The Dreamcatcher (2/2)
<<< one
December 8
Baekhyun went through the same escort process as the first time, Chen and Tao flanking him throughout the entire trip to the Bank. Before he climbed into the jet, Baekhyun instinctively looked over his shoulder. He didn't see anyone peeking out of the corner of the building next to his. Baekhyun pouted and surveyed each inch of the surroundings through the glass top as it slid closed. There was no boy of olive skin watching him.
Today Baekhyun was instructed to observe the operations in the Refurb Room. He watched bankers take half-empty bottles of dreams and run them through a thorough process of re-concoction according to standard formulas, rendering dreams that could be redistributed for sale at a lower price. The majority of refurbished dreams were stocked in a separate section in the Vault for the Commoners when they came to purchase them using rations.
After a few hours, all but one of the bankers staffed in the Refurb Room were called to a meeting. Baekhyun struck up a conversation with the remaining banker, Chanyeol, who wore a perpetual smile and was easy to talk to. Within minutes Baekhyun was doubling over from laughing at an anecdote Chanyeol shared. Chanyeol was quite a storyteller, Baekhyun thought. The tall, amicable man gave Baekhyun more than a basic introduction of the Refurb Room and its operations; he divulged tidbits of his colleagues that Baekhyun felt embarrassed by merely listening. Jokes aside, Chanyeol was undoubtedly good at his job, hands busied with refurbishing dreams as he spoke, like his brain was neatly compartmentalized into working and talking.
“Good thing we managed to fix the attrition quickly, or Kris would probably be watching me work right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s terrifying,” Chanyeol whispered. Baekhyun suppressed a snort.
“The attrition?” Baekhyun asked.
“Missing data. The dream log didn’t match up a few days ago and Suho totally freaked out.”
Baekhyun nodded. He remembered that. He was there when it was detected.
“Was it really bad?”
Chanyeol widened his eyes at Baekhyun, incredulous he should ask such a question.
“Of course! Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it was a lot of data missing. Hundreds of dreams. The report showed some sort of trend, so it was non-random, meaning-“
“Someone was stealing dreams?” Baekhyun said under his breath, gaping. Chanyeol nodded.
“That’s why we amped up the security, in case you haven’t noticed the extra agents everywhere.”
Baekhyun had noticed. It was impossible not to. The number of agents within and near the premises of the Bank had nearly doubled.
“Some people romanticize the thief to be some sort of a Robin Hood figure. Do you know that story?” Baekhyun shook his head. “Right, of course not. You’re too young. Well, Robin Hood is this heroic figure in a medieval folktale. In the legend, he was an excellent archer who robbed the rich and gave to the poor.” Chanyeol paused as he capped off a finished bottle and placed it in a Dreambox on his desk.
“So you’re saying the dream thief is like Robin Hood?”
“It’s only rumored that he gave the dreams to the Commoners instead of hoarding them all for himself, since the Council obviously didn’t release an official statement or anything.” Chanyeol shrugged. “I saw a name in the news the other day. What was it… the Dreamcatcher? Yeah, that’s it. They call him the Dreamcatcher.”
“The Dreamcatcher.” The name rolled over Baekhyun’s tongue, leaving an aftertaste of fascination like an untried flavor of candy.
“Well, no one knows if any of this is actually true. Never trust sources other than the Council, you know what I mean? Just think of it as a modern folktale.” Chanyeol winked, and Baekhyun grinned and nodded. "Anyway, I'm gonna run to the restroom real quick. Could you keep watch for me for a few minutes?"
"Sure thing!"
"Alrighty, then. I'll be back in a jiffy." Chanyeol strolled out the room, leaving Baekhyun to his own device.
Baekhyun glanced at the door after it shut behind Chanyeol. He looked around the room, eyes raking over the open bottles scattered over the lab bench top. He swallowed. Curiosity tugged at him and his feet carried him to the bench. He scanned the bench top and saw a tablet a few inches away. Baekhyun bit his bottom lip. He wasn't supposed to touch anything, but he was alone. No one was watching. His fingers were itching. What harm could a touch do?
Baekhyun looked up and glanced around. The door was as securely shut as before. He raised his hand and swiped a finger across the tablet. The screen lit up and a myriad of numbers in a chart flashed into view. He squinted and tried to decipher them. Right hand suspended in mid-air, Baekhyun hesitated before tapping on the screen to zoom in.
All of a sudden he felt like his head was smashed in by a sledgehammer. He cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, fingers pressing deep into his temples. The tablet slipped from his hands to the bench top with a soft thud as he dropped to his heels. White flashes seized his vision and he thought he had passed out until a familiar deep voice rang through.
"Baekhyun?"
Baekhyun dragged his eyes open and looked up. It was Chanyeol. The white flashes were gone, but the pain was still there, dull and gnawing in the back of his head.
"Are you alright? You don't look so good." Chanyeol said, the constant smile replaced by pursed lips.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Baekhyun replied weakly. "Just a little lightheaded."
Chanyeol pulled him up and nudged him toward a chair, and Baekhyun collapsed into the seat. He made himself take deep breaths as he continued massaging his temples.
Chanyeol picked up the tablet and swiped across the screen.
"Huh. This is odd." Chanyeol said, frowning at the screen. Baekhyun's eyes shot toward him, heart thumping against tightened chest.
"Is something wrong?" Baekhyun asked cautiously.
"Not... exactly," Chanyeol said, eyes fixed on the tablet as he swiped and pinched the screen. "The refurb supply just went down by 5%."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that either someone in inventory did an incorrect count, or 200 bottles just magically spruced themselves up."
Chanyeol shrugged and mumbled something about the inventory staff slacking off. Baekhyun broke into cold sweats, and his heart continued to race as Chanyeol ushered him out the room. He only touched the tablet and dreams were made, ingredients appearing out of nowhere and added to the mixture. It sounded so preposterous, like the sorcery he had read about in storybooks when he was little. He looked down at his hands, palms up. They were shaking, and they looked like someone else’s hands. He didn’t know what to think.
December 10
When Baekhyun padded to the door, his Dreambox in hand, he saw Jongin sticking his head out around the corner across the corridor. Baekhyun's eyes lit up and he almost walked straight into the door before reflex reminded him to run the iris scan. He didn't have to wave for Jongin to come in when he put the Dreambox down in front of his door.
"Hi," Jongin said and smiled as he wrapped his arms around Baekhyun. Baekhyun smiled at the familiar warmth. His mind registered Jongin’s scent, something that had begun to take residence in his heart. Baekhyun had never been to a garden or the beach, but he thought Jongin smelled like fresh flowers blooming at sunrise, like ocean waves dancing by the shore at dusk.
"Hi," Baekhyun said, voice muffled against Jongin's chest.
"What should we do today?" Jongin said.
"I have dreams to make. But you can watch," Baekhyun replied. "Well, not that you have a choice." Jongin let out a lighthearted laugh. Baekhyun looked up at him and smiled.
Jongin turned Baekhyun around and they shuffled toward the mahogany table. Their conjoined movement was still not entirely in sync, but it was much more fluid than the first time. They learned how to press into each other just enough so their body heat converged, but still with enough space to shift around. It felt comfortable, the stolen personal space compensated by warmth.
Jongin sat down on the chair and placed Baekhyun on his lap. Jongin easily rested his chin on Baekhyun's shoulder, arms finding home around his waist. He quietly watched Baekhyun work, a spectator viewing an exquisite show in progress. After preparing several dreams, Baekhyun took a break and leaned back into Jongin. He looked down and took Jongin's fingers into his hands, examining them like some sort of unpriced antique.
"What do you do? Are you a student?" Baekhyun asked.
"Mhmm. I go to the District Academy."
"You don't have class today?"
"I do." Baekhyun whipped his head around and shot Jongin a puzzled look. "I'm skipping."
Baekhyun clicked his tongue. Jongin laughed and shrugged.
"School is boring. They're always talking about dreams." Jongin said, annoyance clipping his voice. He fell quiet. Baekhyun got the feeling that he didn't want to talk about dreams.
"How's Taemin?" Baekhyun changed the subject.
"He's doing good." Jongin said, voice lightening up again. "He loved the dream you made. He couldn't stop talking about it; how he was at this huge amusement park and went on a bajillion roller coaster rides. I haven't seen him this happy for a long time." He paused. "How did you know he liked roller coaster rides?"
"I didn't." Baekhyun shrugged. "I just had a feeling."
"A feeling, huh?" An inkling of amazement trailed from Jongin's voice.
Baekhyun didn't say anything for a while.
"You know, being able to make dreams isn't as great as people make it out to be."
"You don't like making dreams?"
"It's not that." Baekhyun fell into thought. "It's the other stuff that comes with having this... ability."
"Like how they treat you pretty much like a prisoner?"
"Yeah. Like that." Baekhyun said in a small voice.
Jongin steered him around and hoisted his left leg to the other side. He held Baekhyun with a steady gaze.
"You're doing great things, Baekhyun." Jongin said slowly. "People would die without dreams. I'm sure they keep you inside for a good reason."
Baekhyun let Jongin's words sink in.
