Chapter Text
There are few truths known to the world to be absolute.
A few exist: The sky is blue, the Mental Class is rare, the earth revolves around the sun, a silk worm will make any potion triple its original strength, and Seonghwa was Yeosang’s favorite.
It wasn’t anything personal. Nothing to get upset or jealous about. It simply existed as a truth to the universe: trees produced oxygen and Seonghwa was Yeosang’s favorite.
Of course, just because a truth was absolute doesn’t mean it always existed. But just because you didn’t know about the truth, didn’t mean it hadn’t always existed.
Before he was 19, Yeosang didn’t even know Seonghwa existed. But once he turned 19, once he was packing his bag with tired limbs and a heavy heart, once he walked up to the little compound his new “family” was occupying… only after all of this did this truth form into being.
Because only after all of this, only after walking inside and seeing a line of people waiting with sad, empathetic smiles, only after going down the line and shaking their hands as they introduced themselves, only after clasping Seonghwa’s hand in his with an awkward smile-
Did the whispers finally fall silent.
~~~~~~~
Yeosang hid it quite well, he thought.
His puberty passed without incident, according to his relieved parents, just a growth spurt and his voice deepening to show for it. They were practically pale with relief.
And Yeosang liked living at his house, so he didn’t say anything about it. He simply went through his life, adjusting to it and ignoring it. He shook his head, plugged his ears, and kept his mouth shut.
Mental classes were rare, everyone knew this. And they were the first to be snatched up.
So Yeosang went through a good portion of his life, ignoring it, even as it grew more potent. Your abilities were meant to grow with you.
Yeosang learned very quickly that this was not to his benefit. He thought growth would mean control.
He was wrong.
Growth meant waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and a scream silent on his lips as he rocketed out of bed, arms wrapped around himself as if it would ward off a chill that had already seeped to his very bones.
Growth meant taking a little nap during boring 4th period and falling out of his chair as he jerked away, running from the room despite the calls of his teacher, finding the nearest bathroom to throw up in.
Growth meant telling his parents he just had a lot of homework, so he hadn’t been sleeping, that’s why he looked tired.
Growth meant shaking his head so hard it spun as he tried to shake off the barely-audible whispers in his mind that made him feel like he was slowly going insane, but he could never silence them.
Growth meant the whispers gaining volume, passing from inaudible hisses in his mind to just loud enough to catch a word or two.
She… Fall…
Die… It…
Scream… Stop… Not
Growth meant staying home day after day because he was too exhausted to even sit up when his mother tried to coax him from a bed he hadn’t slept a wink in.
Growth meant darker dreams and more twisted visions passing in front of his eyes each time he closed them.
Growth meant finally waking up screaming, pushing himself into a corner and screaming for his parents to fucking stay away, don’t touch me-
Growth meant after weeks of waking his parents with his screams that ripped him out of his sleep, they brought him to a doctor.
Growth meant no longer being able to hide as the doctor asked his parents to step outside so he could speak with them.
Growth meant staring blankly, too exhausted to even feel regret, as his mother came in crying, demanding to know why he never told them, why did he hide, did he not trust them-
Growth meant a sober-faced man in a suit pulling up to their house, telling his father that it was time, and his father said nothing .
Yeosang walked out with him, glancing back to try and see his parents once more.
Growth apparently meant they couldn’t look at him anymore. His mother was crying. He honestly couldn’t tell what reason she was crying for.
Yeosang shook his head as he sat in the back seat, hitting the side of it as Crash… No one… echoed around.
They never made sense.
The man in the suit looked at him sternly from the rearview mirror. “Precognition’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
Yeosang only stared back. He was silent as they drove, and only after an hour did he finally speak. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly, staring out the window.
“Compound,” was the only response.
Yeosang glanced at the back of the man’s head, frowning. “Where’s the compound?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Aren’t I going to see it anyway?” Yeosang questioned.
“Yep. But by then, you won’t ever be leaving, so it won’t matter.”
Yeosang’s heart skipped as his stomach swooped, eyes widening for a moment. He knew that the compounds were where the people with abilities stayed, but it had never occurred to him that he would never leave .
“What- can’t you just see where it is?” The man asked, grinning wickedly.
Yeosang’s despair was flattened by a flair of anger. “It doesn’t work like that,” He grit out stiffly.
“Hm,” the man said, disinterested. “Seems like a pretty shit ability, then.”
Yeosang couldn’t fucking agree more.
“Sucks, doesn’t it? Being one of the most hunted people for an ability that isn’t even worth shit. Mental class get the short end of the stick, I guess.” He glanced back in the mirror, eyes hard. “Should have been a physical or magic class, kid.”
As if Yeosang chose this.
~~~~~~
Yeosang moved down the line of people, shaking their hands as they introduced themselves.
Hongjoong was another mental class, smiling with sad eyes that were so empathetic that Yeosang almost couldn’t bring himself to move on. There was San, Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho- the physical classes. And then Wooyoung the magic class.
Seonghwa was a magic class, too.
“Seonghwa,” he introduced, smiling gently as he reached a hand out.
Yeosang tried to keep smiling, but his face was getting tired of lying as he reached his hand out, taking Seonghwa’s gently-
The whispers suddenly shut off like a switch being flipped.
Yeosang felt something like a shock of electricity pass through him as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.
Not the smoothest first meeting, according to the others, but not the worst they’ve ever had (Thanks, Jongho.).
~~~~~~
Yeosang woke up in a bed, with Hongjoong sitting in a chair across the room.
Well, a more appropriate description would be: Yeosang woke up screaming in a bed and Hongjoong fell out of the chair he had been sitting in.
He rushed over, but Yeosang threw out a hand, shaking his head as a cold drop of sweat slipped down his spine, making him shiver. He closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath as the imagine of fingers slipping off the edge of a building faded slightly. He drew a hand over his eyes-
And something warm washed over him, calming his heartbeat and stopping the icy rush of blood through his veins. The panic faded until the only thing wrong was the whispers and echoes of someone screaming for help.
Yeosang looked up sharply, and Hongjoong watched him quietly, looking hesitant.
“What did you do?” Yeosang demanded, lifting his hands that didn’t shake with adrenaline. He felt… calm. Despite his blood rushing.
Hongjoong blinked. “You… You noticed.”
“Of course, I noticed!” Yeosang snapped. He almost felt empty without that familiar fear. “What did you do? I feel- I-” He stared at his hands, wondering where the pounding of his heart was.
“I just… I tried to calm you down,” Hongjoong said quietly, looking almost guilty. “You- I don’t think I’ve felt many people panic that bad, and I- I guess I panicked, too. Sorry, I should have asked. I usually ask,” he assured him quickly. “I just- You were screaming.”
Yeosang wanted to stay mad, but he just sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. “Yeah, that’s normal, unfortunately,” he sighed. “You might have to get used to it.”
Hongjoong just hummed quietly.
Yeosang looked up at him. “So you’re… what? An empath?” Mental classes didn’t have many options for what they could be, so the list was limited.
Hongjoong opened his mouth, closed it, looked away. “Not really,” he said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “It’s not really a… registerable ability.”
Yeosang’s eyes widened.
“It’s kinda like… just mental control. Not really just telepathy- I can do that, though,” Hongjoong informed him. “It’s just like… I can move things around in the brain.”
“Mind control?” Yeosang found himself asking.
And then regretting because Hongjoong winced a little. “I think so. I’ve never tried.”
Yeosang swallowed around his dry throat as he stared. “So you’ve just got… all of them?”
“Not telekinesis,” he said. “I can’t actually do anything like that, I just like… see the brain like a computer, and I make it do things.”
Yeosang nodded slowly. Holy shit.
So basically, he was probably sitting in front of the most rare, valuable mental class on the planet. Yeosang pointedly did not think of what he must have gone through getting here.
“But… precognition, that’s…” Hongjoong hesitated slightly. “It doesn’t seem very fun.”
Yeosang almost wanted to laugh, if he didn’t feel like throwing up. “It’s not.”
And Yeosang suddenly remembered that there had been a shining, blessed moment of silence. Before he passed out.
“What did he do to me?” Yeosang asked, blood a little cold again. He stared at Hongjoong with wide eyes. “The- The last one I touched. San- No, the-” What the fuck was his name?
Hongjoong definitely looked guilty. “Seonghwa.”
“Him!” Yeosang burst, feeling almost… unsteady. “What did he… he did something, I didn’t-”
Hongjoong rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that was an accident, I swear,” He said nervously. “Seonghwa can’t really… turn off his ability all the time, but people don’t usually have such…. I guess, violent reactions to it. I mean- you’re a mental class, so we should have assumed, but- I mean- Usually, people just complain about it being tingly. He didn’t mean to.”
Yeosang felt the urge to be ill. “I… It was quiet when I touched him.”
“What was?” Hongjoong asked, frowning.
