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i found you in my lucid dreams (and i knew you were to be admired)

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when the human body is deprived of sleep for a certain amount of extended times, one would see something that isn’t really there. or have lucid dreaming, or awake dreaming, things were always questionable if it were real or not. hallucinations were more common. namjoon had been sure that when he saw ‘open 24 hours,’ on the bakery two blocks from his university and four blocks from his apartment, that this was one of those times.


he  couldn't sleep. but then again, he could never sleep. he’s almost positive his body hates him so much that it wants to take the relief of sleep away from him, force him to spend too much money on energy drinks and gas station lattes, look up every treatment for insomnia that ever existed, yet still he couldn’t rest until he was a day away from hospitalization.


but it seemed that on this particular night, when he was walking to clear his mind, get a change of venue, that he just so happened to find all the nocturnal stores and cafes. college kids were rough. he looked between the bookstore, laundromat, gas station, and bakery, but it didn’t seem he ever had a choice, because he was dragging his aching feet into the bakery before it was a decision. the all hour, nocturnal, coffee shop meets pastry market shelter was actually an environment welcome to namjoon. especially at four in the morning.


the air he was met with when he pulled the door open was warm, a virtue from the cold bitterness that he was previously in, if his fat gray scarf that was pulled up to the edges of the beanie on his head had anything to do with it. the walls were wooden, and outlines of art were hung messily on it, and the only light within feet were from twinkles from the string of lights that hung on and from the ceiling, and the few lanterns that were lit on the table tops. it smelt like evergreen and sandalwood, and blankets were folded on the tables in front of the booths, there was even soft music playing from a speaker behind the glass and wooden counter. the whole environment was almost too peaceful. like an instant insomnia killer.


no one was in the place though, it was vacant, but also clearly open. namjoon hummed to himself, satisfied with his not-so-choice in change of atmosphere, and slugged his backpack off, walking to the back, the furthest booth, and slid himself in the corner. hiding from the world, and hopefully from the burning in his eyes and the weights dragging them down.


he picked his laptop and headphones out of his bag. maybe here he could get something done, get an idea, anything.


he’d been stuck on writing lyrics for weeks, and he wished he could blame that for the cause of his lack of sleep, but he’s nearing his fifth month of not getting even a nice night of sleep, excluding his few nights of decent sleep (5 hours)  after staying up for a few days. but no, he’d just been stuck because all he wants to do is rest his body, but that seems to be the one thing he can't do for the sake of his life. writing lyrics, that he can do, but he’s drained of ideas, and staying in his apartment with the man who wrote his deadline isn’t helping. yoongi gave him an extension, considering he’s processing on 30 minute naps and caffeinated drinks on most days, and a sad symptom of sleep deprivation is anxiety and, ah, irritability. a lot of it.


it’s funny, because when he’s tired, he tries to keep himself running, hence the drinks, but with an unrested body and splurge of sugar, he shakes, and he’s clumsy, and he talks too much or not at all. so really, yoongi didn’t have much of a choice, and gave him all the time he needed. namjoon searched through the cliches, trying to see if he could turn them into something new, he racked his notes of poems and confessions, he picked his brain raw of every word and every combination, yet he couldn’t continue this song no matter.


it was so goddamn frustrating. how hard is it to put words that sounded good, rhymed, flowed together? apparently on his now, 38 hours of no sleep, very freaking difficult. he sighed, completely tired, willing to everything in the sky to just grant him a night’s sleep. and the weights under his eyes always felt like they were dragging him under, but just as he felt his head drop unawaringly, he heard a yell from  somewhere hidden, the kitchen maybe.


“god dammit, not again, are you kidding!?” an angered voice protested, and the bakery wasn’t so calm and collected, and namjoon wasn’t as alone, anymore. namjoon reminded himself that the owner of the voice most likely didn’t know that someone else was occupying the place.


