⤷ ❛ ❅ the oneiric hall

@☾ taemin l｡ A tumultuous storm raged within the student, conflicted sentiments clashing with bladed weapons. The wall stood thick, hardened by fear and wariness.

Yet, the wavering resolve did not leave Ten’s notice.

Expectation was low but present, a glimmer of light in an endless abyssal tunnel. If Taemin turn down the request, the disappointment would be tremendous. Even with rationality’s reasoning, the spark of hope would blow out nonetheless, heartlessly extinguished by a rejection of opportunity.

The beating organ within ivory cage pounded with vigour and passion, calcium enclosure abused by its fast pace and strong force.

It hurt, but also excited Ten.

A voice, full of desire and optimism, whispered from the darkness. ‘Please help, please help, please help!’

Nerves spun their mind, spiralling them with light-headedness. The steady drum of blood rushed in their ears, compressing the broad lecture hall into a compact space. Shadows crept from the corners, crawling leisurely to the centre, shrouding the world.

A sigh — so soft, yet carrying so much emotions.

Suddenly, bright light chased the shadows away. The air in the room lifted, the hand squeezing them releasing. An immediate rush of oxygen flooded their lungs, not realising when they had ceased to breathe.

Warmth enveloped their outstretched hand, soothing their frazzled consciousness. They visibly relaxed, feeling their awareness grounding. Their soul, which threatened to wander as it pleased again, was appeased by the weight and settled obediently.

Ten smiled, raising their eyes to meet Taemin’s.

Just then, a palm caressed their cheek. Likened to the touch of a deity, electricity raced the length of their spine, wracking their body with a shudder. Lashes fluttered as dark eyes widened, shock and confusion parting quivering lips.

The confession shook Ten like an earthquake, intensity felt in their core. His laugh held so much defeat and pain, but also adoration and fondness. A tidal wave of emotions crashed Ten, pulling them under and choking their windpipe with sorrow and wishes.

It all rushed out in a wheezing whimper, punched out of their lungs by an invisible mass as Taemin drew his hand away. An unexpected need to chase the warmth gripped their being tightly in its fist, clenching painfully. Ten restrained themselves, tears inexplicably springing to their eyes from their deliberate inhibition.

‘Deep breaths.’ A voice in their mind cooed. ‘Breathe.’

One shaky inhale, one trembling exhale.

Blinking away tears, Ten watched as Taemin gathered his items to leave. Though their heart mourned at his impending departure, Ten remained sturdy. They offered a grateful smile, standing from their own seat.

“Thank you, Taemin.” Ten spoke, out of breath but sincere. “That means a lot to me.”

Noticing his hesitating gait, Ten met Taemin’s gaze once more. His next words brought a flush to their cheeks, endearment and embarrassment heating their face. Their soul, on the other hand, sang a tune of longing, reaching for a bond it was certain to be present when the owner themselves were not sure.

All Ten could do was smile, the corners of their eyes softening with tenderness. “I can hear your sincerity. Thank you, Taemin. Even if I can’t return the feelings now…”

This would have to do for the moment. There was nothing else Ten could achieve.

Only time could help them now.

“I will see you around,” bade Ten. “Maybe after classes or the weekends? When we’re free.”

Ten waved. “You know where to find me.”

@★ ten l｡ Ten’s words carve deeper into Taemin’s soul than he cares to admit, each syllable a broken prayer echoing through the hollowed halls of their shared past. The weight of that connection continues to press heavily on him, and yet, as Ten speaks of their intimate bond, so innocent and unaware, Taemin cannot help but yearn for the time where those shared memories were not shrouded in the fog of forgetfulness. The pain of knowing, the agony of remembering, and the ache of a love that persists even in the absence of that shared remembrance—it’s suddenly too much all at once.

A bitter smile ghosts across his lips as he battles the sudden surge of emotions and the bitter irony that threatens to surface. The bond that they shared wasn’t just a lot—it was everything.

It /is/ everything.

It’s a symphony of shared laughter, of whispered promises, of the stolen moments that linger in the recesses of Taemin’s heart, taunting him with the ache of an irretrievable loss.

“Truly, you don’t even know the half of it,” he muses silently, his gaze unwavering. The pain of holding onto memories that Ten can no longer grasp gnaws at him. Ten’s request hangs in the air, a fragile thread that Taemin grasps with trembling hands.

To help Ten regain what they’ve lost, though a tempting spectacle, means to play with fire—a risky endeavor that carries the potential of being burned by the memories that smoldered with pain. It means exposing the vulnerability of a love that has endured despite the erasure of shared laughter and whispered promises. It means unraveling the emotions he's kept carefully concealed after all this time, where the warmth of those cherished moments can easily give way to the searing heat of the painful recollections of their past.

Taemin looks into Ten's eyes, the earnest and pleading gaze reaching the depths of his soul. In that moment, the vulnerability in Ten's eyes flickers like a gentle flame, and Taemin feels the embers of his resolve slowly wane. The weight of the past, the echoes of their shared history, and the sincerity in Ten's eyes melt away the walls he’s built around his emotions.

As Ten's gaze pierces into him, Taemin finds himself captivated by the silent plea reflected in those eyes. The vulnerability mirrored back at him is a mirror to his own heart, and he realizes that denying Ten's request means extinguishing the fragile flame that seeks to illuminate the forgotten corners of their shared past.

A sigh escapes Taemin's lips, the sound carrying the acknowledgment of surrender. The shroud of uncertainty gives way to the warmth of compassion, and he gently nods in response to Ten's unspoken plea. In a moment of pause, he glances down at Ten's outstretched hand, contemplating the significance of what lies ahead. The warmth of Ten's offered hand is a silent invitation, a crossroads where decisions weigh heavy.

Almost instinctively, he reaches for Ten's hand, his fingers intertwining with the warmth of Ten's skin. It's a moment of connection, the warmth of their entwined fingers directly mirroring the warmth of his love. In that touch, Taemin finds a moment of solace—a soothing balm for his weary soul, a tangible yet fleeting affirmation of the bond that they share. And then, with a subtle shift, Taemin's other hand reaches out, cupping Ten's cheek in a gentle and tender hold. It’s as if his body responds before his mind can fully comprehend the action, an instinctual gesture that transcends conscious thought. The warmth against Ten's cheek is a soft caress, a touch that carries the unspoken promise of comfort and understanding despite all of the pain.

