worth waking up early for.”

“I’m not joking!”

“You know how to contact fae,” Renjun says, staring at Jaemin’s indignant face. “You, Na Jaemin, son of two incredibly mediocre witches – and I haven’t said that to offend you, I mean that all of us here are weak in the grander scheme – but you, out of everyone on the planet, figured out how to contact fae? Fae, who may or may not exist?”

Mark laughs nervously. He still hasn’t gotten around to explaining Jaehyun, or Ten, a more recent mystery in the lives of their brothers and friends, but he’s also glad no one seems to have figured out why it is they’re so weird. He doesn’t want to have that conversation yet. “Fae?” he asks, voice coming out much higher than he wants. “Are those like. Real?”

“No,” Renjun says, “They’re not. Jaemin, what medication have you taken and who did you steal it from?”

“I believe you,” Jeno says, silencing everyone. At Renjun’s scoff, he just smiles. “Jaemin wouldn’t lie about something like this. He lies about little things that don’t matter, but he wouldn’t bother making something intricate up. He doesn’t have the brain power.”

Jaemin pouts. “I mean thanks, but ouch.”

“I’ll humour you for a second,” Renjun says, “Just one second. Tell me then, oh Great Sorcerer Jaemin, how do we contact fae?”

Jaemin smiles. “It’s easy. We just need a sacrifice!”

They’re a twenty minute trek into the woods when Renjun seems to remember he hates this idea.

“I hate this idea.”

“You hate all my ideas.”

“Good point. Mark, you’re not entirely stupid. Come up with an alternate idea.”

“I don’t have one,” Mark says with a shrug. “Sorry.”

Jisung looks at him. “You’re quiet today, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course!” It comes out lame to his own ears. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. You know how gifts are.”

Jisung nods, then shakes his head. “Mine doesn’t really bother me. Sometimes I wake up and I’m already hungry, does that count?”

“That just means you’re still growing, that’s normal for a seventeen year old,” Jeno says, squeezing him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

“What about yours?”

“I’m fine, mine aren’t so bad,” Jeno says. He seems happy in the woods, surrounded by the trees and smaller plants that are content growing in the shade. “I see Doyoung every week now, and he helps.”

“Ah, is he nature based too?” Chenle asks.

“Yeah, but his is like. Plants and flowers and herbs and stuff. Mine is... trees. It’s kind of weird, I don’t know. I don’t know where they overlap yet, but Doyoung is a good teacher. I’m learning things pretty quickly.”

“It’s where I found the tomes,” Jaemin says, leading them further into the green. “I went with Jeno because I was bored, but Doyoung got annoyed when I made all of his lotions bubble. He sent me into the living room to read and stay quiet, and I found loads of old books hidden behind one of the couches. One of them had bookmarks, but it was kind of boring, so I started on the one below it, and right at the back it said something about fae being closer to nature than humans or witches or anything else, and that the best place to summon a fae is surrounded by nature.”

“What kind of nature?” Mark asks. He thinks of Jaehyun and his fields, of Ten and his endless water.

Jaemin shrugs. “It said that it depends on what kind of fae you want to summon. The lake is ages away, and I don’t want to explain to my parents why I spent all my allowance on taxi fares, so I figured the woods would be our best bet.”

“And what kind of sacrifice is it we need?”

“Again, it didn’t specify. It just said to offer something important. I figured we could use Chenle.”

“We could not!” Chenle squawks.

Jaemin pats his head. “I was joking. I brought some meat.”

“Meat?”

“From the butchers. Kidneys and liver and stuff. If it doesn’t work I’ll bring a heart next time.”

“I don’t like the thought of a next time,” Renjun says. “I’m back from college for three months and this is what you want me to do? Traipse around a forest sprinkling pig organs like some kind of demented combination of Hansel and Gretel?”

“You didn’t have to come,” Jaemin says.

“I’m not gonna let you idiots die alone!”

Mark hangs back a little, chewing his bottom lip as he dreads. It’s not that he thinks this will work, but more that he’s terrified it will. There’s a ninety percent chance of nothing, but that ten percent is unknown. Fae? He thought they were a tale for kids until Jaehyun had moved in with Johnny, had taken one look at Mark with his ancient, sad, eyes, and said, “What a vivid dreamer you are. We can hear you calling.”

What if they find another Jaehyun?

Worse...

What if they find another Ten?

Unlike Jaehyun, who has found himself a home and a life and a happiness both with Doyoung and without him, Ten is still largely a mystery. Ten’s teeth still look too sharp when he smiles, edging on wild, untamed, savage. Ten’s eyes are dark and unknowable, and the only time he seems to calm is when Taeyong is around, like balm against a burn. What the hell are they going do if another Ten shows up?

“Mark?”

He looks up. “Hm?”

Jeno frowns. “Dude, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, totally,” he says weakly. “I just... I’m not sure how I feel about this. Don’t you worry about messing with things we don’t understand?”

“Fae aren’t aliens or spirits, Mark,” Renjun says. “They’re not a real threat.”

Jaemin, at the head of their line, stops. “Here!” he calls out. “There’s an old fire pit from some hikers, so here should be good. Who wants to collect firewood?”

“We’ll go!” Chenle says, grabbing Jisung and hauling him further into the trees.

Jaemin stares after them fondly. “I wish I was still seventeen.”

“Why? Has your nineteen year old back finally given out?” Renjun asks.

“You’re older than me, shortass.”

“But I do yoga. My spine is supple.”

“Can we stop this please,” Jeno says gently but insistently. He puts a gentle hand on Mark’s shoulder and guides him down to one of the logs used as a seat. “Come on, Mark clearly isn’t well enough for you guys to keep arguing like this, let’s cool it.”

“Sorry Mark,” Jaemin says.

“Yeah, sorry,” Renjun says. He frowns and crouches down, putting a hand to Mark’s forehead. “You’re really cold. Are you sure it’s just sleep that’s bothering you?”

“I’m sure,” he lies. “But this is spooky.”

“You’re usually the first one to dive into something vaguely dangerous.”

Only because I’m blissfully ignorant. “Ha ha...” he trails off, uncertain. “I don’t know, man. This just all feels weird to me.”

“If you feel that strongly about it we can just go home?” Jaemin offers. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

But he knows Jaemin. They’ll go home, and Jaemin will come back alone, ever curious, ever searching, and who knows what could happen if he finds something while he’s on his own. Mark is the eldest, and it’s his duty to make sure that his friends don’t get themselves into irreversible trouble.

“It’s fine,” he says, waving one hand. “Just, you know. If we summon a demon or something then stand behind me, okay?”

Jaemin gives him a thumbs up. “Happy to let you die first, man. It’s an honour.”

“No one is going to die, fae aren’t real,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes. He sits on the log next to Mark and stretches his legs out, tipping his head back to stare at the grey sky through the dense canopy of leaves. “Like I said, if you wanted to summon an alien that would be completely different, but today will be fine. Nothing will happen, and then we can all laugh at Jaemin and go home.”

Chenle and Jisung return, arms full of twigs and dried leaves. “We have the goods!”

Renjun nudges Mark as Jaemin, Chenle, and Jeno build the fire and Jisung watches, concerned. “Hey,” he says, voice low. “I can tell something is up. You smell weird. Weirder than normal, anyway.”

“In what way?”

“You’re a dreamer, so you always smell different,” Renjun murmurs, staring at the sparking flames from Jaemin’s lighter. “Wherever you go, you smell of it. Sand or dirt or sea water, you always smell like somewhere new. Today you smell like smoke. You smell like fire.”

“Fire?” Mark echoes. “I haven’t... I mean last night I didn’t...”

“I’m just telling you what I smell,” Renjun says. His eyes don’t move from the growing flames. “Something is wrong, I can feel it too. I don’t think it’s this, though. This is just Jaemin having fun.”

“But something is wrong?”

“Yeah. I can feel it in the air, humming, as static as the sky before lightning strikes.”

Mark looks up through the trees at the grey sky, stomach rolling like the clouds. “Do you think it’ll storm tonight?”

“Ask Yukhei, I’m nothing to do with the weather.”

“But you always know the truth of things,” Mark says. He glances at Renjun’s profile, the gentle slope of his nose and jaw, his shrewd eyes, his small, delicate hands. “Renjun, you always know the truth. Is something going to happen to us?”

Jaemin cheers when their makeshift fire finally catches, and staring at him, Renjun smiles faintly. “I don’t know. But we have each other. We always will, and I know that to be the truth. Try not to worry too much, Mark. It’s pointless to dread the changing of the tide. We all return to the sea eventually.”

They stay out in the woods until dusk, until the gloaming darkens the grey to an almost black, starless, moonless night, the flames dancing in the breeze. They wait for something, anything, but as the organs cook and burn and turn to ash, nothing comes. Jeno pulls out a pack of playing cards, sets up a game of snap with Chenle and Jisung while Jaemin hugs his knees and stares at the fire, as Mark and Renjun wait for the something they both know is coming sooner or later.

“I said I’d be home for dinner,” Mark says eventually. “I’m gonna have to go.”

“Me too,” Jisung says. “My dad is taking me skating.”

Jaemin doesn’t look away from the glow of the fire. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs. “Something should have happened.”

“Maybe we need a better sacrifice,” Jeno suggests, squeezing his shoulder. “Come on Nana, we need to go. Put out the fire and we can come back another day.”

Jaemin finally tears his eyes away, peering up at Jeno’s kind face. “Do you believe me, Jeno?”

“Of course I do.”

“We all do,” Mark says. “We’ll come back with you, Jaemin. We’ll come back.”

They douse the fire, the mood oddly melancholy, and part at the edge of the woods, each heading home. Only Jeno sticks to Jaemin, hand on his shoulder, and they walk together.

Renjun hangs back a moment, stares at Mark. “Sleep well,” he says. “Sleep deeply. Dreams will bring you something, though I don’t know what.”

Johnny is singing in the kitchen when Mark makes it home. He’s in an ugly old apron, dancing around as he crushes potatoes in an oversized bowl. Jaehyun is smiling gently, carving meat with deft fingers while their adopted cat threads himself between Jaehyun’s ankles. The windows are steamed from the heat, and the radio is too loud, the air too thick. Mark doesn’t know when it began to feel like he was being buried, but it hasn’t stopped.

“Welcome home, Markie,” Johnny says warmly, dancing over to press a kiss to the top of his head before spinning back towards the plates. “How was your day?”

“Fine, thanks,” he says, toeing off his sneakers and kicking them under the stairs. Their house isn’t big, was barely big enough for just Johnny and Mark, but with Jaehyun and an overweight cat, it now feels fit to burst.

It’s nice.

It feels like home, like returning to warmth after cold days away. When college gets too much he can take the train and come back, eat a home cooked meal, watch a movie, sleep in his own bed, know his friends are a handful of minutes away.

Jaehyun piles their plates high with food, roasted vegetables and thick cuts of meat, and his small, happy smile never wavers. “Here you go,” he says, passing a plate to Mark. “The table is set, so go take a seat. We’ll join you in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Mark says, pleased when Jaehyun’s smile grows, when his dimples press into his cheeks like button holes, eyes creased with the force of his contentment. With his serene face it’s easy to think of him as fae, as what he was before. When he smiles, however, he appears entirely human. A man that’s caught up in the small but peaceful moments of life, not drowning but floating on the waves, staring up at the sky.

“You’re welcome,” Jaehyun says. “Enjoy your meal, Mark.”

He does.

It’s delicious, and Mark eats while Johnny and Jaehyun discuss something that happened earlier in the day at the bar, something about a woman forbidding her husband to drink only to find him at the bar anyway. When it confuses Jaehyun, Johnny struggles to explain it, and Mark is content to sit and watch him fumble.

“It’s just our culture, man,” Johnny says awkwardly.

“I don’t understand what you mean by that. Men aren’t allowed at your bar?”

“No, it’s like... they are, obviously, but like it’s a culture thing that men to the bar and drink and their wives get annoyed at them and drag them home. It happens all the time.”

Jaehyun nods slowly. “I don’t understand. That doesn’t sound like a happy marriage.”

“I don’t know man, I’ve never been married.”

“Would you forbid your spouse from going out?”

“No, never!”

“Would you allow your spouse to forbid you from going out?”

“No!”

Jaehyun nods again. “If I’m to base most people off your answers, then either the husband or the wife or both are unhappy in their marriage. If this is your culture, perhaps it is better I am not a part of it.”

