"I'm telling you, it felt real!"

Jungkook kicked a stone laying in his way, following it with his eyes until his feet brought him close to it once more. He kicked it along, trying to ignore his best friends laughter.

"Hyung I'm serious, I'm trying to share something with you here and you're being an ass about it," he grumbled helplessly. Jimin's hysterics ebbed away.

"Well you tell me how to react when your best friend tells you he fell in love inside a dream. You've literally never had a crush, how would you know what love feels like? Besides, you can't fall in love with a dream."

Jungkook just shrugged and let the subject dissolve into thin air. He wouldn't expect Jimin to understand; he himself understood nothing of his night of fantasy. In fact, the whole day seemed shrouded with a veil made of myth and water; surreal and purling. But he hadn't mentioned love at all; his best friend was the one who had made that assumption. Jungkook had simply attempted to explain the depth of the lingering vision he had experienced and Jimin had translated it into the only comparison he could draw.

Love. He'd never felt it. He expected he'd recognise it when it happened. But this lingering feeling didn't bring the word 'love' to his lips. It was wonder split into shards of cerulean blue and hypnotising music. He thought love ought to be warm and pulsing; the colour of a setting sun ricocheting over silent soft skin. This was a cold waterfall of sound, and all he wanted was to rush back home, to his bed and to his dreams.

***

That night, Jungkook awoke to the sound of shattering glass. He looked down at his bare feet and stared curiously at the broken vase, broken red roses curling in its remnants, their colours bleeding into the thick air, dying but still so beautiful.

"This isn't me!"

Jungkook looked up at the sound, blinking in surprise at the sight before him. A man was pacing back and forth, his soul leaking from his body in waves of light begging to be touched. It was beautiful. It was blinding. Jungkook couldn't see the face behind the gleam, but he could taste the essence of his being, and it was like he knew who this was, had known him his whole life. He gasped for thick air, accidentally savouring the flavour of existence itself, and his pulsing eyes grew bigger, his heart staggered in his chest. Above him, Mother Fate cooed delightfully and Brother Future rolled his snowy iris-less eyes.

"This isn't who I am!" the man was crying out. "You make me into this idol towering above others, this image of a man who isn't even real! I've become a liar, a fraud. You made me into this."

The shouts were turning to something else: a whine made from strength, or a growl forged in dewdrops. Jungkook made to take an involuntary step forward, in a feeble attempt to comfort the stranger and save his own shattering heart, but his feet barely twitched. When he looked down he saw the dying flowers had bloomed bright again, and that they had curled around his ankles, smiling up at their captive with kind adoration. Jungkook snarled but no sound had followed him into his dreams, so the growl never left his lips.

"This makes them happy," another man said, causing Jungkook to look up at the large sweaty face.

It was riddled with concern and softness, but no light shone through his skin, and no music meandered from his eyes. Jungkook could barely look at him when so much beauty held his gaze elsewhere. The object of his attention visibly sighed, his hands coming up to hide his face, gathering all the light of the world in his palms and causing the universe to shiver blue.

"Isn't that what you signed up for?" the other had continued. "You said you wanted to make people happy, you said you wanted to make them whole. Have you changed your mind?"

"No."

His whisper carried the weight of a thousand soldiers marching on waves of thunder.

"Are you two still here?" Universe sighed, glancing downwards with little interest.

"Where else would we go?" Mother Fate smiled back. "This is what we live for after all."

"You literally see thousands of these, Fate," the entity rustled through its coat of stars and grass, sifting through the air gently. "These are no different."

"Oh please," Brother Future intervened. "Even I know it has been awhile since the light was this strong. Brighten up, Verse, use this to recharge yourself will you? Maybe you'll stop being so grumpy."

Besides him, Mother Fate slapped his arm, ignoring the small storm this would cause somewhere in the world below.

"Play nice Ture," she admonished, and Future rolled his all-white eyes.

"Doesn't matter," Universe muttered. "He's being pulled back anyways."

Indeed, below them Jungkook was unaware of the roses curling up his body, their petals glowing the soft pink hue of time running out. He watched, unknowing, trying to peer through the luminescence pulsing in the room, his heart crying for knowledge. He couldn't understand why he was the only one who couldn't see beyond the haze, and it was killing him. Beyond the vale, the stranger with a soul too prodigious to be contained by a mortal body was straightening his back again.

"The new project was approved by the company, so you'll be starting that very soon," the other one spoke. "You need to get rid of your fantasies and focus on the moment, you can see that, right?"

A resilient silence fought its way into the room, heavy and thick. Jungkook frowned.

"Your image now works just fine, so stick to it. Okay?"

The burning sun tensed his shoulders, his whole body seemingly preparing for war. It looked like he was about to fight... and then all the tension in the room disappeared, leaving a vacant space behind.

"Okay," he answered, and although the words sounded strong they smelled of decay and betrayal.

Colours crept into his field of vision, and at long last, Jungkook saw the green leaves cascading around him and the blooming buds curling up against his warm skin. He desperately tried to shout out but he still couldn't utter a sound, and petals rained into his open mouth.

In the brilliant room, the silhouette before him turned in its cloud of light and colourless pupils stared paradoxically into his own. If Jungkook had been able to breathe, it would have taken his breath away.

Jungkook jerked awake, gasping for air. His hands clawed mindlessly at his throat for a few seconds before he realised he was back in his room. He should have been shaken. He should have been terrified even. But as he turned his head towards his window and gazed out into the storm, Jungkook felt impossibly elated. His blood battered through his veins to the tempo of water on glass; the tempest whispered to his soul that it knew exactly how he felt as it lulled him delicately back to sleep.

***