“The- The whispers,” Yeosang said quickly. “I- I always hear voices and shit, they- they whisper things from the future, and I can’t- I can’t ever turn them off. I-” He was quiet. “I don’t even remember the last time I didn’t hear them.”
Hongjoong, of everyone here, was privy to exactly what sort of hell that was.
“Seonghwa… He can turn off powers,” Hongjoong said quietly. “He mutes them, suppresses them, whatever you call it, when he touches people. Usually, he can hold it off if he wants to, but…”
Something flickered in Hongjoong’s eyes, he glanced at the door of the room. “We’ve been having a rough few days, preparing for the newcomer so… so everyone’s a little… off, right now.”
Muting… powers? Yeosang had only heard about that as a possibility. He had never heard of someone actually having it.
“He freaked the fuck out, though,” Hongjoong said, as if comforting Yeosang. “He thought he’d killed you or something, even after Yunho said it was just a shock to your system.” He tilted his head. “Which, considering your voices went silent after so long as having them as a constant, that’s understandable.” He frowned gently. “Was it… painful? Are you okay? How do you feel?”
Yeosang felt like he was floating for a moment, not quite touching the ground.
“It felt... unbelievable.”
~~~~~~
Yunho was a healer, as Yeosang found out when he entered into the room, asking if his services were needed. But Yeosang was physically fine, even if mentally he was freaking out a bit, still.
He exited the room, assuring them he was fine, and they stepped out into a steel hallway, walking down into the open area they had been introducing themselves in before.
“San!”
Two blurs raced by, running around the room.
“Come on, I just need a few feathers!” Yeosang realized the second blur was Wooyoung, one hand reaching out towards San and the other holding a large florence flask filled with a glowing blue liquid. “It’s the last thing I need!”
“No, it hurts when you pull them!” San shouted, leaping over a group of chairs, using them as a barrier as the two of them circled each other like predators, both of them glaring. “Go find a puffin somewhere else!”
“Why would I do that when I could just get them from you?” Wooyoung demanded. “If I order them, I’ll never get them in time, I need them now !”
“Should have planned your potions better, then!”
Wooyoung lunged, and San jumped back, body flashing a bright golden light and suddenly a sparrow was soaring up to the ceiling, circling and squawking angrily.
“Asshole!” Wooyoung snapped, and the sparrow flew lower, just out of Wooyoung’s reach, chirping smugly as it flew just beyond his fingers.
Yeosang blinked. Oh, yeah. Physical class. Animal transformations weren’t very common, but certainly more common than what he saw next.
Wooyoung just rolled his eyes, thrusting the flask he had been holding into the air, throwing the liquid up. The sparrow (San) cawed, shooting away, but Yeosang saw some of the glowing liquid splatter against his wing.
The sparrow dropped like a stone.
Yeosang’s stomach dropped as his eyes widened, feet jerking forward-
“ No, no ,” Hongjoong said quickly, hands placating. “No- he’s not dead, he’s just sleeping. That’s Wooyoung’s ability, he’s somnokinetic.”
Yeosang’s horror dimmed minimally as Wooyoung caught the sparrow carefully, rolling his eyes as he placed it on a chair and poked it gently on the chest.
The sparrow immediately shot up, chirping out what was surely a vast number of sparrow profanities. Wooyoung just stared, unimpressed. “Just turn back!”
Another flash of golden light.
“-knocking people out of the sky!” San snapped in annoyance. “We talked about this, you don’t just-”
Wooyoung held up the empty bottle. “Well, I don’t need the feather now, because somebody forced me to use the potion to prove a point.”
“Don’t blame your petty ass on me!”
This sounded like something that happened often. Lovely.
Wooyoung sighed, lowering the flask. “Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll put in an order, since you’re set on being difficult. I hope it was worth it.”
“It was!” San huffed in annoyance, a flash of light, and an orange tabby raced out of the room, bobbing between their legs.
Wooyoung turned, muttering under his breath. “Stupid. Can’t even give up a couple feathers in the name of magic-”
His eyes fell on the three of them standing there, and he froze, mouth opening as he looked from Yeosang’s slight-horror to Hongjoong’s disappointed glare.
His shoulders fell. “I didn’t- ”
“ Yes , you did,” Hongjoong broke in sternly. “You very explicitly just misused your abilities, and you’re cleaning that up,” he said, pointing at the splatters of glowing blue potion. “Honestly, Wooyoung? Right in front of the newcomer?”
Wooyoung glanced at Yeosang for only a moment, eyes unreadable, but they stared at Yeosang with too much knowledge than he was comfortable with. “To be fair, I thought our newcomer was still unconscious in the bedroom.”
“ Not the point .”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “ Fine ,” he groaned. “I’m cleaning it up, for fuck’s sake.”
He turned, muttering under his breath again, bending over to start wiping up the potion.
Yeosang’s first day at the compound was interesting to say the least.
~~~~~~~
Some people were embarrassed to show physical affection.
“Some people” did include Yeosang. But it wasn’t embarrassment, it was just… he never really did it before. He would hug him mom goodbye before school, his father would nod at him from the breakfast table, and his friends and he would push each other around as boys did.
Other than that… he never really had a use for it. So he wasn’t quite used to it.
That very quickly was stomped out of him. Maybe he himself was no more affectionate, but he became quite used to receiving it.
The people at the compounds only interacted with each other. (And the occasional black suit that showed up to ensure none of them had died. But day in and day out… it was each other.)
Which meant if you didn’t want to go crazy, physical affection was needed.
The first time San flopped onto him on the couch nearly gave him a heart attack. When Mingi would sneak up to tug on your clothes and run away snickering (stupid, annoying invisibility), when Wooyoung poked and prodded just because he could, when Yunho hugged him good morning because he hugged everyone good morning-
It was weird. But okay. It took very little time for Yeosang to begin accepting these advances, taking them in stride, and ultimately enjoying them, even if he made a big deal out of being annoyed.
He didn’t have a right to complain, though.
Yeosang clung to Seonghwa.
After the initial guilt-ridden apology that first day, Yeosang had only had one question burning at the front of his mind: Can you do it again?
For the first time in nearly six years… Yeosang felt peace.
The voices were dimmed or silenced completely, and the constant ringing of his ears finally faded out until the only voices he heard were the ones speaking directly to him about what he wanted for dinner.
Seonghwa had gloves that he wore sometimes, just so that he wasn’t turning off powers left and right when he wasn’t paying attention to who was touching him, but for Yeosang, he removed them without complaint.
Yeosang apologized after his rather odd request that Seonghwa turn off his powers every now and then, but Seonghwa had just smiled quietly.
“It’s a more common wish than you probably think.”
Yeosang had just stared silently.
Seonghwa never had a single qualm about offering his arm to Yeosang to hug onto, his hand for him to hold, or just a pinkie to lock together. It didn’t matter: all of the touches were enough to quiet the whispers.
And it became a universal truth: if you saw Yeosang, Seonghwa was going to be somewhere in the vicinity. The others liked to giggle about imprinting ducklings and overeager mother-figures, but none of them could begrudge someone that sort of relief.
Especially not a mental class.
Yeosang was given his own room (like each of the others). And he was grateful for the steel walls and doors that were enough to keep his screams from reaching the others in their rooms. He still pressed hands to his eyes as if that would keep out the sight of people falling to the ground or buildings collapsing.
Why was the future always so fucking grim?
It wasn’t even like Yeosang ever saw enough to know where or when or who. He just saw disaster after deadly disaster and he watched on helplessly.
He would pace his room, staring around the dark room, singing, dancing, drawing- anything to try and calm his mind to be able to sleep again, despite the fact he had barely slept since this all began.
Until one night, there was a knock on his door.
Yeosang, still covered in disgusting sweat that had already cooled, jerked his head up, wondering if someone heard him accidentally knock over the lamp. He held his breath, hoping they would just think he had fallen back asleep.
“Yeosang?” Seonghwa’s voice called through quietly. “Can I come in?”
Yeosang bit back a groan, scrubbing at his face as he got up with heavy, tired limbs.
Car… No…
Yeosang opened the door slowly, just enough to look out of.
Seonghwa stood there, expression concerned, hair tousled from sleep, and Yeosang chewed the inside of his cheek. “Did I wake you up?” he asked quietly.
Seonghwa shook his head. “Wooyoung did,” he said, and before Yeosang could ask, he went on. “Are the nights really that bad for you?”
One thing Yeosang had needed to get used to: people here spoke candidly. No one minced words, and no one was afraid to mention that elephant in the room.
Yeosang knew he usually looked like shit, but the expression on Seonghwa’s face made it seem like he really looked like shit right now. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “It’s just nightmares,” He muttered, wondering what he needed to say to get Seonghwa to leave so he could go back to internally panicking.
“Of the future?”
Yeosang nodded.