“i can’t believe you let my brownies burn again,” namjoon had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, because the voice was obviously a gentle one, except from the sound of it, though angry, it wasn’t intimidating or scary. but brownies? seriously? it was hard not to find it entertaining.


“you are so incompetent! if you’re just going to fall asleep, then don’t take the night shift!” the voice was alluring, and namjoon’s song has been abandoned since he heard it. but then minutes passed, more minutes passed and not a single noise was made.


namjoon figured the show was over. he placed his headphones back over his ears, his black framed glasses falling croaked his scarf now hanging off the back of his shoulders, and played the beat of the song again. next to it, the chorus and bridge were written out. if he could just find some words from the pile on the tip of his tongue--


a big crash interrupted him again. over the sound of his music. he actually groaned out loud this time, frustrated with the continuous interrupted silence. maybe he was hallucinating. his brain had gone too long without rest that he’s imagining it.


“if you don’t wake up right now, jung hoseok, so god help me,” the same gentle shout came again, but it was clear it was nearing closer to the outside, closer to where namjoon was. “you’re washing this tray. pick and scrub the would-be perfectly chocolatey now crumbled black brownies off, and see if you fall asleep on oven watch duty again.”


namjoon could barely suppress his giggle, he was just in the action of covering his mouth when a tall figure came stalking out of the kitchen and into the warmly light main room.


namjoon wanted to cover his mouth for a different reason now. quite possibly the most bewitching, arresting, ethereal human namjoon has ever laid his eyes on was now in the same room as him. he had broad shoulders that fit his slim figure like a puzzle piece, pale caramel seemingly flawless skin, black hair sprayed on his forehead, the pinkest and fullest lips, the brownest and glitterest eyes. plus, the cotton candy pink knit sweater that hung past his waist and fingertips, but also nearly hung off his shoulders and brought collarbones from namjoon’s dreams to light and existence. namjoon most likely failed to hold back a whimper, because this was a sight now painted into his mind, and it would never be one in need of a wipe clean. he was a breathing piece of art that made the signatured drawings on the walls look like child’s play.


namjoon’s attempt at making his initial shock was a poor one, he seemed to have made some kind of noise, if the quick turn of the pink beauty’s head was anything to go off of. namjoon regained quick composure, clearing his throat and setting his pointer finger back on his trackpad, and tried to make himself look busy once he felt eyes trained on him. he never felt as thankful for headphones as he did in this moment.


the beauty he still kept a subtle eye on from across the height of his laptop screen, looked his way for a split second before grabbing something from the counter behind him, and made his way to namjoon’s table. namjoon’s throat constricted, and he realized if he wanted to talk to this man, he’d have to do it on at least an hour of sleep, because he wasn’t anything but irritable when all he could feel was tiredness.


the man just set a menu in front of namjoon’s space, and raised his eyebrow at him in the silent question of, want anything? the man was still clearly fuming at whatever happened to his brownies in the back, and if namjoon wasn’t making his way into dangerous territory and self destruction, he’d make  a joke about it.


instead, he held his breath at the blessing in front of him, the sight up close, and looked back down at the menu when he was sure he was gawking at the man’s collarbones too long, and pointed at the first thing that his finger was near. the man simply looked and nodded, then walked away from namjoon.


and he could finally give his lungs oxygen again.

apparently namjoon had pointed to a jumbo chocolate chip cookie. he had been immersed in what would have been lyrics when the pink sweater man--lacking a name tag, because yes, namjoon peaked, and yes, he was more than dismayed--set it behind his laptop, with a small smile that short circuited namjoon’s brain, along with a bill, and walked away. he seemed to get the idea of headphones, which if namjoon knew that was the reason they have yet to exchange words, he would’ve taken them off long ago.


it was in the moment of staring at the cookie on the table, and the structure of the body covered by the oversized candy sweater walk away from him, that some flow hit namjoon unexpectedly. a flow of something other than exhaustion and writing blocks.


no, it was words, something to explain what he wanted when he saw pink sweaters and dainty hands, and sculpted collar bones. no, a wave of lyrics came, and his inspiration left for the kitchen again.

namjoon had left money and probably too big of a tip for how broke a college kid like him was, and exited the bakery, the sun was rising, and he had finished two songs, full of lyrics and blatant poetry inspired by nothing but the nameless black haired worker. was it embarrassing? excruciatingly so. but it was enough. and namjoon was never one to get embarrassed by lyrics he took pride in.


in fact, the lyrics were so good, that when namjoon was at his apartment again and he fixed them up, waiting for yoongi to wake up, that when he did, yoongi didn’t believe namjoon wrote them himself. “no, seriously, joon. you look like the human embodiment of exhaustion, and you’re telling me you wrote lyrics like these?”


“I don’t know if i should be offended or flattered,” namjoon retorted.


“don’t get me wrong, these are like the best lyrics you’ve probably ever written..but how long have you been up now?” namjoon’s best friend’s black hair was sticking up in every direction and his plaid pajama bottoms were too small that his ankles were exposed. a clear sign he got a good night of sleep.


“i’m about to hit 42 hours,” namjoon checked his watch. “but i have a class in three hours,” he shrugged.


“not kidding, joon, you better get your ass to sleep. at least a couple hours. there’s no way you can make it today without collapsing. and i don’t need to be called out of class again because you passed out in the middle of a lecture.” yoongi crossed his feet on the couch cushion next to namjoon. namjoon’s laptop, lyrics open in front of them, bouncing on his knees.


“i mean i could try. but i’m not really tired,” namjoon said. if anything, he was bouncing with energy, but that could be a last charge before his body gives out on him, like last time.


“you better get in your comfy ass bed before i grab a pot and knock you upside the head.”


that was all yoongi had to say.

namjoon never felt refreshed, no, but sleeping for four hours--he missed his class but sleeping was something that never came and if it did, it was first priority--had awakened him. it was strange, because he dreamed blurs of pink and lit lanterns, and even jumbo cookies, but maybe being awake for 43 hours did something weird to the human brain.


but the best lyrics kept ringing in his head and he got accustomed to going to the bakery every night for the next week.

his brain was swirling and he couldn’t think straight, and art in the form of pastel sweaters and broad shoulders were flooding his mind, and his judgement wasn’t anywhere to be found.


that was namjoon’s excuse for when he approached the bakery again at one am. he tried to sleep again for two hours, no it didn’t work, and yes insomnia was the biggest bitch, or maybe he was thinking about black hair and plump lips and the best lyrics he’d ever written too much that walking four blocks at one am was something he was more than willing to do.


the atmosphere was just as comforting as it was every round, except a couple people were occupying the first few tables, but namjoon didn’t mind since his-- his?-- table in the back wasn’t one of them. he needed to write two more songs. two more songs, and he was free for at least three months. if these last few nights were any indication, this bakery was good for him.


and maybe their service was too. it had him completely undone, but it also made words come easier then they ever had.


namjoon was on his laptop, glasses falling every three minutes, bundled in a big hoodie that hit his knees, and a beanie, and he purposely brought his grey scarf to use as a blanket, for exactly seven minutes before his eyes met the brown ones from all the nights before. the man said something, but namjoon didn’t hear the words, seeing his music was still falling from the speakers of his headphones.


he pulled them down the second he realized the mistake. the man just gave him a warm smile. “sorry, i don’t mean to disturb you. would you like anything?”


yes, he wanted to say. but didn’t, he was gawking again. cotton candy blue looked just as amazing as the pink. and this frayed knitted sweater was only slightly larger, but namjoon’s body went stiff all the same. those damn collarbones, and the way the man’s lips parted, he didn’t think he still had the capability to form words, and damn was infatuation just as big of a bitch.


“have any coffee?” namjoon finally managed to spit out after probably the longest silence, it was a miracle the man hadn’t walked off.


