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Sometimes, when Wonho wakes up, he can't tell if it's real or a dream.
“Maybe this is all a dream,” Kihyun says, propping his chin on one hand, mouth full of chicken. Hyungwon just looks at him over the top of his cup, quietly judging, but Minhyuk doesn't hesitate to slap Kihyun cheerfully on the back, leaving him sputtering as he snags a drumstick.
“Hey, that's mine!” Kihyun complains, after he's covered, but Minhyuk just sticks out his tongue.
Wonho watches them, sitting at the table, knocking knees with Hyungwon under the counter, and tries not to think about how sometimes he's not sure. After all, there's Hyungwon, glancing at his cup only to top it off with more coffee without even being asked, and sometimes Wonho has to pinch himself, slipping his hand down to his thigh so no one can see.
It hurts. He takes a deep breath.
Wonho wakes up, the shadows from the trees outside brushing his face with an invisible weight. He reaches out, fingers threading through the sheets, but the space beside him is cold.
It was all a dream, he thinks, flipping through the memories in his head like mildewed old books. The ink is blurry, the words run together and he's used to this feeling. The feeling of letting everything slip through his fingers. The sheets are cold, and he pulls his hand back to his chest, curling up in an attempt to stay warm.
“Wonho,” a voice says, carried on the aroma of coffee, and he knows he's dreaming but he turns over anyway because he’ll always be running after the faintest flicker—and Hyungwon is smiling at him, looking down from where he's standing at the edge of the bed, holding a steaming cup of coffee, and Wonho reaches out for it without thinking, sliding up against the headboard. The coffee, when he lifts it to his lips, burns his tongue.
I'm not dreaming, he reminds himself. Hyungwon looks at him, as though saying, you know coffee is hot so why did you take such a big gulp? but he doesn't say anything, just lifts the edge of the comforter to slip into bed beside Wonho, warm against his side.
“Come on, give me a sip,” he says, and Wonho passes him the cup.
“Why didn't you make your own?” he says, but he's not really complaining and Hyungwon knows that.
Their toes stick out from beneath the comforter, feet knocking against each other, and Wonho smiles. “Thank you,” he says, turning to whisper into Hyungwon’s hair.
“We should go on a trip!” Minhyuk says, leaping up onto a chrome stool at the bar and bumping Hyungwon’s elbow, so that his milkshake spills over into the counter. Hyungwon gives him a glance, but reaches for the napkin dispenser to mop up the mess.
“Where do you want to go, Wonho?” Kihyun asks, taking a loud slurp from his caramel milkshake.
“I want to go to Greece,” Minhyuk says, “or maybe Turkey.” He kicks his heels against the metal rings of the stool, the sound dull.
“I don't feel like flying,” Hyungwon says, throwing the wadded up napkins in the garbage and turning back to his milkshake. “Let's stay on the continent.”
Wonho knows that Hyungwon loves flying, but he doesn't pinch himself. Hyungwon nudges his elbow gently, the question unspoken.
“I saw that the weather is nice in Dresden,” Wonho says. His face is reflected in the mirror behind the counter, and his smile is nice; glancing sideways, his gaze locks with Hyungwon’s reflections.
“Let's go to Dresden,” Hyungwon’s reflection says, like a dream within a dream, and Wonho turns his head to look at the real Hyungwon, fingers stretching to brush his hand. Hyungwon’s fingers are sticky from mopping up the spilled milkshake.
“I want to see the wedding cake church,” Minhyuk says, and Kihyun rolls his eyes.
“The Frauenkirche,” he says; Minhyuk just waves his hand in the air, dismissing the suggestion.
“It does look like a wedding cake,” Wonho aggrees, grinning. The milkshake is sweet on his tongue. Dream milkshakes don't taste like anything at all.
Sometimes, when Wonho wakes up, there are shadows clinging, their tangled threads still grasping from his dreams, dark and sticky, and he can't believe he’s awake but he's so glad he is. Hyungwon is lying in the bed next to him; Wonho can't see more than the faint slope of his shoulders in the dark, but he's warm and close and he turns over in bed to nestle into Hyungwon’s side.
Hyungwon is still sleeping, but even when he's not awake his hand still moves to wrap around Wonho’s back, holding him close. Lying there, awake, safe in the warm of blankets and Hyungwon’s arms, Wonho decides that he doesn't care if this is a dream or not, as long as it's like this, as he watches the shadows, from the moonlight shining through the trees, shift across the walls and he counts Hyungwon’s breaths.
He's still awake when Hyungwon stirs, his breath shifting before he stretches and opens his eyes.
“You're awake?” he asks, voice still muffled by sleep, and Wonho nods. His head is completely clear, even though he knows that as soon as he sits up he’ll realize how tired he is. Hyungwon doesn't ask why he's still awake; he just rolls over to press a soft kiss to Wonho’s temple before sliding out of bed.
“Take a nap,” he says, smiling, smelling so much exactly like himself that it makes Wonho’s heart hurt, just a little. “I'll put toast in the toaster.”
“Don't forget the coffee,” Wonho murmurs, instead of I love you, as he worms back into the warmth of the covers that still smell like Hyungwon.
“I love you too,” Hyungwon says, and Wonho closes his eyes.
“What were you doing?” Kihyun asks when Wonho wanders down to the kitchen later, still in his pajamas. Minhyuk doesn't ask, just tilts his head. He looks like a puppy, and Wonho pokes him on the back of the head as he passes him in the way to his seat at the counter. It smells like pancakes and coffee, and Kihyun passes him a steaming cup.
“Why are you here?” Wonho asks, after first taking a slow sip, letting the aroma fill his mouth.
“We’re planning the trip,” Hyungwon replies, plopping a pancake onto the plate in front of him.
“Breakfast meetings are the best,” Minhyuk adds, and stuffs a pancake into his face. Kihyun kicks him under the table.
Wonho doesn't have to pinch himself. The pancake is warm in his mouth and he knows he's awake.