“It’s like, totally normal to be in a relationship and need time to yourself,” Johnny says, “Which is why we get so many people at the bar by themselves! It’s okay.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun says. “But if you have to sneak away, or lie, then surely there is no trust. I am content on my own, happier with Doyoung, but when we are apart I know wholeheartedly that he would speak to me if he felt the need to share. He knows I would do the same. What is the point in a relationship of any kind without trust and mutual respect?”

Johnny opens his mouth and closes it.

Jaehyun stabs a carrot and lifts it to his mouth. “If distrust and dislike are part of your culture, then maybe it is time to rewrite that basis. Rectifying mistakes is something I am well acquainted with, and from my own experiences I would say that the risks are worth the reward.”

Mark eats his potatoes, watching Jaehyun question things that have never seemed all that odd before. His perspective is crooked, from an entirely new angle, and sometimes he says things that seem to tilt the whole world until it’s slanted. Or maybe it was already slanted, and he was correcting the angle. Maybe he’s straightening the line of their horizon.

“What about you, Mark?” Jaehyun asks..

“What about me?”

“What is your perspective on the matter?”

He laughs a little. “Man, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love; I don’t know what I’d do.”

“In past relationships, perhaps, how have you felt?”

Nothing.

He shrugs, pushing his fork around his plate. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

He dreams of nothing but the sky, endlessly cycling from dawn to daytime to dusk to dawn, and when his eyes shoot open in the early hours, it’s still night. Outside of his window, the sky is still dark, and he’s still in his own bed.

He listens for a moment, but the house is quiet. Johnny and Jaehyun must still be asleep, or Mark would hear them moving around, echoed through the groans of the floorboards, the shifting of the old pipes, the incessant complaints of the cat expecting to be fed.

He checks his phone, but the group chat is silent.

With nothing else to do, Mark lies there in bed and breathes deeply. He’s tired, exhausted to the marrow of his bones, but it feels peaceful here. A sleep without dreaming is a blessing he rarely receives.

He lifts one hand and fiddles with the chain around his neck, dragging the small cloud charm back and forth in a slow rhythm as he stares at the ceiling and wonders. He’ll be back at college in a couple of months, and what then? How is he going to sit his exams if he’s so exhausted from dreaming that he can barely see? How’s he going to play basketball with the rest of the team if running for more than a couple of minutes makes his knees weak? How’s he going to rest without Renjun whispering truths, Jeno watching leaves dance, Jaemin warming the air? How are Chenle and Jisung going to cope when their friends all leave after the summer, heading in different directions, and it’s just the two of them alone? The end of a summer has never seemed so daunting.

Mark rolls onto his side and stares at the sky beyond the window.

One day he’ll be able to control his dreams.

He can visit Renjun during his semesters in China, he can keep Chenle and Jisung company, he can watch Jaemin and Jeno dance around one another like always. He can search the world for what it is he’s looking for, instead of waking up scared.

One day.

Until then, he has to keep dreaming.

He wakes up again, and the sky is still dark.

It’s black.

He’s outside, and this isn’t his sky.

“Oh boy,” he says faintly, sitting up. He’s in a field somewhere, but even the grass feels wrong beneath his palms. It’s sharp and dry, prickly, and the colour is closer to white than the green he’s used to. Everything is pale and washed out, but there’s no moonlight to cast the glow, there’s nothing but the black stretch of nothing above, the opalescent pale of everything below.

“Oh boy,” Mark says again. He climbs to his feet, glad that this time he’s traveled in clothes. That’s something, at least. Shoes on his feet and jeans protecting his legs from the scratch of the grass, the unknown pain of unfamiliar land.

“Oh boy,” he says again, for the third time. “Oh fucking boy.”

With nothing else to do, he picks a direction that looks the same as all the others, and he starts walking.

I’m not drowning, he thinks as he walks through the crunchy grass. I’m not being buried alive. No one is hurting me; I’m not in any kind of pain. I’m not suffering. This is weird, but it isn’t so bad.

More than anything, this place he is with its odd skies and its odd grass and its distant horizon... more than anything it feels empty.

There’s no noise.

No animals.

No people.

Just a barren landscape and a moonless night.

He doesn’t know how long he walks. It feels like hours, but it could be minutes, maybe even seconds.

Then the whispering starts.

Mark thinks it must be the wind at first, rustling through the grass, chasing leaves through the fields, but the air is too still. Nothing moves but the grass beneath his feet as he walks, and even that is close to silence, closer to nothing than any sound should be.

He stops walking, turning in a slow circle.

The landscape is unchanged, and he’s still alone.

“The Dreamer is here,” something whispers.

“Oh boy,” Mark says quietly. “Oh god.”

“Think of where we could go.”

“Think of what we could do.”

“If we had his skin...”

“If we had his dreams.”

“If we had his heart.”

He runs.

He sprints forward, as fast as he can go, grass splintering and crumbling beneath his feet as the whispers grow louder, start to overlap, become illegible, merging into one loud hiss like falling water, rushing water, a torrent chasing him through the empty world.

“If we had his bones.”

“If we had his brain.”

“If we had his thoughts.”

This isn’t water. This isn’t dirt burying him, this isn’t the cold biting his skin, the hot air burning his lungs, this is sentient, something living, something chasing him, something that wants him.

He’s never been so scared.

Something touches his shoulder and he yells out, jerking forward and sprinting harder, blood pounding in his head as his heart stutters. He doesn’t turn around, can’t afford the time to glance over his shoulder. All he can do is run, run, keep running and hope that eventually something will happen. Hope that he’ll wake up, that Johnny will hear him screaming again, that Jaehyun will sense something is wrong, that Taeil will have a vision of Mark lost, that Renjun will know Mark is burning from the inside out, panic eating him alive.

An icy cold hand grips his shoulder and he screams, ripping himself away again.

“If we had his liver and his kidneys.”

“If we had his eyes and his tongue.”

“If we had his fear.”

“If we had his soul.”

Then, as his legs start to weaken, he sees on the horizon a low, crumbling wall. Stone, old and grey and failing, and beyond that – a house.

A cottage.

Small and alone and isolated, but it’s something in a world of nothing. It’s something for Mark to run towards instead of away from.

The whispers begin to laugh, childish giggles that sound perverse in their innocence, ringing through the air like sharp bells.

“The boy won’t save you.”

“He can’t save you.”

“He’ll eat you up.”

“He’ll burn you up.”

“Nothing but ashes await you there.”

He vaults the low wall, lands in soft, packed dirt, and the whispers silence. The looming presence chasing him dissipates into the air, and the moonless sky seems to grow darker. He turns around, looks back out over the fields and sees vast nothing. No horrors with dripping teeth and dragging claws, no red eyes or scaled wings. Just grass and sky and nothing.

“They were just toying with you.”

Mark spins around to face the voice and finds a boy.

A boy, maybe Mark’s age, maybe not.

A boy, maybe beautiful, maybe not.

A boy.

Maybe human.

Maybe not.

“Toying?” Mark whispers, glad he still has his voice, however weak it sounds.

“Yes,” the boy says. His hair is bright, like copper and flame, skin is burnished gold, deep and warm. His eyes are black. “They were toying with you. Your fear amused them. If they had wanted you, they would have caught you. They're faster than you could ever hope to be.”

“What are they?”

“Things,” the boy says, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Dangerous things.”

Mark swallows. His heart hasn’t slowed, like it knows more than his mind, his eyes. “And what are you?”

The boy smiles. It’s a childish expression, young and unpracticed, but so pretty it hurts to look at, made for stronger eyes, a stronger being. “What am I?”

Mark asks again. “What are you?”

“A thing,” the boy says. “A dangerous thing.”

Mark opens his eyes to sunlight pouring through his window.

“Is Jaehyun home for dinner tonight?”

Johnny shakes his head from where he’s frying bacon. “It’s date night with Doyoung, so we’ve gotta fend for ourselves. Wanna order a pizza and pig out?”

“Sure,” Mark says.

Johnny glances away from the stove, eyes big and curious. “You okay Mark? You’re pretty quiet today.”

“I’m okay.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” he says, staring at nothing. “I slept fine.”

While Chenle and Jisung are collecting firewood again, Mark says, “I traveled while I was dreaming last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeno asks, flipping through a book. “Anywhere interesting?”

“I don’t know where I was, but something was chasing me.”

Jaemin looks up from Jeno’s shoulder. “What, like an animal?”

“Not any animal I’ve ever seen,” Mark says. He can feel Renjun’s gaze, but he doesn’t know where to look. Wherever he aims his eyes, everything seems hazy, like he’s not fully awake. Like he’s only half back in his body. “I don’t know what it was.”

“Mark,” Jaemin says slowly, “Dude, you don’t look so good. What happened?”

“I thought I was going to die,” he says into the forest. “I really thought I was going to die.”

“What the hell was chasing you?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “It was whispering, but I didn’t turn around to look, I just kept running, and I saw a wall and a house and as soon as I vaulted the wall it stopped – like there was a barrier or something. I don’t know.”

There’s a moment where nothing is said, and then Jaemin breaks the silence by laughing awkwardly. “I keep waiting for Renjun to tell you you’re being stupid, but that’s not happening. Why isn’t it happening?”

“Because I believe him,” Renjun says. “He’s telling the truth.”

There’s another pause.

“Oh,” Jaemin says faintly. “Well fuck. What do we do?”

After some violent negotiating, they agree to keep it a secret for now. Jeno wants to turn to Doyoung for advice, which is sweet, but Mark knows Doyoung would turn to Jaehyun, who would immediately know something was wrong, who might involve Ten, who would definitely tell Johnny just for the fun of it, and then Mark would never be allowed to sleep on his own ever again. Renjun wants to research before they attempt to do anything, and suggests raiding Taeil’s collection of old tomes.

“It’s tomorrow’s job,” he says as soon as Chenle and Jisung are back. “Tomorrow we visit Taeil. You two distract him with innocent teenager questions about growing up or something, and we steal his books.”

“That seems kind of mean,” Jisung says.

“It’s necessary,” Jeno says, solemn. “Just this once stealing is allowed, but only the books. Nothing else.”

“What if Mark gets in trouble before tomorrow?” Chenle asks, chewing skin on the side of his thumb. His eyes are big and worried behind the curtain of his hair.

Mark squeezes his shoulder and smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve never gone to the same place twice before, it won’t happen now.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” he says.

He wakes up to another moonless sky.

“Oh boy,” he says.

“You said that last time too.”

Mark makes an undignified squeak as he shoots to his feet, stumbling back from the source of the voice.

It’s the boy from the night before, stood in front of the cottage like before. Mark must have woken up within the walls this time.

The boy smiles. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Mark says. It might have been safer to wake up outside of the walls, but at least the boy isn’t trying to eat him yet.

“What’s your name?”

“Mark,” he says. He weighs up his options. He can play nice and wait until he wakes up, or he can vault the wall and see if he can run far enough that he escapes this living hell and reaches the Bahamas or something.

“Hello Mark. I’m Donghyuck.”

“Hey,” he says again. “I’m gonna be honest, I’m kind of scared. Are you gonna like. Eat or torture me?”

Donghyuck laughs brightly, and it’s like the moonless sky suddenly has a sun. Suddenly this cold void of a world has something to orbit. “I won’t eat or torture you, Mark.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He didn’t want to have to keep running anyway. Mark blows out a breath. “Okay, that’s great. Thanks. I uh, appreciate it.”

“You appreciate me not eating you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well you’re welcome, in that case. Would you like to come in?”

Mark points. “There? To the cottage?”

“Yes. It’s my home.”

“Oh,” Mark says. The stone cottage is small and looks almost barren set in the land of dirt. There’s no grass, no growth within the walls. It’s not picturesque, but Donghyuck seems happy with it. “Nice place you have.”

“Thank you. So would you like to come in? I could make you a drink and you could sit for a while.”

“I don’t want to take up your time,” he hedges.

Donghyuck’s smile falls from his face like it was never there. “All I have is time.”

“A drink would be nice!” Mark squeaks.

Donghyuck smiles again, placated. “Great. Is tea okay? I have so much of it.”

“Tea sounds good thank you.”

“Then come inside!” Donghyuck turns and bounces towards the cottage, light on his feet and glowing once more. Mark feels like he’s caught in crosswinds, but he fumbles his way to the cottage door anyway, toeing his shoes off out of ingrained politeness as he peers into the open plan home.

Well.

Open plan is generous, considering it’s only really big enough for one room.