“Whether it’s a blessing or a curse of mine, I’ll never know, but I never truly could deny you of anything,” Taemin confesses, his voice carrying a subtle tremor. He lets out a nervous, almost pained bout of laughter, a sound that dances on the edge of vulnerability and resignation. “If… If this is something that you truly desire, then I will help you.”

When Ten speaks of the possibility of him not wanting them in his life, Taemin drags his thumb over the curve of their cheek before slowly drawing away. There’s an inexplicable ache that tightens in his chest, as if his soul is resisting the physical act of pulling away, desperate to be close. To be safe. “Don’t speak of such things. I am willing to endure the darkest circles of hell if it means even a /chance/ of having you at my side again.”

As Taemin slowly retracts his other hand and begins to gather his things, a lingering hesitation takes hold of him, and he turns back to Ten with a gaze filled with sincerity. "I need you to know," he says, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability, “that even in the absence of memories, my love for you remains. It may sound strange or perhaps may be something you don't want to hear right now, but it's the truth. I love you, and I would do anything for you.”

@☾ taemin l｡ “Taemin…” Voice a mere whisper, utterance of a prayer to a silent deity. In the quietude of the lecture hall, the wind carried their confession, reaching a recipient unknown.

The tale of their humble existence loomed over them, echoing in the infinite hush. The reality of the past nine years of idle burrowed deep in their marrow, festering and spreading like a plague. The inaction on their part, once believed to be for safety, now served as a weapon of pain to another.

Sorrow carved a pit in their chest, hollowness replacing their beating organ. Though they spoke only the void in their memory, the truth of lost regrets and missing nostalgia, their soul still ached of emptiness. Like a soundless music box, a despondent yearning cradled their throat, pressing down on their windpipe.

Feelings that did not belong, yet slotted perfectly in their being.

Emotions owned by another, yet possessed by Ten, not unlike the joint finance of a married couple.

The sigh escaping the student– escaping /Taemin/, weighed with centuries of burden. Loneliness and torture imbued slouched shoulders, his only reprieve and joy snatched by a thief of reminiscence. The single release of breath murmured his fallen empire, carefully built castle of will and courage caved in by cruel fate.

Whatever dynasty he once possessed with Ten must have been momentous, and the disappearance of remembrance only served as a blow to his well-crafted motivation for survival. Whatever secrets he once possessed to conquer the challenges of life was evaporated by Ten’s loss of memory, passionate flame extinguished from their melted stance.

Even so, he apprised of a relationship shared between Ten and himself. Of a strong bond tying their souls and hearts together. Of a crimson thread bridging their two worlds.

Claims of careless joy, of wide grins so free and full of happiness. Claims of unspoken acknowledgement, of understanding shared between quiet glances. Claims of concealed vows, of pledges too sacred to be broken.

The words were minimal, description meagre. Yet, the magnitude of the implications rested upon them, heavier than the sky carried by Atlas. It crooned of simpler times spent in the fortune of one another’s presence, of peaceful days passed with the indolent activities of two souls.

It hummed of lifelong oaths that could not be broken, not unless one were to depart for the River Styx.

Taemin’s last sentence floated, lost to the boundless capacity of the four walls. Their body shook, a feeble leaf to the mass of the wind hitting them. Their heart sunk, disappearing in the acidic ocean of their stomach.

Time ceased to exist, no longer a company to the two souls. Abandoned to waste and rot, Ten sat in silence alongside Taemin. Gears turned in the confines of their mind palace, shifting through stacks of documents as it processed the significance of the student’s words.

Eons passed before Ten spoke, finally locating the anchor grounding them to reality. Mind snapping back to the present, to the now.

They were in the lecture hall. It had been less than an hour since their lesson ended. They were talking to Taemin, and he had just revealed the depth of their forgotten relationship.

A deep breath expanded their lungs, rattling their oesophagus upon its exhale.

They finally responded.

“It appears we had a very special relationship…”

The words strung a statement ringing much truer than their brain could offer. Where memories stopped short, the beating of their heart thrived.

“The bond we shared in the past, it must’ve mean a lot to us.”

Ten flinched with surprise, eyes widening in realisation. Without noticing, they had used “us” instead of “you”. A stuttering inhale snuck through their nose, pushing forward.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember them. It’s not fair to you that I don’t have the memories of our precious moments.”

Their eyes pleaded with Taemin, extending a hand in need of help.

“It’s probably insolent of me to ask this from you. However, if you’re willing, can you help me regain my memory?”

Teeth worrying their lower lip, Ten continued.

“Even if it’s not a hundred percent of my life, it’s still an important part of it. I… don’t wish to lose those memories. I want to remember them.”

“So, if you would be kind as to excuse my rudeness, I’d like your help with recovering what I’ve lost.”

It was a beat later when Ten realised how demanding they came across. Embarrassment coloured their cheek with blood, looking off to the furthest wall for welfare.

“Of course, you don’t need to agree. As it is, my memory loss serves to hurt you. If you want nothing to do with me, I’ll accept it. I’ll even take your complaint to the dean so you may be reassigned to a new lecturer.”

Ten fiddled with the hem of their shirt — a mindless tick they grew accustomed to when they needed to occupy their mind with activities besides emotions.

“The choice is up to you.”

@★ ten l｡ The fact that Ten doesn’t even know his name anymore is a piercing revelation that cuts through Taemin’s soul like a silver blade. In that moment, he feels like nothing more than a ghost from the past, a long-forgotten whisper in the winds of Ten’s consciousness. The moments of shared history, the secrets and promises they once held, now only exist as scattered fragments that echo only in his memories.

As Ten’s words settle, Taemin feels a lump forming in his throat, a silent acknowledgment of the profound distance between them, and he hesitates, grappling with the enormity of the situation. The ache in his chest intensifies, and yet he can’t help but feel compelled to respond, the words slipping out almost involuntarily.

“Taemin,” he says. The acknowledgment of his own name hangs in the air as a bittersweet reminder of what once was and now what remains lost in the recesses of Ten’s memories. “My name is Taemin.”