“Yeosang… when was the last time you actually slept well?”
He couldn’t help it- he laughed. A sharp, bitter snort that probably answered the question better than he ever could.
Seonghwa winced. “Right, stupid question for a mental class,” he muttered. (Seonghwa had a weird knowledge of mental classes.) “Do you want to try something?”
Yeosang glanced up. “If it’s weed, then no. I already tried that.”
There had been an article online about mental classes, Yeosang had been desperate, needless to say it was useless in easing the visions, and only freaked him out more because of the drug in his system.
“No,” Seonghwa said sadly, as if Yeosang was breaking his heart. “Usually, my muting works even if the person is asleep. If you want to try, I could sleep with you and see if it stops the nightmares.”
And Yeosang tried to imagine placing the silence from the whispers… over his dreams. To fall asleep and actually just...sleep.
It seemed impossible. But, then again, the silence of the voices had seemed impossible, too.
“Have you ever done that for anyone else?” Yeosang questioned.
It didn’t seem like many of the others had issues with their abilities. Certainly, Yunho wasn’t healing people in his sleep, and maybe Yeosang had walked in on a lemur sleeping on the couch, but Hongjoong assured him that normal and harmless.
Seonghwa, however, did that quiet smile he did sometimes. “I have.”
Yeosang swallowed. “Did it work for them?”
“Yes.”
And, really, what did Yeosang have to lose but his pride when he inevitably woke up kicking and screaming? (If he fell asleep at all.)
“Okay, then,” he said quietly, not quite meeting Seonghwa’s eyes. “If you think it’ll do something…”
There was a stiff shuffle of Yeosang stepping aside and Seonghwa stepping in, and both of them walking over to the little bed. Seonghwa gestured towards it. “Just lay down how you usually do. I’ll fit around you.”
And it wasn’t awkward, but it was weird . It made Yeosang feel like a kid.
(But most of the others felt like kids under the care of Hongjoong and Seonghwa. It wasn’t that they were that much older than the others, but both of them had sort of adopted the rest of them as some sort of kids-responsibility-pets.)
But he just swallowed down the weird and laid down in the bed, shuffling under the covers and turning on his side.
Seonghwa sat on the edge of the bed, one leg dangling off. “Okay, here,” he said, holding out a hand. “We’ll just see how this works.”
Yeosang stared at the hand for a moment before nodding, reaching out to take it.
Immediately, the whispers that had blended into background noise went silent, and Yeosang closed his eyes, reveling in the silence that surrounded him. It was different than during the day, with other stimuli around. But at night, when he was laying there with nothing but a plea on his mind for them to just let him fall asleep-
Yeosang didn’t remember falling asleep, the darkness swallowing him whole and dragging down further than he could ever remember being.
He slept for two days straight.
“Hyung, I think at this point, it counts as being unconscious, not asleep.”
“If you wake him up-”
“He’s been drifting for hours, hyung, if he wakes up, it’s not me.”
“Well, you are our sleep expert.”
“Why are you saying that like it’s sarcasm? I am the sleep expert. And he’s not asleep right now, he’s just dozing.”
And when he woke up, it was to a crackly throat, dry eyes, and…
His head felt weird. Like… echoing.
“Morning.”
He blinked hard, turning and seeing Seonghwa, still sitting beside him, hand still clasped in his. Yeosang swallowed.
“How did you sleep?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.
Yeosang sat up slowly, hardly believing the sensation of quiet in his chest. “You were here the whole time?” he asked, voice rough and raspy.
Seonghwa hummed. “I left a few times to take care of some stuff, but not for long. You didn’t wake up screaming, though, so I think it worked.”
And Yeosang…
Yeosang cried.
~~~~~~~
The problem with finding a good thing?
You wanted too much of it.
The biggest problem with finding a good thing?
People like them weren’t allowed to have it.
Yeosang continued to attach himself to Seonghwa, hands clasped tightly, arms looped, fingers intertwined, and a close proximity while Yeosang slept.
“You don’t… have to,” Yeosang told him one day. “I know I do it all the time, but you can say no.”
Seonghwa just smiled sadly, like he sometimes did at Yeosang, and shook his head. “It’s not like it’s hurting me or anything. And I don’t mind it, really. It… feels nice being able to give you that.”
And, no, the muting was not hurting Seonghwa. Not in the slightest.
Seonghwa was not the one it was hurting.
Despite sleeping better than ever, Yeosang woke up with tired eyes and aching limbs. Seonghwa frowned at his haggard face, touching his forehead. “Are you getting sick?” he questioned.
According to Yunho who ran his hands gently over Yeosang, there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him. “I mean, he’s weak,” Yunho said quietly, frowning. “But I don’t see anything that’s causing it. I mean, there’s nothing here for me to heal, but there are things that need to be healed.” He looked at Yeosang. “Do you have any idea what could be causing it?”
Yeosang didn’t know. But his body ached and with each day that passed, his energy depleted. His appetite was nonexistent, to the point where the others were beginning to look at him with worried eyes.
“Come on, it’s just broth,” Wooyoung coaxed, sliding the cup over to Yeosang with a nervous smile. Yeosang hadn’t touched any food for almost two days now. “It’s not that heavy- just something get food into your system. Then maybe I can help you get to sleep or something.”
Yeosang really didn’t want to, his stomach curdling, but Wooyoung looked so fucking worried and hopeful that it would help.
Yeosang grabbed the cup in weak hands, lifting it to his lips.
The salty scent of chicken hit his nose, and he dropped the cup, dropping over the side of the chair to vomit on the floor. Of course, having eaten nothing, there was only burning acid in his throat as his stomach convulsed.
Wooyoung held him up as he emptied his stomach, yelling for Yunho to get his ass over here.
Yeosang blinked and suddenly he was laying on the floor, Yunho’s brow furrowed in concentration and concern as he ran his hands over Yeosang’s body, trying to find something to heal.
“What’s wrong with him?” Wooyoung demanded.
Yunho shook his head sharply. “I don’t know, there’s nothing wrong with him, but everything’s wrong, he’s-”
Yunho’s hand passed over his neck, trailing to his forehead, and his eyes widened.
“ Oh .”
Yeosang felt too sick to remain listening, closing his eyes against another wave of sick.
When he opened them, he was in bed, staring at the ceiling behind feverish eyes, stomach rolling as another vision of crushed bodies floated before his eyes. He flipped over, dry gagging over the side of his bed.
The whispers sounded so fucking loud, making his head pound.
Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho entered, Wooyoung peeking in but not entering.
“Yeosang…” Hongjoong looked… sad. Pitying. As if he was going to be the one to deliver the horrible news.
His stomach dropped, Seonghwa staring at the ground, not looking at him.
“We figured out what was wrong with you,” Hongjoong told him. “Yunho finally thought to look past the physical issues you were experiencing.”
Yunho shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Our abilities… they stem from us, right? They’re a part of us. As much as our blood or nerves.”
Yeosang nodded as best he could, swallowing down another wave of nausea.
“Well… what happens when you don’t exercise a limb?” he questioned rhetorically. “It atrophies. It weakens, and when you do try to use it, it hurts because it hasn’t been used in so long.” He rolled his lips, indecisive. “The reason you’ve been sick is because Seonghwa’s been muting your ability too much.”
Yeosang opened his mouth, but gagged, closing it tightly and shutting his eyes as another gag made his chest ache.
Seonghwa still wouldn’t look at him.
“We didn’t… realize something like this would happen,” Hongjoong assured him regretfully. “None of us have ever had him mute us for so long. But… if he stops muting you, and you let your ability run its course, it’ll fix itself.”
And even through his horrible aches and pains, he understood.
He could either suffer from no sleep and no peace, or he could slowly wither away.
Yeosang swallowed thickly. “I understand. It’s.. It’s fine,” he said because Seonghwa looked ready to kick himself. Guilty. As if he could have known what would happen. “I lived this long without it, haven’t I? It’s not like it’s that big a deal.”
No one looked like they believed him.
That first night with the nightmares returning full force was worse than any Yeosang could remember. It had only been weeks without them, since Seonghwa had been laying with him, but he hit the ground, limbs shaking so hard, one of his arms gave out, making him hit his chin on the ground.
He crawled to the corner as if it could protect him, arms curling around himself as darkness threatened the edges of his mind, his breath stalled in his chest, he couldn’t breathe-
The door to his room was torn open, Wooyoung racing in, eyes wide and desperate, frantically searching the room and his attention landing on Yeosang in the corner, something like relief and horror etched in his eyes.
“ Jesus ,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You scared the shit out of me, what the fuck was-”
Yeosang threw a hand out, as he always did. “Don’t,” he managed, hand shaking. “Stay back.”
