San's eye healed nicely. It had lost its angry purple shadows to fade out into a sickly blend of yellow and green that reminded Hongjoong of lint stew. His neighbour had been removed from his flat and sent to prison, so San felt comfortable going out by himself again. As far as Hongjoong knew, he had even invited Wooyoung over once more to catch up on the things they couldn't do last time. When San had told Hongjoong full of joy, the man had grimaced, but humoured the man.

Apparently, Wooyoung had mentioned once more how hard Seonghwa was trying to learn how to lucid dream. Hongjoong found it equal parts endearing and worrisome. Having Seonghwa aware of him and able to direct his dream to his wishes was risky for Hongjoong. He feared getting trapped between the handsome man and a tree once more.

"Ah, and also, I asked. Seonghwa doesn't have a boyfriend." San had grinned deviously around those words. Hongjoong threw a shoe at him.

Hongjoong drove to work on Wednesday without San. Only the early grey of the morning and the condensed dew dripping from the last leaves of autumn accompanied his path.

Hongjoong got to work and greeted Jongho. Without Mingi around and San fashionably late as always, their chef nearly looked lonesome in his chilly office. When Hongjoong brought him some of their horrible coffee, Jongho gave him a soft smile.

By now, Hongjoong had worked out a routine of scrolling through Seonghwa's Instagram account while he waited for him to fall asleep every morning. He was always up to date with the man's newest posts and liked them with shy taps of his fingers until the little red heart popped up. He never wrote comments, but maybe Seonghwa saw his investment still.

Sometimes, Hongjoong also found little clues about him. Yesterday, he had spotted a plushy on top of Seonghwa's bed in the far corner of one of his pictures. It was a stuffed bunny, and it looked worn with the affection it had received over many years.

As Hongjoong scrolled today, he scanned for any sorts of medicaments in Seonghwa's backgrounds. He already knew that the man took no antidepressants, which explained the number of dreams he remembered. Drugs would pull him into blissful ignorance, but since he wasn't allowed those with his job, he instead suffered through his nightmares.

Hongjoong found no medicines, but he found a picture of Seonghwa's pretty hand dangling a tea bag into a cup decorated with pretty blue roses. Likely a green tea that eased his troubles.

When the monitor pinged, Hongjoong put his phone away. A trivial part of him looked forward to seeing Seonghwa again. While still nervous like a schoolgirl around the man, he also appreciated their conversations. Seonghwa was a kind person, and expressing his fears possibly encouraged him.

Nevertheless, Hongjoong found himself regretful of helping the man out. His morals screamed at him to do something good, but his selfish heart wanted to keep dreaming of Seonghwa. To keep encountering him in that idealised world where both of them were versions of each other that were compatible.

Because dream-Hongjoong was a savage and intense man. Just how dream-Seonghwa was courageous and determined. Their real selves, however, were different.

Seonghwa dreamt of a medieval town today. When Hongjoong jumped into the nightmare equipped with a long sword and appropriate attire, he spent a second wondering about the empty wheelchair he spotted in front of a house in the distance. Then the masses took him away.

Seonghwa was trapped in a wooden cage. Pulled by a towering horse, the cart with him on it rolled through a populous street. People yelled insults at him and the unbroken line of other cages following behind. They threw tomatoes, too, but all of them got blocked by the imposing knights guarding the cart.

Hongjoong swung himself from the crowd up the side of the cart and onto the solid roof. When he leaned down to glance at Seonghwa through the thick bars, his necklace with a dream catcher on it dangled from his neck. A little inside joke he wore specifically for Seonghwa.

At the movement, Seonghwa rose his tired and anxious eyes to Hongjoong. When he recognised the man, a smile pulled up one corner of his lips.

"What are you?" Hongjoong asked him.

"The prince of the enemy kingdom, about to be executed," Seonghwa muttered with a smile that bordered amusement and pain at the same time. He looked exhausted.

Hongjoong nodded. Finally, he also noticed the fancy robes Seonghwa wore. A light blue tunic held together by a golden belt and white pants. His feet were bare and dirty, minor cuts spiking them like the nips of a bird's beak.

"Can you exchange me with one of those guards?"