There’s an unspoken sadness that lingers, painting the room with a quiet melancholy that neither of them can seem to escape, and in that silence, Taemin can’t help but think about the depth of what’s been lost. How does one even begin to bridge the gap between a name and the intricate tapestry of shared experiences that once defined their entire connection? The room seems to close in, a cocoon of unspoken grief and the realization that the person he longed to reconnect with is now a stranger to his own past.

As Ten speaks of the void that preceded their consciousness, Taemin listens with a sense of sorrow and confusion. The idea of Ten, stripped of memories and into a life without a past, creates a rift in Taemin's heart. A life that started at twenty-one, void of the rich tapestry of experiences that shape a person. The details unfold like fragments of a shattered mirror, each piece reflecting a moment in time that is now irrevocably broken, and Taemin wonders why Ten has chosen this moment to reveal these intimate details, especially given the fact that they barely know him now. A guarded tension wraps around him like a protective shield.

The revelation, though, that Ten felt a connection, a familiarity upon seeing him, sends shivers through Taemin. His heart whispers of the bond that once existed, now lost in the chasm of forgotten memories. Ten's earnest expression, however, pierces through the walls Taemin has erected. There's a vulnerability in Ten's eyes that tugs at Taemin's guarded heart, and he finds himself softening, if only slightly.

The invisible shield of crossed arms is a feeble attempt to protect himself from the vulnerability of the truth. The weight of Ten’s revelations hangs heavy in the air. "Would telling you make things any different than they are now?"

It's an honest question, and as Taemin meets Ten's gaze, he’s met with that same raw sincerity in those searching eyes. The room seems to contract, the air thick with the unspoken tension between them. Taemin hesitates for a moment, grappling with the implications of his own admission.

A subtle shift occurs within him as he observes the genuine curiosity and longing in Ten's expression. The invisible shield of crossed arms begins to loosen, revealing a vulnerability that Taemin hadn't anticipated.

He never could truly deny them anything, could he?

With a sigh that carries the weight of years and lost memories, he relents.

“Believe it or not, we used to share a lot more than just this classroom," he admits, his gaze flickering with the remnants of emotions long held in check. Taemin's internal turmoil intensifies as he navigates the delicate terrain of his shared history with Ten. Memories of their parting, the pain that accompanied their separation, suddenly become vivid, like ghostly echoes in the corridors of his mind. He wonders if revealing the entirety of their past, the bittersweet symphony of their relationship, is a burden that Ten is ready to bear.

A conflict brews within him as he contemplates whether to unravel the threads of their past further. The memory of being forced to leave, the circumstances that tore them apart, lingers like a shadow over his heart. Does Ten need to know the entire narrative, or would such revelations only serve to deepen the wounds that time has yet to heal?

In the end, he chooses to err on the side of caution. Though he opens up with full honesty, there are still some things that are better left unsaid in such delicate situations. "There were moments of laughter, of quiet understanding, and promises made in the quiet corners of our shared world. We were... close. More than friends, more than anything I can put into words." He looks up at Ten, a small, pained smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he fights to hold his tears back.

“You were everything to me…”

@☾ taemin l｡ The eyes meeting their gaze broke their heart.

They were pitiful — a pair of endless voids swirling with emotions. Ten felt like they were staring into the despairing abyss, watching lost souls wailing as they were dragged by an invisible whirlpool. An irrational fear suddenly gripped them, afraid of becoming one of the unfortunate spirits, trapped to an eternity of damnation and forever pulled by an invisible oppression.

Going down and down into the darkness…

There was a tremor in their gasp as they inhaled, realising they had gone too deep. They must retreat, to look away before they could hit the bottom of the chasm.

Yet, Ten could not tear their gaze away. Even as their body screamed for safety, to seek the shore, their soul wished to swim further. It mattered not that pitch black surrounded it, it only had one goal.

The goal to connect with something, someone.

But, what was the thing? Who was this someone?

Ten did not realise their mind was wandering until the expressive eyes turn away. They flinched, suddenly aware of how long they had been daydreaming in the seconds between their question and the student breaking eye contact. The realisation brought a weight of worry to their chest, squeezing their lungs and heart until they could hardly breathe.

Ten was prone to daydreams. Their mind always left their body to explore the outside.

Yet, they found themselves especially distracted around the student. Something about him made them lost in thought often — /too/ often.

It should worry Ten.

Yet, it did not.

Something about the student’s presence was comforting. It screamed security and safety. Ten felt like they could daydream around his presence, and not worry about being taken advantage of.

A feeling reserved only for their lonesome and close confidantes, which were a mere one or two.

As dark eyes met theirs once more, Ten steeled themselves with determination. The look of defeat only strengthened their resolve, /needing/ to unearth the truth behind their invisible relationship.

With another smile, this time in gratitude, they sat opposite of the student — allowing some space between them so he could leave if he wants.

They had a feeling he would not.

≪ ❈ ≫

“What’s your name?”

That was the first thing Ten asked. Above all else, they must put a name to the face.

They waited until the student answered to continue.

This time, the facts, as Ten understood it.

“My life started when I was twenty-one.”

They let the sentence hang in the air, allowing the weight to sink in.

“I don’t remember anything from before then. No childhood, no teenage years, no budding life of a young adult. When I realised I have consciousness, I was already twenty-one.”

Ten paused, thinking about their next words.

“No parents greeted me when I woke. No friends, no loved ones. The dean was the first person to welcome me, but she only told me my job description and explained how my life will start here.”

Ten glanced at their hands, tracing the lines and creases on their palm.

“‘There’s no need to remember the past,’ she told me. ‘This institution will be your first step. Don’t look back. Keep moving forward into the light.’”

Ten sighed, recalling the declarations of the first person to come into their life.

“I had no one to turn to, so I took her advice. I’ve been working in this institution for the past nine years. At the beginning, I wondered about my life before I gained consciousness. Why was it a void? Why can’t I remember anything?”

Ten laughed. “I probably thought I was an android at some point. Where were all my memories?”

Ten shook his head, glancing at the shiny floor tiles.

“I gave up trying to remember. No matter how hard I tried, they just won’t come back to me.”

Ten closed their eyes, recalling the instances of their attempts. The sharp headaches and piercing ring in the ears every time they so much as thought of wanting to remember. There was no way they would subject themselves to that mental torture their whole life, so they let go.

