Life is but a Dream {ChenJi} | ongoing

twelve

Jisung sits on the bed. Right on the edge, perched as though ready to leap up and run at any moment, and his fingers trace the creases in the sheets over and over again. The house is quiet. There's the occasional movement from Johnny downstairs: he makes coffee every hour and takes a break from work to watch an episode of Friends early in the afternoon. Besides Johnny, the only thing Jisung can hear is his own breathing. In, out, in, out. The harder he listens the more erratic the sound becomes. It sounds foreign, nothing like his own breath. He knows how to be quiet but can't find the knack anymore.

Not since he moved to a new house and has been the centre of attention.

He hugs his arms around his torso and, for a lingering second, can feel the remains of Taeyong's embrace, the gentle tickle of his pink hair on his forehead, can smell the sweet perfume he wears. The scent clings to him, new, and he isn't sure what to make of it, if he should accept it or push it away.

Jaemin's words were just as sweet. Was it Jaemin? Jisung gazes out the window, at the battered old shed in the corner of the garden, and isn't sure. The faces of the other boys flicker through his vision. They twist into snarls and their laughs echo like an insult until he can't remember who is who. His breath falters, then he gasps to catch up with it again.

A knock makes him jump. He stands up, hands curled together in front of his chest, and he stares at the door. It's shut, but not locked. His eyes trace the wood down to the shadow at the bottom. Is it his mother? Is she back? Or his father? They're going to be angry, so so angry with him. He pleads under his breath, a silent rehearsal of his lines: the same useless nonsense that never gets him out of trouble anyway.

He's come to prefer the days where they don't pay him any attention at all.

"Jisung?"

The voice doesn't belong to either parent. He's not with his parents anymore. He sits back down, against the pillows with his knees to his chest, and tells Johnny he can come in.

The door opens. Johnny leaves it open behind him and doesn't approach past the bed. There's a long cardboard tube in his hands, which he holds up with a triumphant grin.

"I got the posters you wanted, kiddo," he says.

Jisung sits up straighter. He eyes the tube with suspicion, not quite trusting that his request was fulfilled, then looks over the blank walls. He insisted he didn't mind the lack of decoration since it's what he's used to, yet Johnny had pushed the iPad closer and told him to pick something. Anything he wanted.

"Open it up, go on." Johnny places the tube on the bed.

Jisung's heart pounds as he looks up at Johnny and back down at the tube. He scrunches his nose and frowns, then Johnny insists he open it. Jisung does as he's told.

Sure enough, he finds six posters inside. One is massive, half the length of the bed, and displays the solar system, each planet labelled with facts and numbers and descriptions that Jisung knows by heart. Others are smaller, printed with images of his favourite moons and stars. The last is Yoda from Star Wars.

"I... they're for me to keep? I can keep them?" Jisung asks. The paper is smooth under his skin.

"Of course," Johnny says with a smile. "This should help." He passes Jisung some fresh blu tac, and Jisung's heart dances but he doesn't let himself smile. "Let me know if you need more. I have to leave soon to pick the others up from school, so will you be okay putting them up on your own?"

Jisung reckons there's not a single thing in life he hasn't done on his own, so nods as he looks around the room again. He spots a few stains on the walls, greasy circles left by previous posters. He nearly doesn't want to decorate the walls from the fear he'll only have to rip everything down again, but he longs to call the space his own, no matter how temporary.