"But still not everyone gets dreams, do they? That's why someone tried to steal them."
Jongin dropped his gaze and said nothing.
"If I could, I'd make all the dreams that people need. So no one would ever die from not dreaming."
Jongin looked up. A faint smile traced across his lips and he ruffled Baekhyun's hair.
"So young and already having big dreams."
Baekhyun giggled. He turned his head toward the windows. The sun had climbed high into the sky, casting ample light that left golden specks on the floor.
"It's the only dreams I have. Day dreams. I fall asleep and it's complete darkness. I don't know what it's like to dream and experience a whole different world. In one’s dreams, you get to fly, fight off monsters, or stuff your face with sweets. I don't get any of that." Baekhyun turned back to Jongin, peering into his hands that had somehow ended up in Jongin's. "I barely even know what the outside world is like."
Jongin drew his lips in and watched Baekhyun with sympathy. He pushed the chair back and stood up, making Baekhyun jerk back in surprise. Jongin pulled him close and circled his arms around his shoulders. He stroked Baekhyun's head in silence, softly and persistently, unsaid words tapped from his fingertips.
Baekhyun closed his eyes and breathed in Jongin's scent. It became the second scent his lungs craved aside from the fresh air outside, as if Jongin was a different kind of reality; one that was warmer and safer than the world he knew.
★★★
Jongin began to visit Baekhyun often. Not every day, but close. Sometimes he dropped by at noon, but most of the time he showed up in the morning, which Baekhyun appreciated more because he would have more time to spend with Jongin. On the days that Jongin visited Baekhyun met his quota as fast as he could, and they spent the rest of the day just talking. When they tired of words, Jongin let Baekhyun snuggle in his warmth, sometimes on his lap, other times sprawling across the length of Jongin’s body as they sank into the couch.
★★★
December 23
"I wish you were my blanket." Baekhyun said one afternoon, cheek flush against Jongin's chest. His arms were stretched out on either side of Jongin on the bed. Jongin laughed. The vibrations tingled on Baekhyun's cheek. He let out a chuckle.
"I should charge you for this. Like a dream per cuddle."
Baekhyun shifted his head and stood his chin on top of Jongin's chest. He stuck out his tongue.
"I would, but I almost got in trouble last time."
Jongin propped himself up on the elbows and stared at Baekhyun.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Baekhyun raised his left wrist, displaying the wristwatch. "See this? It tracks how many dreams I make. It's wired into my arm, so I guess I can't do anything about it." Baekhyun said, pursing his lips together.
Jongin fell silent. He rolled over and turned onto his stomach, inadvertently nudging Baekhyun away. Baekhyun shifted to lie on top of Jongin's back. He tried to listen to Jongin's heart between his shoulder blades. It didn't work.
"Is something wrong?" Baekhyun asked. He drew small circles into Jongin's back.
"I was gonna ask you to make another dream." Jongin admitted in a soft voice. Baekhyun chewed on his lips.
"I'm afraid I can't... not without getting caught." Baekhyun said reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Jongin."
"It's okay." Jongin said weakly. He twisted his head to the other side. Baekhyun wished Jongin would roll over again so he could see his face and maybe have a better idea of what he was feeling.
"Who is it for this time?" Baekhyun asked after a strained moment of silence. Jongin took a while to answer.
"Just... someone who needs it." Jongin mumbled, then yawned carelessly.
"Nap time?" Baekhyun said hopefully. “We have 20 minutes until dinner.” Jongin turned over onto his back and shook his head as he pushed up on his elbows.
"You sleep. I-" Jongin stopped prematurely, as if collecting his thoughts. "I'm gonna stay awake."
Baekhyun studied Jongin's face, the bags under his eyes, the droopy eyelids weighed down by impending sleep, the yawns that fought to escape from his mouth. Jongin was undoubtedly sleepy, yet he didn't want to sleep. Jongin drew Baekhyun’s head to his chest, as if reassuring he was fine and Baekhyun should sleep. Baekhyun closed his eyes and dozed off as Jongin hummed a tune.
Jongin suddenly sat up, making Baekhyun slump into his lap. Baekhyun awoke sluggishly and blinked.
“Jongin?”
Baekhyun searched his eyes for an answer, but they were unfocused, too far away no matter how Baekhyun called through his gaze.
"It’s almost time."
Jongin was not looking at him; he was looking at Baekhyun’s wristwatch. There were still five minutes till meal time. It was disconcerting how Jongin seemed insistent to leave, how his eyes were dulled by something Baekhyun didn’t understand. Baekhyun felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach where it shriveled in perplexed disappointment.
"Right." Baekhyun said, barely a whisper. He accommodated Jongin's movement as the taller boy got off the bed and onto his feet. Baekhyun clung to Jongin's back, arms coiled around his waist gingerly. When Jongin broke into strides, Baekhyun wanted to pull him back and force him to tell him what was bothering him. But he didn't. The void in Jongin's eyes was so enormous that Baekhyun thought it could swallow him whole.
When they were just a few steps away from the door, Jongin stopped.
"You really can't make another dream?"
Desperation stretched Jongin's voice, and Baekhyun wished he could give an affirmative answer. Instead he said nothing and rubbed his nose against Jongin's back. The only response he could give would just strike Jongin's ears like a painful clang.
"Baekhyun, this is the last time I'm asking you. Please?"
Jongin's voice skated over thinning hope and it tore Baekhyun apart inside. He tried to think of a solution, even if he couldn't be the one to materialize it.
"Can't you use a ration and go to the Bank-"
"No!" Jongin cried, startling Baekhyun. Jongin began to shake and the tremors crawled underneath Baekhyun’s skin. "No, Baekhyun. I can't just go to the Bank with a ration." Jongin said exasperatedly. "You just don't get it, do you? They rarely take rations anymore. They don't give a shit about us Commoners. All that matters is that the Privileged get their dreams whenever they want. They can even return a dream that they don't like and get a new one, did you know that?"
Jongin was nearly screaming, voice cutting straight into Baekhyun's chest. Baekhyun winced and fought the tears from falling. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and squeezed his own forearms.
"You know, I would just go in there and take one, if I could. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway."
Baekhyun snapped his eyes wide open. He couldn't believe what Jongin was saying. Voices of bankers whispering about missing dreams, Suho's announcement of an "internal crisis", newspaper articles about an alleged dream thief - everything flooded Baekhyun's mind all at once.
"What are you saying?" Baekhyun asked, dread tinting his voice.
"It wasn't hard, actually." Jongin went on as if he didn't hear Baekhyun. "There were loopholes in the system and I found them. It took some work, but it wasn't impossible. Same way I was able to get into this building."
"You're the Dreamcatcher." Baekhyun said under his breath, more to himself than to Jongin. Baekhyun did a little research after he learned of the name from Chanyeol. The nickname had popped up several times in the papers, dubbed by the Commoners who found unsolicited bottles at their doorsteps. It formed on their lips as a token of gratitude to that person who chased dreams for those whose minds were made weak by predetermined inequality.
"But then something happened and they decided to tighten the security. I haven't been able to get anywhere near the back door for almost two weeks now, let alone getting inside." Jongin twisted his head and peered over his shoulders. His glance made Baekhyun shudder like a blast of frigid wind. "At least two people have died. And now a third person will die soon. Is that okay with you?"
Baekhyun’s resolve shattered and he burst into tears.
"No. No, it's not okay. I don't like it either, but-"
"But you can't do anything about it. I know." Jongin cut him off. His voice was cold and ruthless, piercing Baekhyun like a long spear through his heart. He pressed his forehead into Jongin’s back as tears poured from his eyes steadily, drenching Jongin’s shirt.
"I need to go." Jongin said after a moment, voice hard as steel. Baekhyun made no movement. He couldn’t.
"Baekhyun. Open the door."
Baekhyun fisted Jongin's shirt, bunching it up before his tummy. He sniffled against Jongin's back. He had no strength in him to shift around and run the iris scan, because that would require him to let go of Jongin first.
"1215." Jongin stilled. Baekhyun added, "It's the password. Key it in and then take my index finger to the keypad for the print." Baekhyun instructed Jongin, voice sapped of the usual vitality. He couldn't do what it would take for Jongin to leave, so he'd rather Jongin do it himself.
Jongin did as he was told, punching the four digits into the semi-transparent keypad to the right of the door. When it beeped, he took Baekhyun's hand, fingers sliding to grasp the index finger, and pressed the tip on the flashing dot on the keypad. The door slid open and Jongin leaned forward. Baekhyun was still clutching his shirt, tears again rolling down his cheeks and into Jongin's shirt. Jongin stiffened, then grabbed Baekhyun's hands and flung them away. He took two long strides and was on the other side when the door glided close.
Baekhyun watched Jongin's back and tried to breathe amidst strangled sobs.
Jongin didn't turn around.
Baekhyun stood by the door for a long while after Jongin's back disappeared around the corner across the corridor. Maybe he was hoping that Jongin would turn around and run back to the door, mouthing I'm just playing with an irritating smirk that Baekhyun would forgive in a heartbeat. But Jongin never turned back. He didn't even slow his steps, as if he couldn't wait to get out of there.
