Work Text
a dream.seokjin dreamt a lot, just like more than half of the world's population. but dreams weren't just dreams. they were signs. signs of the future, glimpses into the the next few years of his life.seokjin hated dreaming.dreams are fun when they are imaginative, when they are birthed from childhood memories and desires. but seokjin didn't have those dreams. his dreams consisted of bills, payments, broken kitchen pipes, losing his job, car accident...his whole life he'd hoped for a good dream, a fairytale like story that he knew he probably didn't deserve but craved so badly. so of course, after living a lifetime of nightmares, it was a shock the first time he dreamt of red hair, pushed off a clear forehead, stern brows shaped over kind brown eyes. a long nose that curved at the tip, perfect to press a finger against. a smile so wonderful and bright, seokjin had startled awake right away, his heart hammering in his chest.no.it couldn't be.shaking his head, the man had fallen back on his pillow, storing the perfect imagery in a bin inside his head, keeping it away from chewing up at him. if only that was the last dream.the second time he dreamt of the red haired boy was at lunch break, when he'd fallen asleep slumped over his desk at work, crushing his papers. it was vivid and clear in his mind, the boy had been laughing. his eyes had crinkled at the corners, gleaming as an overjoyed puppy jumped on top of him. his large hands, gentle as he hugged the puppy, coddling him before watching with fond eyes as the pup walked off his lap, only to run back a few seconds later.the third time, the boy wasn't smiling. he looked glum, petting the puppy on his lap distractedly. even the pup seemed to notice his distress and snuggled his nose against his arm to comfort. the boy smiled, but it wasn't full. it didn't reach his eyes and seokjin so badly wanted his dream self to reach over but he was frozen, like always.the fourth time, was the last time.the fourth time, seokjin saw the boy hunched over a piece of paper. but it wasn't just a random piece of paper. it was what seokjin recognized as watercolor paper, with a very detailed drawing in progress.a drawing of seokjin.the boy was shading in his plump lips, brows furrowed in concentration, his hair was a mess and his desk lamp was the only source of light in the room— like he'd just rolled out of bed and started to draw. seokjin watched him with confusion, millions of questions bouncing inside his head. he watched him glide the pencil tip across the paper, hastily drawing strands of hair. when he was finished, some words were scribbled messily at the bottom of the page.𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈seokjin woke up.