||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)

Secrets

Fresh woke up that night in a cold sweat. A cold dew covered his forehead as he gripped his bedsheets in a white-knuckled fist, sitting bolt upright in his bed. It was a dream. Thank god it was a dream. He'd hate to relive those moments. He was always a night owl, so he first fell asleep at around two or so in the morning, but the time now, well, it was hard to tell. But without a doubt, it was still very early in the morning. He checked a clock, and it read 4:52. It was almost five in the morning, normally he wouldn't be awake for another six hours. He collapsed into the bed, bare chest glistening with sweat, and then realised that there was something in his eyes. He was tearing up, crying. He mentally punched himself. You're a man, Fresh, you're not a baby, man up, don't cry. He muttered to himself. The tears stopped, but the terror, pain and brokenness in his heart didn't. He needed to calm down before he started crying again. He was so thankful that nobody was there, he didn't want anyone to see him like this. So weak. So pathetic. So vulnerable. Then the door creaked open, his heart skipping a beat when possibilities ran through his mind - Who was there? The person he was dreaming about? A servant? But then a tiny silhouette of a fluffy ball leapt up onto the bed, and nuzzled against him. Dumpling sensed that her master wasn't feeling well, and needed her warmth. And that she gave, as she snuggled up against Fresh's chest and started purring. He smiled as he cuddled her, soaking in every bit of the calmness that the tiny kitten emitted. Previously she had been the emotional anchor for someone else, but then she sensed an even greater need, so she raced off to Fresh's side.

"Oh Dumpling" Fresh said. "What could I do without you?"

Dumpling mewed.

"What do you think I should do? I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep for quite a while after that nightmare."

Dumpling mewed yet again.

"Play the guitar, you say? Dumpling, you are a genius." Fresh smiled as he sat up. Dumpling did the same, watching him curiously as he sat on the edge of his bed and reached over for the Electric Guitar in the corner of his room. It was sleek and black, and rested on his hips perfectly. Though, he did have a hard time balancing it when he was sitting down. He connected it to a small amp, tuned it, and started playing a familiar lullaby that reminded him of home.

Home.

Home, where he picnicked with his friends and joked around with them as they ran through crisp green fields. Home, where he swam in the deep blue sea during the hot summer days. Home, where he drank hot, aromatic mushroom soup in little huts during the harsh winters. And home, where he sang folk songs with groups of people around bonfires, dancing around them without a single care in the world as smoke wisps, joyous voices and merry spirits rose up into the night air.

But home was but a faraway dream now, a dream that always sank out of reach whenever Fresh tried to grasp for it, seeping through his fingers like grains of sand or clouds of smoke. He would never be reunited with the villages of kind souls who sang, danced, laughed and cried with him. He would never be able to sing those very same beautiful, melodic songs again, because he had forgotten the words, though the tune still lingered in his mind. And most heartbreakingly of all, he would never be able to see his friends, not even his beautiful fiancée, for they were all long dead. Though, that was to change.

He was dead without them.

He played and played until his fingers were numb, and he finally felt like he could sleep. Dumpling had at some point purred herself to sleep to the tune of the lullaby, and he smiled. Now, it it were any other day, ribbons of amber sunlight would be stretching past the horizon and blending the sky into a beautiful golden hue, but now the sky was a permanent dark pink and showed no such signs of daybreak. He lifted Dumpling up, stirring her from her sleep, and pulled the covers over the two of them. She fell asleep, purring gently, and so did Fresh, with a sweet, homesick smile on his face.