At the request, Seonghwa concentrated for a moment. Then, Hongjoong already wore the heavy chain armour that the rest of the knights donned. With a matching shield in one hand and the other one holding onto the grip of his sheathed sword, he took the place of a guard who mysteriously disappeared in the swarm of onlookers. He blocked some fruit that flew his way.

When strictly instructed, Seonghwa had little issues with bending his dream world to his will.

Executions were a dire thing to dream about. Seonghwa likely had faced an obstacle in life he felt he was failing at. Something that was forcibly taken from him against his will.

Hongjoong didn't want to bore. A lot of symbols in Seonghwa's dreams alarmed him, but it was not his place to question the man. He only supported.

The caravan halted when the street thinned. A path through the crowd led up to a massive staircase. On top to the left, stood a bulky man with a black hood over his head. Further back and elevated on a platform sat the king. Wooyoung, who boredly watched the happenings in robes black as a raven's feathers.

"Bring the prince up!"

Hongjoong ripped his eyes from the imposing halberd the executioner carried. With quick steps, he rounded Seonghwa's wagon. He opened the heavy door and offered the man his hand. Gingerly, Seonghwa stepped out. Hongjoong rose his shield in protection when the first tomato flew at them. Some of its juice splattered on Seonghwa's face, but he didn't mind. Hongjoong grabbed onto his long black cape to hover it behind Seonghwa's back, engulfing him without ever touching him.

"Back when you told me that doors lead to places... It was the greatest hint of how to lucid dream I had got. Do you have more of those to share?" Seonghwa walked pressed closely against Hongjoong. He felt safe in their cosy bubble, the shield blocking out all gazes and voices, too.

Seonghwa smelled of his flowery perfume.

"A great escape is always to fly. Once you jumped, the idea to fly comes to you more naturally. Don't be afraid to jump sometimes. Especially when chased."

Oh, how often had Hongjoong just concluded any annoying chase scene by spreading invisible wings. It was the most beautiful concept.

Seonghwa chuckled. He ducked into Hongjoong's shoulder when another tomato raced at them.

As they strode through the street, Seonghwa had made himself smaller than Hongjoong. Their heights seemed reversed, confusing Hongjoong out of his mind.

But it was comfortable for Seonghwa. He sought protection on Hongjoong's side.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Hongjoong stayed back. Just when Seonghwa turned to ascend the stairs, Wooyoung's voice bellowed over the field.

"Show your respect, knight! You are to kneel in front of a prince, even a doomed one!"

Surprised, Hongjoong glanced at Seonghwa. Their heights promptly returned to normal. And a slight smirk danced around the corners of the man's lips.

"That wasn't on purpose," he purred innocently. Hongjoong rolled his eyes still as he went down on one knee. His gloved hand came up to grasp Seonghwa's delicate fingers gently.

"It still derives from your deepest, darkest thoughts and wishes, your majesty."

When Hongjoong dipped to brush a kiss on Seonghwa's knuckles, he picked up on the faint piano music playing over the silenced crowd. Seonghwa had subconsciously shut them up to concentrate on Hongjoong better.

"What is this piece?" Hongjoong tilted his head to listen better as he let go of Seonghwa's cold hand. Mindlessly, Seonghwa brushed his fingers over the spot Hongjoong's lips had touched.

"It's called 'The Rain Against My Window' by Johannes Bornlöf. He's a new artist, nothing old and classic."

"I like it."

Seonghwa graced him with an appreciative smile.

"I listen to it as I'm sleeping. I can't sleep without sounds. That's where the music comes from."

When Seonghwa turned to walk up the stairs, the music rose in volume for Hongjoong.

As long as Hongjoong was here, he had nothing to teach Seonghwa about lucid dreaming. His awareness of Hongjoong already fed into everything he needed to know.

Hongjoong pulled his gun while Seonghwa scaled the long staircase. The crowd cheered at him, but Hongjoong still heard the melody. Lonely and hauntingly beautiful. Like the melancholy chant a ghost in an old library would play.

Five steps before Seonghwa reached the top, Hongjoong's bullet hit the executioner's head. He disappeared, and Seonghwa caught his weapon before it could clunk onto the ground.

The crowd fell into an agitated scream. When Seonghwa pointed the tip of the vicious weapon at Wooyoung, the man's face blanched with fear. He bolted from his chair and ran.