“I thought, ‘This is it. This is my life now. I just have to accept it. There won’t be anyone who knew me before my memory loss. I might as well move on.’”

Ten lifted their head, meeting Taemin’s eyes.

“I thought there was no one, but then I met you.”

Their lips parted before shutting, struggling to make a sentence.

“When I saw you, I felt… familiar. There was a pull in my chest, compelling me to look at you. I don’t know how to describe it, but I knew there was a connection between us.”

Ten omitted the part where they had the incessant need to be close to the student, feeling their cheeks heat up at the thought.

“In the past nine years of my life, I’ve never met you. So, why do I feel connected to you?”

Ten let the question float for a second.

“The only logical explanation I could infer was that you were someone I met before my memory loss. You knew me before my life started. You were someone I used to know, but I don’t anymore.”

Ten offered a gentle smile. It was not just kind and patient, but also understanding and friendly. It was a gesture that allowed free conversations — to let both parties speak their honest truths, from the deepest recesses of their hearts.

“Can you tell me who you are? What you were to me and how were we connected? I want to— no. I /need/ to know.”

@★ ten l｡ As Taemin sits through the lecture, his gaze absently fixed on Ten, his mind wanders. The words being said seem distant and inconsequential, a distorted backdrop to the torrent of emotions raging within. His eyes, usually so sharp and attentive, are clouded with distraction, haunted by the devastating revelation that had unfolded the day before. Behind them lies a storm of grief, of regret, of a yearning that clings to him like an unshakable shadow. The once vibrant discussion now sounds distant, as if echoing through the cavernous chambers of his thoughts.

As the lecture continues to unfold, Taemin cannot seem to shake the haunting question that’s plagued his mind since the previous day’s encounter: What in the name of the Goddess could have transpired in those years of his absence for Ten to have forgotten about him entirely?

The rawness of his emotions is palpable, each word of Ten’s becoming a distant murmur lost in the overwhelming current of his thoughts. The connection they once shared, now frayed and straining, leaves him distraught and searching for clues in the recesses of Ten’s demeanor. The distractions of the lecture become insignificant as Taemin wonders, lost in his own mind, how the threads of their once intertwined lives had come undone so irreparably.

As the class draws to its end, Taemin remains trapped in his tumultuous thoughts, until the shuffling of students as they gather their belongings and file out of the lecture hall pulls him back to reality. The final words of the lecture reach him as an indistinct murmur as he dazedly moves to gather his things and leave.

Just as he’s about to make his unceremonious exit, he feels an excruciating pull in his chest. He lifts his weary gaze to find Ten standing before him, embodying both a sense of familiarity and a painful void of forgotten memories.

Taemin’s entire world shudders as Ten’s sweet smile greets him. The warmth in their eyes, so genuine and unaware, strikes him like a silent blow. Aching at the sight of that smile, Taemin is forced once again to grapple with the realization that the owner of that beautiful expression has absolutely no recollection of who he is or of the memories that bound them together. Their question hangs in the air like a suspended breath, and Taemin, on the edge of ruin, struggles to find an answer. His own silence and the pain etched in his eyes speak louder than any words could possibly convey.

As he hesitates, the sweet smile on Ten’s lips only deepens the fracture in Taemin’s heart. He wills himself to look away, his eyes finding refuge in the rain-kissed world just beyond the window, though his soul aches and begs for him not to.

A quiet sigh escapes him as he leans back in his chair and eventually pulls his gaze away from the window, hesitantly meeting Ten’s with a look of defeated resignation as he struggles once again to find his voice.

When he does, it leaves him in a fragile whisper: “Alright. What do you want?”

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@☾ taemin l｡ The mellifluous tune of the piano, the warm glow of the interior lighting…

Everything about this scene was foreign. Yet, why did they feel a sense of familiarity?

They watched as the student pecked their mirror image’s forehead, feeling a pressure on their own as if the same gesture was bestowed upon them.

Ten placed their palm against the area, feeling a comforting warmth in their chest. There was something nostalgic about this event, yet they could not put a finger on it.

As their world warped, Ten realised the scene had changed.

They stood on the surface of a loch, ripples flowing from beneath their feet. Up high in the sky hung a moon, radiant like its day counterpart. It showered the dark environment in its ivory glory.

The zephyr rustling their hair carried hushed whispers in its travel. The noise coaxed Ten to follow the direction, noticing a boat rowing some metres away.

They walked towards the lone transportation.

Once more, Ten found themselves with the student. The scene unfolding before their eyes caused colour to fill their cheeks — watching with wide eyes as their doppelgänger shared a kiss with the student.

Maybe they should be embarrassed. After all, they barely knew this person!

Yet… affection washed over their being. Even as no recollections of the student came to mind, Ten felt as if this scene was right — like this was supposed to happen, as it was only natural.

Their environment transformed again, not unlike a chameleon in a new surrounding.

There the two were — Ten’s double and the student. They seemed to be performing a ritual. There was love and determination in their eyes when they spoke.

‘I will myself to be bound to thee eternally by the oldest rite. Patrons and ancestors, be my witness. I shall be forever yours.’

A sharp pain pierced their head then. Ten groaned, holding their temple. A loud ringing assaulted their ears, drowning the surrounding noise. A cry left their lips as they bent, curling into a ball.

The voices swirled, convoluting into a cacophony of gibberish. Words that once made sense lost their meaning, twisting and breaking into letters that disintegrated. Akin to someone picking out each word and crumbling them like brittle ash, the ritual vow became an empty promise.

Before hollowness could swallow their beating heart, a voice spoke.

“Wake up.”

Ten gasped, snapping their eyes open.

≪ ❈ ≫

Ten had half the mind to call in sick that day. However, they had a class to teach.

Besides, the student from last time might attend too…

They needed answers. Those dreams– those /memories/ no doubt belonged to him. And if he knew anything about Ten before the memory loss, then they must find out.

Ten ignored the feeling of want and desire in their heart and soul to be near the student again. That was definitely not the reason they must question the student.

With this newfound resolve, Ten got ready for the day and made way for the lecture hall.

≪ ❈ ≫

“Good morning, students.”

Ten bade, polite as always.

As they settled their teaching materials, their eyes scanned the room. They visibly relaxed in relief upon noticing the student from before — though the emotion was short-lived as they noticed the distant look in his eyes.