When it sank into Baekhyun's mind that Jongin was not coming back, he dragged his feet away from the door. He shuffled to the couch where he plopped on his side, vacant eyes fixed on the door. Hope was such a cruel thing, Baekhyun thought. Once he let the notion take root, it hooked his heart onto a worn rope where it hung and swayed precariously. He knew it was going to drop his heart at any second, but he still couldn't help but hang on with foolish persistence.
Night fell and darkness infiltrated the living room like an uninvited guest. The rope finally snapped, and Baekhyun watched as his heart plummeted and shattered, pieces flying off to the irretrievable corners of the universe. He rolled onto his back and stared into the plain white ceiling. His eyes fell shut, weariness and fatigue overtaking him.
His eyes suddenly snapped open and he sat up so fast he almost saw stars. Things started to piece together in his head: Jongin skirting around the question when he asked who the dream was for; bags under Jongin's eyes; his refusal to sleep despite the constant yawning. Jongin lashing out at him when he said he couldn't fulfill his request.
Now a third person will die soon. Is that okay with you?
You just don't get it, do you?
This is the last time I'm asking you.
Jongin was asking him to make a dream for himself. And now Jongin was going to die because he declined. Because Baekhyun was scared to get caught, to get into trouble.
Baekhyun buried his face in his hands and let out a distraught groan. What could he do now? He was too late. Jongin had left, and he couldn't just up and leave the apartment. He wasn't supposed to.
Then he thought about the many things he was forbidden from doing. He wasn't supposed to go anywhere unless there was an order from Kris and agents to escort him from right outside his door. He wasn't supposed to go below or above his daily quota, set automatically by the DM System. He was told not to touch anything at the Bank. All these shouldn'ts and can’ts were building up inside his chest like a volcano about to erupt. He began to shake, indignant because he didn't understand why these restrictions were imposed upon him; why everyone made it seem like there was only one way for him to live, and that was to live by these pre-established rules.
It was so unfair, Baekhyun thought. What was the point of it all? People told him he was special because he was gifted, that he possessed brilliance that transcended common understanding, a kind of genius that elevated him above even the Privileged. He was valued, treasured by the system. But none of this high regard meant anything to him. None of it came close in significance to the way he felt when he was with Jongin - he felt human, for once. He had come to rely unreservedly on Jongin's warmth, the way he was cradled in the haven of Jongin's arms, how Jongin's touch turned the monochrome of his life into a rainbow.
Baekhyun closed his eyes and the kaleidoscope turned, coloring Jongin’s emotions. Courage in violet. Justice in midnight blue. Peace in azure. Loyalty in forest green. Strength in gold. Optimism in pumpkin orange. Wrath in scarlet. It turned again, and everything became colorless in his vision. He opened his eyes. He sat up and fell into thought, then pushed up from the couch. He walked to the mahogany table, but didn't sit down. Instead, he scanned the bottles lined up by the edge. Turning on his heels decisively he strode into the kitchen. He looked around, searching for something, and frowned when he realized nothing in sight was of use. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think; he had to come up with something fast. Time was running out.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and turned around. He looked at the door.
There was only one option left.
★★★
Jongin blinked his eyes slowly, dragging his eyelids open. He was exhausted, having resisted sleep for almost three days now. He was afraid to even close his eyes for fear that he would fall into deep sleep and never wake up. He shook his head furiously, dispelling the sleep bugs, and hastened his steps.
He knew he couldn't rely on his memory that was fogged by sleep deprivation, but Jongin had no other choice. Security at the Bank had heightened but the delivery schedule remained the same, based on his observations over the past weeks. Jongin popped another caffeine pill into his mouth and tugged on his black leather jacket. He huffed and tried to pull his concentration together. He looked at his watch; it was almost eight o'clock, time for the last delivery of the day.
Jongin hid behind a civilian jet a few feet away from the Bank, eyes trained on the DM jet landing at the back door. Two agents stepped out of the vehicle. One of them went to the door and chatted with the guard posted just outside. The other agent went around the back of the jet, where the posterior capsule slid open with a fingerprint scan. Jongin watched the agent bend forward into the capsule, his heart beating violently. When the man straightened up with a Dreambox in his arms, Jongin ran toward him in full force.
★★★
Baekhyun ran the iris scan and opened the door when his wristwatch beeped, signaling the time for retrieving his Dreambox. He returned to the mahogany table and set the box down, pressing his middle fingertip on the lock on the top surface. The scan registered and the top plate divided into two neat halves, revealing dozens of small clear bottles inside. Baekhyun took out a bottle and turned it around in his hand. Then he smashed it against the box, striking again and again until a singular long piece of glass broke off. The shattered pieces shot out in all directions, littering on the table and the floor. Baekhyun carefully picked up the long piece of glass, shaped like a small dagger. Perfect, he thought. He sat down on the chair after checking for stray pieces of glass on the seat. He drew the tub close and collected the ingredient bottles that he had already chosen, setting them down by the tub. He looked first into the empty tub, then raised his eyes, gazing into the dark outside the windows. Finally he tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped it around one end of the dagger-shaped glass. He brought it to his left wrist, the tip pointing to the spot just beside the watch.
He closed his eyes.
★★★
"The nerve he had to steal from an agent! Right outside the Bank, too!"
"Pipe down, Sehun." Kris snarled. Sehun, the agent who had been by the back door when he heard the sound of collision and yelling, clamped his lips tight. He watched his superior cautiously, eyes flitting back and forth between the tall man and Jongin. Tao, from whom Jongin had attempted to snatch the Dreambox, stood expressionless next to Kyungsoo, the Bank manager. Tao’s cold eyes were fixed on Jongin, who was tied to a chair by an electric band around his wrists. They were in one of the storage rooms near the back door to the Bank. The room had ample space for Jongin to be placed in the middle, a safe distance away from the four men. Various items of equipment propped against the walls, mostly spare exoskeletons for the guards and other backup devices.
Kris studied Jongin with his arms crossed, brows knitted. Jongin met his eyes defiantly, nostrils flared with a self-justified audacity.
"What's your name?" Kris asked. Jongin scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Like that matters."
Kris narrowed his eyes and suppressed an exasperated huff.
"Do you know the consequences of dream burglary?"
"Yeah." Jongin said unflinchingly. "I've always known, but that never stopped me."
Kris's eyes widened in surprise. It clicked in his head. The defiance bordering on stupidity. The recklessness that surpassed mere immaturity typical of teens. It was a suicide mission.
"You're the one that was stealing dreams from us." Kris seethed.
"From you? Stealing?" Jongin laughed. The sound was hollow and mocking as it echoed in the room. "Dreams don't belong to you. They belong to the people. Everyone is entitled to dream."
"You have no idea what it takes to make dreams." Kris said and glowered.
"Oh but I do," said Jongin, voice laced with a disturbing lightness. "And you know what? Shame on you all for treating the Makers like they're your puppets. Keeping them locked up all day. That's no way to live, especially for a kid."
Kris went still and his eyes turned ice cold.
"How would you know that?"
Jongin's lips curved upward in contempt. He didn't answer. Kris glared at him, barely containing rage as his chest heaved up and down.
"Kyungsoo." Kris said, eyes remaining on Jongin. Jongin's eyes were growing heavy. He yawned despite his anger, as the caffeine pill and his adrenaline wore off.
"Yes, sir."
"Bring the Reset kit."
Kyungsoo and Sehun quickly set up the kit, which consisted of a tablet, a large glass headset, and several thin wires. They placed the headset over Jongin's head and secured it with a manual screw lock on the top of the headset, then plugged the wires into the headset on one end and the tablet on the other end. They stepped to the side once the setup was completed, and Kyungsoo handed the tablet to Kris.
Kris pulled up the dashboard and selected Reset among the options. The screen switched to a command window. A prompt appeared requesting information. Kris began typing.
SUBJECT:\\ HUMAN
SEX:\\ M
DEV STAGE:\\ YOUTH
CAUSE:\\ DRM BURG
DEGREE OF REWRITE:\\ 100%
A prompt popped up notifying the complete entry of required information. Then another prompt flashed on the screen:
RESET
CONTINUE | CANCEL
His finger hovered over CONTINUE. Kris raised his eyes and glanced at Jongin.
"Any last words?"
A weak smile skipped across Jongin's lips. His eyes fluttered shut.
"To sleep, perchance to dream."
★★★
Eyes closed, Baekhyun drove the makeshift blade into his wrist against the edge of the watch. He groaned in immeasurable agony as he dug the glass deeper until it hit something solid. Feeling the glass puncture the chip embedded inside, he finally cracked open his eyes. He saw blood, a dizzying amount of blood spurting and pooling over his entire wrist, streaming down his hand like an extra set of palm lines. Amidst the blood he also saw the screen of his watch. It was blank. He took the watch off and cracked into a triumphant smile despite the throbbing pain in his wrist.