The floor is black slate, the left a bare kitchen and the right a living space with huge stone fireplace and a small couch, threadbare and sinking in the middle. Old. Used. Loved, too, by the look of it. There are a couple of closed doors, maybe to a bedroom, a bathroom, but Mark can’t imagine they’re much bigger than the rest of the house. The building looked small from the outside, but within the thick walls it feels closer, like something is breathing on the back of his neck.

Donghyuck puts a kettle of water on top of his stove. “Go and sit down, Mark. How do you drink your tea?”

“Two sugars, a little milk,” he says, wandering around. “Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome again,” Donghyuck says happily.

“Nice house,” Mark says, more politeness than intent. “Did you, uh, design it yourself?”

Donghyuck stills, and the temperature seems to drop for a moment before life resumes. “No, I didn’t. The house was like this when I woke up.”

“When you woke up?”

“Yes.”

Mark laughs, too nervous to probe. “Okay.” He sits gingerly on the couch, finds it more comfortable than it looks, and sinks almost entirely into its cushions. He releases tension he hadn’t realised he was holding and sighs, staring up at the ceiling. From inside, the world outside doesn’t seem so bad.

Donghyuck walks over and puts a mug of tea on the table in front of the couch, then takes the seat opposite, still smiling. “Here you go.”

“Thanks again,” Mark says.

“You’re welcome again,” Donghyuck says.

They sit in the quiet for a while, but it feels awkward, scary almost. Mark doesn’t know what the hell Donghyuck is, other than a boy that thinks of himself as a dangerous thing.

“Will you tell me about the world?” Donghyuck asks suddenly.

Mark’s eyes shoot up. “Huh?”

“I want to know about the world.”

“What about it?”

“Anything,” Donghyuck says. “Whatever you want to tell me. Anything.”

“Because of climate change there’s an organisation that planted twenty million trees by the end of the decade,” Mark spits out, panicked.

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “That’s a lot of trees,” he murmurs. “What is global warming?”

“You... you don’t know?”

“No.”

“It’s where, like, humans are releasing bad gasses into the air which is corroding the ozone layer that protects the world from the full force of the sun, and because that layer is weakening the world is warming and the ice caps are melting and stuff.”

“So why plant trees?”

“A lot of reasons. Trees release oxygen, which helps to clean the air, for one. Uh, deforestation is a problem too, so we need to retain the nutrients in the soil that trees provide. Desertification is also a big issue in hotter places, so planting trees is like a barrier against the growing desert expansion.”

“Tell me something else.”

“Like what?” Mark asks, lost.

Donghyuck curls up his legs. “Anything, Mark. Tell me anything.”

“I play basketball. Do you know what that is?”

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“It’s a team sport where you pass a ball and try to shoot it into a high net, and stop the other team from scoring points by doing the same. I play it at college, mostly, but sometimes when I’m at home visiting friends too.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about your friends.”

“What about them?”

“Their names, what they look like. How they make you feel.”

“Okay,” Mark says faintly. “Uh... Renjun is the eldest. He’s still a year younger than me though, since I’m the eldest of us all. He’s pretty short, and he has long hair. He’s Chinese, good with languages. He’s really clever, but he’s also kind of mean, but in a good way. He’s very protective.”

“The others?”

“Jeno and Jaemin are kind of a package deal. They’re the same height, but Jeno is stocky and Jaemin looks like a beanpole with a smile wider than his head. They’re both funny, but Jeno is much more grounded. It always seems like Jaemin is floating away into the clouds. Chenle and Jisung are younger. Chenle is the kind of guy that’s always laughing, but Jisung is much more reserved. He’s just kind of tall and nervous, but really passionate about the stuff he likes. Chenle brings him out of his shell.”

“And how do they make you feel?”

Mark blinks a little. “They make me feel happy, I guess. I know that even when I feel sad I’m not alone, like brothers or something. Like family.”

“Family?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your family?”

Mark takes a sip of the tea and burns his tongue. He scrunches up his face, and Donghyuck laughs. “They’re a typical family; I mean I don’t know what exactly you want me to say. I’m adopted, but in terms of family I have a mother, a father, and an elder brother. They love me and I love them.”

“Why were you adopted?”

“I don’t know. My birth parents weren’t in the position to raise me, I guess.”

“They’re alive?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. Do you know them?”

“No,” Mark says. “But maybe one day I will. My dad told me that I got my dreaming from my birth mother, so maybe one day I’ll find her through that.”

Donghyuck nods. “Like you have found me.”

Kind of. Mark picks up his tea and takes a gingerly sip, but this time it’s a good temperature, less scalding and more pleasantly warming. His tongue still hurts, but it’s a duller ache now, a background pain. “Maybe.”

“Do you miss her?”

“My birth mother?”

“Yes.”

“No,” he says without thinking. Then he pauses. At one point the topic caused pain, but no more. He has a family; he has parents and a brother and friends that love him just as much. He’s whole, with or without other people. “I don’t miss her, but I don’t know her. There’s no like, person shaped hole for me to fill. I have a mother and a father, as far as I’m concerned. They raised me, Johnny is my brother and he lives with me now, and that’s the family I’d miss if they left. I don’t miss my birth mother, but I have questions. I hope one day I can get answers.”

“I have questions too,” Donghyuck murmurs. “You’ve answered a few of them. Thank you for that, Mark. Maybe next time you can answer some more.”

“Next time?”

Donghyuck smiles. “Your dreams know the way now. They know this place. I’ll see you soon.”

Mark wakes up, and the roof of his mouth stings, his tongue throbs and the taste of scalding tea rests in the back of his throat like caught perfume.

“You seem to be sleeping a little better,” Johnny says over breakfast. “Has something happened?”

“I don’t know,” Mark says, poking his eggs with his fork. “Maybe my body is regulating it or something.”

“As long as you’re feeling better, I’ll take whatever.” Johnny kicks Mark gently on the ankle and grins. “Jaehyun’s back tonight. Family dinner?”

“Sure,” Mark says, perking up a little. “Sounds like fun.”

Taeil is immediately suspicious when he sees six boys on his doorstep. “Hey guys,” he says slowly. “Something I can help you with?”

Jeno, as the most believable of the group, takes the lead. “Hey,” he says, smiling pleasantly. “Sorry to disturb you, but are you busy?”

“Not right now. What is it you need?”

Renjun pushes a complacent Chenle and unwilling Jisung forward. “These two have questions about their gifts developing, and we don’t know how to answer them. We figured that as an authority on... things, you could help.”

“Me?”

“It was either you or Johnny, let me put it that way.”

“I see,” Taeil says immediately. He opens his door wider. “Okay, come on in. Are all of you coming?”

“Yes,” Jeno says. “They’re too nervous to discuss it alone, so I’m going to come in with them. They’re embarrassed too, though, so would it be okay if Mark, Jaemin, and Renjun wait in your kitchen or something?”

Taeil squints, and Mark’s stomach drops. “Hm,” he says after a moment. “Fine. But don’t touch anything, okay? Everything in there is about a hundred times older than you, and very fragile.”

“Including you?” Jaemin asks.

Renjun kicks him in the shin. “He’s just intimidated by your experience,” he grits out through his teeth. “Excuse his awful manners.”

Taeil hums and guides them through the house, then pauses in the hall. “Where do you guys want to talk? The living room?”

“That would be great, thank you,” Chenle says woodenly. “For, you know. The things we need to talk about. To you.”

As soon as he guides Jeno, Chenle, and Jisung through the door and closes it firmly behind them, Renjun turns to Jaemin and kicks him again. Violently. “Idiot!”

“It was meant to be casual humour that relaxes everyone,” Jaemin moans, grabbing his leg. “Stop kicking me.”

“Why are we doing this?” Mark asks, more to himself than the people he’s stuck with. “Why are we lying to a guy that’s gift is premonitions? He could have a vision of us stealing his shit! What are we doing?”

“We’re taking a chance,” Jaemin says, releasing his leg and standing upright, suddenly far too serious. “We’re gambling against fate, and by god we’re going all in, Mark! Let’s pull out our royal flush!”

“I’m going to beat you to death with one of these ancient cooking books,” Renjun says flatly, staring at Taeil’s wooden countertop. “But please make yourself useful first. Taeil’s office is the first door on the left, and his library is the room next door. I’ll take the office, you two look through the library. Take whatever seems relevant, but try not to leave any gaping holes in the shelves. Make it look normal, okay?”

So Mark spends the next couple of minutes with his heart in his throat, scouring Taeil’s shelves for anything that sounds relevant to travelling to other worlds, to fields of nothing and a cottage in the middle of nowhere with something dangerous that goes by the name of Donghyuck. He pulls out a few books that seem vaguely in the region of relevance, and Jaemin does the same. They meet Renjun in the hall, who piles more books into their arms and then shoves them towards the door. He knocks on the door to the living room and sticks his head through. “Hey! Sorry to interrupt, but Mark just remembered he has an, uh, dentist appointment, and he’s scared of... mouthwash. So we’re going to go with him. We’ll see you guys later, okay? Thanks for hosting us Taeil!”

Mark hears a faint, “You’re welcome?” before Renjun wrenches the door shut and shoves them both out onto the street, slamming the front door and herding them away.

“Scared of mouthwash?” Jaemin echoes.

“I’ve known Taeil since I was like five years old; he knows I’m not scared of mouthwash!” Mark wails. “He’s gonna tell Johnny I’m being weird and then I’m gonna have to go to a therapy session to work on our communication skills!”

“You two couldn’t have come up with anything better on the spot, just shut up and keep walking!”

“True,” Jaemin admits. “Where are we going though?”

“My house,” Renjun says. “I’ve text Jeno, he and the others will join us later. My parents are out of town visiting my grandma, so we won’t be disturbed and we can keep the books safe.”

“How the hell are we gonna return them without being suspicious?”

“Ding dong ditch the books on his doorstep?”

“I’m twenty and Johnny is gonna ground me,” Mark says miserably. “This is going to be so embarrassing.”

“We could have just asked for the books like normal people if you weren’t so scared of Johnny finding out in the first place!”

“I don’t want him to worry about me,” Mark admits. “He already worries so much, and I know he acts easygoing but he’s so caring that he can’t help it, he just has to take care of everyone. I don’t want to make a bigger burden for him.”

“Then we’ll sort it out,” Renjun says, as stubbornly self reliant as ever. “And we’ll take the books back and Johnny won’t find out because by that point we’ll be kings of espionage. Stop worrying, okay? You look really ugly when you worry.”

“Love you too,” Mark says. He smiles, a little lighter. “Thanks guys.”

“You’re welcome,” Renjun says, staring ahead. “And you know we love you.”

This time, he doesn’t remember falling asleep. One minute he’d been leaning against the wall of Renjun’s cramped bedroom, wedged between Jisung’s long legs and Jeno’s thick shoulders, reading the third book that made absolutely no sense and was comprised of only eighteen syllable words, and then he’d blinked his eyes open and found a moonless sky above him.

“Hello,” Donghyuck says. “You’re early.”

“I guess I am,” Mark replies groggily, sitting up. “Hi again.”

“Hello Mark,” Donghyuck says. “Would you like another mug of tea?”

Mark stares at him. Donghyuck looks bright against the dark surroundings, with his copper hair and deep skin. It’s jarring, because his eyes are so dark, so alike the blankness of the landscape, like fresh coals set in a roaring furnace. He’s beautiful, like he was the time before, and the time before that, but this time he seems lighter. He’s wearing jeans, sneakers that look suspiciously like what Mark had worn on his first visit, and a jumper. Material too thick for summer, with black and white stripes that cover the knuckles of his hands and trail down to his fingers. He looks like someone Mark would see at college, walking through the campus with earphones in and eyes on his notes. He looks like someone that would stop by bakeries and order something sugary, getting syrup on his fingers and laughing at the bees it attracts. He looks like someone that should be surrounded by people, friends and enthralled acquaintances that can’t stop staring, just like Mark. Donghyuck is hard to look at, not because of how unnatural his beauty is, but because of how isolating it is. How suited it is to be seen, his laughter to be heard, his smile to be loved, and yet Mark wakes up in this barren land every night and Donghyuck is stood here, waiting and alone. “I’ll have a mug of tea if you don’t mind making it,” Mark says eventually.

Donghyuck smiles. “I don’t mind at all. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” Mark says. “I’ll come in again.”

“Tell me about your brother today.”

“Johnny?”

“Yes. I want to know more about him.”

