Downpour

HEART OF IRON

He doesn't wake up slowly.

He wakes up with all the force he fell asleep with, snapping his head the second he opens his eyes.

It takes more than a few seconds for his heart to stop racing. For his brain to catch up and realise that he's not under water.

That he can breathe.

He tries slow his breaths, stopping himself from hyperventilating. When he shuts his eyes, it feels like he's being held down, the water choking him, filling his lungs. The ghosts of the hands that pushed down on his skin linger, the force still there in his mind no matter how much he tells himself it's not.

He presses his eyes shut, embracing the feeling of inhaling water. He can feel it pouring down his throat. It was just a dream, he tells himself, it's all over now.

He tries to distract himself by looking at his surroundings, trying to immerse himself in working out what this dream seems to about.

It doesn't take him long.

He's in a shop, if counter he's woken up on was anything to go by, and right next to a till. The machinery looks pretty ancient, the numbers stuck on in peeling stickers and small digital screen.

There's a huge window at the front of the shop, displaying the same mechanical bits and pieces that hang off the walls. Various tools are scattered around the floor, and there are grease stains on the counter. The whole place smells metallic, like pressing his nose up against rusty railings.

It's a workshop of some sort, but he can't quite work out what for.

He doesn't recognise what the parts displayed are, and although he's never even attempted to fix something himself, they look incredibly complicated.

"Chan? Are you okay?" The sudden voice makes him jump, his already shaky nerves not helping. "You look a bit pale." Chan turns in his seat to look at who's speaking. He can't help but widen his eyes when he sees who it is.

Wonwoo.

But not Wonwoo, in the sense that it's not the same Wonwoo that he's seen in other dreams.

This Wonwoo has a metal arm, more high-tech than anything Chan's ever seen, and his voice sounds slightly auto tuned. One of his eyes is glowing a soft blue.

Small tubes in his arm shine with same light, pulsing the colour gently. The engineering seems hundreds of years ahead of anything Chan could ever imagine, the metal seamlessly connected with the real skin of Wonwoo's shoulder. And yet, it also seems to be a lower quality. Some of the screws have rusted near their bases, and Chan gets the feeling that with an ideal robot arm, you wouldn't know it was a robot arm.

"Chan?" Wonwoo asks again, his face creasing with concern.

Chan snaps back into reality, trying to stop staring at the older's arm. "I'm fine." He mumbles. He's not fine, but he can't really explain that he almost drowned without sounding like a lunatic.

Suddenly, he feels more alone than ever before.

"Are you sure?" Wonwoo asks, and Chan realises that he's not looking at his face. He's looking at the top of his head.

"I'm sure." Chan says, even though he's not sure. He just wants to stop getting asked things. He wants to have some time to think. "Why do you keep asking?"

Wonwoo frowns, looking back to what he was doing before. "It's just that your hair is damp." he says, and Chan's stomach drops.

His hand flies to the top of his head. Sure enough, his hair is soaking wet. The water is dripping down his shirt, and he wonders how he hadn't noticed it himself. Unless-