They frowned in worry. The student appeared out of it.

Ten was forced to push the student out of their mind to carry out their lesson. Even though the schedule had no change since the start of the semester, time felt slow and draggy today. Each second ticked by like an hour hand, prolonging the class and the inevitable.

Eventually, lesson was over. Ten thanked the students for attending and reminded them that they were free to contact if there was any questions. As the students filtered out of the room one by one, Ten walked over to one particular student.

They stood in front of him, trying to grab his attention. They waited until the student met their eyes before smiling cordially, soft and kind.

“Can I have a moment of your time? I promise it won’t take long.”

@★ ten l｡ Alone in the solitude of his dorm room, Taemin leans against the closed door, the weight of his encounter with Ten still lingering heavy on his shoulders. He gazes at his reflection in the small, weathered mirror in the far corner of the room and almost doesn’t recognize himself, the haunting emptiness in his eyes revealing a depth of sorrow that transcends mere melancholy. The lingering wisps of smoke curl around him almost mockingly before they vanish, a cruel, spectral display that mirrors the disintegration of something once so beautiful and so sacred.

His hands tremble as he tries to make sense of the fractured pieces of his heart, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt in a futile attempt to anchor himself in something tangible amidst the intangible, seething agony that rips through his soul. The room, under the shroud of darkness, becomes a quiet sanctuary for the raw vulnerability that he can no longer conceal as wetness clings to his lashes unbidden. He slides down to the floor, the door cold against his back, as he tries to keep afloat amidst the waves of sorrow that threaten to engulf him whole.

As he lingers there in the quiet anguish of his thoughts, a sudden wave of exhaustion crashes over him. The weight of his emotions, the fractured memories, and the relentless ache in his soul combine into an overwhelming force. His eyelids grow heavy, and with a deep, weary sigh, he succumbs to the embrace of sleep. He drifts into the realm of dreams with a silent plea, hoping against hope that the night would be merciful and spare him from the torrent of memories in the presence of a freshly bleeding heart.

Fate, unfortunately, was never quite known for her kindness.

· · ── ·?· ── · ·

A deep part of him has to wonder if this is a cruel joke told by the universe at his expense, because not even in the sanctuary of sleep can his spirit find any solace.

It feels as though he’s an unseen observer, a ghost lingering on the outer fringes of his own memories. When he looks up, he finds himself in a familiar bistro, and just several meters away, tucked warmly against each other, are mirror images of himself and Ten. The air is suddenly filled with the soft murmurs of their laughter and hushed conversation, while the gentle melody of a piano plays in the background. His heart twists painfully as the image of himself leans forward to press a kiss to Ten’s forehead, a once affectionate gesture now a glaring reminder of what he’d broken.

The scene before him dissolves, the golden glow of the bistro giving way to the silver radiance of the moonlit boat ride—another memory that he held so dear. As the dream shifts, Taemin feels a surreal sense of movement, like a gentle breeze guiding him through the ethereal corridors of his memories. The moon casts its silver light upon the tranquil waters, and the boat glides effortlessly across the surface.

His distant observer's perspective collapses, and he finds himself standing beside the boat, caught in the ethereal moment. There, he watches as his past self leans in, guided by the magnetic pull of an undeniable connection, and presses a tender kiss to Ten's lips—their first kiss. The air around them crackles with the magic of a love story in its infancy, and the reflection in the water captures the delicate dance of two souls intertwining for the first time.

Then, as quickly as it comes, it goes, and he's transported to the sacred space where their souls were bound together. The dream becomes a swirl of black smoke and purple butterflies, an otherworldly dance that envelops them in a realm beyond the constraints of reality. The distant observer's perspective returns and Taemin watches the ritual unfold with a mixture of awe and sorrow. It is here that he witnesses the binding of their souls—an ancient rite that once symbolized an unbreakable, sacred connection.

The words of their spoken vow, though hushed, linger in the dream, a solemn echo of the memory that refuses to fade.

· · ── ·?· ── · ·

With a start, Taemin awakens. The morning light filters through his dorm room window, casting a cold illumination on the remnants of his restless night. It hardly even occurs to him that he’d fallen asleep on the floor. Dread settles like a heavy shroud, knowing that the day demands him to step into the waking world where Ten imparts knowledge to a roomful of eager minds.

In the quiet aftermath of the dream, Taemin finds himself wishing, almost irrationally, for the mundane frailties of human existence to lay their claim on him. A fleeting thought crosses his mind—a wish that some ailment, some tangible ailment, could afflict him and provide an excuse to avoid the inevitable encounter in Ten's class. It is selfish cowardice at best, a longing born from a place of vulnerability and a yearning to shield himself from the heartache of confronting a love that now only exists as a fragment in his memories.

With a heavy sigh, Taemin pulls himself off the floor, muscles stiff from an uncomfortable night spent there. He resigns himself to the inevitabilities of today and slowly gathers his things. The ghostly images of those dreams linger in his mind and settle like a thick, heavy fog around him. He quickly pushes them into the furthest corner of his mind as he departs for class.

Like yesterday, when he arrives, he settles in the seat closest to the window. The class unfolds before him, Ten’s voice falling into a distant hum as Taemin listens to their lecture with muted detachment, while the desire to shield himself from the lingering heartache and longing mercilessly persists.

@☾ taemin l｡ The world was crumbling.

Somewhere in a place unknown, Hell had frozen over. Somewhere in a distance unclear, a glass window had shattered. Somewhere in a space unfound, a man was dying from suffocation.

It took Ten exactly one second to realise these were not occurrences. The images flashing through his mind were emotions, and they were coming from the student in front of them.

Yet, if these were the student’s feelings, why was Ten experiencing these sensations?

They felt cold– too cold. Did someone turn up the intensity of the air conditioner?

Their heart squeezed to the point of agony, threatening to break into smithereens. The constriction in their throat was held down by a weight, like someone was choking them. A gasp involuntarily tumbled from their lips, finding difficulty to breathe.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

The world was crumbling — /their/ world was crumbling.

“You…”

Ten rounded the desk, intending to draw close. Their feet carried them before their brain registered the action. Their heart beat painfully in their chest, wishing to break free of its confines.

“Wait–!”

Their soul wailed. Their heart cried.

Ten extended their hand.

But, the student was gone.

All they caught was thin air.

