in my dream
title: in my dream
pairing: eunhae
rating: pg-13 (for themes of death)
genre: romance/tragedy
summary: there’s a boy in donghae’s dreams, and he just won’t leave
a/n: slight AU, all that’s different is that hae has ‘his’ own apartment. also, this is set during the mr. simple era, a.k.a. when hyuk was still blonde. for the eunhae anniversary, because eunhae can and will last forever *does shisus eyebrow dance* also, i love my beta flarglnomnom almost as much as hae loves hyuk
Like he has for the past few weeks, Donghae wakes up with his hands already reaching out for his bedside table, and he grabs at it wildly before taking hold of his pencil and the sheets of music composition paper left there for him by Ryeowook. His hand flies across the paper to keep up with the melody playing through his head, and the notes flow onto the paper, flow in a way that they don’t at any other time of the day. By the time Donghae is done, five sheets of paper lie on his bed and the only things left in his head are images of blonde hair and a breathtaking smile.
(Donghae writes music for a boy he doesn’t even know.)
Leeteuk comes over about three hours later, like he has every day for weeks, with Heechul tagging behind him. Donghae greets them wordlessly with two cups of tea and the pile of papers. Heechul takes the tea- both cups- and Leeteuk the pieces of paper. Both of them have dark purple rings around their eyes, and Leeteuk’s smile is tight, if still bright, when he scans the music and says, “Yesung will like this song. It suits his style, with the sad lyrics and composition but need for soulful rendition-” Leeteuk keeps talking; he has always been able to talk, words substituted for emotions, but Donghae isn’t interested in mindless words, can’t be, when the only thing he has been able to think of in what seems like forever is the beautiful boy with the blonde hair. In his dreams, he knows the name of the blonde boy, so that when Donghae is kissing along the boy’s sharp jawline and the boy whispers, gums showing as he smiles, ‘I love you Donghae, let’s just stay like this forever,' Donghae can reply with the confidence of knowing, ‘I love you too, more than you’ll ever know now,’ but when he wakes up, the name is gone from his memory, gone like it had never been there, gone like it had never left his lips before.
It’s two hours later when Leeteuk leaves, begging pardon the whole way out the door for not staying longer. Heechul announces to the air that he will stay for a while longer, as he has the day off work; Donghae doesn’t care, and the only thing that responds to Heechul’s declaration is Donghae’s stuffed monkey, which pitches headfirst off its shelf. Donghae is on his feet before he realizes it, clutching the monkey tightly as he returns it to its safe resting spot. His voice comes out harsh and grating, like he hasn’t spoken in years (and perhaps he hasn’t), as he says, “He hates germs on the monkey.” The words come out before Donghae can stop them, before Donghae can figure out who ‘he’ is.
Heechul jumps a bit at the sound of Donghae’s voice, shock lingering on his face as he leans a tiny bit forward and says, cautious in a way that is so essentially not-Heechul that Donghae is confused, “So, are you over him yet?”
The repeated mention of this ‘him’ makes Donghae’s head spin, makes him think that he’s missing out on something that should be obvious, is obvious to everyone except for him, and inexplicably, his mind jumps to the blonde boy, the only ‘him’ that Donghae cares to think about. “Do you know his name?” Donghae blurts, unable to help himself, and Heechul’s eyebrows furrow in a way that Donghae doesn’t find very encouraging.
“Who?” Heechul says, slowly.
He shouldn’t talk about the boy, because it makes everything less real, but there’s no reality to dreams anyway and he’s gone in too far to stop, so Donghae says, “the boy, the one with the blonde hair and the gummy smile. He’s really skinny, and-” Donghae breaks off as Heechul stands and one of Donghae’s favorite teacups hits the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” Heechul says, eyes slightly crazed. “I thought you were getting better because you were speaking again, I really did, but I guess I was wrong. Get it into your head, Lee Donghae, get over it! You’re killing Super Junior, Donghae, by staying in the past like this!” Heechul backs towards the door, and then he’s gone. Donghae is left staring blankly at the empty doorway.
(Later that day, when Donghae picks up the shattered shards of china, he cuts his palm and dusky red blood flows through his fingers. He doesn’t feel the pain, though, because he can practically see his hands running through the soft locks of someone who, at one point in time, had hair that shade of red.)
When he falls asleep that night, the boy is there, waiting for him, arms wide and welcoming. Unlike every other night, however, Donghae doesn’t slip into those arms and lose himself; he cares about Super Junior, he does, and he’s going to put them first for once, gorgeous boys be damned. “Who are you?” Donghae says, and his voice comes out accusing, in a way he doesn’t mean (or maybe he does).