★★★
Kris started when alarm blared, his hand jerking up from the screen before he could send the reset command. An automated voice announced Code Red repeatedly. He looked around and saw the other three men in the room looking equally confused. Kris looked down at the tablet. The program had shut down and the codes were jumbling into undecipherable characters. He whipped out a palm communicator from his pocket and tapped a button.
"What the fuck is going on?" Kris barked at a senior banker on the other end of the line. He gestured for the other three men to leave with a silent order to find out the cause of the alert.
"I have no idea," the banker stammered. Frantic typing and urgent voices were muffled in the background. "The system just went haywire all of a sudden. Everything is down. We're looking into it but-"
"Look into the DM motherboard."
"The motherboard?"
"Check the bioactivity of all the Makers and tell me what you see."
There was a brief moment of silence, dotted by anxious breaths on both ends.
"Shit."
"What is it?"
"Baekhyun. He's offline. There's nothing coming in from him."
"Fuck." Kris cursed under his breath and squeezed his eyes tight. He was trembling all over. "I knew it."
Kris jabbed his finger on the screen, ending the call with a frustrated groan. He looked up and saw that the door was open. Whipping around, he swore loudly.
Jongin was gone.
★★★
Baekhyun quickly added drops and spoonfuls of various ingredients based on the recipe he had planned out, but it began to blur in his head as blood continued oozing out of his wrist. He tried to keep his injured left hand away from the tub so that blood wouldn't get into the tub, working with his right hand solely. His left arm felt paralyzed, the numbness spreading slowly but steadily from his left shoulder to his chest, his neck, and his forehead. When he began feeling lightheaded, a picture took shape inside his head.
He saw Jongin and himself in an infinite stretch of lavender field, a mauve canvas spreading out from around them. Jongin was chasing him and they were both laughing with not a care in the world. It was warm, so very warm. Baekhyun smiled. This was it, the dream he had always wanted to have. The dream he wanted Jongin to have.
A few drops of Comfort and Peace. A spoonful of Warmth, another one of Laughter. Two spoonfuls of Bliss. It was the perfect dream.
His eyelids grew heavy as Baekhyun fought to keep them open, his breathing becoming shallow and sluggish. He blinked a few times and saw that his blood had dripped into the tub at some point, staining the content a shade of washed out maroon. He felt his eyes sting and chuckled. Oh well, he thought. At least it looked pretty.
He reached into the tub with his right hand. He couldn't feel his left arm at all. There was no more pain, just numbness, and he was okay with that, he thought. He hurriedly swirled the content into a mixture of pearly purple. When it was well mixed Baekhyun looked down at the mixture, the last and best dream he would have ever made. Tears found their way down his cheeks and into the tub. The mixture turned a vibrant tone of violet, the color of Courage.
He gathered all the air in his lungs that he could and took a deep breath, then blew over the surface into an empty bottle clutched in his quivering right hand.
★★★
Jongin ran and ran through the Bank toward the exit. No one took notice of him bolting past them in the chaotic lobby, all preoccupied by coding every command they could think of to get the system back on. He was wide awake as sleep fled from him when the alarm sounded. He sprinted past a formation of DM jets, probably carrying support personnel to aid the crisis at the Bank. Jongin passed his own apartment complex and didn't stop. He dashed into the neighboring building and up the stairs to the floor that housed Baekhyun's apartment.
He skidded to a stop when he saw that the door was open. He rushed inside. The alarm screamed against his ears.
"Baekhyun!"
Jongin found him slumped over the mahogany table, blood soaking his left hand and dripping onto the floor. Reaching for the limp form, Baekhyun collapsed into Jongin’s arms and they fell to the floor. The gash in Baekhyun's wrist came into Jongin's view and his eyes grew wide in shock.
"Good. You're still alive." Baekhyun whispered. He smiled at Jongin.
"What the hell did you do?" Jongin asked, voice cracking, anguished.
"This," Baekhyun held up his right hand, showing Jongin the capped bottle, "is for you." Jongin clasped his hand around Baekhyun’s. His eyes stung terribly and his chest was wound so tight his entirety ached.
“Hang on. I’m gonna get us out of here first.”
Baekhyun’s head tilted in a weak nod. He was barely breathing. Jongin pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Baekhyun’s forearm, tying it with a tight knot. He pried Baekhyun's fingers off the bottle clutched in his cold hand and tucked it into his pocket. Wincing under the blaring alarm, Jongin hoisted Baekhyun up into his arms and ran out into the hall. He took careful but quick strides out of Baekhyun's apartment and down the corridor, getting through multiple sets of doors by pressing Baekhyun’s fingertips on the scanner. He opted for the stairs to avoid being seen, knowing the trip would take longer. He exited the building out the back door and slipped into his own apartment complex through the back. He took the stairs again as a precautionary measure, even though his legs felt as if they would give out any minute. He didn't stop until he reached his apartment where he rapped on the door urgently.
Taemin opened the door slightly, surprised. "Don't you have the keys? Wh-hyung, what the hell?"
Jongin barged past his brother and ignored his gaping at the figure in his arms.
"Shut up and close the door." Jongin said and put Baekhyun down on the twin-sized bed in the middle of the apartment. Taemin did as he was told and hurried to Jongin's side.
“What’s going on?”
“Go to Mr. Jung and borrow his medical kit.” Jongin said as he pressed his palm on Baekhyun’s wrist. Dull red had dyed the fabric wrapped around the forearm.
“Wh-“
“Just do it!” Jongin cried, head whipping toward his brother. Taemin did a double take as he saw the desperation in Jongin’s eyes. He nodded and dashed off.
Jongin sat on the edge of the bed and brushed Baekhyun’s bangs to the side. Cold sweat beaded across the smaller boy’s forehead and his face was completely colorless.
“Jongin…” Baekhyun cracked open his eyes. His chest rose slowly, imperceptibly. Jongin squeezed Baekhyun’s hand as he continued to apply pressure on the wound.
“You're so stupid," Jongin choked out. "Why did you do this? You-Baekhyun. Baek, stay with me." Jongin shook the smaller boy, whose eyes fluttered open and fell closed. Jongin pulled him tight and he wept into Baekhyun's neck when he realized how cold his body was.
"I'll find you in your dream," Baekhyun breathed into Jongin's ear. "In our dream."
Baekhyun craned his neck and kissed Jongin on the forehead, then closed his eyes for the last time as his head tipped back.
Jongin held Baekhyun's body long after he ran out of tears and all that was left were tracks of stains on his cheeks. He clutched Baekhyun's bloodied hand and just sat there in a daze, toying with the delusion that maybe this was all a dream and if he tried hard enough, Baekhyun would open his eyes. But he never did, and his body just grew colder in Jongin's arms.
Finally Taemin rushed in with a hefty box tucked under his arms, panting. He set the box down on the floor next to Jongin, but Jongin was motionless, his face blank, almost like the figure on the bed. Jongin shook his head, and Taemin pursed his lips in dismay.
"Who is he?" Taemin asked. He knew the answer when he saw the look in his brother's eyes. "Baekhyun?"
Jongin was quiet as Taemin began to cry.
"What happened to him?" Taemin asked as he sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Jongin felt his eyes sting again, fresh tears forming. Words were trapped in the back of his throat like bitter lumps he couldn’t spit out or swallow. He brandished the bottle and showed it to Taemin. He had never felt something so small weigh so heavy. Taemin bit on his bottom lip and said nothing.
A few minutes passed before Taemin pulled Jongin away and dragged a jacket over Baekhyun’s body, covering his face and torso. Jongin slumped to the floor and stared at Baekhyun’s left arm dangling off the edge of the bed, trails of dried blood slithering over the forearm like tiny snakes.
After a while, Taemin shuffled away and rummaged inside a drawer. He reappeared by Jongin's side with a glass headset.
"Hyung." Taemin said and held out the headset. Jongin looked down at it, then glanced at the lifeless form on the bed. He shook his head, melancholy filling his eyes.
"It's what he would have wanted." Taemin said softly.
I'll find you in your dream. In our dream.
Tears rolled down Jongin's face. Taking the headset from Taemin with trembling hands, he uncapped the bottle and poured the contents into the opening on the top of the headset. He put the headset over his head and secured it with a soft click, then lay down next to Baekhyun. Grabbing Baekhyun's right hand, Jongin poised his finger over the DREAM button on the side of the headset. He closed his eyes, squeezed Baekhyun's hand, and pressed the button.
A blanket of colors washed over him and he found himself blinking into a rainbow. He blinked again. He was standing in the middle of a lavender field, the breeze tousling his hair and the sun kissing his skin. He looked around; the expanse of mauve reached the ends of the earth. The flower stalks tickled his bare calves as he walked through the field. It felt so real, too real. He saw a boy squatting some distance away and his eyes widened.
“Baekhyun!”
The boy straightened up and broke into a large grin. He waved at Jongin with both arms, then ran away deep into the field.
“Wait!”
Jongin took off in a sprint and chased after him.
“I’m going to catch you!”
He heard laughter ringing against his ears and he ran. Jongin was sure that the boy was Baekhyun, and that he would catch him. He was the Dreamcatcher, and he had always caught the dream he wanted.