“we do,” the man nodded. he reached in a black waist apron--that namjoon just noticed was tied to tight black jeans that could probably kill someone--and pulled out a different menu then the one namjoon had been accustomed to from the week prior. and a notepad, to most likely write his order down. upon setting it in front of namjoon, the man leaned against the table, patiently, while namjoon looked at the kinds of lattes. though, he also wanted that cookie descended from heaven again.


“uhm, chai latte, i think,” namjoon decided. maybe coffee wasn’t a good idea, but his eyes were already drooping. “and another jumbo chocolate chip cookie, please.”


“name for your order please?” he said it too casually for namjoon to think anything of it, which was constricting.




“got it,” he said and scribbled on his notepad. “ people usually don’t want coffee at one am, but i suppose this isn’t a nocturnal bakery for no reason,” the man took the menu from namjoon’s hand and namjoon was in a bliss.


“if it’s too much of a trouble--”


“nonsense,” the man smiled, a much bigger one, and namjoon wanted to die. like actually. “i need coffee myself to get through this shift again.”


at that, the pastel blue that flooded namjoon’s vision was gone. it came late to namjoon that that man was the only colorful thing in the bakery, both literally and figuratively. now namjoon wanted to know his name more than ever before.


five minutes later, he saw an opportunity, when the man came to his table with a small plate holding a cookie, and a decently sized lidded cup. he carefully set them down in same place he did before, behind namjoon’s laptop, and he started to walk away before namjoon stuttered and it stopped his steps.


“yeah? something wrong?” the man looked to him. namjoon was totally fine, but the unfinished lyric that sat in front of him and needed something namjoon didn’t have, was what urged him forward.


“uhm, your name. just so i know who to ask for?” he tired, that was what mattered, even if he could barely get the words passed his lips.

“i’m usually one of the only people working at this time,” he smiled, but it was different this time.


“still,” namjoon protested.


“tell you what--if you get some sleep, i’ll let you know anything you want.” he said and walked away.


namjoon never wanted to sleep more than he did in that moment.

namjoon didn’t let himself leave his bed the next night. he will sleep. he will get the man of his best lyrics’s name, and he will finish his songs, and sleep more, dream of black hair and chiseled collarbones again.


he got a new bed about two months ago, something yoongi read under treatments for insomnia. he even got a new pillow, and found a few new ways to position his body to sleep. he cuddled with a pillow, and surrounded himself in a sea of them. the new, unfairly comfortable according to yoongi, bed was supposed to help him.


namjoon has written a total of four songs about the man at the bakery, lost hours and hours of  what he’d call sleep over him, imagines the man being with him. he just wanted to put a name to the face he can’t get out of his head.


he wanted to scream for miles, because he dreamt of the bakery worker, but when the sun hit his window, he didn’t close his eyes at any point in the night.

the bakery hadn’t changed even though namjoon didn’t go for a night. only one other person was in there, a middle aged woman surrounded by files, sitting at the table in the opposite corner from namjoon’s regular.


he took his place in the corner. one more song, one more song. and the lack of inspiration at his own house was a sign he needed to be here. on nearing 45 straight hours or not, he had to come.


he was writing, and writing, and his lantern light blew out. and namjoon didn’t notice a presence until it spoke. “no, i don’t think so.”


he pulled his mute headphones down, and looked at the nameless beauty with a cock of his brow, but internally he was burning. pink, again, but mixed with purple. purple and pink stripes on knitwear, and namjoon had never been so thankful for the invention of pastel colors.


“sorry?” namjoon said.


“skipping one night here won’t fool me. you didn’t sleep even a little bit. i can tell,” the man’s expressed wavered between worried and smug.


“oh well,” namjoon shrugged. he couldn’t, he couldn’t sleep and that was the underlying fact of his life, and he wishes it wasn’t but he had something--the beautiful human’s name--riding on his sleeping and he still didn’t.


“i think i’m going to start to refuse to serve you until the bags under your eyes disappear,” he crossed his arms and leaned his sharp him against namjoon’s table and it was too much.


“that’s poor service,” namjoon smiled, his dimples popping out.


