AndreiMasaki's imagine is finally done. Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!
You feel his heat and see him in front of you. He hasn't changed, still the exact same angel you stumbled upon a year ago, with his soft brown fringe just over his eyebrows and large brown eyes that capture the definition of innocence so well.
Tentatively, you reach a hand out, and it meets smooth skin, radiating human warmth. He's real, and not just a figment of your imagination. He holds you in his arms and it's just the two of you now, together in the dusky haze of the later evening, under the pale glow of the moon and stars.
He strokes your long hair softly and you lean your head on his chest, hearing the strong, even beats of his heart. His other arm is wrapped around your waist, firmly holding you to him, as if he thinks you might abruptly leave him, vanishing before his eyes.
But you think it might be the complete opposite. He's the angel, the one who has suddenly returned to you, in the middle of the night. He would be the one disappearing, leaving no trace, and you would be the one who desperately clings to him, begging him not to leave.
The warm breeze murmurs from the open window of your apartment and washes over you, somewhat like a lullaby though it sings no sound. You're tired, fatigued, and he knows that.
"Sleep, Andy," he whispers quietly, "sleep. I'll be here in the morning."
But that is a lie.
And you know it. He'll be gone in the wan lights of dawn, leaving nothing. It's all too surreal to be true. But you're too exhausted to object, and you fall asleep, hugging him, your last thought a wish for him to stay before you slip into the unknown worlds of dreaming. Or perhaps, you're already in it.
And of course you're right. When you awaken, all that greet you are the sullen, grey sky, and the coldness of your blankets. There's no sign of him ever being here. And perhaps he wasn't. He's nothing but a dream, a coveted fancy that'll never come true.
You remove yourself from the tangled sheets and the coolness of the morning air wafts against your bare legs. The apartment is silent, but the constant tick of the clock in the other room. You strain your ears, desperately hoping that maybe he's elsewhere in the house. But the still, drowsy silence of the early hours remain steadfast, almost taunting you for being so naive.
Tears prick at your eyes, as if you had just finally admitted defeat. You've known all along, that he'd never been here, yet you were so hopeful that he had. Reality is so bitterly derisive. Despondently, you pull on your clothes and get ready for work. You shuffle into the kitchen to make breakfast but someone else is already there, cooking something with their back to you.
All that wishfulness rushes back, filling you with a new hope. "Luhan?" you ask, almost inaudibly.
He turns, and there he is. Leaning against the counter, with a white apron tied around his waist but entirely real. He smiles, a genuine smile that lights up his face, and engulfs you with his arms. You're wide awake. He's real. And this time, you're sure.
Maybe he's not nothing but a dream.
Je suis fini! I mean, j'ai fini because je suis fini means I'm dead, which I clearly am not. Alright, see you next time =)