December 8
Baekhyun went through the same escort process as the first time, Chen and Tao flanking him throughout the entire trip to the Bank. Before he climbed into the jet, Baekhyun instinctively looked over his shoulder. He didn't see anyone peeking out of the corner of the building next to his. Baekhyun pouted and surveyed each inch of the surroundings through the glass top as it slid closed. There was no boy of olive skin watching him.
Today Baekhyun was instructed to observe the operations in the Refurb Room. He watched bankers take half-empty bottles of dreams and run them through a thorough process of re-concoction according to standard formulas, rendering dreams that could be redistributed for sale at a lower price. The majority of refurbished dreams were stocked in a separate section in the Vault for the Commoners when they came to purchase them using rations.
After a few hours, all but one of the bankers staffed in the Refurb Room were called to a meeting. Baekhyun struck up a conversation with the remaining banker, Chanyeol, who wore a perpetual smile and was easy to talk to. Within minutes Baekhyun was doubling over from laughing at an anecdote Chanyeol shared. Chanyeol was quite a storyteller, Baekhyun thought. The tall, amicable man gave Baekhyun more than a basic introduction of the Refurb Room and its operations; he divulged tidbits of his colleagues that Baekhyun felt embarrassed by merely listening. Jokes aside, Chanyeol was undoubtedly good at his job, hands busied with refurbishing dreams as he spoke, like his brain was neatly compartmentalized into working and talking.
“Good thing we managed to fix the attrition quickly, or Kris would probably be watching me work right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’s terrifying,” Chanyeol whispered. Baekhyun suppressed a snort.
“The attrition?” Baekhyun asked.
“Missing data. The dream log didn’t match up a few days ago and Suho totally freaked out.”
Baekhyun nodded. He remembered that. He was there when it was detected.
“Was it really bad?”
Chanyeol widened his eyes at Baekhyun, incredulous he should ask such a question.
“Of course! Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it was a lot of data missing. Hundreds of dreams. The report showed some sort of trend, so it was non-random, meaning-“
“Someone was stealing dreams?” Baekhyun said under his breath, gaping. Chanyeol nodded.
“That’s why we amped up the security, in case you haven’t noticed the extra agents everywhere.”
Baekhyun had noticed. It was impossible not to. The number of agents within and near the premises of the Bank had nearly doubled.
“Some people romanticize the thief to be some sort of a Robin Hood figure. Do you know that story?” Baekhyun shook his head. “Right, of course not. You’re too young. Well, Robin Hood is this heroic figure in a medieval folktale. In the legend, he was an excellent archer who robbed the rich and gave to the poor.” Chanyeol paused as he capped off a finished bottle and placed it in a Dreambox on his desk.
“So you’re saying the dream thief is like Robin Hood?”
“It’s only rumored that he gave the dreams to the Commoners instead of hoarding them all for himself, since the Council obviously didn’t release an official statement or anything.” Chanyeol shrugged. “I saw a name in the news the other day. What was it… the Dreamcatcher? Yeah, that’s it. They call him the Dreamcatcher.”
“The Dreamcatcher.” The name rolled over Baekhyun’s tongue, leaving an aftertaste of fascination like an untried flavor of candy.
“Well, no one knows if any of this is actually true. Never trust sources other than the Council, you know what I mean? Just think of it as a modern folktale.” Chanyeol winked, and Baekhyun grinned and nodded. "Anyway, I'm gonna run to the restroom real quick. Could you keep watch for me for a few minutes?"
"Sure thing!"
"Alrighty, then. I'll be back in a jiffy." Chanyeol strolled out the room, leaving Baekhyun to his own device.
Baekhyun glanced at the door after it shut behind Chanyeol. He looked around the room, eyes raking over the open bottles scattered over the lab bench top. He swallowed. Curiosity tugged at him and his feet carried him to the bench. He scanned the bench top and saw a tablet a few inches away. Baekhyun bit his bottom lip. He wasn't supposed to touch anything, but he was alone. No one was watching. His fingers were itching. What harm could a touch do?
Baekhyun looked up and glanced around. The door was as securely shut as before. He raised his hand and swiped a finger across the tablet. The screen lit up and a myriad of numbers in a chart flashed into view. He squinted and tried to decipher them. Right hand suspended in mid-air, Baekhyun hesitated before tapping on the screen to zoom in.
All of a sudden he felt like his head was smashed in by a sledgehammer. He cried out and squeezed his eyes shut, fingers pressing deep into his temples. The tablet slipped from his hands to the bench top with a soft thud as he dropped to his heels. White flashes seized his vision and he thought he had passed out until a familiar deep voice rang through.
"Baekhyun?"
Baekhyun dragged his eyes open and looked up. It was Chanyeol. The white flashes were gone, but the pain was still there, dull and gnawing in the back of his head.
"Are you alright? You don't look so good." Chanyeol said, the constant smile replaced by pursed lips.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Baekhyun replied weakly. "Just a little lightheaded."
Chanyeol pulled him up and nudged him toward a chair, and Baekhyun collapsed into the seat. He made himself take deep breaths as he continued massaging his temples.
Chanyeol picked up the tablet and swiped across the screen.
"Huh. This is odd." Chanyeol said, frowning at the screen. Baekhyun's eyes shot toward him, heart thumping against tightened chest.
"Is something wrong?" Baekhyun asked cautiously.
"Not... exactly," Chanyeol said, eyes fixed on the tablet as he swiped and pinched the screen. "The refurb supply just went down by 5%."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that either someone in inventory did an incorrect count, or 200 bottles just magically spruced themselves up."
Chanyeol shrugged and mumbled something about the inventory staff slacking off. Baekhyun broke into cold sweats, and his heart continued to race as Chanyeol ushered him out the room. He only touched the tablet and dreams were made, ingredients appearing out of nowhere and added to the mixture. It sounded so preposterous, like the sorcery he had read about in storybooks when he was little. He looked down at his hands, palms up. They were shaking, and they looked like someone else’s hands. He didn’t know what to think.
December 10
When Baekhyun padded to the door, his Dreambox in hand, he saw Jongin sticking his head out around the corner across the corridor. Baekhyun's eyes lit up and he almost walked straight into the door before reflex reminded him to run the iris scan. He didn't have to wave for Jongin to come in when he put the Dreambox down in front of his door.
"Hi," Jongin said and smiled as he wrapped his arms around Baekhyun. Baekhyun smiled at the familiar warmth. His mind registered Jongin’s scent, something that had begun to take residence in his heart. Baekhyun had never been to a garden or the beach, but he thought Jongin smelled like fresh flowers blooming at sunrise, like ocean waves dancing by the shore at dusk.
"Hi," Baekhyun said, voice muffled against Jongin's chest.
"What should we do today?" Jongin said.
"I have dreams to make. But you can watch," Baekhyun replied. "Well, not that you have a choice." Jongin let out a lighthearted laugh. Baekhyun looked up at him and smiled.
Jongin turned Baekhyun around and they shuffled toward the mahogany table. Their conjoined movement was still not entirely in sync, but it was much more fluid than the first time. They learned how to press into each other just enough so their body heat converged, but still with enough space to shift around. It felt comfortable, the stolen personal space compensated by warmth.
Jongin sat down on the chair and placed Baekhyun on his lap. Jongin easily rested his chin on Baekhyun's shoulder, arms finding home around his waist. He quietly watched Baekhyun work, a spectator viewing an exquisite show in progress. After preparing several dreams, Baekhyun took a break and leaned back into Jongin. He looked down and took Jongin's fingers into his hands, examining them like some sort of unpriced antique.
"What do you do? Are you a student?" Baekhyun asked.
"Mhmm. I go to the District Academy."
"You don't have class today?"
"I do." Baekhyun whipped his head around and shot Jongin a puzzled look. "I'm skipping."
Baekhyun clicked his tongue. Jongin laughed and shrugged.
"School is boring. They're always talking about dreams." Jongin said, annoyance clipping his voice. He fell quiet. Baekhyun got the feeling that he didn't want to talk about dreams.
"How's Taemin?" Baekhyun changed the subject.
"He's doing good." Jongin said, voice lightening up again. "He loved the dream you made. He couldn't stop talking about it; how he was at this huge amusement park and went on a bajillion roller coaster rides. I haven't seen him this happy for a long time." He paused. "How did you know he liked roller coaster rides?"
"I didn't." Baekhyun shrugged. "I just had a feeling."
"A feeling, huh?" An inkling of amazement trailed from Jongin's voice.
Baekhyun didn't say anything for a while.
"You know, being able to make dreams isn't as great as people make it out to be."
"You don't like making dreams?"
"It's not that." Baekhyun fell into thought. "It's the other stuff that comes with having this... ability."
"Like how they treat you pretty much like a prisoner?"
"Yeah. Like that." Baekhyun said in a small voice.
Jongin steered him around and hoisted his left leg to the other side. He held Baekhyun with a steady gaze.
"You're doing great things, Baekhyun." Jongin said slowly. "People would die without dreams. I'm sure they keep you inside for a good reason."
Baekhyun let Jongin's words sink in.
