Mingyu Shorts

Dreams

"I dreamt about you last night," he mumbled, squeezing his arms around your soft midsection.

"Oh did you?" Your reply is laced with sleepiness, which you think is vaguely ironic for the conversation topic.

Mingyu chuckles softly, his head resting on top of your own, "Yea, I did, I was standing in the middle of this busy road, somewhere, in some city,"

"Super vague, okay," you mumble over him as he smirks and keeps talking.

"And it was raining. And I looked across the street, through the dozens of cars zooming by, 'nd saw you. We made eye contact and you started walking towards me," his grip tightens, "through the traffic, as if you didn't care if the cars hit you."

You opened your eyes to the darkness of the room, eyebrows furrowing as he buried his nose into your hair, "I was calling out your name, but everything was too loud. You stopped halfway in the road and gave me this real sad smile," you think you hear him sniffle, but you don't say anything, instead opting to rest your hands on his arms that were squeezing you, "without even thinking I ran to grab you and as soon as reached you and pulled you into my chest, everything disappeared. I stared up at the moon and stars and let the rain hit me, and I held you," Mingyu's voice was a whisper now, muffled by the top of your head, "As the moon and stars faded away and in to the distance, we were left in this empty space, but when I turned to you my whole universe beamed, everything got brighter and then.."

Mingyu released his grip, pulling his body away from yours, "And then you disappeared, right out of my arms."

"Gyu?" you questioned as you felt him shifting in bed beside you. Rolling over to face him, you try and pull him back to you, but he is already sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" He stands and walks to the bedroom door, you sit up in confusion, and when he leaves the room you follow him.

"Wait," you call out after him, your voice lowering as you watch him tug on his shoes, "Where are you going?" it comes out in a whisper, he tugs on his beaten up letterman jacket, your hands grip at the end of his long t-shirt that you're wearing.

"I gotta," he unlocks the door and looks back at you quickly, before stepping into the hallway, "I think I gotta go for tonight."

And then he did and you were left standing in the living room of your apartment, alone, in his shirt, wondering why a stupid dream meant so damn much to him.