“how much money do you have riding on how long you can pull an all-nighter?” the man asked him out of nowhere.


“i’m sorry?”


“my apologies, but you look like you’re in college, and in my experience students have stupid bets all the time. and i will have you know, depriving your body of something it needs until it gives out isn’t worth--”


“i have severe insomnia,” namjoon finally interrupts him. he’s not offended, but he’s a little hurt to be accused of something like that. but it did shut the man up almost instantly. “i’ve probably gotten not even a week’s worth of sleep in five months.”


“i-oh.” the man looked to his feet. his cheeks reddening with what was probably embarrassment from his assumption.


“it’s fine,” namjoon said before he could apologize. “if it helps, i tried to sleep last night, to prove i did, so i could get your name.”  namjoon wanted to hit himself for being too brave, but by the softened look on the man’s face he didn’t need to.


“jin. kim seokjin,” the man-- jin-- said and namjoon had to categorize this moment in his long-term memories, even if insomnia had a habit of killing those, he never wanted to forget it.


“okay,” namjoon said. “thank you, jin.”


seokjin cleared his throat while reaching for his notepad, and whipped his sleeve across his cheeks, to which namjoon noticed were redder than before. “another cookie, then?”

the next night was horrible. namjoon got a few hours of sleep during the day, and another hour in class, because almost 55 hours of being up was near some kind of limit. but he’s now been up since, and it’s three am and he’s getting angry at the people walking past the bakery that are being caught in his field of vision.


his irritability was riding on a high, and forget lyrics, he can’t even look at his laptop without getting blurry vision. he groaned in frustration. he wanted to sleep, sleep, it was all he needed and it came easy for everyone but it wouldn’t bless him in even the slightest ways. the only reason he could sleep now is when he’s awake for two days straight and his eyes shut and his body breaks out of pure burnout.


when jin approached his table, he was worried. he was too high on a mood, that he wouldn’t be able to stop from snapping at him.


“you need to sleep, you look like you’re about to drop dead,” jin says when he reaches him.


thank you, really. had no idea,” namjoon knew it would come and it did. but jin didn’t look even the slightest bit affected.

“don’t snap at me,” jin raised his voice slightly. “ i could take matters into my own hands and slip something in the next cookie you order.”


“please fucking do,” namjoon sighed. “ i’m sorry. it’s a side effect, and i even got a few hours, but i’m impossibly moody right now.”


“because your body is depleted , namjoon.” jin said gently. namjoon forgot when he told jin his name.


“i’ve done everything. it just won’t happen. i can’t seem to sleep unless i’ve been up for two days, and only then i only sleep for a few hours.” namjoon doesn’t know why he says this to jin. but no one gets it, and jin acts like he knows what he’s talking about but then so does yoongi and yoongi sleeps more than a dog.


“i’m concerned because i don’t need you passing out in my bakery,” jin said and moved to slid in the spot of the booth next to namjoon. first,  namjoon instantly slammed his laptop shut, because if jin saw the words, there would be no way to weave a lie that they’re about anyone else. second, his oxygen supply got cut off again. jin was way too close and namjoon’s veins were burning, and he truly wanted to reach out and touch jin, like he imagined a flustering amount of times. and jin’s pastel yellow sweater wasn’t helping. “so why do you think you can’t sleep? too much going on?”


“honestly?” namjoon squeaked, this was the closest he’s ever been outside of his lucid dreams. “ i don’t know. it’s been months. nothing helps, believe me, i’ve tried everything.”



“everything.” namjoon exzaggerated. because he did, everything in every definition of the word.


“what about the comfort of another person?” jin asked. his voice was something angelic. but namjoon would’ve swayed if he was on his feet  when he finally processed the words.


what?” he choked out.


i can’t stand it anymore. and i've read multiple times that being with another person eases you and you sleep better. i look at you and i literally want to make you lie down and force you to sleep for about two days straight.” jin said and namjoon was at a loss. he didn’t realize jin even paid that much attention to him. he thought he was the one giving jin all his thoughts, he never conjured that jin could be doing something of the same. “and lucky for you, i have the next three nights off.”