Seonghwa turned to look at Hongjoong still standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked magnificent under the faint sunlight from above that put a shine on his hair.

The dream faded out.

"Sleep well, Seonghwa," Hongjoong called out to him with a smile. It lifted Seonghwa's gloomy mood just a bit. He rose his hand to wave at Hongjoong before he turned to chase down Wooyoung for being mean.

Hongjoong closed his eyes to spare himself from the nauseating swirl of colours.

When he woke up, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he quietly left the room. As before, he was delighted to have seen Seonghwa. And yet, the man's pain seemed to touch deeper into Hongjoong's chest the more they got to know each other. He wanted to cure Seonghwa of this misery, but Seonghwa had a lot. And it haunted his beautiful eyes.

When Hongjoong came down the stairs to hand in his report, San was finally in the office. When he saw Hongjoong pass, he yelled his name to have him stop by their shared room.

"Hey. Wooyoung and I have a date later and we wanted to ask you to join," the man greeted him with a big grin that showed off his dimples. Any old lady would swoon and pinch them in nine cases out of ten.

Hongjoong was the tenth case.

"Are you inviting me to a threesome? I don't know if I'm freaky enough for the two of you."

The gears behind San's forehead started turning. His grin became impish.

"That's actually not that bad of an idea. I'm sure Woo would be into it. How about we see how the evening plays out and decide spontaneously if we wanna fuck?"

Hongjoong snorted, but he leaned into the doorframe to dedicate his attention to his coworker. A new paint flower had appeared on the wall behind him. This one was purple, San's favourite colour.

"Why do you want me there?" Hongjoong returned to being serious. San's grin softened again.

"We're going to the animal shelter to pet cats. I figured you might need something cute to pet, too. As an escape from work."

Hongjoong chuckled at the idea that was so much cuter and sweeter than the business he had suggested originally.

"That sounds like an acceptable plan. Will you pick me up?"

San gave him a thumbs up.

"Sure thing! No worries, this is no Wooyoung spy mission, either!"

"I sure hope so. And I will ditch you two for the puppies if you are disgusting, just so you know.

San snickered into his hand while Hongjoong strutted off. As he entered Jongho's office, Mingi was already there. Hongjoong picked up only some crumbs of conversation as he went to interrupt them. Though he walked extra slowly in case they would figure it out before he arrived.

"I'll give you time until lunch break. Until then, I expect a straightforward answer," Jongho chided. He sounded gentler than usual, but also more intense.

"I know but I can't decide between either, and-" Mingi, on the contrary, resembled a helpless, whiney mess.

"Is that my problem?"

"No, Sir."

The last word had Hongjoong's ears prick. Jongho didn't make the other two call him Sir. He had tried to stay on last name base at the beginning but had promptly given up when Hongjoong and San became so close that he automatically adjusted to their first names, too. Did Mingi as their fledgeling not even get that option?

Hongjoong interrupted strategically before Jongho could nag Mingi any further. He expected to see the tall man with his head hanging, looking like a kicked puppy. However, when he intruded to knock at the doorframe, both regarded him in surprise. As if doubtful how much he had heard.

Were they planning world domination without San and him included? Mean.

"Just wanted to hand in my report and clock off for today," Hongjoong announced pridefully. He wouldn't accept becoming a sacrifice on their path to power.

Mingi took the report to hand it over to Jongho. He put it on the pile of unfinished work.

When Hongjoong lingered, both of them stared at him. Jongho had crossed his fingers patiently, but his eyes screamed at Hongjoong to leave.

Warily, Hongjoong glanced between the two of them.

"Are you up to something? Forming an alliance against San and me?"

Mingi snickered. Jongho's glare wasn't as destructive as he wished it to be.

"Go home, idiot. Allow the adults to talk."

Hongjoong gasped as he slowly backed out of the door. His finger pointed between them.

"I see how it is, I see. You view Mingi as a grown-up and not us? This is mutiny. You bet I will tell San about this."

With that, he escaped before they could stab him in the back. In a good mood, he went home to prepare for his awkward third-wheeling session later. While he picked out his clothes, he listened to the piano piece that Seonghwa liked for sleeping music. It was beautiful indeed. And it reminded Hongjoong of the man.