Wooyoung froze, eyes an odd mixture of lost and calm. “Your dream cut off so suddenly,” he said quietly, voice even and slow. “I was honestly scared you had died or- or something.” He crouched onto the ground, eye level with Yeosang. “Are you ok-”
“Can you stop talking for a minute?” Yeosang whispered, feeling his stomach spasm again as he tried to keep his mouth closed.
Wooyoung winced. “Sorry.” He settled, crossing his legs and waiting a few feet from Yeosang.
After a few minutes, Yeosang looked up, eyes sharp. “Stop it,” he snapped, voice weak but firm.
Wooyoung jumped, startled by the words. “Stop what?”
“Making me sleepy,” Yeosang said darkly. “Stop it. I don’t want to go back to sleep.”
“I-I’m not-” Wooyoung blinked. “I- It just happens sometimes, I can’t- It’s just my ability, I’m not doing it on purpose.”
Yeosang shook his head, but it only made it spin, so he stopped, breathing deeply.
It seemed like he wasn’t the only person with abilities out of his control.
(He felt the urge to throw up, but more to cleanse , as if vomiting everything up would just clear out his inside and make everything feel better somehow- )
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asked quietly. “Like… obviously, you’re sick, but are you… okay with like…” He gestured to his head, and Yeosang didn’t know if that was insensitive or not. He felt too sick to think about it.
He sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, some of the adrenaline fading a little. He swallowed another wave of sick. Maybe talking would distract him from… everything. “It just… sucks.”
Wooyoung was quiet.
Yeosang sighed, bringing his hands up to press against his eyes. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “I just wish that if I wasn’t going to be able to keep it, I wouldn’t have had it to begin with.”
The voices were twice as loud, now that he remembered what silence felt like. The nightmares twice as real and vivid.
“It was better not to know what it was like.”
Another long pause. “You’ve seriously lived like this for years?”
And when Yeosang opened his eyes, peering through the dim room, Wooyoung looked… a sad disbelieving. Not quite pity, but more like he couldn’t believe anyone would keep their sanity. Strained and helpless.
Yeosang swallowed, not used to the look. Seonghwa got close to it, but still not quite. “Yeah…”
“You just… don’t sleep? Just walk about with things whispering in your ear?” he demanded, eyes strained.
Yeosang shrugged slowly. “It wasn’t as hard when I didn’t remember what it was like without it.” Now the silence almost seemed to mock him.
Wooyoung was silent, but continued to stare at him.
Yeosang figured he was going to leave at some point, but he remained seated on the ground in the dark with Yeosang. Yeosang wasn’t used to people sticking around to witness the aftermath.
“Are all the visions that… gruesome?”
Wooyoung’s voice was almost shaking, as if he-
Yeosang suddenly realized everything Wooyoung had been hinting at since he arrived. He sat up slowly. “Wait, you… you saw… my dream?” Part of him felt violated. Those were his dreams. Most of him just felt… sorry. Regretful. Wooyoung shouldn’t have had to see those things.
No one should.
Wooyoung, however, just looked sad. “Yeah… Somnokinetic, it’s… part of the deal, I guess. I can force my way into dreams, but I just- sometimes I just see them if there are strong emotions with it.” He rubbed the side of his neck. “I’ve seen a few of yours. The… the bad ones. This one cut off so quickly, though, I got worried.”
Yeosang felt like this was something he should have been told. Or maybe they thought he’d figure it out. Maybe they didn’t think it that big a deal.
But knowing that Wooyoung… Wooyoung had now seen those images… Seonghwa only stopped them, he didn’t know the things that Yeosang saw, but Wooyoung... he knew now.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had more than a handful of visions that didn’t result in someone dying.”
Silence. Yeosang almost thought Wooyoung had slipped away in the dark.
“I’m sorry.”
Yeosang jumped a little, but frowned. “For what?”
Wooyoung was still for a moment before he shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just… It sucks. Every mental class I’ve ever met has such shitty luck. It’s not fair. They’re given abilities that should be the coolest or most useful, and all it ever does is make their lives hell.” He shook his head sharply. “Not a single one has ever deserved it. You don’t deserve this…. I’m sorry we couldn’t stop it.”
Yeosang let go of a small breath, feeling his eyes burn and his stomach churn. “It’s fine, it’s… it’s fine.” He could learn to forget what it felt like to sleep peacefully, he could move past the sensation of quiet and relearn to shove away the whispers. Life would continue on-
“You know… it’s okay if it’s not okay.”
Yeosang froze, his heart skipping a beat.
Wooyoung stared, eyes unfairly calm. “It’s… it’s shitty. It’s awful and unfair and horrific, the things that you’re forced to go through. I’ve seen… I’ve only witnessed a handful, and I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know how you stay sane. So, it’s okay if you’re upset that we can’t stop it. It’s completely fair for you to feel robbed.”
Yeosang stared, mouth dry, something bubbling in his chest.
And for the second time, Yeosang cried.
~~~~~~~
Yeosang gained back his strength, even if the shadows under his eyes returned with a vengeance. Seonghwa stared at him with guilt, until Yeosang told Hongjoong to convince him that it wasn’t his fault.
It ended with Yeosang hugging him tightly, thanking him for everything, even as Seonghwa apologized again for what had happened. But afterwards, Seonghwa had looked lighter. Yeosang was glad because no one on this earth could blame him.
None of them had known it could happen.
It still felt like going cold turkey after a drug intake. With consequences that were apparently reminiscent of such.
“Hyung,” he heard Jongho murmuring to Hongjoong one night as he passed his room, heading to bed. “I think we have to do something about it.” There was an iron bar from the basement being twisted nervously in his hands, easy as puddy. “I know he was bad when he got here, but I think he’s getting worse. He’s not dealing with it well. Wooyoung says he keeps having nightmares that are way too strong.”
Yeosang paused, truly not meaning to eavesdrop, but…
Hongjoong was silent, and Yeosang could almost imagine the sigh in his chest.
“If this goes on, he’ll probably wind up worse off than you did.”
Yeosang’s chest punched in as Hongjoong sighed, as if in defeat. “I at least had an ability I could learn to control. Yeosang’s seems to be completely out of his hands, and that makes this difficult. We could limit the amount we let Seonghwa mute him, but we don’t know where the line is. And…”
Another sigh. Yeosang stared at his feet, stomach churning. He hadn’t meant for everything to turn into this.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, and he could imagine Hongjoong running hands through his hair. “I don’t know what to do, Jongho. Maybe I could try and do something, but I’ve never tried to do anything that delicate to someone’s abilities-”
“Well-”
Jongho cut in, and Hongjoong stopped for a moment, both of them quiet for a moment before Jongho breathed out harshly.
“What if we asked one of the suits?”
Yeosang could practically see Hongjoong recoil. No one wanted those suits around anymore than they already were- which was not often. Yeosang wasn’t quite sure of the details, but Hongjoong more than the others seemed to despise them.
Yeosang just hated anyone who would just throw the eight of them together with nothing but themselves, simply for things outside of their control.
“We aren’t-”
“They would know more than we do,” Jongho said firmly. “About his ability specifically. Maybe they could think of a safer-”
“You think any method they had would be safe ?” Hongjoong demanded, voice dropping in disgust. “We’d do better to just cut Yeosang open ourselves.”
Yeosang flinched, a violent image flashing in his mind, but it was broken apart by Hongjoong sighing quietly.
“Sorry,” he practically whispered. “That- I don’t trust the suits. We have to deal with it on our own, alright?”
“Yeah, hyung… I get-”
“What are you doing?”
Yeosang jumped so violently, his feet slipped, sending him crashing into the wall with a loud bang that echoed through the steel hall.
Wooyoung stared, hands raised in defense, eyes wide in concern.
A moment later, and Hongjoong exited with Jongho, frowning. Yeosang stared at Wooyoung, trying not to breathe too heavily.
“Sorry, hyung,” Wooyoung said, slowly looking away from Yeosang. “Yeosang’s a scaredy cat. Can’t even play hide and seek without jumping.”
Hongjoong frowned, and Wooyoung just threw him a tight grin, taking Yeosang’s hand and tugging him back down the hallway. Yeosang’s hands were shaking a little.
He let out a slow breath, expecting Wooyoung to drag him into the living room and demand to know whatever details Yeosang was hiding.
But he simply twirled him down the hall, both of them ducking into Wooyoung’s room, the door sliding closed behind them, and suddenly Yeosang was standing in the middle of the room while Wooyoung frowned at him.
Not in curiosity, but in concern, as Yeosang’s heartbeat continued to pound on after the scare and… everything else.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
There were rare, few times that Wooyoung was quiet. A few times when he sat with Yeosang, and the rare times the suits showed up.
Yeosang swallowed, feeling like he was standing in the dark. “Is it really that bad?” he questioned quietly.
Wooyoung frowned, stepping forward. “Is what?”