No student. No past. Nothing.

Fatigue suddenly attacked their knees, legs giving out beneath them. They collapsed onto the floor, like a marionette with its strings cut. Silence enveloped them like a fist, tightening and weighing them down.

A droplet fell onto a balled fist — when did they curl their hands?

For a brilliant moment, Ten thought rain was falling. Then, they remembered they were indoors.

Their hand instinctually reached for their face. One on the cheek revealed to them its wetness.

Suddenly, Ten was acutely aware of the pain in their chest.

“Who are you…?”

But no one could answer, leaving them alone and for the loss of someone they did not even know or remember.

≪ ❈ ≫

Thick fog encircled Ten, obscuring their surrounding in mystery.

A few steps forward later, a hologram popped up on their right.

This depicted a scene of green grass and tall mountains, of clear ponds and great waterfalls. One person sat beneath a tree, sipping a glass of orange juice. Another person played a guitar across them, singing a Mexican hymn.

Ten turned away and continued their trek.

The further they journeyed, the more projections they encountered.

One showed a boy dancing ballet on a moon; one showed a girl navigating a rocket like a submarine; one showed a mother holding a baby with fondness.

As surreal scenes played before their eyes, one in particular caught their attention.

Ten paused, eyes widening.

This screen displayed two individuals on what appeared to be a date. They were huddled close in a bistro, chatting about a topic Ten could not hear. They seemed to be having fun, if the crinkles around their eyes and toothy smiles on their lips were any indication.

Yet, what grabbed their focus in the first place was the two actors in the scene.

Ten, and the student from their class.

Was this a conjured play?

Further observation revealed, much to Ten’s surprise, that no, this was not a scene concocted by the brain.

This scene was a replay. A memory.

Heart racing with trepidation, Ten inched nearer. Fingertips grazed the surface of the hologram, inducing a rippling effect. As the projection disappeared, so did the fog.

Now, as Ten took in their environment, they found themselves in the same bistro.

Opposite of them was the couple, still conversing happily.

They took a seat in a random booth and observed the duo, mind stirring with a million possibilities to explain their presence in this memory.

A memory they did not recall.

@★ ten l｡ Agony is too weak a word.

Taemin struggles to breathe around the sudden lump that rises in his throat, impossible to swallow, and the blood that once rushed through his veins turns to ice. Ten’s words pin him there, suspended, as the ground suddenly disappears from beneath him, over a dark abyss of his own despair.

“You…don’t recognize me?”

The question, spoken in no more than a fragile whisper, echoes loudly in the empty lecture hall.

A desperate part of him wants to believe that he’s simply misheard, that the utterance of those words from the very lips that once spoke that sacred vow to him with such love, such reverence, had not just crushed the fleeting remnants of their shared history together. For a moment, he selfishly clings to the hope that this is no more than a cruel jest, a merciless retaliation spurred on by the lingering anger and resentment that surfaced in the wake of his absence.

In truth, though, it’d be no more than he deserves.

However, as the seconds stretch on into an agonizing silence, the truth settles like a heavy fog, obscuring the once tranquil landscape that housed their connection. There is not a hint of recognition in those starlit eyes of theirs. Not a shred of remembrance. No matter how desperately he wishes it to be so, the innocent kindness behind that disheartened smile tells Taemin everything he needs to know.

Ten honestly, truly, does not remember him.

The weight of the memories and the promises once made crashes down on him, the realization and knowledge that Ten doesn’t remember a fatal blow to the already fragile remnants of his spirit. The echoes of their vow, once a sweet and soothing memory for his weary soul, is now a loud cacophony of disembodied noise that serves only to drive him closer to the edge of madness the longer it persists.

Standing on the edge of his own vulnerability, Taemin tries to mask the hurt etching itself onto his face, but the pain in his eyes is a silent scream into the abyss of forgotten memories and a love now unrequited. He fights against the sudden swell of emotions he feels, each tear held back an agonizing of fire that pierces straight through his heart. The Ten he once knew was /gone/, and the one standing before him now, all kindness and sincerity aside, is no more than a stranger with memories.

Overwhelmed by the unspoken pain of it all, Taemin takes a staggering step backward, the world tilting on its axis as wisps of black smoke and purple butterflies begin to dance around the edges of his vision. He needs to get out. He needs to leave /now/ before he breaks down entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, words laced with barely-concealed anguish. “I need to go…”

And in that instant, he’s gone, leaving behind only the ghostly flutter of those butterflies in the silence of his departure.

@☾ taemin l｡ Reply
Outside, they were calm — smiling, kind, friendly.

Inside was a whole other story.

Their heart beat so harshly, it might as well jump out of their rib cage. They resisted the urge to pat their chest, not wanting to give away how they were feeling.

What /were/ they feeling anyway? Nervousness? Excitement?

Their emotions were a mess.

The silence did not help the situation either. It was pregnant, almost suffocating. Ten was surprised they could still breathe normally, or perhaps they were overreacting right now.

Whatever the case may be, it did not change their current predicament.

Ten noticed the student freezing but made no comment. A brief thought of how attractive they looked even when stunned crossed their mind, though they quickly waved the thought away. Focus, Ten!

The student met their eyes and Ten almost gasped. Electric raced down their spine, prompting them to straighten. They tried not to dwell on the shocking effect a mere eye contact made them feel.

It felt like centuries before the student made their move. They watched as they drew close, feet glued in place. Each slow step echoed in the lecture hall — though that may be Ten being overly sensitive to every minute sounds and movements.

Time seemed to slow in that moment, stretching out to infinity. Their breaths came out shallow as they waited, daunting with expectation.

Finally, the student stood before the podium.

Ten eyed them curiously, soul wailing to a crescendo.

The helpless admission brought a surprised laugh from their lips. They quickly covered their mouth, gazing at the student apologetically.

“Sorry, that was rude. I don’t know what came over me.”

They cleared their throat, quickly composing themselves. The nerves were getting to them, senses frayed. They had to calm down.

After another pause, the student spoke again. This time, Ten was surprised.

“You know me?” They asked with genuine surprise.

Was this person from their past? They did not remember meeting them the past nine years, so maybe from before that?

The time before nine years ago… the twenty years of their life that they could not recall.

Forgotten memories, drawing a blank.

Did this person know them from then?