“uhm, i-i” namjoon had to be hallucinating now, and this was a cruel joke his brain was forcing upon him.

“you’re not very subtle, you know,” jin smiled, referring to namjoon’s constant stares that jump started his inspiration, (plus art was to be admired) and namjoon saw his life flash in front of his eyes. “it’s fine, really,” jin assured. “but please, let me help you.”


“i-yeah, okay,” namjoon exhaled. it wasn’t a choice anyway, he didn’t get those. not with the look in jin’s brown eyes.


“i hope you don’t have class tomorrow.” even if he did, he wouldn’t go. “i get off at seven and i sleep during the day.”

namjoon stayed at the bakery until jin was off. it was easy, but it would’ve been easier with coffee to keep him energetic, but jin refused to give him any. something about no coffee now, easier to sleep later.


he even finished his final song. talking occasionally with jin through his shift helped. he found himself trying to find something to rhyme with, “your pastel sweaters make me tick, i loose all i get, i just want to hold you, to take in your collarbones,” of course he couldn’t ask jin like he could’ve easily asked yoongi. if he wants to keep his mind sane.


when the clock was nearing seven, namjoon was tired of course, but he was now anxious and the two together were never good news.


jin lead him out the front door as soon as a brown-haired man rushed through the door and grabbed an apron, relieving jin of his shift. jin urged him to follow him, but it wasn’t far at all, they walked down a street, crossed a busy one, and jin turned into an alley of doors.


“you know my mom did say never go home with strangers..” namjoon joked to fill the silence.


“did she ever tell you to go to bed on time?” jin remarked as he pulled keys from his pocket--no, namjoon had not been staring at his legs in his black jeans the past few feet they walked--and climbed stairs to a tan door surrounded by brick and cement, and it looked safe, and weirdly, namjoon trusted jin.


“touche,” namjoon said, burning as he followed behind jin when he got the door opened and gestured for namjoon to follow behind.


“i happen to know someone who used to have insomnia, namjoon,” jin stripped himself of his jacket and shoes, and emptied his pockets by the entrance of his doorway. “ trust me when i say this: there is always a miracle cure.”


namjoon breathed in the words, but lost them to look around jin’s apartment. it was pretty generic, except he had a fuzzy white sofa, and matching chairs in front of a wooden coffee table, set up for the flat screen. the walls were white, and the carpet was soft. the living room seemed to stretch far, it ending in the large kitchen connected to a dining room. to the right of the living room was a closed door, and to the left was a hallway.


“looks like my roommate isn’t home. must be at his boyfriend’s,” jin shrugged.


“i didn’t peg you for the roommate type,” namjoon said, but meant to think. he was so goddamn tired his thoughts were becoming words and that is not good.


jin chuckled. “no, but taehyung is good people. he’s been my best friend for years.”


“same with my roommate. makes sense,” namjoon nodded.


“well, you look tired, though that’s an understatement. but, i know i am. follow me,” jin waved his hand and his feet started for the hallway. namjoon held his breath, breathing instead, the sights around him.


jin opened the last door to the left, and didn’t bother to turn the light on, as there was a lamp lit in the corner.


“what’s the most comfortable thing to sleep in?” jin through the question out, and namjoon didn’t even notice that he shut the door and now he was standing alone in jin’s room with him. namjoon was on fire, but he kept it to himself, so he shrugged his backpack off and his shoes and scarf followed. his hair was always a mess, a blonde nest that looked like ‘oh, i just got laid,’ and tonight was a bad night to forget a beanie.


“boxers,” namjoon shrugged. that was what he slept in. but his cheeks flushed anyway.