Yeosang gestured to himself, expression pinching. It wasn’t guilt at his own shortcomings, but it was…frustrating. “Hongjoong and Jongho, they said that I was…” He rolled his lips. “It was getting bad.”
Yeosang didn’t doubt that he looked like hell. But throughout his life he had been able to keep it to a level that people never noticed, and honestly…
Yeosang was getting a little scared. Because everyone else was so worried, and he had never seen this as something to be worried about. These things were just a fact of life to him, something to accept. So why did everyone look like they were waiting for something to snap?
And it only increased when Wooyoung’s brows loosened into something less like concern and more like…
Something else. Something quieter.
“Yeosang…” He swallowed, looking ready to say something, and then he sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeosang, I’ve… I’ve seen… the things that you’ve seen.”
His stomach dropped sickenly, as if did everytime he thought of Wooyoung sharing those images that haunted him.
Wooyoung’s eyes were dimmed and sad. “And it’s only a handful of the things that you’ve been seeing… for years . Night after night.” He winced. “The mental taxation that takes on a person… The way it affected me in just those few instances… It really is unbelievable that you can operate the way you do.” He gestured to Yeosang carefully, helplessly. “So, I think it’s justified that it takes its toll. In whatever way that happens to occur. Be it exhaustion, irritability, or something else entirely.”
Yeosang’s mouth was dry, but he didn’t bother to wet it. “So the answer is yes.”
Wooyoung’s expression was strained. “Yeosang-”
“I don’t know what to do ,” he murmured in frustration, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms, feeling them sting. “I don’t know , Wooyoung, I just- I’m so fucking tired and I don’t know what to do . They say it’s so bad, but I don’t know what they want me to do about it.”
Yeosang had never had the luxury of options. He was given this ability, now it was his burden to bear. But the slight reprieve in his nightmares, in the constant whispers- it had given him a moment of peace in the storm he had been trying to brave.
It made him selfish.
It made him just want to stop.
It made him want to live a life where he wasn’t plagued with horror he never asked for.
He just wanted to sleep .
“I-”
Yeosang didn’t look up, too afraid that moving would make the pressure behind his eyes release.
“I’ve been… I mean, sort of ever since that first night, I’ve been… thinking about something. That might help. If you want to try.”
Yeosang stilled, not moving, head bowed. “What?” he asked, voice thick. “The only thing that ever worked was muting my powers, and obviously, that’s off the table.”
“Well… the issue with Seonghwa is that he stopped your ability.” Wooyoung said it quietly. Almost as if afraid of frightening him off. “He cut off the supply completely, and that hurt the source. But… what if, instead of stopping your ability, I just… filtered it. Let it run its course, but filter it out.”
Yeosang looked up, frowning, feeling his eyes itch with irritation that threatened to fall down his cheeks. “What does that mean?”
Wooyoung gestured to a desk (identical to the one in Yeosang’s room, in all their rooms), but rather than laying empty, his was filled with books and papers and vials of glowing blue liquid.
“I’m somnokinetic,” he said quietly as Yeosang examined the spread. “And, yeah, that means I can wake people up and put them to sleep, etcetera. But the main aspect of my abilities lies in dreams, not sleep.”
Yeosang turned, frowning slightly. “You can control dreams?”
Wooyoung nodded. “It’s not hard. I used to do it for fun, just to piss off Jongho when he was having a nice dream about winning a competition or something. Putting people to sleep is harder.” He waved a nonchalant hand. “But controlling your dreams isn’t what I’m talking about. Because what you’re seeing in your dreams aren’t actually dreams . They’re visions. And that’s a different story.”
He stepped around Yeosang, walking to the desk. Yeosang followed a step behind him.
“The thing with magic class… is that it has a lot more flexibility with what you can accomplish with your ability. The lines are blurred more than the finite, cut-and-dry bounds of physical and mental classes. If you can manage to figure out how to finagle it, you can do it as a magic class.”
He picked up a large book with no title, examining the blank spine. “Seonghwa’s muting is finicky- the limits of what he can stop and what he allows bounces all around the place. The effect his muting has- it all depends on his moods and how powerful he’s feeling.”
He flipped the book open, turning chunks of pages until he was near the back. The pages with filled with writing and drawing of diagrams that were carefully labeled. Almost like a field journal.
“I… I’ve never truly tested my limits. I know certain things I can do, not necessarily the extent of what I can’t. I’ve messed around with the others, controlling and entering their dreams, examining them from afar, seeing what exactly I’m manipulating- whether it’s the source or the result.”
Yeosang peered over his shoulder at the handwritten notes surrounding the diagram of a brain. “For a magic class, it seems like you have it down to a science.”
Wooyoung scoffed, looking over his shoulder in mock offense. “Magic is just unexplained science. If you want to grow your magic, you need to have a scientific approach. Because of this-” he tapped the page- “I think I have a way to filter out those visions you’re having.”
Yeosang winced. “You keep saying filter. I’m not enjoying the mental images that brings.”
Cutting Yeosang open themselves…
“A better word would be ‘reroute,’” Wooyoung acquiesced, setting the book down. He reached for a vial of glowing blue liquid. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.
Yeosang frowned. “Something that puts people to sleep? You threw it on San that one time.”
“It’s Sleep,” Wooyoung said. “The physical, finite form of Sleep. That I pulled from other people.” He shook it, making the liquid slosh. “Do you know how I get it?”
Yeosang didn’t really want to know. ‘Magic’ was moving closer and closer to mad science by the second. But he shook his head slowly.
“Pulling dreams,” Wooyoung said quietly. He held out his hand. “Watch.”
Yeosang stared, anxiety welling in his throat. But Wooyoung didn’t even reassure him. Simply wiggled his fingers in an inviting gesture, a small, hopeful smile on the corner of his lips. Yeosang knew it would put him to sleep. He had seen it do the same to San. Was Wooyoung hoping to induce a vision or something?
But Yeosang really didn’t have anything to lose, did he? Wooyoung had already seen the visions before, what was one more time?
He held out his hand, hating how it shook a little, and placed it in Wooyoung’s cool fingers that curled around it gently, guiding it forward. He lifted the vial and slowly tilted it over the back of his hand.
Yeosang winced when a single drop of blue hit his skin, the liquid colder than he expec-
He was standing in a green field of grass, wildflowers swaying in a gentle breeze. Yeosang whipped around, his breath echoing around him-
Caw!
His eyes jerked upward at the deafening crow, and he saw a massive hawk racing across the sky, its wings beating once to bring it higher, and Yeosang felt the blast of wind as if it were a hurricane passing throu-
Wooyoung smiled at him sympathetically, hands around his waist as Yeosang blinked back to reality. “Sorry. Probably should have made you sit first.”
Yeosang straightened, feeling like he had just been ripped from a deep sleep that seemed to have lasted only seconds. He swallowed, throat like sandpaper. “What-”
“Dreams,” Wooyoung reminded him. “This one was from San, a few days ago.”
So Yeosang had been asleep. But placed in another’s dream. “So you think if you put me to sleep with that, I won’t dream the visions?”
“No,” Wooyoung said regrettably, voice heavy as he winced. “If you sleep deep enough, these dreams don’t cancel out your own. And, I’m afraid that would probably put you in the same position Seonghwa did, even if it did succeed in blocking yours.”
“Then what ?” Yeosang demanded desperately, yet another solution snatched away. “What use is a fucking science lesson, when it looks like you still don’t have an aswer?”
Wooyoung’s expression was surprisingly calm, making Yeosang feel like a child throwing a fit compared to his silence. Yeosang turned away, scrubbing at his eyes again to push the emotions back down.
“My solution is something that may not work, is my point,” He said quietly. “But if you’re willing to try, I am as well. It might be a little invading in terms of privacy.”
Yeosang looked up, expression defensive. “What do you mean ‘invading’?”
Wooyoung sighed gently, as if trying to figure out how to phrase it. “Okay, so basically, what we’re gonna be dealing with is this: I can basically make these-” He shook the Sleep in a glass- “out of your dream. I would enter your dreams- your visions- but filter them away into vials before- or very soon after- they reach your subconscious.”
Yeosang stared at the flask, wetting his lips silently. “So… you would take them away?”
“Only after they were manifested,” Wooyoung assured him. “Your ability would still be in use, but I would, essentially, catch the dreams before they haunt you.” He looked back at the book on the desk. “I haven’t figured a way I could stop the voices, yet. But I think sleep is a little more important at the moment.”
Yeosang honestly didn’t believe what he was hearing. It felt like having Seonghwa touch his hand all over again, his mind switching off into a buzz of static. The whispers were a nuisance and an annoyance, but compared to the nightmares that were stealing his sanity…
Wooyoung could potentially stop the dreams.
“What would it need?” Yeosang whispered. “Seonghwa had to touch me while I slept. Would you?”