“Okay.” Mark crosses his legs and sits back into the comfortable couch, picturing Johnny in his mind. His chestnut hair, always too long in the front, his kind eyes, silly grin, looming height. “He’s five years older than me, and we don’t really look alike, which – I mean, since I’m adopted it makes sense. He’s tall and pretty handsome, and his gift is centred on persuasion. He evens out people’s moods, calms them and stuff like that, so he has a lot of friends. He’s kind, and he likes to help everyone, but he’s also still my brother, you know? We prank each other and he gets mad when I eat his food or steal his clean shirts, and then five minutes later he forgives me.”

“Did you ever feel the need to compete?”

“In what way?”

“For the love of your parents. Was there no animosity?”

“None, none at all,” Mark says. “We – Johnny is too nice for that. Our parents love us both, and Johnny treats me like his own kid sometimes, despite the small age gap. I’ve always known I’m loved, and in that regard there’s never been any competition.”

“How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“How does it feel to know you are loved?”

Mark blinks, but Donghyuck doesn’t smile and say he’s joking. He doesn’t laugh and wave a hand, or scoff and make fun of Mark for believing him. He just sits there, in his big leather chair, with his feet curled under his legs. He just looks at Mark with the same serious expression, like he’s trying to work out something in another language and doesn’t quite have a grasp on it yet. After a long moment, Mark finds his voice. “It... it feels warm. Sometimes it feels weirdly suffocating, but that’s only a small percent of the time. Mostly it just feels comforting.”

“Comforting?”

“Like...” Mark trails off, thinking. “When you know you can rely on something. When, even in your worst moments, you know that thing will be there for you. Like that.”

“I see.” Donghyuck looks at Mark, and after a moment he smiles. “Maybe one day I will know how that feels.”

He’s shaken awake by Renjun, who is leaning over him with barely suppressed amusement. “Johnny is here to pick you up,” he whispers, careful not to wake Jeno or Jisung. “He says you’re late for dinner.”

Jaehyun makes fish, and as delicious as it is, Mark finds it difficult to concentrate, pulling the charm on his necklace back and forth in a distracted manner, more habit than awareness.

“You smell odd today,” Jaehyun says during dinner.

“I do?”

“Yes. Like a bonfire.”

Mark shrugs. “Who knows what Renjun does in his house?”

Jaehyun frowns. “Hopefully not set bonfires.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Johnny mutters. “He was twelve years old when he superglued Mark’s football kit to a tree because Mark had forgotten to get him a birthday card. He’s like a sneaky little raccoon or something.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun says faintly. “Is that normal?”

Mark shrugs. “It’s his normal. That’s good enough.”

“Just be careful,” Jaehyun says. His eyes are dark. “Fire can’t control what it destroys.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Donghyuck asks when Mark wakes up.

He sits up slowly, peering up at the same blank sky. “Sure,” he says. “But, uh. You know those things that tried to eat me?”

“They won’t touch you if you’re with me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Extremely.” Donghyuck smiles. “I’m unpredictable still. They won’t risk riling me.”

So Mark follows along obediently when Donghyuck opens the gate to his land and steps outside. The shock is palpable, the shift from one place to another jarring. Donghyuck’s land felt warm, welcoming almost, but the world outside is cold and harsh. Even the air hangs in the sky differently, tense, like it’s waiting for something to happen. “Dude,” Mark says slowly. “What the fuck is this place?”

“I was beginning to think you would never ask.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

“You needn’t bother.”

Mark smiles, but it’s forced and awkward. “You’ve described yourself as a dangerous thing. Being polite is self preservation.”

Donghyuck looks at him with innocent eyes. “I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Mark.”

“How can I know that?” He follows Donghyuck’s slow, steady steps, watching as the fields merge and the grass crunches beneath their feet. True to his word, nothing starts to whisper, no shadows move, and Mark feels more or less safe. Maybe less than more, but that’s still better than nothing.

“Fae are bound by oaths. Would you like me to swear it?”

Mark stops walking. “Fae?”

Donghyuck pauses too, and turns to look back at Mark’s surprise. “Surely you already knew.”

“No,” Mark says, cringing a little at his own obliviousness. “I know you’re not human, obviously, but fae? Like Jaehyun?”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “Jaehyun?”

The air turns frigid.

Mark swallows. “Yeah. Jaehyun. Do you know him?”

“No,” Donghyuck says quietly. “I don’t. But you do?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Donghyuck says. “Okay. Maybe now isn’t the time for a walk. Maybe now isn’t the time to be here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, Mark. I hope you have sweet dreams elsewhere.”

Mark jolts awake in his own bed. He checks the time, and realises he’s only been asleep a handful of hours. It’s barely past one.

You know Jaehyun?

The shock in Donghyuck’s typically serene face was odd – the way he recognised Jaehyun’s name, not as a rumour or friend, but as a mystery. As something cruel, something painful with deep talons.

Mark knows he should ask about it, but the thought is daunting.

It’s easier just to go back to sleep and worry about it in the morning.

He opens his eyes just as his feet slip from the edge of the world.

He can do nothing but stare at the moon as he falls.

And screams.

“Mark!”

He’s shaken awake. Johnny is hovering over him, Jaehyun stood in the doorway, worry etched into their faces.

He breathes out a shaky sigh and rubs his face. “Sorry,” he says, “Sorry for waking you.”

“We’re going to see Doyoung,” Johnny says, harsh because of his concern. “We’re going to see if he can give you anything else to help you sleep, okay? We can’t keep doing this. You can’t.”

“Okay,” he says.

Johnny nods. He strokes a hand across Mark’s messy hair and then leaves the room, passing Jaehyun, who stays hovering in the doorway. “Mark?” he asks.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” Mark says, unconvincing even to his own ears. “Everything’s fine.”

“You can talk to me, if you want to. I might not be able to solve your problems, but I am here if you need someone to listen.”

“Thanks, man.” Mark sits up slowly, sees dawn crawling across the sky outside of the window, and the fiery strands of the sun remind him of coppery hair and tan skin. “Oh – Jaehyun?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know anyone called Donghyuck?”

Jaehyun frowns. “I don’t think so. The name doesn’t sound at all familiar. Why?”

“I just wondered.”

“Who is he?”

“Just someone I’ve met.”

“A friend?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, do you like him?”

“I guess so.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s that a friend in an odd place is often one of the best kinds. I hope things go well for you, Mark.”

“Thanks,” he replies weakly.

Jaehyun nods and closes the bedroom door quietly, leaving Mark alone with the fiery dawn.

Doyoung fusses over him, peering into his eyes and down his throat like a doctor, tutting at the moisture levels in Mark’s skin, the lack of vitamins in his diet.

“No wonder your dreams are dragging you around, you’re too weak to control them!” he exclaims, pulling back to wash his hands. Ivory curls around his arms from the pots beside the sink, and he tuts again, trying to tug himself away.

Taeyong slides Mark a mug of chamomile tea, pressing his lips together and offering him an apologetic look. “He’s in a bad mood today because his eucalyptus was eaten by slugs.”

“Murderers,” Doyoung says, staring down at the ivory now winding its way up his arms to tickle his neck. “They murdered my baby.”

Jaehyun watches him fondly. “We can get you another.”

“You can’t just swap my baby for another!”

“It was an old eucalyptus, Doie. He lived a long and prosperous life.”

“He was taken before his time, and the rest of the garden is sad now,” Doyoung murmurs. “And I don’t know how to help Mark. This day is terrible; I want to go back to bed.”

“It’s not even ten in the morning,” Taeyong says gently. “That’s too early. Keep going and maybe things will pick up.”

“Ten is coming for dinner, which means things will get infinitely worse,” Doyoung says, pouting. “He’s so rude to me.”

“You’re just as rude to him.”

“Only because he deserves it.”

“Maybe you do too.”

“I can’t believe he turned you against me too, Yongie,” Doyoung mourns. “My best friend taking the enemy’s side. This life truly is a cruel one.”

Johnny clears his throat. “Not that your misfortune isn’t funny to me, but can we focus on Mark?”

“Oh, sorry.” Doyoung finally pulls himself away from the ivory stalks and leans back against the sink. “I’m being honest when I say I’m not sure what to do. We know the chamomile helps a little, but not enough for a full night of sleep. Nothing else has worked even slightly, and Mark is the only dreamer I’ve ever met, which makes things more difficult. I’m sorry, but I’m not sure there’s anything more I can do.”

Johnny sighs. “Shit. Thanks anyway, Doyoung. I appreciate you trying.”

“It might sound basic, but have you tried pharmaceutical sleep aids? Zolpidem, triazolam, drugs like that?”

Mark shakes his head and chews at a hangnail. “What if they mess me up more?”

“It’s just a suggestion, since we seem to have tried every other option.”

“We might as well try,” Johnny says. “It’s not like it could make you sleep less than you already do, Mark.”

“I guess,” he says, uncertain. He tries to convince himself, but the thought of taking the equivalent of sedatives makes him nervous. The thought of not having control of his own body – but Johnny is right. It couldn’t make him sleep less than he already does, and what control does he have now? He projects himself into other worlds while he sleeps, his subconscious throwing him into danger he can’t even begin to comprehend, and he has no choice at all over the matter. Besides, if he can’t trust a jury of Johnny, Doyoung, Taeyong, and Jaheyun, who else could he trust?

Jaehyun squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “Yuta recently taught me a saying, and I would say its applicable now. What’s the worst that could happen?”

They go to a pharmacy and on the way home pick up some pizza, then pig out and watch old films in front of the television for the remainder of the day. When it gets late, Johnny picks out Mark’s pills with his stupid old glasses sliding down his nose, checking the instructions on dosage then checking again, then passing Mark the exact number of pills and a glass of water.

“I’ll be here all night. Scream if you need me. Or knock – in fact, I’d prefer you knock, but screaming is okay too. Or text me! Whatever it is, just let me know if you need me, alright?” Johnny’s presence radiates warmth and comfort, like whether he’s aware of it or not, all his energy is going into reassuring Mark.

“Thanks man,” Mark says, giving Johnny a gentle kick on the shin. “Love you.”

Johnny lights up. “Love you too!”

He figured it would be a slow process, that he’d be watching something on Netflix and would have to turn it off because he couldn’t concentrate. He hadn’t expected to brush his teeth, climb into bed, and pass out before he could put his retainer in.

He blinks open his eyes and sees fog. “Oh come on.”

The grass beneath his feet is saturated with water, almost boggy, and he can feel the cold water seeping into his socks through his sneakers. It’s daytime, wherever he is. A cool, biting daytime with sun hidden behind the fog and the world shrouded from sight.

“Can you hear them?”

Mark spins, heart in his throat. He half expects a monster, another bodiless spirit to run from, another horror to scream at, but it’s just a woman. A woman in an old woollen tunic, blood on her forehead and chin, hair messy down her back. Eyes dark and sad. Mark clears his throat and begs his inner demons to find courage. “H... hear what?”

“The voices.”

“What voices?”

“The voices of the thousands. Millions.” The woman blinks, and a tear runs tracks through the blood on her face. “They’re screaming. They’re always screaming. Can’t you hear them, boy? The ones who came before you and the ones that will come after. The suffering of generations, the agony of lifetimes, links in an unending chain. Can’t you hear them screaming?”

“No,” Mark whispers. He’s so scared he feels like he’s going to pass out, but he’s already passed out, asleep in his bed with sedatives running through his system – god, what were they thinking? If he screams, Johnny can’t shake him awake now. He’s locked in his dreams, for better or worse.

“Don’t worry, child,” the woman says. She smiles. “You’re like me. You’ll hear them soon. All of them, all of us writhing, we’ll fill your thoughts and then your body and your dreams too, and when there’s no room inside left for you, you’ll be one with us. Together. Don’t you want that? Then you can scream with us.”

“I don’t want that,” Mark says, scrambling backwards, feet sinking into the boggy ground. “I really, really don’t want that.”

“I didn’t either,” she says, eyes alight. “But you’ll accept it eventually. The screaming drowns everything else out. Don’t you want peace?”

“No thank you!”

The woman reaches a hand out, and the ground hardens around Mark’s feet, holding him there. “I didn’t either,” she says, stepping forward. “Everyone says they want peace, but they don’t want it, not really, not deeply. They don’t want the ghosts that it carries, the weight of the wars that came before, useless, void now. The lost ones who will stay lost, the scared ones who will stay scared, the hurt ones who will stay in agony. They all scream, and I am at peace. You will be too.”