"But still not everyone gets dreams, do they? That's why someone tried to steal them."
Jongin dropped his gaze and said nothing.
"If I could, I'd make all the dreams that people need. So no one would ever die from not dreaming."
Jongin looked up. A faint smile traced across his lips and he ruffled Baekhyun's hair.
"So young and already having big dreams."
Baekhyun giggled. He turned his head toward the windows. The sun had climbed high into the sky, casting ample light that left golden specks on the floor.
"It's the only dreams I have. Day dreams. I fall asleep and it's complete darkness. I don't know what it's like to dream and experience a whole different world. In one’s dreams, you get to fly, fight off monsters, or stuff your face with sweets. I don't get any of that." Baekhyun turned back to Jongin, peering into his hands that had somehow ended up in Jongin's. "I barely even know what the outside world is like."
Jongin drew his lips in and watched Baekhyun with sympathy. He pushed the chair back and stood up, making Baekhyun jerk back in surprise. Jongin pulled him close and circled his arms around his shoulders. He stroked Baekhyun's head in silence, softly and persistently, unsaid words tapped from his fingertips.
Baekhyun closed his eyes and breathed in Jongin's scent. It became the second scent his lungs craved aside from the fresh air outside, as if Jongin was a different kind of reality; one that was warmer and safer than the world he knew.
★★★
Jongin began to visit Baekhyun often. Not every day, but close. Sometimes he dropped by at noon, but most of the time he showed up in the morning, which Baekhyun appreciated more because he would have more time to spend with Jongin. On the days that Jongin visited Baekhyun met his quota as fast as he could, and they spent the rest of the day just talking. When they tired of words, Jongin let Baekhyun snuggle in his warmth, sometimes on his lap, other times sprawling across the length of Jongin’s body as they sank into the couch.
★★★
December 23
"I wish you were my blanket." Baekhyun said one afternoon, cheek flush against Jongin's chest. His arms were stretched out on either side of Jongin on the bed. Jongin laughed. The vibrations tingled on Baekhyun's cheek. He let out a chuckle.
"I should charge you for this. Like a dream per cuddle."
Baekhyun shifted his head and stood his chin on top of Jongin's chest. He stuck out his tongue.
"I would, but I almost got in trouble last time."
Jongin propped himself up on the elbows and stared at Baekhyun.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Baekhyun raised his left wrist, displaying the wristwatch. "See this? It tracks how many dreams I make. It's wired into my arm, so I guess I can't do anything about it." Baekhyun said, pursing his lips together.
Jongin fell silent. He rolled over and turned onto his stomach, inadvertently nudging Baekhyun away. Baekhyun shifted to lie on top of Jongin's back. He tried to listen to Jongin's heart between his shoulder blades. It didn't work.
"Is something wrong?" Baekhyun asked. He drew small circles into Jongin's back.
"I was gonna ask you to make another dream." Jongin admitted in a soft voice. Baekhyun chewed on his lips.
"I'm afraid I can't... not without getting caught." Baekhyun said reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Jongin."
"It's okay." Jongin said weakly. He twisted his head to the other side. Baekhyun wished Jongin would roll over again so he could see his face and maybe have a better idea of what he was feeling.
"Who is it for this time?" Baekhyun asked after a strained moment of silence. Jongin took a while to answer.
"Just... someone who needs it." Jongin mumbled, then yawned carelessly.
"Nap time?" Baekhyun said hopefully. “We have 20 minutes until dinner.” Jongin turned over onto his back and shook his head as he pushed up on his elbows.
"You sleep. I-" Jongin stopped prematurely, as if collecting his thoughts. "I'm gonna stay awake."
Baekhyun studied Jongin's face, the bags under his eyes, the droopy eyelids weighed down by impending sleep, the yawns that fought to escape from his mouth. Jongin was undoubtedly sleepy, yet he didn't want to sleep. Jongin drew Baekhyun’s head to his chest, as if reassuring he was fine and Baekhyun should sleep. Baekhyun closed his eyes and dozed off as Jongin hummed a tune.
Jongin suddenly sat up, making Baekhyun slump into his lap. Baekhyun awoke sluggishly and blinked.
“Jongin?”
Baekhyun searched his eyes for an answer, but they were unfocused, too far away no matter how Baekhyun called through his gaze.
"It’s almost time."
Jongin was not looking at him; he was looking at Baekhyun’s wristwatch. There were still five minutes till meal time. It was disconcerting how Jongin seemed insistent to leave, how his eyes were dulled by something Baekhyun didn’t understand. Baekhyun felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach where it shriveled in perplexed disappointment.
"Right." Baekhyun said, barely a whisper. He accommodated Jongin's movement as the taller boy got off the bed and onto his feet. Baekhyun clung to Jongin's back, arms coiled around his waist gingerly. When Jongin broke into strides, Baekhyun wanted to pull him back and force him to tell him what was bothering him. But he didn't. The void in Jongin's eyes was so enormous that Baekhyun thought it could swallow him whole.
When they were just a few steps away from the door, Jongin stopped.
"You really can't make another dream?"
Desperation stretched Jongin's voice, and Baekhyun wished he could give an affirmative answer. Instead he said nothing and rubbed his nose against Jongin's back. The only response he could give would just strike Jongin's ears like a painful clang.
"Baekhyun, this is the last time I'm asking you. Please?"
Jongin's voice skated over thinning hope and it tore Baekhyun apart inside. He tried to think of a solution, even if he couldn't be the one to materialize it.
"Can't you use a ration and go to the Bank-"
"No!" Jongin cried, startling Baekhyun. Jongin began to shake and the tremors crawled underneath Baekhyun’s skin. "No, Baekhyun. I can't just go to the Bank with a ration." Jongin said exasperatedly. "You just don't get it, do you? They rarely take rations anymore. They don't give a shit about us Commoners. All that matters is that the Privileged get their dreams whenever they want. They can even return a dream that they don't like and get a new one, did you know that?"
Jongin was nearly screaming, voice cutting straight into Baekhyun's chest. Baekhyun winced and fought the tears from falling. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and squeezed his own forearms.
"You know, I would just go in there and take one, if I could. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway."
Baekhyun snapped his eyes wide open. He couldn't believe what Jongin was saying. Voices of bankers whispering about missing dreams, Suho's announcement of an "internal crisis", newspaper articles about an alleged dream thief - everything flooded Baekhyun's mind all at once.
"What are you saying?" Baekhyun asked, dread tinting his voice.
"It wasn't hard, actually." Jongin went on as if he didn't hear Baekhyun. "There were loopholes in the system and I found them. It took some work, but it wasn't impossible. Same way I was able to get into this building."
"You're the Dreamcatcher." Baekhyun said under his breath, more to himself than to Jongin. Baekhyun did a little research after he learned of the name from Chanyeol. The nickname had popped up several times in the papers, dubbed by the Commoners who found unsolicited bottles at their doorsteps. It formed on their lips as a token of gratitude to that person who chased dreams for those whose minds were made weak by predetermined inequality.
"But then something happened and they decided to tighten the security. I haven't been able to get anywhere near the back door for almost two weeks now, let alone getting inside." Jongin twisted his head and peered over his shoulders. His glance made Baekhyun shudder like a blast of frigid wind. "At least two people have died. And now a third person will die soon. Is that okay with you?"
Baekhyun’s resolve shattered and he burst into tears.
"No. No, it's not okay. I don't like it either, but-"
"But you can't do anything about it. I know." Jongin cut him off. His voice was cold and ruthless, piercing Baekhyun like a long spear through his heart. He pressed his forehead into Jongin’s back as tears poured from his eyes steadily, drenching Jongin’s shirt.
"I need to go." Jongin said after a moment, voice hard as steel. Baekhyun made no movement. He couldn’t.
"Baekhyun. Open the door."
Baekhyun fisted Jongin's shirt, bunching it up before his tummy. He sniffled against Jongin's back. He had no strength in him to shift around and run the iris scan, because that would require him to let go of Jongin first.
"1215." Jongin stilled. Baekhyun added, "It's the password. Key it in and then take my index finger to the keypad for the print." Baekhyun instructed Jongin, voice sapped of the usual vitality. He couldn't do what it would take for Jongin to leave, so he'd rather Jongin do it himself.
Jongin did as he was told, punching the four digits into the semi-transparent keypad to the right of the door. When it beeped, he took Baekhyun's hand, fingers sliding to grasp the index finger, and pressed the tip on the flashing dot on the keypad. The door slid open and Jongin leaned forward. Baekhyun was still clutching his shirt, tears again rolling down his cheeks and into Jongin's shirt. Jongin stiffened, then grabbed Baekhyun's hands and flung them away. He took two long strides and was on the other side when the door glided close.
Baekhyun watched Jongin's back and tried to breathe amidst strangled sobs.
Jongin didn't turn around.
Baekhyun stood by the door for a long while after Jongin's back disappeared around the corner across the corridor. Maybe he was hoping that Jongin would turn around and run back to the door, mouthing I'm just playing with an irritating smirk that Baekhyun would forgive in a heartbeat. But Jongin never turned back. He didn't even slow his steps, as if he couldn't wait to get out of there.
