✧*･.Terrible Things .*:･ﾟJunhao

.6.

I walk down the street along a tree-lined path, boots pressing down on the untouched snow and creating the satisfying crunch with every step. The early morning fog has barely risen and clouds form in the air in front of my face. I never get tired of letting out sighs just to watch the condensation.

I reach the lake just a few blocks from my house, currently frozen over due to the cold winter. Still, the scenery is not a tiny bit less beautiful. After dusting off the snow that has settled on the wooden bench, I take a seat facing the water and close my eyes. Though the tips of my fingers are slightly numb and my nose has become runny, I stay. It's too serene, too comfortable, to move in spite of the weather.

"Peaceful."

My eyes fly open. I jump a little at the sudden sound. I laugh internally at the silly thought of the voice being familiar, mostly because deep down I know from where that thought had surfaced and the scars it carries with it, until I turn and nearly fall off the bench.

There he stands, as serene as the view in front of us. Black bangs peek out from underneath a white beanie, hands stuffed in the pockets of his knee-length black down jacket, and dark brown eyes looking down at me with such fondness and life as if he hadn't died ten years ago.

"Wh-what? How--?! You--?! No." I manage to say but no words can possibly articulate the utter confusion and hope and anger and pain I'm feeling. He smiles, and all thoughts, coherent or otherwise (mostly the latter), fly out the window.

"No, it isn't me. Not really, at least. I'm sorry," he apologizes as I visibly deflate, my balloon of hope punctured by his words. "I just had to see you, even if it's just a dream."

"Is it? A dream?"

"Yes."

My heart shatters in my chest. I scoot over to give him space to sit beside me, and he does. His gaze never leaves me, and I just know it's because he wants to take in every bit of me that he can while he can. I know I have aged; my cheeks have sunken in a bit, frown lines mark my forehead, and I occasionally see some grey mix themselves among the black strands of my hair. Meanwhile, Myungho hasn't aged a day. I guess, that's what death does to you.

He places a bare hand on my cheek. It's not as cold as I expected. In fact, it's quite warm and I find myself leaning into the touch. Perhaps he can control things like this in my weird dream.

"I don't want to wake up." I place a gloved hand on top of his, and he rubs his thumb on my cheek. "You have to at some point."

I laugh, bitter and soulless. "You were always the rational one. That's never been my thing."

"Jun..."

"I missed you, you asshole!" I can't stop the tears that escape my eyes, nor the invisible force that pushes me forwards and buries my face in the crook of his neck. I can't help my breathing in the scent of his clothes, the fragrance nostalgic and pulls at something in my chest. I can't control my arms that wrap themselves around his solid and warm form and my hating the fact that this is the last time I'll feel him engulf me in his embrace, and it isn't even real. I feel the dampness on my shoulder and ignore the cold that comes with it.

I hear Myungho take a shaky breath. "I-if there's one thing I want you to remember from this because people tend to forget dreams--"

"No!" I shake my head, more stubborn than determined, like a child. "I'll never forget you. Never."

Sighing, his arms release me, and his hands grip my shoulders gently. He pushes me ever-so-softly away, making me know that he doesn't want to let me go either. His eyes and nose are red. "People forget dreams. It happens."

"Not me. Not you."

"Listen to me! If there's something-- one thing-- I want you to remember from this dream, it's that everything's going to be okay. I'm okay. I'm at peace." He smiles. "It's all right to move on."

Tears find themselves threatening to fall from my eyes again. "How could you say that? No, it's not okay to let you go." I take one of his hands in both of my own and bring it to my lips.

"It's time you found peace too, and I know you know what I mean, Jun." Placing our intertwined hands on the cold wood of the bench, my gaze falls on the rolling hills far into the beyond and refuse to meet his. He brings his other hand to cup my cheek again, and I close my eyes and sigh into the feeling of being absolutely adored by this man. "Let yourself go."

I shake my head, feeling my heart clench with anguish. Something presses itself against my forehead, and I feel his even breathing fan over my face. I open my eyes and stare back at him. In this close proximity, I can see the small flecks of yellow sprinkled near his pupils and the pure sadness swimming in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. That's your kicked puppy look."

"Yeah? Well, I feel just like a kicked puppy." I giggle at his exaggerated pout. He returns the laugh, and my chest fills with butterflies.

"You're a demon, Seo Myungho."

"On the contrary, I think I'm an angel."

I smile, letting our noses brush against each other. "I've always told Eunhee that you're her guardian angel."

"I know. I saw."

We stay like this, in a comfortable silence. The cold of the winter is long forgotten as we simply relish in each other's touch, not knowing when we'll ever get this chance again. Not long after, I feel a bit light-headed. I retreat, sitting upright as my vision blurs.

"Myungho? Myungho!"

He holds my hands and squeezes tight. I focus all of my attention on him, on his warm fingers interlacing with my own. "It's fine. You're waking up."

Tears trickle down my cheeks again. I can't lose him. "No. I don't want to go yet."

"Go. Baby, it's all right."

Let yourself go.

I look up at him as everything fades into white. I see him smile, and I release my grip on his hands.

My eyes blink open, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming from the slits in ths curtains. My chest heaves up and down as I pant heavily, willing my rapid pulse to slow. There's panic-induced adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I don't quite remember why.

A shaky hand reaches up and swipes at the corners of my eye. I jump, startled at the sudden touch. I look up to see Mingming propped up on his elbow next to me, our duvet in tangles at our feet leaving both of us shivering.

He smiles, eyes turning to crescents. It's comforting. "Are you all right? You look like you saw a ghost."

There's something about that statement that makes me feel it isn't too far from the truth. I try to grasp at loose ends, doing my best to tie them together to form the missing pieces in my memory of what the hell that dream was. There is one word that I know for certain has something to do with it, his voice still ringing in my ear like an echo in a cave.

"Yeah, no, don't worry." I'm still a bit out of it, but I manage to sit up. Mingming follows suit, rubbing circles on my back. I get lost in the sensation.

"You were crying. Nightmare?" I close my eyes. I feel the remains of warm hands cupping my cheek linger on my face like a phantom itch. It tugs on my heart, and I have to forcibly gulp down a lump beginning to form in my throat. I lean to the side and rest my head on Mingming's chest. I can hear his heart beat, and it steadies me. I sigh, content.

"A wonderful dream, actually."

End.