Mark desperately tries to yank his feet out of the ground, but it’s like cement around his ankles. He can’t go anywhere, can’t do anything other than watch the sad woman’s slow, bleeding approach.

What are you?

The fog thickens.

What am I?

The woman’s cold, wet hand touches Mark’s face. She smiles through her tears. “We can be together in peace,” she says.

A dangerous thing.

“Donghyuck!” Mark screams.

A burning hot hand catches the back of his neck and pulls him backwards – and the ground gives way, crumbling.

Mark falls onto his back, breathless, and gasps up at the hazy sky.

Donghyuck peers over him, blinking. “You called?”

“Oh dude,” Mark sobs, putting his hands over his face. His heart might beat out of his chest at the speed it’s thumping. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“But you didn’t,” Donghyuck says, serene. He holds out a hand and helps Mark to his feet, and when Mark looks up, they’re at the cottage. Somehow. He’s too stressed to question it at this point. “You said my name and I saved you. Isn’t that nice?”

“Nice,” Mark echoes. He can barely hear his own voice above the pounding of his heart. “Yeah, I guess nice is a word I could use.”

Donghyuck smiles cutely. “Want some tea?”

“Sure,” Mark says. “My knees are pretty weak, so a seat would be cool.”

Donghyuck nods and starts towards the door. “Make yourself at home. You’ll be here for a while.”

And Mark, still shocked to his bones and scared out of his mind, doesn’t question that until he’s melted into the couch and has already started to grow moss atop the mess of his hair. Then he frowns. “Wait, what? I’ll be here for a while?”

Donghyuck hums from where the kettle is boiling above the stove. “I can smell it on you, the tang of substances that shouldn’t be there. How long do they keep you asleep?”

“Six to ten hours,” Mark says, dumbfounded. “What do you mean you can smell it on me?”

“You normally smell like fresh air,” Donghyuck replies, pottering around with mugs and honey. “Like... hm. Like strong wind during a cold morning, I suppose. But now you smell tangy, coppery almost. Like I’ve bit my tongue and the taste won’t leave the back of my throat.”

“Oh,” Mark says faintly. “And I’m stuck here?”

Donghyuck brings their tea over and puts a mug on the table in front of Mark, sitting in his chair, curling his legs as he always does. “Time moves differently here,” he says. “Months here might be seconds in your world. It depends on how the sky is feeling. How the creatures that control it feel we should move and age and die.”

“So... the times between when I leave here and turn up again... are longer than a night for you?”

“Yes. Sometimes it’s weeks, sometimes longer.”

“And I’m stuck here?”

Donghyuck shrugs, picking at the thread of his jeans. “You can leave my land if you want to, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Most of the things out there are much worse than me, and if you’re on your own they’ll see you as a free meal.”

“Why does everything here want to eat me?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not,” Donghyuck says, a small line appearing between his brows. “I’ve told you that before.”

Oddly, Mark doesn’t know if he should be offended. “What, am I not tasty enough?”

“No. To be frank, I find you repulsive.”

“Huh?”

Donghyuck smiles. “That was a joke. Did you like it? I’m trying them out.”

“It was okay,” Mark says hollowly, staring. He thought college exams would be the peak period of confusion in his life, not sat on a musty old couch staring at a beautiful boy that might or might not eat him. “So are you going to eat me?”

“No, that wasn’t a joke. I don’t eat people.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not what sustains me.”

“What sustains you?”

“Growth.”

Mark blinks. “Growth?”

“I’m tied to the land. For creatures like me, only the land can sustain us.”

“So... why is your land so barren?”

Donghyuck’s eyes darken and he smiles, polite and dangerous. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Mark says, uneasy. He picks up his mug and sips at the tea, pleasantly warmed by it. “Thanks for the drink.”

“You’re welcome, Mark.”

With nothing but silence and tea to fill the air, Mark begins to grow awkward, as it seems to be his default emotion. “You’re sure you don’t mind me being here?”

“I don’t mind at all. You can stay as long as you like. You’ll have food, shelter, a bed to sleep in and a place to clean yourself. I have books too, if you want to read.”

“Do you have a TV?”

“A television? Why, do you want one?”

“I mean not necessarily-“

Donghyuck gestures slightly, and when Mark turns his head, there’s a new, fairly small television set nestled in the corner of the room like it had always been there. An old forensic crime show is playing silently, the picture quality gritty and slow.

Mark stares. “How the hell did you do that?”

“This is my land, Mark. I can do whatever I like.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I can’t make living creatures, but I can create objects, as long as I have a vague idea of what it’s meant to be.”

Mark stares at him, imagining the kind of power behind his delicate form. “Can you make a guitar?”

Donghyuck nods. “Look beside the chair.”

Mark sticks his head over the arm of the couch and sees an acoustic guitar sat propped against the wall. “Dude. Dude that is so fucking cool.”

Donghyuck smiles. “Thank you. Would you like anything else?”

“Uh... maybe some food?”

“What kind of food?”

“Watermelon,” Mark says immediately. “Um, maybe some ramen too? And fries? I don’t really mind as long as there’s some melon.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you,” he says faintly. “God, this is so weird. But thanks.”

“You travel in your dreams, Mark. Surely you knew there were things at play beyond what you can see.”

“Yeah, but I thought like. Aliens maybe? Not an alternate fog world where most things want to eat me and there’s one guy who can imagine me up melon on command.”

Donghyuck blinks rapidly. “Do you not want the melon? Why did you ask for it if you don’t want it?”

Mark sniggers at Donghyuck’s confusion, and then before he knows it he can’t stop laughing – at the sheer absurdity of it all, of being stuck in this malevolent place with Donghyuck, a creature of unknown, possibly infinite power, that doesn’t understand Mark’s fear, or his love of melon. Donghyuck, a creature of growth that lives alone on dead land, waiting for a visitor.

“Donghyuck,” Mark says eventually, once the laughter has died down into something sadder. “Can you eat food? Or is it literally just grass energy you live off?”

“I suppose I could eat it, but it wouldn’t do anything for me.”

“You wanna make some cupcakes?”

Donghyuck’s eyes widen. “What?”

“We could bake some cupcakes if you like. They’re pretty easy, and I have the recipe memorised from when I was a kid, because Johnny and I used to make them all the time for school functions – I’m getting off topic. If you can get us the ingredients we could make some? If you like?”

Still wide eyed, Donghyuck nods. “Okay, sure. If you want to.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck says faintly. “But if we try then I’ll find out, won’t I?”

So Mark writes a list of ingredients and Donghyuck gets to work finding them, and as he’s rummaging around Mark heads back over to the new television and flicks through the (possibly) modern channels. He stops on a random music channel that’s showing music videos from the nineties, then turns the volume up so that it’s a nice humming background noise. Donghyuck’s shoulders tense at first, but a couple of minutes into the Spice Girls he relaxes and starts to hum along, preheating the oven under Mark’s careful instructions.

The actual baking part doesn’t go very well, but Mark isn’t the best cooking teacher, and Donghyuck has all the skills of someone that’s never had to hold a spoon before.

“Add the coco powder before you mix in the wet ingredients,” Mark says, watching with something close to abstract horror as Donghyuck licks plain flour from the back of his hand. “Don’t eat that.”

“Why not? It’s food, isn’t it?”

“Flour isn’t food on its own.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then eat it, jeez! Don’t blame me when it comes back to haunt you.”

So Donghyuck sticks his finger in the coco powder and eats that instead, wincing at the taste. “This one is worse.”

“That’s not edible either.”

“Are you making poisonous cupcakes?”

“You have to trust me – don’t eat the raw egg! Please, I’m literally begging you, do not eat that.”

Donghyuck squints at Mark, but he slowly pulls his finger back from the bowl of egg. “Fine.”

Mark blows out a breath. “Thank you. I promise you can eat them when we’re finished, but none of this is meant to be eaten on its own.”

“Okay. I’ll trust you for now.”

“Much obliged. Now put the egg in the coco flour mix.”

Donghyuck pours the egg in and then sticks his finger in and licks it.

“Donghyuck!”

He bursts into laughter, and for a moment Mark forgets where he is, what he’s doing.

Donghyuck’s laughter is high pitched, his smile bright and blinding like sudden sun from behind heavy clouds. His face scrunches up, youthful and full of mischief and joy.

He’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful anyway, but when he smiles he’s more than beautiful. He’s something else entirely, something beautiful and happy, something alight, something shining and golden that Mark can’t look away from. Something precious that deserves more laughter, more teasing, more smiling. More from life than this.

Mark sticks his finger in the mixture and wipes it across Donghyuck’s face.

For a moment there’s silence.

Donghyuck stares at Mark, shocked still, staring at him, smile gone.

Then it comes back, bigger. “Oh,” he says sweetly. “Are we playing a game now? I’m good at games.” He picks up a handful of flower and raw egg and throws it at Mark’s face.

Mark chokes on the powder and wipes the egg white from his eyebrows, blinking. “Did you seriously just throw that at me?”

Donghyuck’s smile slips. “I thought-“

Mark grabs the tub of coco powder and upends it over Donghyuck’s copper hair, cackling.

Donghyuck shakes his head and sends a cloud of chocolate brown dust into the air. “Mark,” he says slowly. “You’ll regret that.”

Mark isn’t sure when the milk was poured down his back, or when he managed to crack another three eggs against Donghyuck’s forehead and chest, because he can’t remember the exact moments. What he can remember is wrestling on the slippery tile of the kitchen floor, Donghyuck fiery hot above him one moment, then below him the next, laughing continuously as ingredients are rubbed into their skin, warming beneath their palms and soaking through their clothes. Mark remembers laughing, remembers hearing laughter, remembers the sensation of egg shell against his skin and wet fingers rubbing butter into his hair.

He remembers the way he showered afterwards and came back to find Donghyuck still covered in flour but the kitchen sparkling clean, a new batch of ingredients on the countertop waiting to be used. “I promise I’ll be good this time,” Donghyuck says with big, innocent eyes.

Mark nods. “Me too.”

So they make cupcakes, and this time they go almost well. They nearly burn, and there’s definitely bits of egg shell in a couple, but Donghyuck concentrates so hard when he’s icing them, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he swirls the piping bag.

When he stares expectantly as Mark takes a mediocre bite of crunchy shell and overcooked cake, Mark feels something give in his chest crumble away, leaving something new and fragile exposed to the light for the first time. He groans with his mouth full and rubs his stomach. “These are the best cupcakes ever, dude. Seriously, did you put some magic in these? They’re amazing!”

Donghyuck smiles so wide that his face squashes up beneath the volume of his cheeks, and that fragile thing in Mark’s chest grows a little flower. “Are they good?”

“Yeah man, they’re great! You want one?”

“Maybe later,” Donghyuck says, staring at the cupcake. “I’m glad you like them though. Thank you for making them with me.”

“Thank you,” Mark says. “It was fun.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says quietly. His smile dims to something smaller, something comfortable and gently happy. “It was really fun.”

A couple of hours later, some shitty horror films that made Donghyuck giggle out of the way, Mark is shown to one of the doors in the little cottage and finds a cosy room with a single bed and a huge bookcase.

“You can sleep here for as long as you need to,” Donghyuck says.

Mark wanders around the small space. There’s no dust, but the room feels unused all the same, like it’s stood empty for a very long time. “Thank you,” he says. “This isn’t your bed, is it? I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed.”

“No, this isn’t my room,” Donghyuck says from the doorway. “Jaehyun created it for his friend, and I’ve kept it here.”

Mark spins to look at him. “Jaehyun? Jaehyun lived here?”

“Yes. He lived here for a long time.” Donghyuck’s small hand on the doorframe curls tight for a second and then loosens, arm dropping back to his side. “But he doesn’t live here anymore. I do now. Goodnight, Mark. I hope your dreams within this dream are pleasant.”

The door is closed before Mark can think of something to reply with.

He walks to the small window and stares outside.

The dirt is a deep brown, as plain as it has been every other time Mark had found the cottage. Beyond the crumbling walls, the fog blocks the view of the rest of the world, a mercy of sorts. If Mark knew what was out there beyond the walls he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Donghyuck?” he calls.

There’s a moment of silence, and then through the wall comes a muffled knock. “I’m here,” Donghyuck says. His voice is quiet, distant through the stone, but hearing it on the other side of the bedroom wall brings Mark comfort all the same.

He walks to the wall the bed is against and knocks back. “I’m here too,” he says.

There’s another quiet moment.

“I’m glad,” Donghyuck says.