When it sank into Baekhyun's mind that Jongin was not coming back, he dragged his feet away from the door. He shuffled to the couch where he plopped on his side, vacant eyes fixed on the door. Hope was such a cruel thing, Baekhyun thought. Once he let the notion take root, it hooked his heart onto a worn rope where it hung and swayed precariously. He knew it was going to drop his heart at any second, but he still couldn't help but hang on with foolish persistence.
Night fell and darkness infiltrated the living room like an uninvited guest. The rope finally snapped, and Baekhyun watched as his heart plummeted and shattered, pieces flying off to the irretrievable corners of the universe. He rolled onto his back and stared into the plain white ceiling. His eyes fell shut, weariness and fatigue overtaking him.
His eyes suddenly snapped open and he sat up so fast he almost saw stars. Things started to piece together in his head: Jongin skirting around the question when he asked who the dream was for; bags under Jongin's eyes; his refusal to sleep despite the constant yawning. Jongin lashing out at him when he said he couldn't fulfill his request.
Now a third person will die soon. Is that okay with you?
You just don't get it, do you?
This is the last time I'm asking you.
Jongin was asking him to make a dream for himself. And now Jongin was going to die because he declined. Because Baekhyun was scared to get caught, to get into trouble.
Baekhyun buried his face in his hands and let out a distraught groan. What could he do now? He was too late. Jongin had left, and he couldn't just up and leave the apartment. He wasn't supposed to.
Then he thought about the many things he was forbidden from doing. He wasn't supposed to go anywhere unless there was an order from Kris and agents to escort him from right outside his door. He wasn't supposed to go below or above his daily quota, set automatically by the DM System. He was told not to touch anything at the Bank. All these shouldn'ts and can’ts were building up inside his chest like a volcano about to erupt. He began to shake, indignant because he didn't understand why these restrictions were imposed upon him; why everyone made it seem like there was only one way for him to live, and that was to live by these pre-established rules.
It was so unfair, Baekhyun thought. What was the point of it all? People told him he was special because he was gifted, that he possessed brilliance that transcended common understanding, a kind of genius that elevated him above even the Privileged. He was valued, treasured by the system. But none of this high regard meant anything to him. None of it came close in significance to the way he felt when he was with Jongin - he felt human, for once. He had come to rely unreservedly on Jongin's warmth, the way he was cradled in the haven of Jongin's arms, how Jongin's touch turned the monochrome of his life into a rainbow.
Baekhyun closed his eyes and the kaleidoscope turned, coloring Jongin’s emotions. Courage in violet. Justice in midnight blue. Peace in azure. Loyalty in forest green. Strength in gold. Optimism in pumpkin orange. Wrath in scarlet. It turned again, and everything became colorless in his vision. He opened his eyes. He sat up and fell into thought, then pushed up from the couch. He walked to the mahogany table, but didn't sit down. Instead, he scanned the bottles lined up by the edge. Turning on his heels decisively he strode into the kitchen. He looked around, searching for something, and frowned when he realized nothing in sight was of use. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think; he had to come up with something fast. Time was running out.
After a moment, he opened his eyes and turned around. He looked at the door.
There was only one option left.
★★★
Jongin blinked his eyes slowly, dragging his eyelids open. He was exhausted, having resisted sleep for almost three days now. He was afraid to even close his eyes for fear that he would fall into deep sleep and never wake up. He shook his head furiously, dispelling the sleep bugs, and hastened his steps.
He knew he couldn't rely on his memory that was fogged by sleep deprivation, but Jongin had no other choice. Security at the Bank had heightened but the delivery schedule remained the same, based on his observations over the past weeks. Jongin popped another caffeine pill into his mouth and tugged on his black leather jacket. He huffed and tried to pull his concentration together. He looked at his watch; it was almost eight o'clock, time for the last delivery of the day.
Jongin hid behind a civilian jet a few feet away from the Bank, eyes trained on the DM jet landing at the back door. Two agents stepped out of the vehicle. One of them went to the door and chatted with the guard posted just outside. The other agent went around the back of the jet, where the posterior capsule slid open with a fingerprint scan. Jongin watched the agent bend forward into the capsule, his heart beating violently. When the man straightened up with a Dreambox in his arms, Jongin ran toward him in full force.
★★★
Baekhyun ran the iris scan and opened the door when his wristwatch beeped, signaling the time for retrieving his Dreambox. He returned to the mahogany table and set the box down, pressing his middle fingertip on the lock on the top surface. The scan registered and the top plate divided into two neat halves, revealing dozens of small clear bottles inside. Baekhyun took out a bottle and turned it around in his hand. Then he smashed it against the box, striking again and again until a singular long piece of glass broke off. The shattered pieces shot out in all directions, littering on the table and the floor. Baekhyun carefully picked up the long piece of glass, shaped like a small dagger. Perfect, he thought. He sat down on the chair after checking for stray pieces of glass on the seat. He drew the tub close and collected the ingredient bottles that he had already chosen, setting them down by the tub. He looked first into the empty tub, then raised his eyes, gazing into the dark outside the windows. Finally he tore a strip from his shirt and wrapped it around one end of the dagger-shaped glass. He brought it to his left wrist, the tip pointing to the spot just beside the watch.
He closed his eyes.
★★★
"The nerve he had to steal from an agent! Right outside the Bank, too!"
"Pipe down, Sehun." Kris snarled. Sehun, the agent who had been by the back door when he heard the sound of collision and yelling, clamped his lips tight. He watched his superior cautiously, eyes flitting back and forth between the tall man and Jongin. Tao, from whom Jongin had attempted to snatch the Dreambox, stood expressionless next to Kyungsoo, the Bank manager. Tao’s cold eyes were fixed on Jongin, who was tied to a chair by an electric band around his wrists. They were in one of the storage rooms near the back door to the Bank. The room had ample space for Jongin to be placed in the middle, a safe distance away from the four men. Various items of equipment propped against the walls, mostly spare exoskeletons for the guards and other backup devices.
Kris studied Jongin with his arms crossed, brows knitted. Jongin met his eyes defiantly, nostrils flared with a self-justified audacity.
"What's your name?" Kris asked. Jongin scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Like that matters."
Kris narrowed his eyes and suppressed an exasperated huff.
"Do you know the consequences of dream burglary?"
"Yeah." Jongin said unflinchingly. "I've always known, but that never stopped me."
Kris's eyes widened in surprise. It clicked in his head. The defiance bordering on stupidity. The recklessness that surpassed mere immaturity typical of teens. It was a suicide mission.
"You're the one that was stealing dreams from us." Kris seethed.
"From you? Stealing?" Jongin laughed. The sound was hollow and mocking as it echoed in the room. "Dreams don't belong to you. They belong to the people. Everyone is entitled to dream."
"You have no idea what it takes to make dreams." Kris said and glowered.
"Oh but I do," said Jongin, voice laced with a disturbing lightness. "And you know what? Shame on you all for treating the Makers like they're your puppets. Keeping them locked up all day. That's no way to live, especially for a kid."
Kris went still and his eyes turned ice cold.
"How would you know that?"
Jongin's lips curved upward in contempt. He didn't answer. Kris glared at him, barely containing rage as his chest heaved up and down.
"Kyungsoo." Kris said, eyes remaining on Jongin. Jongin's eyes were growing heavy. He yawned despite his anger, as the caffeine pill and his adrenaline wore off.
"Yes, sir."
"Bring the Reset kit."
Kyungsoo and Sehun quickly set up the kit, which consisted of a tablet, a large glass headset, and several thin wires. They placed the headset over Jongin's head and secured it with a manual screw lock on the top of the headset, then plugged the wires into the headset on one end and the tablet on the other end. They stepped to the side once the setup was completed, and Kyungsoo handed the tablet to Kris.
Kris pulled up the dashboard and selected Reset among the options. The screen switched to a command window. A prompt appeared requesting information. Kris began typing.
SUBJECT:\\ HUMAN
SEX:\\ M
DEV STAGE:\\ YOUTH
CAUSE:\\ DRM BURG
DEGREE OF REWRITE:\\ 100%
A prompt popped up notifying the complete entry of required information. Then another prompt flashed on the screen:
RESET
CONTINUE | CANCEL
His finger hovered over CONTINUE. Kris raised his eyes and glanced at Jongin.
"Any last words?"
A weak smile skipped across Jongin's lips. His eyes fluttered shut.
"To sleep, perchance to dream."
★★★
Eyes closed, Baekhyun drove the makeshift blade into his wrist against the edge of the watch. He groaned in immeasurable agony as he dug the glass deeper until it hit something solid. Feeling the glass puncture the chip embedded inside, he finally cracked open his eyes. He saw blood, a dizzying amount of blood spurting and pooling over his entire wrist, streaming down his hand like an extra set of palm lines. Amidst the blood he also saw the screen of his watch. It was blank. He took the watch off and cracked into a triumphant smile despite the throbbing pain in his wrist.
