??????
That night, Haneul dreamed of fire.
But not the kind that warmed.
It started blurred. Soundless. The outlines of a battlefield, strewn in smoke and echoes. People moved like ghosts—blurred, faceless, screaming without voices.
And then—him.
Seungho, but not quite. Taller, younger. Robes like stormclouds. Eyes like molten gold, streaked with crimson. Hair tied back into a war-knot that crowned him like a blade.
One hand outstretched.
Reaching.
Pleading.
Terrified.
"Don't—!!"
But the word didn’t come.
Haneul looked down.
His own body—on fire.
But he wasn’t burning.
He was becoming something—a core of color—white, gold, blue, red, yellow—searing outward.
His chest cracked open like the center of a star.
And then—he exploded. Skybound.
??????
He woke screaming.
Jolted upright, hand clutched to his chest, gasping, wet with sweat.
Tears streaked down his cheeks before he even knew why.
Seungho bolted upright beside him.
Heart pounding. Hands already reaching.
“Haneul—! Are you—”
“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re here—fuck, what happened—?”
Haneul couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t breathe.
He wasshaking, curling in on himself, body trembling like a fault line.
Seungho pulled him close, hard, arms wrapped all the way around him, as if he could shield him from the thing that was already inside him. Rocked him, murmured against his temple.