“nice,” jin smirked. “well i’m going to go wash up, but you can get comfortable. be right back,” at that, jin left namjoon, essentially a stranger alone in his room.


namjoon’s vision was blurry, his eyelids fluttering, and he realized his legs get wobbly. he couldn’t tell if it was from lack of sleep or jin anymore, either way he needed to lie down. he got rid of all his clothes as he listened to the sink water run, until he was  just in his boxer shorts, and chuckled to himself at jin’s pastel pink comforter with black sheets and pillows. and a yellow throw blanket, the man would truly be the death of namjoon.


he exhaled sharply when his back hit the bed. it was so comfortable. it was better than namjoon’s by a ton, but he could feel how this bed had actually been slept in. he tried to close his eyes while waiting for jin, the blankets pulled up to his armpits, but sadly, the bed wasn’t enough,


when jin was done, he came in with a loose shirt--collar bones out, of course, because when can namjoon catch a break--and, well, boxers. namjoon had to hold back a whimper again, because while sweaters looked good on jin, this is a sight for incredibly sore eyes, and namjoon can’t take this anymore because jin was beautiful and it hurt looking at him, namjoon wrote songs about him for crying out loud and namjoon just wanted to scream his heart out.


“wow,” jin muttered, staring at namjoon.


“hm?” namjoon said.


“you do know you said that out loud right? i really think you need to sleep.”


namjoon’s eyes stung, bulging out of his head as his cheeks flared up. “i’m flattered,” jin chuckled as he turned the lamp off and namjoon was really praying it wasn’t a dream that jin was shuffling in the bed next to him, because he could feel his body heat and namjoon couldn’t stay sane anymore.


“songs huh? i knew you were staring for a reason.” jin turned, they were face to face now, and namjoon’s cheeks have yet to cool.


“that was one, yeah,” namjoon inhaled.


“and another?” namjoon felt jin’s breath on his face, and he was lost in brown that he didn’t notice the very little proximity between the two of them.


“art deserves to be admired,” namjoon whispered, barely audible. but jin heard him, he had to have. jin closed the distance just then, his lips meeting namjoon’s and the surges lit fires inside his bones at the connect. jin’s lips felt as they looked, the lines of lyrics namjoon wrote about them, how pink and plump and kissable they were, everything was brought to life. namjoon cupped jin’s cheek and deepened the kiss and his lucid dreams weren't so much dreams anymore, and he finally came to the conclusion that this was very much real.


jin pulled back and smiled the bright smile again, and namjoon was falling deeper in the hole he dug the night he saw jin in his pink sweater. because infatuation was a damn thing, a damn drug, but for namjoon jin could be so much more.


“the miracle cure for insomnia is comfort,” jin muttered. “like cuddling.”


“really?” namjoon asked, jin already getting comfortable very close to him.


“put your arms around me, see how fast it works.”

namjoon woke up exactly 23 hours later. jin was curled up in his arms, and he was almost convinced he slept a few hours, except it was six am not six pm and he got the most amount of sleep he’s ever had. because jin was in his arms and jin never woke him up, and because of it, he sleep for almost a full day.


jin stirred, and turned to face namjoon. “sleep at all?” he smiled.


namjoon got used to the stars in the canvas sky, he was nocturnal after all, but he never knew stars could really be inside someone until jin.


“how did you do that?”


“magic. guess you’re stuck with me now.”


namjoon never had a choice, but he  also never complained.

after that, namjoon never went above 16 hours without sleep. he got full nights of sleep. jin switched his shift to the day so he’d be home with namjoon at night.


insomnia was a bitch, but it could be a friend if namjoon saw it as the reason he met jin. jin, his beautiful artwork of a boyfriend, who he wrote half an album about before he truly knew him (jin just proved his predictions to be true,) found another thing to love each day. jin, who was so much more than sass and aesthetic, but everything namjoon didn’t know he lost, but found he couldn’t sleep without.


and most of all, jin was a living piece from namjoon’s dreams. something his body (namjoon)  knew he needed, even when he didn’t. besides, jin was the lucid dream (muse, inspiration, need)  of his soul, and he was never letting go.