★★★
Kris started when alarm blared, his hand jerking up from the screen before he could send the reset command. An automated voice announced Code Red repeatedly. He looked around and saw the other three men in the room looking equally confused. Kris looked down at the tablet. The program had shut down and the codes were jumbling into undecipherable characters. He whipped out a palm communicator from his pocket and tapped a button.
"What the fuck is going on?" Kris barked at a senior banker on the other end of the line. He gestured for the other three men to leave with a silent order to find out the cause of the alert.
"I have no idea," the banker stammered. Frantic typing and urgent voices were muffled in the background. "The system just went haywire all of a sudden. Everything is down. We're looking into it but-"
"Look into the DM motherboard."
"The motherboard?"
"Check the bioactivity of all the Makers and tell me what you see."
There was a brief moment of silence, dotted by anxious breaths on both ends.
"Shit."
"What is it?"
"Baekhyun. He's offline. There's nothing coming in from him."
"Fuck." Kris cursed under his breath and squeezed his eyes tight. He was trembling all over. "I knew it."
Kris jabbed his finger on the screen, ending the call with a frustrated groan. He looked up and saw that the door was open. Whipping around, he swore loudly.
Jongin was gone.
★★★
Baekhyun quickly added drops and spoonfuls of various ingredients based on the recipe he had planned out, but it began to blur in his head as blood continued oozing out of his wrist. He tried to keep his injured left hand away from the tub so that blood wouldn't get into the tub, working with his right hand solely. His left arm felt paralyzed, the numbness spreading slowly but steadily from his left shoulder to his chest, his neck, and his forehead. When he began feeling lightheaded, a picture took shape inside his head.
He saw Jongin and himself in an infinite stretch of lavender field, a mauve canvas spreading out from around them. Jongin was chasing him and they were both laughing with not a care in the world. It was warm, so very warm. Baekhyun smiled. This was it, the dream he had always wanted to have. The dream he wanted Jongin to have.
A few drops of Comfort and Peace. A spoonful of Warmth, another one of Laughter. Two spoonfuls of Bliss. It was the perfect dream.
His eyelids grew heavy as Baekhyun fought to keep them open, his breathing becoming shallow and sluggish. He blinked a few times and saw that his blood had dripped into the tub at some point, staining the content a shade of washed out maroon. He felt his eyes sting and chuckled. Oh well, he thought. At least it looked pretty.
He reached into the tub with his right hand. He couldn't feel his left arm at all. There was no more pain, just numbness, and he was okay with that, he thought. He hurriedly swirled the content into a mixture of pearly purple. When it was well mixed Baekhyun looked down at the mixture, the last and best dream he would have ever made. Tears found their way down his cheeks and into the tub. The mixture turned a vibrant tone of violet, the color of Courage.
He gathered all the air in his lungs that he could and took a deep breath, then blew over the surface into an empty bottle clutched in his quivering right hand.
★★★
Jongin ran and ran through the Bank toward the exit. No one took notice of him bolting past them in the chaotic lobby, all preoccupied by coding every command they could think of to get the system back on. He was wide awake as sleep fled from him when the alarm sounded. He sprinted past a formation of DM jets, probably carrying support personnel to aid the crisis at the Bank. Jongin passed his own apartment complex and didn't stop. He dashed into the neighboring building and up the stairs to the floor that housed Baekhyun's apartment.
He skidded to a stop when he saw that the door was open. He rushed inside. The alarm screamed against his ears.
"Baekhyun!"
Jongin found him slumped over the mahogany table, blood soaking his left hand and dripping onto the floor. Reaching for the limp form, Baekhyun collapsed into Jongin’s arms and they fell to the floor. The gash in Baekhyun's wrist came into Jongin's view and his eyes grew wide in shock.
"Good. You're still alive." Baekhyun whispered. He smiled at Jongin.
"What the hell did you do?" Jongin asked, voice cracking, anguished.
"This," Baekhyun held up his right hand, showing Jongin the capped bottle, "is for you." Jongin clasped his hand around Baekhyun’s. His eyes stung terribly and his chest was wound so tight his entirety ached.
“Hang on. I’m gonna get us out of here first.”
Baekhyun’s head tilted in a weak nod. He was barely breathing. Jongin pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around Baekhyun’s forearm, tying it with a tight knot. He pried Baekhyun's fingers off the bottle clutched in his cold hand and tucked it into his pocket. Wincing under the blaring alarm, Jongin hoisted Baekhyun up into his arms and ran out into the hall. He took careful but quick strides out of Baekhyun's apartment and down the corridor, getting through multiple sets of doors by pressing Baekhyun’s fingertips on the scanner. He opted for the stairs to avoid being seen, knowing the trip would take longer. He exited the building out the back door and slipped into his own apartment complex through the back. He took the stairs again as a precautionary measure, even though his legs felt as if they would give out any minute. He didn't stop until he reached his apartment where he rapped on the door urgently.
Taemin opened the door slightly, surprised. "Don't you have the keys? Wh-hyung, what the hell?"
Jongin barged past his brother and ignored his gaping at the figure in his arms.
"Shut up and close the door." Jongin said and put Baekhyun down on the twin-sized bed in the middle of the apartment. Taemin did as he was told and hurried to Jongin's side.
“What’s going on?”
“Go to Mr. Jung and borrow his medical kit.” Jongin said as he pressed his palm on Baekhyun’s wrist. Dull red had dyed the fabric wrapped around the forearm.
“Wh-“
“Just do it!” Jongin cried, head whipping toward his brother. Taemin did a double take as he saw the desperation in Jongin’s eyes. He nodded and dashed off.
Jongin sat on the edge of the bed and brushed Baekhyun’s bangs to the side. Cold sweat beaded across the smaller boy’s forehead and his face was completely colorless.
“Jongin…” Baekhyun cracked open his eyes. His chest rose slowly, imperceptibly. Jongin squeezed Baekhyun’s hand as he continued to apply pressure on the wound.
“You're so stupid," Jongin choked out. "Why did you do this? You-Baekhyun. Baek, stay with me." Jongin shook the smaller boy, whose eyes fluttered open and fell closed. Jongin pulled him tight and he wept into Baekhyun's neck when he realized how cold his body was.
"I'll find you in your dream," Baekhyun breathed into Jongin's ear. "In our dream."
Baekhyun craned his neck and kissed Jongin on the forehead, then closed his eyes for the last time as his head tipped back.
Jongin held Baekhyun's body long after he ran out of tears and all that was left were tracks of stains on his cheeks. He clutched Baekhyun's bloodied hand and just sat there in a daze, toying with the delusion that maybe this was all a dream and if he tried hard enough, Baekhyun would open his eyes. But he never did, and his body just grew colder in Jongin's arms.
Finally Taemin rushed in with a hefty box tucked under his arms, panting. He set the box down on the floor next to Jongin, but Jongin was motionless, his face blank, almost like the figure on the bed. Jongin shook his head, and Taemin pursed his lips in dismay.
"Who is he?" Taemin asked. He knew the answer when he saw the look in his brother's eyes. "Baekhyun?"
Jongin was quiet as Taemin began to cry.
"What happened to him?" Taemin asked as he sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Jongin felt his eyes sting again, fresh tears forming. Words were trapped in the back of his throat like bitter lumps he couldn’t spit out or swallow. He brandished the bottle and showed it to Taemin. He had never felt something so small weigh so heavy. Taemin bit on his bottom lip and said nothing.
A few minutes passed before Taemin pulled Jongin away and dragged a jacket over Baekhyun’s body, covering his face and torso. Jongin slumped to the floor and stared at Baekhyun’s left arm dangling off the edge of the bed, trails of dried blood slithering over the forearm like tiny snakes.
After a while, Taemin shuffled away and rummaged inside a drawer. He reappeared by Jongin's side with a glass headset.
"Hyung." Taemin said and held out the headset. Jongin looked down at it, then glanced at the lifeless form on the bed. He shook his head, melancholy filling his eyes.
"It's what he would have wanted." Taemin said softly.
I'll find you in your dream. In our dream.
Tears rolled down Jongin's face. Taking the headset from Taemin with trembling hands, he uncapped the bottle and poured the contents into the opening on the top of the headset. He put the headset over his head and secured it with a soft click, then lay down next to Baekhyun. Grabbing Baekhyun's right hand, Jongin poised his finger over the DREAM button on the side of the headset. He closed his eyes, squeezed Baekhyun's hand, and pressed the button.
A blanket of colors washed over him and he found himself blinking into a rainbow. He blinked again. He was standing in the middle of a lavender field, the breeze tousling his hair and the sun kissing his skin. He looked around; the expanse of mauve reached the ends of the earth. The flower stalks tickled his bare calves as he walked through the field. It felt so real, too real. He saw a boy squatting some distance away and his eyes widened.
“Baekhyun!”
The boy straightened up and broke into a large grin. He waved at Jongin with both arms, then ran away deep into the field.
“Wait!”
Jongin took off in a sprint and chased after him.
“I’m going to catch you!”
He heard laughter ringing against his ears and he ran. Jongin was sure that the boy was Baekhyun, and that he would catch him. He was the Dreamcatcher, and he had always caught the dream he wanted.