“To extract dreams, yes,” Wooyoung said, wincing. “Just controlling them, I don’t need to, but to take them away, I would at least need to be in the room with you. If that isn’t-”
“It’s fine,” Yeosang said quickly. “It- That’s fine. I don’t care.”
And he really truly didn’t.
Something fluttered in his chest.
~~~~~~
Wooyoung had shared a lot of beds in his time at the compound. None of them were quite so stiff as he and Yeosang.
“Okay,” Wooyoung said, settled across from Yeosang, their faces a foot apart as they tried to occupy space as far from each other as possible. “You good?” he questioned, because, honestly, Wooyoung couldn’t tell if the strain around his eyes was from weeks of no sleep or fear at what was happening.
Yeosang swallowed, fingers twisted in the sheets between them. “What if it doesn’t work?” He whispered, voice a tinge of scared that wasn’t usual. “What do I do then?” And it seemed so fucking strange that Yeosang was looking to him for reassurance. Wooyoung was not Seonghwa, he was not Hongjoong. He wasn’t the one people looked to for reassurance.
But it was just the two of them, and there was no one else to do it.
One thing Wooyoung had learned over the months: Yeosang was desperate for something . Be it peace, change, control, help- whatever it was, he was desperate to have someone give it to him, after he was practically taunted with a promise of it before. And the fall out from before would likely be tame compared to what might happen if Wooyoung’s solution didn’t work.
Wooyoung didn’t want to the thing that broke Yeosang.
Not after seeing him vibrant.
“We’ll panic about that once we know we need to, alright?” He managed a weak smile that he was sure Yeosang saw straight through, likely providing no real comfort. Just a weak lie to hide behind.
But even though he didn’t need to in order to visit his dreams, Wooyoung wrapped a hand around Yeosang’s tightly.
Yeosang glanced at it, then up at Wooyoung, eyes an odd mixture of scared and… almost confused.
Wooyoung squeezed the hand because… well, why not?
“Do you want me to help you fall asleep?” he questioned quietly, eyes tracing Yeosang’s tense expression.
Yeosang swallowed, eyes still glued to Wooyoung’s hand circling his. “No,” he murmured. “No, I can…” He trailed off, and Wooyoung just nodded.
“Just sleep.”
Surprisingly, within a few minutes, Wooyoung felt the familiar waft and wane of sleep emanating from him. He felt six different signatures around the compound- from everyone but himself and Yunho (who was likely still playing his games, despite Seonghwa’s urges for him to fall asleep).
Yeosang’s was quicker than most- second only to Hongjoong’s, which Wooyoung could feel from across the compound. He had researched a little, and there were some things to do with amplified reach with mental classes, and the power within their sleep. Not important at the moment.
Wooyoung sat up a little, keeping his hand in Yeosang’s.
While his eyes still held the dark rings, they were no longer so accented by the strain of insomnia. Wooyoung knew the things that sleep could do for a person- taking years and weights off of them that turned them into completely different people.
The closest he had seen Yeosang seem like this was those precious weeks before the muting began to take its toll.
None of them had had it very easy with their abilities. All of them came with downfalls in one way or another, but everyone like them knew: mental classes were in a category of their own. Maybe their rarity was due to the strain that came with being mental class.
Maybe whatever asshole assigned them these abilities had an ounce of pity and only made a few suffer.
But the moment you met a mental class… you knew it was an entirely different ball game.
Before Yeosang, Hongjoong was the first mental class Wooyoung had ever met. And it was…
In a similar way to what he witnessed from Yeosang’s visions, it was terrifying.
So if Wooyoung could be someone who could potentially lift some of that weight- who could act as some sort of relief, like Seonghwa did…
Like Seonghwa always did…
Wooyoung closed his eyes, his unoccupied hand lifting up slightly, as he felt the familiar tug of the current that ran through every person’s subconscio-
Wooyoung stood in darkness, glancing around carefully. It was a black abyss of nothing, but he didn’t panic. It simply meant Yeosang hadn’t reached REM, yet. Or, in his case, he hadn’t gotten any vision.
Wooyoung turned in a circle, humming to himself. Yeosang mind had a stronger foundation than most oth-
The world exploded into color, buildings and ground taking shape underneath and around him. Wooyoung turned around and saw a skyscraper burning, pieces of it tearing off and falling into a crowd of hundreds standing at the bottom, the heat of it reaching even so far away.
He saw black dots falling from the building- people jumping to escape in futile attempts to save their own lives. Half of the structure caved in, sending embers racing into a smoke-black sky as more burning wreckage fell into the crowds that were run on the ground.
Wooyoung stared in horror as his stomach twisted violently, everything about him feeling dirty and exposed, as if he were standing inside flames that burned-
“You shouldn’t stare for so long.”
Wooyoung whipped back around, his back heated with the flame as he came face to face with Yeosang.
Well. Dream-Yeosang. His subconscious. Well , more accurately the physical manifestation that put his subconscious in his dreams.
They stood only a few feet apart, and Wooyoung suddenly remembered what he was doing here: stopping Yeosang from seeing the horrors behind them every night.
Yeosang’s expression was startlingly apathetic, given how these sights had him waking up screaming. He looked beyond Wooyoung, staring at the burning carnage with a deep sorrow that couldn’t exist anywhere but inside a person’s mind.
Wooyoung pulled himself together, slapping himself. “Right. Sorry,” he whispered, lifting a hand.
The scene flickered, and he opened his eyes outside of Yeosang’s dreams, holding a thin wisp of white between his fingers that flowed like seaweed in the ocean. He flipped over quickly, grabbing the flask on the nightstand and dropping the strand inside.
It liquidized as it touched the bottom, glowing a gentle blue.
Wooyoung breathed out quietly, rubbing at his eyes.
Would Yeosang have multiple visions in a night? Or would stopping one be enough to give him rest?
Wooyoung closed his eyes. And stood among darkness.
He turned, frowning. He waited.
Color exploded around him. He blinked, and he was standing in the middle of a bedroom, riddled with posters and homework and two skateboards shoved in the corner with skate gear. He frowned, hands trailing the soft covers on the bed that was neatly made.
“This isn’t a vision,” he murmured. It didn’t feel like those foreign signatures. It felt like a dream. A real one.
“It isn’t.”
Wooyoung turned and saw Yeosang sitting on the window sill, gazing around the room.
Mental classes had a peace in their own minds that Wooyoung saw in no one else. Everyone else fluttered around their minds, acting as if they were a wonderland they had never visited before. Mental classes… Yeosang and Hongjoong… their mind was their second home. They moved about it with an ease and peace that Wooyoung hadn’t thought possible. Nothing could shake them.
Yeosang’s expression still held the cool apathy as he trailed dull eyes around himself.
“This is your room,” Wooyoung said quietly, gazing around it again.
“Yeah,” Yeosang said quietly, not looking at Wooyoung. “Right before I left.” He turned behind himself, staring out through the blinds. “See?”
Wooyoung didn’t need to see through the window to know what was happening down on the ground: the suit who had come to collect Yeosang was being shoved away as his mother drew him back, refusing to let her child be taken.
A nice dream, but a dream nonetheless.
“Will you have another vision tonight?” Wooyoung asked, staring at him.
Yeosang turned to him slowly, almost eerily. His eyes were startlingly clear. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t. I usually don’t have more than one a night.” He was silent, unmoving. “You took that first one away?”
Wooyoung nodded.
Yeosang swallowed thickly, some of that apathy cracking away. “It was that easy?”
Another nod. Yeosang rolled his lips.
“ Thank you .”
Wooyoung walked over slowly, wrapping his arms around him, and Yeosang leaned into his shoulder, fingers gripping his arms tightly, shaking in Wooyoung’s hold.
Down below, Wooyoung watched Yeosang’s mother embrace dream-him, the suit long gone.
Here, in his dream, Yeosang cried for the third time, Wooyoung hugging him tight enough to make him forget it was even a dream.
~~~~~~
Yeosang blinked awake, and felt like…
Like…
Wooyoung was asleep, curled up on his pillow, breathing silently. Yeosang stared for a moment, remembering a brief flash of flames, and then nothing, and then…
Home. Wooyoung. Peace . He felt like he had slept . He felt whole and grounded, not floating around waiting for his string to be cut, setting him free to float into nothingness.
And Wooyoung’s hand was still clasping his gently.
With Wooyoung asleep beside him, Yeosang curled in his bed and cried one more time.
He would never be able to repay what these people had given him.
~~~~~~~
“It’s… safe for you here?” Yeosang questioned, legs curled up on his bed.
Wooyoung glanced away from the window. “What do you mean?”
Yeosang shrugged, pulling his pillow into his lap. “I mean, it’s not dangerous for you to be in another person’s dreams?”
Wooyoung shook his head. “Not at all. This is my playground.” He flicked a finger at the pillow and watched it burst into flower petals that fluttered into Yeosang’s lap. He jumped a little, but let out a quiet laugh as he ran his fingers through them, eyes lighter.
