hold me 𐦍 yeonbin

015 ᯓᡣ𐭩

Waking up to the sun in a soft bed and not to the man with fake eyes while strapped to a gurney feels like a dream. Dreams are fake realities humans experience when they sleep. They have no significant effect on the human’s body, and seemingly no evolutionary benefit. Yeonjun hasn’t dreamt since the first few nights in the operating room.

Downstairs, there are no humans in the house. He can hear the bridge forming beneath him, the well’s song drifting up the stairs from the hallway, but when he pushes and pulls on the door to check on Siyeon’s progress, it doesn’t budge.

Alone in Siyeon’s home with no humans to observe, nothing to chase him, no one with whom he can bond a contract, Yeonjun feels impatient. He wants to tell Soobin what Siyeon said, and why he can’t leave Yeonjun’s side until the bridge is complete. If Soobin really is going to be the source of Yeonjun’s happiness, the force to raise his spirit and keep him from dying on Terra, Yeonjun needs to keep him close.

Safety is in numbers. Safety is with Soobin. Safety means finding what will motivate Soobin to stay and brighten Yeonjun’s spirit before he dies. Safety means not leaving Siyeon’s home to look for Soobin because Yeonjun will die quicker at the hands of the humans in pursuit of him.

After pressing several buttons on the remote resulting in no response from the screen, Yeonjun gives up on watching a documentary. The passage of time, boredom, and anxiety were never an issue at home or in the operating room.

So Yeonjun waits. He closes his eyes and waits for Soobin’s heartbeat. He is unaware of how long it takes before he hears a car roaring closer, but he must have been resting for quite a while, as when he opens his eyes, the sun is higher in the sky.

Yeonjun jumps up to meet Soobin at the front door and opens it before Soobin does. Several brown bags hang off his arms and he struggles to balance them all on his way from the van.

“You were gone,” Yeonjun says. “Why?”

“Good morning to you too,” Soobin says. He steps out of his shoes and sets the bags on the table. “Did you sleep well?”

“Where were you?” It’s a simple question of Soobin has nothing to hide.

Soobin stares, his eyebrows raised. Annoyance.

“I bought some snacks. You’re welcome.”

Yeonjun meets him at the table and peers over the edge of one filled with colorful boxes and several bottles of red and purple liquid. Bubbles line the top of the liquid and appear out of nowhere from the bottom, like a potion without the stench.

“What does this do?” Yeonjun asks, shaking the bottle lightly to watch more bubbles form.

“Stop!” Soobin swipes the bottle and sets it gently on the table. “Don’t shake these. It’ll explode.”

Yeonjun steps away, bracing for the eruption.

“Wait, no—not like, an actual explosion!” Soobin says quickly. It's fizzy drinks. “I wouldn’t bring a bomb into the house.”

“But you brought an explosive potion in the house.”

“It’s not a potion. You drink it.”

“You drink potions too.”

Soobin’s worry dissipates.

“Sometimes,” he says.

Yeonjun recognizes that fairy-like grin, the way his heart speeds, baiting Yeonjun to argue. He won’t give Soobin the satisfaction of seeing him flustered and frustrated again.

“I’ll show you how to open one in a second.”

As Soobin unloads the rest of the bags filled with boxes and bottles and spreads the contents across the table, Yeonjun picks up a blue box with bubbly, stylized glyphs it reads Pop Tarts: frosted blueberry.