Work Text:
In the dream, Seungkwan sits on the wooden porch of a hanok near the Han River, swinging his legs and waiting for Jeonghan. In waking, they’d done a photoshoot here a couple years back, and despite the staff, lighting equipment, props, and all of their rowdy members, Seungkwan and Jeonghan had both noticed that the main room of this guesthouse had very good acoustics.
In the dream, it is night time, though it doesn’t have to be. Jeonghan is better at controlling environmental details, so Seungkwan usually leaves that to him. Also, Jeonghan is the one who needs this dream reprieve more. He is twelve months into his eighteen month military enlistment, and the strain is more and more noticeable at each full moon.
In the dream, Seungkwan hears the crunch of gravel and sees Jeonghan walking towards the house. Seungkwan smiles, raises a hand, and Jeonghan salutes in return. He's wearing his fatigues. Seungkwan seriously hopes he isn’t also sleeping in them. Jeonghan perches lightly beside Seungkwan, starting to remove his boots.
“Hello hyung,” Seungkwan says. “How are you?”
“Oh, golden,” Jeonghan says airily. “Having just the absolute time of my life sleeping in a dorm again with a dozen other noisy men. Takes me right back to predebut.”
Jeonghan gazes up at the sky in mock nostalgia. Seungkwan notes the bags under his eyes, bruise purple in the moonlight.
“Seriously,” Seungkwan insists. “Did they finally prescribe you that sleep medication?”
“Yes, or I wouldn’t be here,” Jeonghan says darkly. “War is hell, Seungkwannie. You should consider blowing out your knee like Chollie in the next couple of years.”
Seungkwan shudders. He will not ask if Jeonghan is joking. “Anything you want to talk about…?”
“No. I want to sing.” Jeonghan says. He stands abruptly, stepping into the cool shadows of the house.
__
Jeonghan was the first member of Seventeen to enlist. Pledis rented a whole restaurant to throw him a big goodbye dinner; there were toasts and wellwishes, jokes and laughter and tears. Seungkwan had kept his eyes on Jeonghan throughout that meal. He’d seen the way Seungcheol and Mingyu had crowded close to either side of Jeonghan, but that increasingly it was Jeonghan supporting their weight and holding up their spirits as the night progressed. Jeonghan playfully wiping away Mingyu’s tears and petting his hair; pressing a hand to the small of Seungcheol’s back and kisses to his damp cheeks. Jeonghan squeezed the hands and met the eyes of everyone who had come out to celebrate him and send him off in style.
Jeonghan’s own eyes had stayed dry, and Seungkwan observed the increasingly fixed set of his grin and the astonishing number of soju shots he put away. Which is why Seungkwan tapped a manager earlier than they’d initially planned and pulled Jeonghan out of the embrace of the group and into a car with the lie that he wasn’t finished packing.
Jeonghan was quiet on the ride back to their shared apartment and Seungkwan thought he’d fallen asleep. But he roused easily when they got to their building.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Jeonghan said as Seungkwan ushered him in. “Dear Seungkwannie, my favorite roommate.”
“I’m your only roommate,” Seungkwan countered, removing Jeonghan’s jacket and hanging it.
“My favorite maknae,” Jeonghan said.
“Oh, I’m telling Chan you said that,” Seungkwan threatened, but he warmed inside. He knelt to help Jeonghan out of his shoes.
“You’ll miss me, won’t you?” Jeonghan asked.
“Terribly,” Seungkwan said.
“You’ll miss talking to me and singing with me?” Jeonghan insisted.
“With all my heart,” Seungkwan gently steered Jeonghan over the couch.
“What if I told you that you didn’t have to miss it.” Jeonghan’s eyes were bright with a strange intensity. He had a high alcohol flush on his cheeks and his beautiful hair was mussed. That gorgeous hair would be shaved off in a few days. Seungkwan tried not to think about it.
“What do you mean,” he asked.
“What if you could see me regularly while I’m enlisted?” Jeonghan tipped his head coyly.
“I will be able to see you, on leave weekends,” Seungkwan said, confused. Was Jeonghan even more drunk than he appeared? Or was he planning something concerning? Seungkwan was aware of a certain SM idol who had apparently not spoken to his bandmates for the entire period of his enlistment; was Jeonghan contemplating something equally dire?
“Will you do something for me? While I’m away?” Jeonghan asked.
“Of course, anything,” Seungkwan said.
“Fantastic. Don’t move.” Jeonghan stood abruptly, slipping into his bedroom with surprising speed and balance. He returned with something small and gleaming in his hand. It was a box carved from dark wood and inlaid with mother of pearl. Inside were a pile of candies, round, white, and lustrous as pearls.
“These are moon drops,” Jeonghan said. “It was very difficult, but I was able to get one for each month I’ll be gone.”
“Excuse me,” Seungkwan said. “What?”
“Moon drops,” Jeonghan said excitedly. “If you eat one before you fall asleep on the night of the full moon, I'll be able to visit your dreams.”
“Excuse me,” Seungkwan said again. “What?”
“Dreamsharing,” Jeonghan said. “It runs in my family. Sorry I never told you before, it’s kind of private.”
“EXCUSE ME,” Seungkwan said. “WHAT?”
Jeonghan hand waved a vague explanation about being distantly related to the moon goddess on his mother’s side, but refused to give details. Seungkwan knew it was futile to demand more. It didn’t really matter if Seungkwan believed him; what mattered was that he had promised to do something for Jeonghan, and that promise seemed to give Jeonghan some comfort before an unavoidable ordeal.
So Seungkwan let one of the candies dissolve on his tongue on the night of the next full moon. Jeonghan had been gone for two weeks. Seungkwan had been thinking of him constantly, so it was no surprise when Jeonghan appeared in his dream. That visit had been chaotic and strange; setting and scene blurring into each other as Jeonghan attempted to teach him how to control and shape the environment; Jeonghan’s hair changing length every time Seungkwan looked at him.
The real shock was the phone call he received the next day in which Jeonghan recounted, moment by moment and nearly word for word, the dream they had jointly experienced the night before.
“This is all extremely incredible and I’m delighted to learn that magic is real,” Seungkwan said at last. “But why me? Why didn’t you give these to one of your multiple boyfriends?”
Seungcheol and Mingyu had definitely been suffering the most in Jeonghan’s absence, which Seungcheol communicated with stoic silences, and Mingyu through whining and excessive clinginess with everyone else, as if they might also be snatched from his arms at any moment.
Jeonghan sighed. Seungkwan could perfectly picture the way he was probably running a hand across his cropped hair.
“I love them very much, and I'll visit them soon,” Jeonghan had said. “But it’s you I want to sing with.”
__
Seungkwan rises and follows Jeonghan into the hall. The full moon casts bright squares of pearly light on the floor. Jeonghan is already humming, warming up his voice, runs of notes that reverberate to fill the empty room. When he starts a melody, high and clear and pure, Seungkwan recognizes it immediately.
Jeonghan doesn’t always want to sing Seventeen music, but tonight the lyrics of “Circles” spill from his lips, acapella and haunting in a way that's completely missing from their studio recording. A version of this song which only exists in dreams.
Seungkwan takes a deep breath and joins in.
In the dream, the hall catches their entwined voices and gives them back, twofold, threefold, until it is impossible to tell where one voice ends and another begins.