“It’s not boring for you here? I don’t seem to have very many interesting dreams.”
Most nights, Wooyoung popped into his old bedroom or somewhere in the compound.
Wooyoung shrugged. “Better the boring ones than the weird ones. At least this one doesn’t have any tap dancing cats.”
“Tap-”
“Don’t ask,” Wooyoung sighed, shuddering. “But your dreams are nice. Especially compared to what we were dealing with before.”
He glanced over, Yeosang staring down at the flower petals with a far away look. “Yeah,” he said quietly. His lips twitched into an almost-smile. “Yeah, it is better.”
Wooyoung stared at the small smile, wondering if there was a time when Yeosang had done this more.
The bed beneath him fractured into petals, Yeosang crying out as he fell to the ground, picking himself up and glaring at Wooyoung who simply snorted behind his hand, apologizing.
“It was an accident, I promise!” He snickered.
Yeosang threw a handful of petals at him. “Playground, my ass,” he muttered, dusting them off of his clothes.
Wooyoung stared, smile turning almost wistful. “And you’re okay with it, too?”
Yeosang looked up from an annoying petal stuck in his waistband, frowning. “Okay with what?”
“Not seeing your visions,” he said quietly, drawing one leg up. “It doesn’t make you… I don’t know, feel weird?”
Yeosang stared at the thick padding of petals beneath his feet. “I don’t,” he murmured. “I’ve never seen a single vision that I was able to prevent in the slightest. And even if I could…” He shook his head, eyes falling closed. “I don’t want to see them,” he whispered. “Maybe, one day, I might be brave enough to see them again, but for now… I can’t.”
Wooyoung had come to the conclusion that Yeosang had an odd relationship with his ability. Most people fell into one of two extremes: acceptance or despising.
Most started in the latter and ended in the former (Hongjoong, Jongho, Seonghwa), but everyone had some sort of love-hate with their abilities, depending on how destructive they were.
Wooyoung himself had only seen his as an irritant and an invasion of privacy, especially when nightmares plagued them and he was basically forced to watch or change them. But he had learned to manipulate his abilities to best suit him, and he had made peace with that.
Yeosang… it almost seemed like he was saving his ability. Putting it on hold for later, when he would be strong enough to handle it. He spoke about it with disgust, but with an air of peace. Like he knew that no matter what he did, he would hate it, so why bother?
It was complex in a way that Wooyoung didn’t think he was capable of understanding.
All he knew was that when you went down the left hallway, down the the very end, you would open it up and find Wooyoung’s little lab, as San called it. Filled with his concoctions and experiments with Sleep he had done, dozens of shelves filled with vials of half-tampered substances.
If you went through a door on the other side, you would find a storage closet cleared out of everything but dozens of bottles of sleep, each labeled with a date.
All he knew was that he offered to throw them out, but Yeosang asked him to keep them. Just in case. For a ‘what if’. For later. For a time when Yeosang was strong enough, desperate enough, willing enough to go back and look at them.
All he knew was that Yeosang hated his ability, but he didn’t reject it.
All he knew was that Yeosang seemed to have made a peace with himself, and that was really the only thing people like them could ever hope for.
All he knew was that he was glad he was able to supply that.
~~~~~~~
Yeosang woke up. Naturally. Without a dream or vision to force him into consciousness.
He blinked up at the dark roof. Turned onto his side.
Wooyoung still slept soundly beside him, a little bit of drool on the pillow, but not even enough to try teasing about. His hair was fluffed from rubbing his face into the fabric, and his cheek was pink from pressing against the pillow.
Yeosang wasn’t used to waking up with people around. Usually, if someone was present, he was yelling for them to stay back.
Yeosang wondered if Wooyoung regretted him coming to the compound. Him, with his projecting horrors that he could barely contain. Wooyoung, who was forced to watch them-
Who chose to watch them.
Even when he had a choice. Not because it helped or because it did anything. But because…
Yeosang didn’t know why. Didn’t understand why Wooyoung would watch them, but it was… It was strange. When Yeosang had woken up with images of bodies falling in his mind, there was now someone else who knew exactly what kind of horror he had seen.
Wooyoung knew. And maybe he didn’t understand. Maybe he was just looking at these like someone watched a thriller movie, jumping at all the right moments, but…
Yeosang really didn’t give a shit.
Someone finally fucking understood. Someone had finally stood beside him and watched with him. His eyes were not the only ones shown the terrifying future.
And instead of making him want to shed even more tears, it built something in his chest.
Something warm where only cold fear had once resided. Something that had kicked out and scrubbed out all the terror and apprehension, leaving only….
Something. Something warm. Something undeniably Wooyoung.
Yeosang was used to being vulnerable, sitting in the aftermath of his visions with raw skin and tender emotions that ached in the darkness. He was not used to someone being there, poking and prodding and observing.
And, yet, somehow, Yeosang would take the prodding over the aching loneliness that the darkness brought with it.
In this darkness, Yeosang did not lay alone. He stared at Wooyoung for a few moments, feeling the little ripples of sleep that emanated from him at times. Letting go of a tired breath, Yeosang dropped his head back onto the pillow, scooting forward until their knees bumped.
Yeosang closed his eyes, so close he could feel the warmth of Wooyoung’s body heating himself as he settled back in, letting Wooyoung’s ability lull him back into sleep.
Wooyoung lifted an arm, laying it across Yeosang’s waist, a solid, grounding weight for the nighttime darkness.
~~~~~~
“Yeosang!”
Yeosang turned, blissfully ignorant, as Wooyoung raced passed him, grabbing his arms and forcing the other in front of him as a shield, Yeosang stiffening slightly as he caught sight of the full grown rhino barreling towards them.
Well, towards Wooyoung. Yeosang was an unfortunate casualty, as he always was.
San turned back into himself with a flash before he crashed into them, all three of them going tumbling to the ground, Yeosang crying out in annoyance as they hit, smacking Wooyoung’s neck and face and whatever else he could reach.
“Leave- me- out of your stupid- petty- fight,” he demanded, delivering a few blows to San as well until both boys were off of him and allowing him to stand. He dusted himself off, eyes narrowed dangerously.
Eyes that were no longer rimmed with dark circles and strained with hidden horrors that only he knew.
Well, now it was him and Wooyoung.
~~~~~~
Wooyoung had, over time, gotten faster at pulling away the dreams before they could even fully manifest in Yeosang’s mind. At the first burst of color, the vision was already safely held between Wooyoung’s fingers, placed in its jar, and Wooyoung would take a moment (only a moment) to observe Yeosang’s gentle face, searching for signs of immediate distress, before he would enter back into the dreamscape.
Sometimes, Yeosang didn’t dream at all. Sometimes, it was fantastical dreams- like floating in space or living in a jungle. And sometimes, they were normal dreams where he was at the compound but everyone walked on the ceiling.
Yeosang was always there- seated on chairs, in trees, floating in the air- watching Wooyoung with an odd expression he still couldn’t place. It was gentle, though, whatever it was.
“You probably don’t have to keep coming back in,” Yeosang told him, voice low and even. “I never have more than one vision.”
Wooyoung just shrugged. “I just want to make sure.”
Yeosang didn’t try to stop him, turning his head far enough he thought Wooyoung couldn’t see the way his lips twitched.
There was a period of normalcy that almost seemed to throb with warning.
And one night, Yeosang had bolted awake, Wooyoung already sitting up after the blast of sleep energy that crashed into him from the other, the speed with which it came and went dizzying.
All Wooyoung caught was the familiar hallways of the compound and the bright crimson that painted them before his attention snapped to Yeosang as he tried to throw himself off the bed. Wooyoung surged into action, catching him and holding him back.
“Hey, hey ,” Wooyoung said quickly, quiet and gentle as Yeosang looked at him, eyes wide and blank with terror. “Yeosang-” He squeezed Wooyoung’s arm until Wooyoung was sure it was going to break. He grasped the hand gently. “Yeosang, calm down , what-”
“I had another one,” he breathed quickly, terrified eyes locked onto Wooyoung as he shook violently, voice vibrating. “I- The visions, it- I- You guys-”
He shook his head, tears pooling in his eyes that never fell. Horror painted across his pale face, and Wooyoung reached out, one hand cupping his cheek gently.
Yeosang gripped his wrist gently, as if afraid to break it. He blinked, expression twisted in agony, and tears streaked down his cheeks, wetting Wooyoung’s hand.
“ You were all dead ,” he breathed, voice breaking as his shoulder shook. “All of you, you- you were gone- ”
Wooyoung hushed him quietly, frowning because he had already removed one vision of knives and blood. Yeosang had never had a second one.
“Calm down,” he murmured, stroking his cheek. “Give me one second, Yeosang,” Wooyoung whispered, hand on his cheek shifting until it touched his forehead.