The boy recoils slightly as he replies, “Did you forget me already, Donghae?” He stands, his eyes unbearably sad and familiar to Donghae, and says, “You promised you would never forget.” His fingers reach toward Donghae and he smiles painfully. “I guess this is goodbye, Donghae.” Then Donghae is on his knees, screaming, arms stretched wide for someone who he knows won’t be there, and like always when the boy isn’t with him in his dreams, Donghae hears screeching tires, shrieking metal, feels a jarring thud and then blackness.
There is no music that morning, and when Leeteuk and Sungmin arrive, they find Donghae gazing at the Super Junior photo albums that they had hidden weeks prior. They stand awkwardly, but Donghae saves them by saying, eyes not leaving the pictures, “We used to dance together, didn’t we?” When there’s only blank silence, Donghae looks up and repeats, “We used to dance together.”
Leeteuk opens his mouth, but it’s Sungmin that answers, “You did.”
Donghae stands up. “I want to see the grave,” he says. Sungmin nods as he scoops up the car keys from the table. Leeteuk opens his mouth again, looking so lost that Donghae can see what he has done, what he has been doing all this time. “I’m sorry for everything, hyung,” he adds as he follows Sungmin out the door.
It’s a plain grave, one that would not have been expected for a national icon. There are bunches of flowers stacked still, even though the car crash had happened over a month ago, but no one is around, for which Donghae is thankful. Donghae doesn’t have flowers, but he does have a thick stack of white papers, which he sets next to the headstone. Sungmin steps back to give him room as Donghae leans forward and traces each engraved contour of the stone. “I haven’t forgotten you,” he says, and a wind picks up, rustling the petals of the flowers and setting his music to flight, and at that moment it seems as if life has not forsaken this dead place. “I haven’t forgotten you, Hyukjae, and I never will.” He pauses a bit, and Sungmin glimpses the first smile he has seen on Donghae’s face since the crash when Donghae continues, “We used to dance together.”
Both Donghae and Sungmin hear what could be, might be the voice of Lee Hyukjae as the wind whispers, “And we will again someday.”
pairing: eunhae
rating: pg-13 (for themes of death)
genre: romance/tragedy
summary: there’s a boy in donghae’s dreams, and he just won’t leave
a/n: slight AU, all that’s different is that hae has ‘his’ own apartment. also, this is set during the mr. simple era, a.k.a. when hyuk was still blonde. for the eunhae anniversary, because eunhae can and will last forever *does shisus eyebrow dance* also, i love my beta flarglnomnom almost as much as hae loves hyuk
Like he has for the past few weeks, Donghae wakes up with his hands already reaching out for his bedside table, and he grabs at it wildly before taking hold of his pencil and the sheets of music composition paper left there for him by Ryeowook. His hand flies across the paper to keep up with the melody playing through his head, and the notes flow onto the paper, flow in a way that they don’t at any other time of the day. By the time Donghae is done, five sheets of paper lie on his bed and the only things left in his head are images of blonde hair and a breathtaking smile.
(Donghae writes music for a boy he doesn’t even know.)
Leeteuk comes over about three hours later, like he has every day for weeks, with Heechul tagging behind him. Donghae greets them wordlessly with two cups of tea and the pile of papers. Heechul takes the tea- both cups- and Leeteuk the pieces of paper. Both of them have dark purple rings around their eyes, and Leeteuk’s smile is tight, if still bright, when he scans the music and says, “Yesung will like this song. It suits his style, with the sad lyrics and composition but need for soulful rendition-” Leeteuk keeps talking; he has always been able to talk, words substituted for emotions, but Donghae isn’t interested in mindless words, can’t be, when the only thing he has been able to think of in what seems like forever is the beautiful boy with the blonde hair. In his dreams, he knows the name of the blonde boy, so that when Donghae is kissing along the boy’s sharp jawline and the boy whispers, gums showing as he smiles, ‘I love you Donghae, let’s just stay like this forever,' Donghae can reply with the confidence of knowing, ‘I love you too, more than you’ll ever know now,’ but when he wakes up, the name is gone from his memory, gone like it had never been there, gone like it had never left his lips before.