“Me too,” Mark whispers, too quiet to be heard through the stone.

It feels like a dream.

It is a dream, really. Mark knows he could wake up in his own bed at any moment, overtired and disorientated.

But this – it’s real too.

Donghyuck is real.

Mark wakes up, he showers, he has toast for his breakfast. Donghyuck stumbles out of his own room, hair mused, and asks what Mark wants to do for the day. At random, Mark picks something from the top of his head that he thinks Donghyuck will like, as long as it means they can stay on his land. One day it’s teaching him basketball, another day it’s gaming on an old PC monitor, the games of Mark’s childhood, outdated and slow but just as fun as they always were. Mark has lunch, Donghyuck watches him eat it, but rejects the offer to try any. The same happens for dinner, then they watch some movies together. Donghyuck questions certain aspects, such as the colour of a woman’s hair, the way two men kiss, the reason behind a child’s loud tears. Mark does his best to answer. They go to their respective beds and knock on the wall between their rooms. Mark sleeps, dreamless, and wakes to another morning of fog and quiet, and does it all again.

Then one day, while Donghyuck is practicing his shooting skills with the basketball and the hoop now bracketed to the side of the cottage, the air moves.

The ball slips from his hands and thuds to the ground, and he turns to Mark with big, black eyes. “Go inside, Mark.”

Immediately Mark panics. “Huh?” he squeaks. “Are you okay?”

“Go inside.”

Mark runs inside, but leaves the door open a crack, peering out to where Donghyuck stands. His heart is beating unsteadily, and the air is getting hotter and hotter, like the ground beneath them is volcanic, like something is going to erupt.

The gate creaks, and Donghyuck moves in front of the house in a protective stance. “What do you want?”

“I’m just here to check on you. I promised Jungwoo I’d make sure you were alive, and yes, here you are, alive and well. Now I can go.”

Mark –

Mark knows that voice.

He pushes the door open. “Ten?”

Ten looks at Mark, eyes widening in shock.

The air begins to burn.

“Mark? What are you doing here?”

“I travel when I dream,” he says faintly. “Johnny never told you?”

Ten keeps staring. “You – you shouldn’t be here. Do you know how dangerous this place is? How much could hurt you – how much he could hurt you?”

“Shut up.” Donghyuck’s voice comes out cold and disjointed. “Shut up and leave.”

“Haechan-“

“That’s not my name!”

The air begins to redden Mark’s skin, and he watches in horror as the back of his hands start to burn.

“Donghyuck,” Ten says, softer, placating, begging – “Donghyuck listen to me, you know you can’t keep a human here. You know it isn’t safe for him, or for you. You know that. He needs to leave.”

“I’m keeping him safe,” Donghyuck says. His fingers twitch, and beneath the dirt steam begins to rise, scorching and suffocating. “If he were out there he’d be dead already, he’d be gone, but he’s with me and I won’t hurt him, I won’t let anything hurt him.”

“Jaehyun said that too,” Ten whispers. “But something always happens. This land isn’t made for creatures like Mark; it’s made for creatures like us.”

“Leave,” Donghyuck hisses.

“Let me take Mark with me,” Ten says, holding out a hand. “Jungwoo can send him back to his land, back to his home – that’s the kindest thing to do, Donghyuck. Let me take him home.”

“Why do you want me to be alone!” Donghyuck screams.

“Donghyuck!” Mark calls, skin starting to rise, to blister- “It’s too hot!”

The temperature drops immediately, and Mark’s breath shudders from his body. His skin is red, but he hasn’t bled. Major sunburn maybe, but that’s better than cooking alive.

When he looks up, Donghyuck is staring at him with watery eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“He needs to go home,” Ten says, gentle but firm.

“Nothing would happen even if you could move me,” Mark finds himself saying, much to the shock of himself and those around him. “I’m dream travelling, so if you go back to my world I’ll be there, just asleep. I wouldn’t make it back; I just have to wait until I wake up.”

“I’ll tell Johnny,” Ten says, walking backwards. “He’ll be able to save you.”

“No – don’t tell Johnny! Please don’t tell him!”

“Why?”

“He gave me sleeping tablets. If he realises I’m trapped here he’ll never forgive himself,” Mark says, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, I’m fine here with Donghyuck, he hasn’t hurt me, he’s nice. He’s protecting me from the other things out there that try to hurt me. Don’t tell Johnny, please. I’ll wake up soon. I’ll be back soon.”

Ten stares at him, eyes dark. “I’ll speak to Jungwoo and see what he says. You can stay here for now.”

Then he’s gone.

Mark breathes out slowly and drags his hands through his hair. “Thank god,” he mumbles. After a moment of silence, he looks up to find Donghyuck still staring at him. Tears are streaming down his face, turning his cheeks ruddy and his nose pink.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “Mark, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey hey hey!” Mark stumbles forward, towards Donghyuck, still panicked and hurt but more worried about the flow of tears than anything else. He puts his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulders and squeezes. “It’s okay – hey! Donghyuck, look at me, I’m okay!”

“I hurt you.”

“But I’ll live.”

“I hurt you, Mark. I promised I wouldn’t but I did,” Donghyuck sobs.

“Jeno broke my arm when we were seven,” Mark spits out, unthinking. “We were messing around and we climbed this tree, and a bee stung him and he kicked out and caught me in the chest and I fell out, and I broke my arm. It hurt so much, and I couldn’t stop screaming, but Jeno cried even more than I did, because he knew he’d hurt me. I didn’t blame him then, and I don’t blame him now, even though I had to wear an itchy cast for weeks. It was an accident. Sometimes accidents happen, and that’s unavoidable. You didn’t mean to hurt me, right?”

Donghyuck shakes his head, a tear dripping from the end of his nose.

Mark blows out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and tightens his hold on Donghyuck’s shoulders. He feels fragile beneath Mark’s hands, delicate in a way Mark has never realised. Vulnerable. “Donghyuck, you hurt me, but you didn’t mean to do it. Accidents happen. I forgive you, so it’s time to forgive yourself.”

“I burn everything,” Donghyuck says. He looks up with his dark, watery eyes, and for a brief second looks older than Mark, older than anything. Timeless, frozen and ageless and unmoving. “I’m sorry, Mark. Sometimes I can’t stop the fire, and then I burn everything.”

They go back inside, and it feels like the first time Mark had entered the cottage. He sits on the sinking couch and Donghyuck curls himself into the armchair. They sit together in tense silence while Donghyuck’s tears dry and Mark gathers the courage to ask all the questions he should have asked a long time ago.

“Will you tell me?” he asks.

“Tell you what?”

“About this place. About yourself.”

Donghyuck nods slowly, eyes on the floor. “I owe it to you now, don’t I? I can’t hide from it anymore.”

Mark swallows. “You know Jaehyun?”

“No, I don’t. He lived here before me.”

“But you never met?”

“The land needs someone to guide it. Jaehyun was here before me, and when he left, the land created me. It needed someone to take the place of the fae that left, and I was born.”

“But Jaehyun’s been with us for like, a year. You’re telling me you’re a year old?”

Donghyuck’s eyes flash. “I’ve told you before that time is different here. I don’t know how old I am, but I was born like this, grown, whole – maybe to make up for lost time. I was born like this and I’ve been here for what feels like decades. It might have been a year for you, for Jaehyun, but it has already been a lifetime for me.”

“Sorry,” Mark says, cowed. “I’m just – I’m just trying to understand. This is a lot. I don’t know why I never considered that because you knew of Jaehyun you would know Ten.”

“I don’t like him,” Donghyuck spits. “I don’t like him at all.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t understand what it feels like to be struck here, but he preaches like he does. Like he knows how I feel, what I want – he doesn’t understand anything. He’s part of the water, he’s fluid, and I’m not. I’m tied to the earth here. I can’t travel, I can’t run away, I can’t meet people and make friends and find myself another home because this is it. This is what I’ll always have.”

“You can’t know that. Jaehyun left, didn’t he?”

“He was stronger than me. Older. More experienced. It will be a long, long time before I have the strength to be able to survive being ripped from the land like Jaehyun was, and even then, why would I go? I don’t know anyone. I don’t even know how it feels to have the sun shine on my skin.”

Mark wants to cry, wants to gather Donghyuck to his chest, wants to run as far away as he can. “You know me,” he says.

“If I waited until I was strong enough to go, you would be dead of old age if nothing else. If I tried to leave now, I would die and another fae would grow in my place. I don’t want that. I don’t want someone else to wake up buried in the earth knowing they exist because someone else was trying to escape.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark whispers. “Donghyuck, I’m sorry.”

“Why? It isn’t your fault.”

“But it shouldn’t be like this.”

“Maybe it should.” Donghyuck stands, makes his way to the kitchen and turns the kettle on. “We can’t really know, can we? Maybe I was made to be alone.”

This is so beyond anything Mark has ever had to deal with. He feels helpless on a level he’s never known, not scared, just heartbroken. He stands, and as he walks towards where Donghyuck is making mugs of tea as steadily as he always does, Mark unclasps his cloud charm necklace. He taps on Donghyuck’s shoulder, and when the boy turns around, Mark fastens the silver around his neck.

“You’re not alone,” Mark says. “You know me.”

Donghyuck raises a reverent hand to the cloud charm, stroking the warm metal. “What is this?”

“My necklace. Johnny got me it when my gift first came through, as congratulations, I guess. I never take it off.”

“So... why have you put it on me?”

“To remind you that when you think you’re alone, you know me.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, staring at Mark, unblinking. After a long moment he looks down, and his cheekbones are flushed a gentle pink. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Mark says. “Wanna go back outside and play some more basketball?”

Donghyuck nods. It isn’t one of his smiles, but it’s getting there, so Mark smiles widely enough for both of them.

They go to bed much later that night, after spending unending hours watching movies. Horrors to make Donghyuck laughs, shitty action films to make him scoff, romantic comedies to make him smile. He leans his head against Mark’s shoulder half way through the second film, and Mark doesn't shove him off. They stay like that, two bodies sinking into the couch, pressed together against one side. Donghyuck is almost unbearably warm, but it’s nice.

“Thank you for the necklace,” Donghyuck says as they go to bed. He smiles at Mark, small and earnest.

“You’re welcome,” Mark says, trying not to fall in love. “Thank you for the company.”

“You’re welcome,” Donghyuck says.

Mark knocks on the wall three times before he climbs into bed, and after a few seconds Donghyuck knocks back.

He opens his eyes to streaming sunlight and knows he’s back in his own bed, and that Donghyuck is alone again.

“Hey dude! How’d you sleep with the p- Mark? Where are you going?”

“Sorry gotta see Renjun talk later!” Mark stumbles into his sneakers and runs out of the house, down the street under the heat of the morning sun, against the bite of the fresh morning air, and keeps running. He runs until his lungs burn, until his calves are screaming, until he reaches Renjun’s door and knocks loudly enough to wake half the street.

Renjun opens the door with bleary eyes. “You’re lucky my parents are still away, my mother would have beat your ass for being so loud.” He pauses. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

Mark tries to speak past his exhausted panting. “Can – can you ring the guys? I need you – I need your help.”

“Of course,” Renjun says, opening the door. “Come in.”

Unsurprisingly, Chenle is the first to get confused.

“So... he’s stuck in the earth? Like a tree?”

“He can move, he’s just bound to that land. He’s not planted in one spot.”

“So if he can move, what’s the problem?”

“He can’t come here; he’s not strong enough for that.”

“Why can’t he make friends in his own world?”

Mark stares. “I mean, just going off personal experience, they’ll try and eat him.”

“Oh. Man, that sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“So?” Renjun asks, raising his brows. “It sucks, yeah, but what do you want to do about it?”

“It’s only been a morning here, but it’s probably been days for Donghyuck,” Mark says, chewing the skin on his thumb. “Weeks of nothing. I want him to come here, to make friends and have a family and live.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mark admits. “That’s why I wanted you guys here with me. You’ll help me come up with something, right?”

“Yes,” Jaemin says immediately.

“Of course we will,” Jeno adds.

Jisung and Chenle nod enthusiastically.

When everyone turns to Renjun, he sighs. “You know we’ll help. We always do. Just – I don’t know how much we can do, Mark. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment, okay? We’re only human, and we don’t even know what Donghyuck is.”

“He’s a dangerous creature,” Mark says. “He’s lonely. He’s my friend.”

“Then he’s our problem in law,” Jaemin says. “Our problem through the bonds of marriage?”

“Why don’t we just say we’ll help and see what happens,” Jeno suggests, patting Jaemin’s knee. “Someone get Nana some coffee, he’s in withdrawal and he’s completely useless like this.”

Jaemin sighs. “Yeah, I am. Our problem once removed?”

Renjun throws one of Taeil’s books at him. “Get reading, idiot. Save our ears from this stupidity and I’ll make some drinks.”

It’s no more than a couple of hours later that Renjun throws a book again, this time at the wall. “None of this shit makes any sense!” he complains. “Everything talks about sacrifice which is all well and good, but sacrifice what? It’s all in riddles and metaphor, nothing just says hey do this and you’ll find a fae or hey do this and you can bring your friend’s boyfriend into our world.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s your issue with what I just said?”

“No,” Mark says miserably. “You’re right; I don’t understand any of these stupid books.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit defeat,” Jeno says quietly. At Mark’s alarmed look, he clarifies. “I don’t mean give up; I mean admit that we can’t do this alone. You should talk to Johnny.”

“Jaehyun,” Mark breathes. “Ten. Why haven’t I just talked to them?”

“Why would they matter?”

“Because they’re fae – I’m such an idiot!”

Jaemin blinks. “Excuse me. They’re what?”

“Oh.” Mark looks at everyone’s wide eyes and feels himself going pink. “I, uh. Forgot to tell you. Oops.”

“Oops?”

“I’m... sorry?”

“Right,” Renjun says, grim faced. “Ring Johnny. Jeno, ring Doyoung. I’ll ring Taeil. Jaemin, if you have Taeyong’s number, ring him too. We’ll see who we can talk to and what we can do, and we’ll do it now, before I have a spare moment and decide to bounce Mark’s fat head off the floor. Oops. Oops! Come on!”

“I can ring Taeyong,” Jaemin says nervously. “Let’s not fight, shall we? Donghyuck might be mad if you kill his boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

Johnny and Taeil arrive at Renjun’s house in their separate cars, stone faced and silent until Taeil sighs, looking at the five boys stood in the doorway, arms full of stolen books.

“Alright, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, Jisung, you guys are with me. Climb in.”

“Oh dear,” Renjun murmurs. “Can I walk?”

Johnny glares, arms folded across his chest. “In the back, Renjun. Mark, you’re shotgun. We’re going to Doyoung and Taeyong’s house, and you have a lot of explaining to do on the journey.”

“Where’s Jaehyun?” Mark asks.

“He’s already there, talking with the others. Ten is there too. We’re all waiting for an explanation.”

“Am I grounded?”

Johnny blinks. “You’re twenty years old Mark, of course you’re not grounded.”

“Oh.” He hesitates. “Then are you mad at me?”

“Furious.”

“Oh,” he says again, more contrite this time. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny hums and climbs into the car. “You will be. Get in.”

It feels like facing a council that are judging Mark’s fate.

As soon as they’re all herded into Doyoung’s neat living room and sat on the floor in a line, Ten starts laughing. “They look like we’re going to eat them. Are we?”

“No,” Taeyong says immediately. “No eating people, we’ve talked about this.”

Ten smiles at Jisung. “But this one looks so tasty.”

Jisung blanches. “Please don’t eat me!”

Doyoung rubs a hand down his face. “This is too much. Ten, shut up. Jisung, no one is going to eat you. Jeno, I thought you would have told me about something like this.”

Jeno looks down, abashed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I was just trying to be a good friend to Mark.”

“And you, Mark? Do you have any idea what kind of dangerous game you’ve been playing?”

He shakes his head. “Donghyuck is dangerous, yeah, but he isn’t like that. He isn’t evil.”

“No,” Ten says, “He’s not. He’s an immature child who doesn’t understand his own power yet, and that’s just as dangerous as if he held bad intentions. Mark, I was telling you the truth when I said you couldn’t stay there. You saw what happened when he got upset.”

Johnny sighs. “I – I really don’t know what to say, Mark. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

“You already worry so much,” Mark whispers, “You worry about my sleep and my eating habits and my friends and everything, and I didn’t want you to have to worry about me for something else. I’m sorry Johnny; I just didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

“You’re not a burden Mark, you’re my brother!”

“I’m sorry.”

Johnny shakes his head again, face pinched. “I take it back. You’re so fucking grounded.”

Taeil puts a hand on his thigh and squeezes. “Do you remember when Doyoung first came back from visiting Jaehyun? We all worried so much, and he came back healthier and happier than he had been in months. And then Taeyong too – the way he smiles around Ten, we’ve never seen that before. Just because the place is bad doesn’t mean that all of the creatures there are, right? And Mark is young, but he’s smart, too. He isn’t the idiot he thinks he is. If he says Donghyuck is a good person, I believe him. He’s your brother, Johnny. You should believe him too.”

“Can’t I believe him and be angry at the same time?”

“Yes, but dial it back a bit. They’ve come to us for help, not to be lectured into next week.”

Jaehyun, who had been silent through it all, finally speaks. “Mark. You mentioned Donghyuck to me a couple of nights ago. This is the same boy? The friend you’d made in an odd place?”

Mark nods.

“I see. What’s he like?”

“He’s – he’s funny. He’s childish and immature, yeah, but he’s a lot of fun. He makes me laugh a lot, and he laughs a lot too. He has a quick temper, but he’s also quick to calm down. He’s lonely, Jaehyun. He’s so lonely, and the cottage is so neat, so tidy and perfect, and I think he’s kept it exactly like you created it just in case you come back. I think he’s waiting for someone to come along and stay. I think he’s waiting for a family.”

“And the gardens?”

“Gone,” Ten says. “I told you that before. He burnt the gardens a long time ago, when he read the books you wrote in and realised you’d left your land because of love, and that he wouldn’t ever understand what that felt like. He’s a vindictive boy.”

Doyoung scrapes his hands through his hair. “This is a lot to take in. Has anyone spoken to Jungwoo?”

“Jungwoo?” Mark asks, perking up. “Donghyuck and Ten mentioned a Jungwoo.”

“He’s another fae, one from the sky.”

“He cares for Donghyuck,” Ten says. “Admittedly more than I do, because Donghyuck doesn’t try and set him on fucking fire like he does every time I try to help.”

“Jungwoo might know what we can do,” Taeyong murmurs. “He’s clever, isn’t he? And so kind. He’ll help if he can.”

“The longer we leave it the longer Donghyuck is stuck there alone,” Mark interjects, unhappy.

“I know,” Jaehyun says, “But we can’t rush something like this, Mark. Donghyuck is one person in a sea of creatures that only know how to hunger, to hunt. You need to be careful. There are so many wicked things in the mist, waiting with outstretched hands.”

“Then we need to get him out of there!”

“Of course we do,” Jaehyun says. “But we need to know how to make sure he lives through it.”

“Do you kids want to stay for dinner?” Taeyong offers. “I can order takeout.”

“Chicken!” Chenle yells. “Please!”

And for a while they’re distracted by eating, by passing plates and cutlery around the circle, by meaningless chatter that fills the awkward silence.

Mark kicks Johnny’s shin. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m really sorry.”

Johnny looks down at him and sighs, reaching out to smack the back of Mark’s head. “I know.”

Mark blinks his eyes open and sees fog, a moonless night, and the most stunningly perfect looking man he’s ever seen. “Oh.”

“Hello,” the man says. “You’re Mark?”

“Yeah,” Mark breathes. “Who’re you?”

“Jungwoo.”

“Oh, right.” Mark blinks shakes his head, looking at his surroundings for the first time. He’s not at the cottage, or in the endless fields, but he’s somewhere. Somewhere in the fog, where all he can see is grey and Jungwoo, not even the ground beneath his feet. “What’s going on?”

“Donghyuck is upset,” Jungwoo says serenely. “Your dreams tried to take you to him, but he’s blocking you out. He doesn’t want you to see him as he is, so I stopped your journey here before you could land elsewhere and find yourself in trouble. You’re well known in this land, Dreamer. You have a very powerful gift, and unruly or otherwise, it is greatly desired.”

“Can you help me?” Mark asks, only half listening. “Please? Can you let me see him?”

“I can take you to him, but I can’t promise he’ll listen.”

“That’s fine, that’s enough,” Mark says, close to begging. “Please, I just need to speak to him.”

Jungwoo nods. He holds out a hand. “Come here, Mark, and excuse the pain of the falling.”

“What?”

But Jungwoo grips Mark’s shoulder, and the land gives way beneath his feet.

He lands on soft earth with a thud, breathless and alone, and immediately starts coughing.

The air is thick, not with fog, but something else, something darker, heavier – smoke.

“Donghyuck?” he calls. “Donghyuck?”

“Mark?”

“Donghyuck, where are you?”

Small, delicate hands catch at his wrists, pulling him out of the smoke, away from the burning stench of it, and soon Mark can see again. He blinks rapidly, eyes stinging, and tries to make sense of what he sees.

The cottage is gone.

All that’s left is rubble, the charred remains of the crumbling old stone, and there, at the edge of the smoke, is the acoustic guitar Mark had asked for what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Donghyuck,” he breathes, “What have you done?”

“Do you ever feel like this?”

Mark stares at Donghyuck in the clouded light. He looks like another of Mark’s distant dreams, something insubstantial at the edges, dissipating into the smoke. “Like what?”

“Like you’re not here. Like you’re nothing. Do you feel this sensation in your chest? The pain of knowing your impact is meaningless? Maybe I made you laugh, made you cry or made you shout, but the moment you’re gone I’m alone again, and soon I’ll be forgotten. It hurts in a sharp, aching way, knowing that life moves on around me whether I walk forward or stand still, or even if I retreat backwards, scared, as if dragged by the merciless tide or the roots that bind me to the earth. I could decay here, rot into the soil, and you might consider me for a while, but life doesn’t pause. You’d forget me after no time at all, and as I already told you, all I have is time. Lifetimes of this spot, this feeling, this exact moment repeating again and again with no end in sight, only more of it to endure. No choice, no hope, no anything. Only myself and the cold ground I will return to.” He looks to the ruins of the cottage, emotionless and yet somehow so vulnerable it hurts to see. “Is this is what life is meant to be, Mark? Am I meant to be so entirely alone?”

“No,” Mark chokes out, “You’re not. You’re not alone, okay? I’m here; I won’t let you be alone.”

Donghyuck reaches up to his own neck and unclasps the necklace. He puts it in Mark’s passive hand, his touch gentle and warm. “Asking you to live like this with me would be condemning you, and you’ve been too nice to me for that. I can’t do it, Mark. I don’t want to be alone, but I want you to be alone even less.”

“Donghyuck-“

“I want you to live,” Donghyuck says. “Play basketball, go to college, plant trees and spend time with your friends. I want you to dream. I want you to travel the worlds and meet your birth mother and get your many questions answered.”

“Donghyuck-“

“Don’t come back,” he whispers. “The fire is too strong. I’ll burn you alive.”

He wakes up to Johnny shaking his shoulder. The sky is dark outside, and everyone is slouched across the Doyoung and Taeyong’s furniture, asleep and snoring. Everyone except Johnny.

“Hey,” he whispers gently. “Mark. What happened? Where did you go?”

“Donghyuck’s burnt it all down,” Mark replies, thinking of the ruins. “It’s all gone. He’s all alone now, he doesn’t have anyone, anything. It’s just him and the empty, dead land.”

Johnny sighs and gathers Mark to his chest, wiping away the tears he hadn’t known he was crying. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure out something.”

Mark nods and clenches his hands, feeling the warm chain of his necklace against his palm. Warm from Donghyuck’s skin, from the heat of the flames. “We have to help him.”

“We will.”

“You promise?”

Johnny laughs gently. “I’m no fae, promises don’t bind me.”

“But you’re my brother. That binds you.”

“You’re right.” Johnny hugs him tighter for a second. “I promise.”

Mark, Renjun, Jaemin, Jeno, Chenle, and Jisung are sent out of the house the following morning, once the crowd starts to become too much for Doyoung and make him snappy.

“Go for a walk, pick up some snacks or something,” Taeil says, shoving a handful of notes into Jeno’s hand. “I had a vision when I woke up though, don’t go to West Street, there’s going to be a sewage leak and if you come back to the house stinking Doyoung will kill you.”

Jaemin salutes weakly and herds the others away from the door, down and out into the mild sunshine. “It’s a nice day for a walk, isn’t it?”

Chenle hums, swinging his arms. “It would be a shame to be inside all day.”

