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dust covered my dreams

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When he's with Jaebum, everything is white.

It's a burning white feeling that engulfs him completely, lighting everything up. It overwhelms him, as if it is always expanding and that someday it will need to burst, but it hasn't. It has only continued to grow. And Jinyoung has experienced many colors before, but never anything like this.

When he was seven years old, him and his best friend, Mark Tuan, were playing. It was Summer then, the weather was warm, and they had just finished eating lunch and it was favorite. Mark's mother made them Peanut Butter and Jellies with pink lemonade. He felt yellow, a warm fulfillment that sat pleasantly in his body. Jinyoung had thought that it would be nice to climb the tree because not only had he seen it on T.V., but Mark had dared him to do it. It proved to be an awful idea when he fell out of the tree. There was a flash of grey and then everything turned into a throbbing green, pain.

At his first year of college, after he turned eighteen, Jinyoung fell in love for the first time with the one and only Jackson Wang. They weren't exactly official, but they might as well have been. They fucked around a lot, but they spent a lot of time together, they did everything together. Most of the time with Jackson, things were a soft purple, leaving him oddly warm. There were times it would grow more vibrant, neon. The nights he spent laying underneath Jackson, or mornings on his knees, proved that. But, that had all gotten ruined when Jinyoung found him on top of freshman Kim Yugyeom at one of his friends parties.

He saw red when Jackson pulled up realizing that the door had been opened, and it wasn't from a stumbling couple also trying to find a room. "Jinyoung-"

"Save it," he managed to crack out before fleeing the scene and heading down the stairs all while it feels like violent electric currents of deep red surge through him.

It isn't until he finally breaks through the crowd and get outside that an emerald color, the mix of green and blue as the tears push at the corners of his eyes threatening to spill past the edge of red. Groaning, he plops down onto the stairs of the porch. He doesn't get why Jackson would do that after a whole year (give or take) of them doing whatever their 'thing' was. This isn't something that has happened before, last Jinyoung knew was that they were exclusive, unless they weren't and this has been flying over Jinyoung's head. But why wouldn't he at least be truthful about it? They're suppose to be best friends. Jackson's been there for him at his roughest point six months ago when he got the crushing blue of his father's death.

Next to him on the steps, someone sits next to him and successfully pulls him out of his thoughts. It's BamBam, who is better known as the extremely flamboyant freshman who majors in fashion design, or also known as Kim Yugyeom's boyfriend. Or, now ex, who happens to look as rough as Jinyoung feels. He speaks first, because Jinyoung isn't exactly one to extend the olive branch. "I'm so pissed at them," he sighs out, his voice clipped. "Did you know?"


After that, Jinyoung begins spending more time with BamBam, it was like an unspoken agreement between the two of them. Since they both understood the pain that the other was going through. Together they spent their now empty late nights with each other laughing and smoking since BamBam always has weed. Jinyoung found that he liked smoking, it made everything slow down from his continuous sharp sense of clarity. Sure, it was still there, but barely. It was a faint sense of brown in the back of his mind that was practically numb, it left him feeling like static from a T.V. For him, it became a great escape. It stopped the pushing orange the nights that left him a bit too sentimental. 

During his third year of college, Mark blabs to Youngjae about the fact that he used to play piano. Of course, Jinyoung whacked Mark against the back of his head while he laugh and Youngjae blinked in betrayal and whined about how Jinyoung never told him. It was only a week after that that Youngjae dragged him to the Music Hall to play despite his rather vocal protests. Piano brings back pink. He's rusty, it was his father who had taught him piano, and it brings that underlying navy blue with it to the surface again.

"You're good."

He startles, the voice definitely doesn't belong to Youngjae. Instead, it's a guy with brownish red hair, dressed in all black with a kind smile that reaches his eyes. "I'm Im Jaebum."

And Jinyoung's world turns white.