It’s two hours later when Leeteuk leaves, begging pardon the whole way out the door for not staying longer. Heechul announces to the air that he will stay for a while longer, as he has the day off work; Donghae doesn’t care, and the only thing that responds to Heechul’s declaration is Donghae’s stuffed monkey, which pitches headfirst off its shelf. Donghae is on his feet before he realizes it, clutching the monkey tightly as he returns it to its safe resting spot. His voice comes out harsh and grating, like he hasn’t spoken in years (and perhaps he hasn’t), as he says, “He hates germs on the monkey.” The words come out before Donghae can stop them, before Donghae can figure out who ‘he’ is.
Heechul jumps a bit at the sound of Donghae’s voice, shock lingering on his face as he leans a tiny bit forward and says, cautious in a way that is so essentially not-Heechul that Donghae is confused, “So, are you over him yet?”
The repeated mention of this ‘him’ makes Donghae’s head spin, makes him think that he’s missing out on something that should be obvious, is obvious to everyone except for him, and inexplicably, his mind jumps to the blonde boy, the only ‘him’ that Donghae cares to think about. “Do you know his name?” Donghae blurts, unable to help himself, and Heechul’s eyebrows furrow in a way that Donghae doesn’t find very encouraging.
“Who?” Heechul says, slowly.
He shouldn’t talk about the boy, because it makes everything less real, but there’s no reality to dreams anyway and he’s gone in too far to stop, so Donghae says, “the boy, the one with the blonde hair and the gummy smile. He’s really skinny, and-” Donghae breaks off as Heechul stands and one of Donghae’s favorite teacups hits the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” Heechul says, eyes slightly crazed. “I thought you were getting better because you were speaking again, I really did, but I guess I was wrong. Get it into your head, Lee Donghae, get over it! You’re killing Super Junior, Donghae, by staying in the past like this!” Heechul backs towards the door, and then he’s gone. Donghae is left staring blankly at the empty doorway.
(Later that day, when Donghae picks up the shattered shards of china, he cuts his palm and dusky red blood flows through his fingers. He doesn’t feel the pain, though, because he can practically see his hands running through the soft locks of someone who, at one point in time, had hair that shade of red.)
When he falls asleep that night, the boy is there, waiting for him, arms wide and welcoming. Unlike every other night, however, Donghae doesn’t slip into those arms and lose himself; he cares about Super Junior, he does, and he’s going to put them first for once, gorgeous boys be damned. “Who are you?” Donghae says, and his voice comes out accusing, in a way he doesn’t mean (or maybe he does).
The boy recoils slightly as he replies, “Did you forget me already, Donghae?” He stands, his eyes unbearably sad and familiar to Donghae, and says, “You promised you would never forget.” His fingers reach toward Donghae and he smiles painfully. “I guess this is goodbye, Donghae.” Then Donghae is on his knees, screaming, arms stretched wide for someone who he knows won’t be there, and like always when the boy isn’t with him in his dreams, Donghae hears screeching tires, shrieking metal, feels a jarring thud and then blackness.
There is no music that morning, and when Leeteuk and Sungmin arrive, they find Donghae gazing at the Super Junior photo albums that they had hidden weeks prior. They stand awkwardly, but Donghae saves them by saying, eyes not leaving the pictures, “We used to dance together, didn’t we?” When there’s only blank silence, Donghae looks up and repeats, “We used to dance together.”
Leeteuk opens his mouth, but it’s Sungmin that answers, “You did.”
Donghae stands up. “I want to see the grave,” he says. Sungmin nods as he scoops up the car keys from the table. Leeteuk opens his mouth again, looking so lost that Donghae can see what he has done, what he has been doing all this time. “I’m sorry for everything, hyung,” he adds as he follows Sungmin out the door.
It’s a plain grave, one that would not have been expected for a national icon. There are bunches of flowers stacked still, even though the car crash had happened over a month ago, but no one is around, for which Donghae is thankful. Donghae doesn’t have flowers, but he does have a thick stack of white papers, which he sets next to the headstone. Sungmin steps back to give him room as Donghae leans forward and traces each engraved contour of the stone. “I haven’t forgotten you,” he says, and a wind picks up, rustling the petals of the flowers and setting his music to flight, and at that moment it seems as if life has not forsaken this dead place. “I haven’t forgotten you, Hyukjae, and I never will.” He pauses a bit, and Sungmin glimpses the first smile he has seen on Donghae’s face since the crash when Donghae continues, “We used to dance together.”
Both Donghae and Sungmin hear what could be, might be the voice of Lee Hyukjae as the wind whispers, “And we will again someday.”