Mark fiddles with the necklace back around his own neck and stares up at the sun until his eyes start to burn, until Renjun nudges him with his skinny shoulder.

“Did you see him last night?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, voice rough. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I did. He’s not... well. He’s so unhappy, Renjun. He’s so alone.”

Jeno puts an arm around Mark’s back and smiles his reassuring little smile, eyes curving up at the edges. “We’ll fix it, Mark. Don’t worry, okay? We’re going to help.”

Mark nods, a little weak. “Thanks guys.”

“You’d do the same for us,” Jisung says. “Think of all the times you’ve helped us. When Renjun got stuck in that bog, when Jaemin summoned that weird half dead squirrel that tried to mate with him, when Chenle’s parents couldn’t make it to his football game and you took us all, when my dance recital got cancelled and I was stuck without a ride and you walked over with pizza – when Jeno pushed you out of that tree and broke your arm and all you said to your parents was that you fell because of a bee – you always help us, Mark. Of course we’re going to help.”

“Wow,” Jaemin says. “That’s the most you’ve ever said at once.”

Jisung flushes. “Shut up.”

“Thanks guys,” Mark says again, leaning over to squeeze the lobe of Jisung’s ear. “I mean it, I really do. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Chenle says. “You’re always gonna be welcome.”

They walk past the park, and it takes a moment for Mark to realise the faint squawking isn’t pigeons, but is actually Yukhei flailing in their direction from the swings. “Guys!”

Renjun scowls. “Don’t make me go over there.”

“Hey Xuxi!” Jaemin calls. “Stay there, we’ll come to you!”

“I fucking detest you, Na Jaemin.”

“I love you too, my little angry man.”

Yukhei gets up at their approach, sweeping Mark into a hug first before hugging each of the other guys in turn, saving Renjun last for a long hug that turns Renjun red and Yukhei’s smile beaming. “It’s been so long! How’re you guys doing? How’s your summer?”

“It’s okay thanks,” Mark says weakly. He waves at Kunhang and Yangyang, who are swinging slowly while Yangyang practices some kind of Tiktok dance. “Hey guys.”

“Hi,” Kunhang says. “What’re you up to?”

Jeno shrugs. “Walking. You know how it is. Long summer days are made for burning calories or something.”

Yangyang frowns. “That sounds like something Kun would say while he’s listening to Selena Gomez on the treadmill. Ew.”

Before Jeno can become indignant, Jaemin cuts in smoothly with, “Where’s Dejun and Sicheng?”

“Out with Yuta and Kun. They decided on a fun day of hiking along the beach.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Yangyang stares. “Do I look like I’d want to go for a morning hike?”

“Fair enough,” Jaemin says faintly. “Okay, well we better keep going. Come on guys.”

“Wait, Mark!” Yukhei calls out, catching his arm. “I shouted at you for a reason, can I have a second?”

“Sure,” Mark says, confused. He allows himself to be pulled slightly away, and when Yukhei bends down a little and puts his head close, the confusion only deepens. Yukhei is too loud and excitable for secrets. “Dude, you’re freaking me out. What’s up?”

“So you know my gift is linked to the weather, right? And how sometimes during the summer I have too much energy and get sunstroke even if I’m indoors, and it sucks pretty bad but at the same time like it’s super dope because I’ve got so much to do and experience and I get so excited about the possibilities-“

“Xuxi.”

“Oh, sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Anyway, I got sunstroke yesterday after playing in the back yard with my aunts dogs, and I actually passed out! It sucked, right? And I have a weird rash on my shoulders now, which is super itchy and still sucks real bad. But while I was completely unconscious it felt like I was floating in the sky which I guess is linked to my gift, and some guy was kind of floating next to me, and he was really pretty, which was nice, and his voice was all soft. He said he had a message for you that I needed to pass along this morning.”

“Wh...” Mark’s mind slows and speeds up. “What was his name? Jungwoo?”

“Yeah, that was it! And he said to tell you that sacrifice means what you make of it.”

“What?”

“That’s it man, that’s all he said. Then I asked if he was real and he said yes and I asked if he’d want to go for a seafood dinner with me and he laughed and I woke up with the dogs drooling all over me. It was pretty weird, but I thought I should tell you.”

Sacrifice is what you make of it.

‘How do we contact fae?”

‘It’s easy. We just need a sacrifice!’

Mark turns to Jaemin. “Dude can you lead us back to that fire pit we were at last week? Where you cooked that liver?”

Jaemin looks up from where he’s poking ants with a stick, brows high. “Sure man. Now?”

“Yeah, now,” Mark says. “I think I know how to summon a fae.”

Yukhei blinks. “Sorry, what?”

They make it back by midday, when the sun is high in the sky and the canopy of green leaves shines gold.

“We need a fire,” Mark says.

Chenle cheers. “We humble stick gatherers have found our purpose once more! Come, Jisung, let us fulfill the prophecy!”

Jaemin watches them go fondly. “It feels like years since we were last here, not days.” He looks at Mark. “It must feel even longer for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, kneeling down to touch the warm earth, wondering if out there, Donghyuck is doing something similar. “It feels like a lifetime.”

Chenle runs back and dumps armfuls of sticks into the firepit. “Jaemin, we need your boy scout fire starting skills! Or... Renjun, your arsonist fire starting skills.”

“I vote Jaemin,” Mark says immediately.

Renjun huffs but takes a step back. “Fine, have it the boring way.”

So they all stand back while Jaemin works his overcaffeinated magic and gets a small but steady fire growing in the midst of their stick pile, prodding and poking until it stands taller, stronger, closer to a real fire than just a flame.

Jaemin sits back on his haunches and looks up at Mark. “So, what do we do now? I don’t have any liver or kidneys this time.”

“That’s okay,” Mark says, unclasping the necklace from his throat. “You have to sacrifice something that you value, I think. We’ll see how it works.”

“Your necklace? Didn't Johnny get that for you?”

“Yeah,” Mark says, staring at the fire. “And I gave it to Donghyuck, but he gave it back.”

“You’re sacrificing your necklace?”

“Not just that,” Mark whispers, dropping the chain into the flames. “Something else too.”

For a moment he thinks something has gone wrong, that nothing has happened – that everything has happened – because the flames stop moving. He turns, confused, to find Jaemin the same, staring unblinking with wide eyes, Renjun to, Jeno and Jisung and Chenle – all motionless.

“Oh boy,” Mark says. “Fuck.”

“That’s very impolite,” someone says.

Mark turns toward the voice, but the figure he sees is mostly hidden behind a tree. What he can see is tall, peering from one yellow eye at Mark, and it looks greedy. Gluttonous.

“Oh boy,” Mark says again, dread as thick as molasses in his blood. “Uh, hi. I’m Mark? Nice to meet you.”

“The Dreamer,” the creature says, “Summoning something in my forest. What is it you want, I wonder?”

“Do... do you know Donghyuck?”

“All of us know the child of fire. If he weren’t so vicious he would have been killed by now, but even the eldest of us are struggling against his temper. Clever child, he knows how to use his flames.”

Mark nods, uncomprehending. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“A deal with me? How exciting. What is it you want?”

“I want Donghyuck here. I want him human, and alive, and here. I want him here.”

“You want the child here? Fae crossing worlds is never easy, never mind for something like him, something so small and vulnerable and rooted to the ground. What makes you think I could do it?”

“If you can’t, something else can,” Mark says, forcing courage into his voice. “With what I’m offering, something has to have the power to do it.”

“And... what is it exactly you’re offering?”

‘I have questions. I hope one day I can get answers.’

‘Your dreams know the way now.’

‘Everyone says they want peace, but they don’t want it, not really, not deeply.’

“My gift,” he says. “My dreams.”

The creature’s eye widens. “The Dreamer wants to sacrifice his dreams? Oh, the beauty of your soul, little one. For a creature so undeserving, too. Are you sure, child? Once I gobble you up I can’t spit you back out.”

Mark nods. “You can have my gift if I can have Donghyuck, alive and whole. Human and here.”

“I’ll have to destroy the land,” the creature says, its fingers dancing along the spine of the tree. “Oh, that will hurt the boy, and I might need help, but if we don’t destroy the land then another like him will grow in his place... oh, the beauty of it all. I’ll have so much fun. And your gift will taste so delicious, how powerful I’ll grow...”

“Bring me Donghyuck and you can have it all,” Mark says. “But you have to swear it.”

The creature holds out one hand, fingers splayed as moss crawls beneath its mouldering skin. “I swear it.”

Mark clasps his hand and shakes. “I swear it.”

“Then wait here, little human. I’ll see if I can rip him from his land and leave him alive.”

Mark’s heart stops. “What do you mean you’ll see-“

He’s knocked to his knees as something hits him, like his head is being cleaved open and things are pouring in, being sucked out, memories and dreams and things that haven't happened yet vanishing too quickly for him to focus on.

A beach.

A wedding, somewhere hot with a faceless bride, her features scribbled out by the cruel hand of fate, doomed to be faceless now forever.

A child, maybe more, running around Mark’s feet.

Faceless children, faceless family.

A woman on the beach, faceless, but with Mark’s hands, his hair, his build, his jaw and the shape of his smile but faceless –

Opportunities lost.

Dreams yet to be dreamed, lands yet to be traveled, memories yet to be made, never to be found, lost in a future Mark has sacrificed.

The pain stops, and Mark’s vision slowly clears.

Behind him, Jeno gasps. “Mark. Mark, is that him?”

He looks up blindly, and there, just a few meters away –

Donghyuck.

Donghyuck, tears on his face, staring up through the leaves to the sun beyond, shining golden light down to his golden face. He looks down slowly and meets Mark’s eyes. “What have you done?” he asks. “What have you sacrificed for this?”

Mark climbs to his feet, breathless, as high as a kite, as free as a bird, as happy as he’ll ever be. “Nothing,” he admits breathlessly. “I gave up nothing.”

“You sacrificed your dreaming. What about your birth mother? Your travelling? Your family?”

“I traveled,” Mark says, holding out his arms. “I found my family.”

Donghyuck runs to him, shoving his face into Mark’s neck, sobbing thank you thank you thank you over and over until Jaemin comes from behind and wraps them both up, and then Chenle joins, and Jisung and Jeno and Renjun until all seven are wrapped into one tight embrace, tears and laughter mingling as Donghyuck leans his face up towards the sunlight and breathes it in.

“We need to discuss semantics now,” Renjun mumbles against Jeno’s shoulder. “He needs ID. He needs a place to live.”

“Oh,” Mark says, thinking back, thinking hard.

‘Tell Mark that if he needs a home mine is open.’

“Taeil,” he breathes. “He can live with Taeil.”

“Who is Taeil?” Donghyuck asks, eyes still shining. He looks human now, but his eyes are the same, dark and endless and hopeful.

“He’s my brother’s best friend,” Mark says. “He’s very kind. You’ll love him.”

“I’ll love him,” Donghyuck echoes. “Like I love you?”

Mark laughs, nervous. “Maybe not like that. Hopefully, anyway, but there’s a lot left for you to see and do before you make any decisions on the topic.”

“There is?”

“There’s a whole world for you to see, Donghyuck. So many suns. And when you come back, we’ll be here.”

“Fuck yeah we will,” Chenle interjects excitedly. “That’s what family is for.”

Donghyuck pulls his eyes away from the sky and meets Mark’s gaze. “You mean it? Family?”

“I mean it,” Mark says. He thinks of Ten’s sharp smiles, Jaehyun’s peaceful happiness, and Donghyuck’s bright, echoing laughter. Of Johnny’s charm, of Doyoung’s rigid growth, of Taeil’s quiet humour, Taeyong’s starry kindness. Of Renjun’s quick tongue, of Jeno’s passive care, Jaemin’s happy smiles, Chenle’s excited squeals, Jisung’s centred focus. He thinks of Donghyuck’s laughter again, and how it suits them all. How it will bounce off the trees and travel the length of fields, climb the side of buildings and warm Mark’s chest, make flowers blossom in even the darkest recesses. “I mean it, Donghyuck. You don’t have to be scared here, you’re not alone anymore. You can grow. You can bloom.”

“I can bloom here?” Donghyuck smiles, soft and bright like a sunrise in winter, gently warming the land. “I think I will.”

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EDIT: per request I have finally gotten a twitter so you can find me at @mntsnflrs if you wanna chat! Please don't be mean I am a pisces and I will cry. thank u xo

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Fire and Dreams

Mntsnflrs

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