The smile gracing Ten’s face was kind, yet sad. Their soul wavered with a sob and their heart cried in despair.

They knew their next words would hurt, but they truly could not remember. Even as their soul hummed with longing and their heart swooned with yearning.

“I’m sorry, but…”

“I don’t think I know you.”

@★ ten l｡ ‘Gods above, they’re beautiful,’ Taemin thinks.

Of course, it’s rather difficult to imagine a time where Ten had /not/ been beautiful. Even when flustered, with that familiar dusting of red that settles so sweetly on their cheeks, they still emit an otherworldly kind of brilliance that makes Taemin’s head spin. There are no words to express how much he’s missed them. As Ten continues with their lesson, every glance and movement feels like a brushstroke on the canvas of Taemin's heart, painting a masterpiece of longing and nostalgia.

There is /nothing/ that he would not give if it meant he could have them in his arms once more.

Eventually, the lecture draws to a close, the room filled with the shuffle of students gathering their belongings and the murmur of conversation as they slowly trickle out the door. Time, however, seems to stand still for Taemin, the weight of unspoken words and broken promises still hanging heavily over him. As he remains seated, lost in the emotional whirlwind, the familiar sound of Ten’s voice cuts through the static, causing him to go rigid, and it’s then that he suddenly realizes they’re completely alone. It's a moment frozen in time, and when he looks over to meet Ten's gaze, the brilliance in those starlit eyes intensifies, threatening to unravel the emotions he’s kept so carefully guarded for all of this time.

Ten's voice, warm and gentle and inviting, holds a promise of reconciliation, a possibility of healing the wounds of the past. And yet, Taemin is paralyzed by the fear of rejection and the uncertainty of whether the embers of their shared history can ever be reignited.

Suddenly, he doesn't know what to say, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth and like sandpaper besides. The torrent of emotions, the longing that had been so carefully concealed, threatens to overflow, and he finds himself caught in the quiet storm of his own indecision.

Hesitant and cautious, Taemin finally stirs from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate as he gathers his belongings and eventually moves down the steps toward the front of the room. Each step he takes carries the weight of fear, guilt, and uncertainty, like burdensome shackles clinging to his every movement. The room becomes a daunting expanse, and with each measured stride, he walks down toward where Ten is, halting a fair distance from them.

The air between them sits heavily laden with so many things that Taemin wants to say. In the end, he barely manages to find his own voice, and through a choked whisper, he eventually responds, “I… I don’t know.” The admission hangs in the air, laced with that subtle tremor of fear. Except he's not scared.

No, he's not scared at all.

He's ing /terrified/.

“Ten, I— It’s been so long. I've missed you…so much.”

@☾ taemin l｡ Heart stuttering in their chest and skin pebbled with goosebumps, Ten carried out their lesson.

The back of their neck burned, not quite unpleasant but very much uncomfortable. The heat was constant, itching under the skin but leaving a warmth in their soul. The sensation was a confusing mix between being set ablaze and sitting in front of a fireplace — a need to escape far from it, but also a desire to sink deep into it.

Ten might as well melt right there on the podium.

Time flew without their notice, mind drifting one too many times for their liking. Though daydreams were common to Ten, they could usually stay focused for a whole lecture. It was worrying how often their awareness was wandering right now, and without fail, lingering on the same person every time.

The student whose presence felt familiar and soothed their heart. The student whose eyes Ten would like to be lost in. The student whose stare could make them melt and combust simultaneously.

The enigmatic student who Ten felt the need to be close to — to hold their heart and cradle their life and cherish their soul.

Just– everything about the student. They plagued their mind and kept them distracted. They made their emotions jumbled, concentration broken with the mismatch of sentiments.

Why was Ten feeling this way?

“Mr Lee!”

Ten snapped out of their musing. When had they become lost in thought?

“It’s 10 o’clock now.”

Ten looked at the clock, surprised to confirm the student’s statement. They did not realise how fast time flew.

“Alright then, I’ll stop my lesson here.” Ten capped the marker pen. “If you have any questions later, feel free to message me.”

Students were already packing and leaving the lecture hall. Some thanked Ten for the lesson before departing. The professor would bid them farewell, watching them go.

Eventually, all of the students had left—

—except for one.

Their heart skipped a beat upon realising who remained in the hall. They pretended to not notice their presence, collecting their materials and stowing them away. When there was no more stationery to keep, they took a deep breath and faced the student.

Their voice was kind and gentle, genuine curiosity in their tone as they questioned, “Can I help you?”

@★ ten l｡ They look like something out of a fairytale, Taemin thinks, when Ten crosses the threshold of the lecture hall with several other students in tow, all starlit eyes and radiant smiles. So beautiful it almost hurt to look at.

He barely registers the words that fall from plush, rosy lips as they greet the class. He can only stare dumbly at them, taking in their appearance like it’s his first time seeing them. After more than a decade spent apart, Taemin wants to commit Ten’s image to his memory. They are just so captivating. Ten's beauty is ethereal, each line and curve a testament to the years of separation that only seem to have enhanced their allure. The play of light on their starlit eyes and the grace in every movement evoke a haunting kind of elegance, like a melody that had never quite left the recesses of Taemin's mind.

It’s a deadly sort of beauty that Taemin can’t look away from, and it makes his heart lurch.

Their eyes meet, and in that fleeting moment, a new surge of emotions violently stirs up within Taemin’s chest, like a storm, long dormant, that suddenly rages to life. It’s as if time collapses, and the prior years of separation dissolve into nothingness. The air around him crackles with an unspoken longing, a connection so painfully deep it transcends the boundaries of the physical realm. Taemin feels its magnetic pull, an invisible force that draws him closer, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

For a moment, it’s just the two of them.

The weight of unspoken words hangs thick over his head, and Taemin finds himself caught between the aching desire to bridge that gap and the crippling fear of what might possibly unfold should he take that leap. The ache in his soul intensifies, coiling around his heart with a hope that lingers like a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished. A hope that maybe, just maybe, the long-forgotten hearth that housed their love and their memories can somehow be rekindled.

As the class proceeds around him, Taemin finds himself ensnared by the gravitational pull of Ten’s presence. The lectures, the discussions, and the mundane activities of the class pass by in a blur, the only constants being the haunting echoes of the past and the magnetic force that keeps him tethered to the radiant figure at the front of the hall. The once-engrossing stories of his peers become mere whispers in the wind, overshadowed by the internal tempest he navigates.