Wooyoung could feel the spike and fall of the remnants of his sleep. The impressions and memories his brain had stored of them. He found the blank waves where he had taken the vision. Then the REM cycle of a dream, and the furious spike and fall of something not a dream, but certainly not a vision.
Wooyoung breathed a sigh of relief as he brushed the tears from his cheeks. “Yeosang-”
His hand crushed his wrist. “You were gone , Wooyoung-”
“Yeosang, it wasn’t a vision,” he murmured carefully, eyes meeting Yeosang’s wide ones. “It wasn’t a vision,” he assured him firmly. “It was just a nightmare. Just a regular bad dream. It wasn’t real, and it isn’t going to be.”
Yeosang stared, eyes glassy as he shook his head blankly, as if he didn’t understand.
Wooyoung’s other hand grasped Yeosang’s rubbing gentle circles into the pulsepoint at his wrist. He stared at the other with sad eyes because the only type of horror Yeosang knew was the kind that eventually came true.
The dark room was silent around them, echoing only with Yeosang’s labored breaths.
“It was a regular dream,” Wooyoung whispered hoarsely, brushing his cheek comfortingly. “It isn’t going to happen, understand me, Yeosang? What you saw was not a vision. Just images concocted by your mind, like any other dream you’ve had that never came true.”
Yeosang swallowed, hand grasping at Wooyoung’s until he held his fingers tightly. “You’re sure?” he breathed roughly. “You’re absolutely positive it wasn’t a vision?”
Once more, Yeosang stared at him like a single word from Wooyoung had the power to break the fragile peace they had gathered.
Wooyoung nodded slowly, feeling the weak tremors racing through the other’s muscles. “My jurisdiction is dreams, Yeosang. Your visions have a very different signature than any dream would ever have. The last thing you saw in your mind before you woke up was a dream . I swear, Yeosang.”
And Wooyoung had no expectations of Yeosang to simply nod and go back to sleep.
So he was prepared when the adrenaline of horror faded, and Yeosang’s shoulders slumped as relief and aftermath rushed to the surface as more tears fell and he hugged Wooyoung hard enough to bruise, sobbing the horrors out into Wooyoung’s shoulder, weak hands gripping his shirt.
Yeosang, who had never had a nightmare, other than the one that real life forced him to live. Who couldn’t physically understand that not every gruesome sight in his mind was something destined to be. Who cried because he had finally found his place here, and thought for a few terrifying seconds, that he was going to lose them.
Yeosang, who had been living his life with only himself to witness the horrors of his mind.
Wooyoung, who hadn’t ever intended to try and share that burden, but who found himself trying to take part of it regardless.
Wooyoung rubbed his back, forcing warmth into the clammy skin as he reassured him, again and again, feeling each shiver that ran through Yeosang’s body.
“It was just a nightmare… We aren’t going anywhere, Yeosang… Nothing is going to happen… We’re safe… We’re all safe.”
Nightmares were a dime a dozen among the compound. Some more than others, some times more common than others. But what mattered was the amount it affected the others. Yunho rarely had nightmares, so his tended to be quite strong. Hongjoong, especially, could be having nightmares every night, and Wooyoung would never know if he didn’t check. They just no longer affected him.
This nightmare had come and gone so quickly, Wooyoung was almost tempted to double check that it hadn’t been a vision, but he knew what he saw.
This was a nightmare, nothing more. It was just one that had cut deep and quick.
“We’re all safe, I can feel everyone sleeping, Yeosang. Everyone is okay.”
Yeosang remained still against him.
Wooyoung felt the moment that the tears ran out and the silence in Yeosang’s mouth turned to sleep, his body slumped against Wooyoung’s and the gentle rhythm of slumber creating its current around him.
Wooyoung felt a little sick, his mouth dry. He laid Yeosang back down on his pillow, tear tracks still shining on his cheeks that Wooyoung wiped away gently.
Nightmares were the worst. Yeosang was always lost for a few moments, caught in the in-between of visions, sleeping, and waking. Wooyoung (who had grown accustomed to both of them fitting in the slightly-too-small bed) was always there to grab his hand, hoping to ground him in reality, assuring and reassuring that whatever terrible thing he saw (usually involving them at the compound) was not real.
It would not happen.
Yeosang always stared at him in disbelief, still unable to comprehend it, but he was getting better at regaining his bearings, nodding along with whatever Wooyoung whispered to him.
“It’s okay, Yeosang, I promise.”
“I believe you, I know -”
~~~~~~~
“You’re both assholes.”
“ San’s the asshole!” Wooyoung fought as he followed the annoyed Yeosang to the kitchen. “He’s the easiest person for me get ingredients from, but he’s so pissy and a wimp for pain that he never lets me! I just needed a little hornbill beak!”
“That beak is attached to him, Wooyoung,” Yeosang reminded him, throwing an unimpressed glance over his shoulder. “What if I told you, I just needed one fingernail ?” He scrunched his face in mock-pleading before losing it to sarcasm. “You’d be a wimp, too.”
You’d think, as someone blocking Yeosang’s visions and everything else Wooyoung did for him, Wooyoung would have gained some extra points. Maybe catch a break now and then?
Never.
Not from Yeosang.
Not when he was rested and happy and finally gaining the energy and will to be the person he wanted to be.
~~~~~~
“Thank you.”
Wooyoung brushed off the almost uncomfortably sincere gratitude as Yeosang stared at him across from their late night pudding after a nightmare that Yeosang didn’t want to sleep after. “It really isn’t an issue. It’s like it’s hard to do or anything.” He let a grin take his face, though. “Does this mean I’m your favorite now?”
“No,” Yeosang said mercilessly, taking another bite of strawberry pudding.
“Why not ?” Wooyoung demanded, glaring, almost upsetting his chocolate cup. “Seonghwa hasn’t muted you in months !”
“I don’t like him best because he muted my abilities, I like him because he’s nice.”
“ I’m nice!”
“He’s nicer.”
Wooyoung slammed his head into the kitchen table, and Yeosang simply patted his hair gently- a sarcasm, a confidence, that he hadn’t had before. One he had been slowly building up with each night he slept through till morning. “You’re a close second, don’t worry,” he said with a barely contained smirk. Wooyoung swatted the hand away, Yeosang snickering around another bite of pudding.
Wooyoung was secretly, privately growing to love it.
~~~~~~
Wooyoung followed Yeosang into the kitchen.
“I would just appreciate it if he could be a little more understanding .”
Yeosang gave him a faux-sympathetic look. “Like you are?”
“I’m so understanding! I stay up and listen to you all night!”
“You also made Yunho stay asleep so you could have the last cinnamon bagel.”
Wooyoung threw his hands out. “He had already eaten three!”
“They’re his , Wooyoung.”
Wooyoung threw a strawberry from the bowl on the counter at him, which he dodged, glaring angrily. “Waste another strawberry and I will-”
The next one caught him directly in his teeth, bouncing off and leaving behind a little splash of red. And while Wooyoung expected a fully raging Yeosang to attack, his body prepared for such an assault, both of them stood in silence, staring in shock at each other.
And then doubled over laughing.
The kitchen was empty, but Wooyoung was sure if anyone walked in, they would think the two had lost their minds.
Yeosang wiped away the little bit of red, and Wooyoung couldn’t believe he’d made such a shot, and when they finally managed to look at each other again, it welled back up again, and another round of snorts incapacitated them for a few moments.
One thing Wooyoung had been noticing: along with clear eyes and a purer smile, Yeosang laughed more. He had heard a few chuckles before, and when Seonghwa was muting him, he’d get the chance to burst out a little bit.
But now, with a long term solution, it almost seemed more genuine, following along with the confidence Wooyoung had seen building behind his crystalline eyes.
Months later, and Yeosang’s abilities hadn’t rejected what Wooyoung was doing. There were barely any traces of the haunted face that had greeted them that first day in the hall.
Yeosang’s face was bright here, scrunched in laughter, and Wooyoung lifted his eyes to look at him, his own laughter contained to his chest for a few moments, and then everything seemed to stop.
Another item was added to the list of universal truths.
That was the thing about the truths. Just because you didn’t always know what they were, didn’t mean they hadn’t always existed. Wooyoung had never in his life considered such a truth, but it slammed into his chest with force of one of Jongho’s fist bumps. Perhaps he had been faced with it before, but he hadn’t known it to be a truth to be acknowledged.
It was a truth that, for Wooyoung, sparked a journey he could never prepare himself for. It opened parts of him he had closed off, and it opened up paths that most of them had thought would remain blocked.
Yeosang laughed, bright and genuine as he called Wooyoung a dumbass.
There are few truths known to the world to be absolute.
A few exist: The sky is blue, the Mental Class is rare, the earth revolves around the sun, a silk worm will make any potion triple its original strength…
And Yeosang was beautiful.