Even as the class nears its conclusion, and the others begin to pack their belongings and leave, Taemin remains anchored, his eyes never leaving Ten.

@☾ taemin l｡ When Ten woke in the morning, they were exhausted. Physically, their body sang. Mentally and emotionally, they were high strung.

Sometimes, the fatigue would spill into their appearance. Today, as Ten looked in the mirror, they were relieved to find no eye bags. They brushed their teeth, bathed, prepared a light breakfast before leaving for lessons.

The halls always bustled with excitable students. Occasionally, some would approach Ten as they walk to their lecture halls. This time, a few of the morning lesson students chatted with them.

They eventually reached their destination. As Ten passed the threshold, a shudder wracked their spine. Their soul whined, noticing something they did not know.

Ignoring the odd feeling, Ten beelined for the podium. Their teaching materials were placed on the table. Turning, they beamed at their class.

“Good morning, students.” Ten bade, voice loud but friendly to wake any dozing sods. “I know many of us are still tired.”

Some groaned in agitated assent. Others chuckled in amused agreement.

Ten smiled kindly. “I won’t stop you from sleeping. But– you’ll miss out on some interesting dream theories. I’m sure that’s why many of you are here today?”

There were more students who mumbled their confirmation. It made Ten sigh in relief. Their shoulders relaxed as they swept their eyes across the lecture hall.

They stopped at one particular student.

Ten did not remember seeing them before. Yet, their heart ached with familiarity. They felt drawn to the person, almost like they knew each other from a past long gone—

The student was staring right back at them.

Ten quickly looked away, feeling their cheeks heat up with embarrassment. They were probably caught, but they tried to brush off the awkwardness. Clearing their throat, they picked up a marker pen.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

≪ ❈ ≫

Ten was used to bearing the weight of several eyes upon their being. As a professor, such scrutiny was expected.

However, they knew one pair was staring more intensely than any other.

Ten did not dare search. Even so, they knew who the culprit was.

Because every time Ten turned around to speak to their students, their eyes would immediately settle on that one student.

The one who eyed them with a smouldering gaze.

Ten willed themselves to glance elsewhere, even as their soul moaned for the attention. They felt like they were falling into an abyss every time they made eye contact with the student. They could get lost in those eyes.

And the scary part was, Ten would have let them.

Teaching never felt as much of a chore as now — standing in front of the classroom, trying to concentrate but mind traitorously wandering to the mysterious student that made their heart thump and soul ignite.

@★ ten l｡ ‘I will myself to be bound to thee eternally by the oldest rite. Patrons and ancestors, be my witness. I shall be forever yours.’

A hushed promise of forever spoken like a reverent prayer between two intimately interwoven souls, beautiful, tender, and sacred in every sense of the word, replays in his mind like a broken record doomed to repeat—a haunting reminder of how he had so cruelly taken that oath and crushed it underfoot, leaving the fragmented pieces of their lives behind for his other half to try and collect. In a moment of weakness and selfish cowardice, he abandoned their promise, and he has never forgiven himself for it.

Not even under the veiled cover of sleep can he seem to find any solace, waking each and every morning with a lingering ache in his soul that not even the gentle embrace of his sweetest dreams could hope to soothe. Even now, as he rolls unceremoniously from his bed to ready himself for his classes, with tired eyes and a heavy exhaustion that sinks into his limbs bone-deep, his heart continues to bleed over that promise like spilled ink on parchment. The only comfort he has is knowing that they’re still alive somewhere.

His only hope, loathe as he is to even dare to ask for it, because it’s most certainly something he /knows/ he does not deserve, is that once he does find them, they’ll have it in their heart to forgive him.



Wisps of black smoke and purple butterflies envelop Taemin’s body as he departs from the quiet tranquility of his room and warps to the Oneiric Hall, far too lazy to bother with traversing the labyrinthine halls of the institute, where he settles silently in a spot towards the middle of the lecture hall closest to the window. It’s still quite early, and many students have yet to find their way to class. Those that have already, have immersed themselves in their books and idle morning chitchat.

He drums his fingers idly against his desk, sparing a small, polite smile as one of his fellow peers scurries by him with a quiet greeting. Very rarely does he find the energy to be social so early in the morning. Even rarer still does he find his voice. In a lecture hall of mostly witches, Taemin much prefers to listen to their magical endeavors and the intricately woven tales of their lives rather than engage in any kind of conversation with them, finding those little pockets of time stored in memories nothing short of fascinating.

His quiet reverie is cut short when he looks up to find the instructor entering the hall, and in that instant, Taemin’s ears fall to static.

Conversation continues around him, he’s sure, but the words are drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat: something heavy and deafening and far too much for him to ignore. All at once, the smoldering embers of his soul are set alight, the pull in his chest so powerful and so sudden, as if the universe itself conspired to draw together the fates of a once shared destiny in that very instant. The realization is a dizzying one, like a sudden plunge into the depths of an ocean where waves of emotions crash over him relentlessly. It steals all the air from his lungs and leaves him unexpectedly breathless in the wake of this resurgence of emotions. He hasn’t felt a pull like this since the day he’d first laid eyes on them all those years ago.

Even to this day, they’re still so, /so/ beautiful.

The name leaves his lips in a breathless whisper before he can even stop it: “Ten…”

@✩ mark l｡ how did teaching a curious student dream magic spiralled into helping said student hunt down churchgoers?

ten was unsure what scared them more — the amount of passion in their student, or their skill in finding targets.

both. both is good.

the hour neared one o'clock. most creatures were asleep. it was the perfect time to dreamwalk, as traffic was highest in the dreaming now.

ten waited for mark. same place, same time. they received a text that morning requiring their assistance. it was another request to find a person. the professor asked mark to ready a picture before night, as was the usual proceeding.

knocking on the door caught their attention. one knock, then three consecutive taps, a slight pause before a fourth knock. then, a brief silence before two pounds were heard.

ten approached the door. standing on the other side was the student, mark lee.

they offered a kind smile before ushering him into the room. they gave the corridors a brief glance. no souls were in sight.

closing the door, they turned to mark. "do you have the photo?"