InsaneJournal

You’re in an alley.

“Come on, let’s go get some bungeoppang.” Someone’s next to you. You look up at your brother, who’s wearing a hanbok. He looks an awful lot like Joshua, but younger, like in those family photos at his mom’s house. He grabs your hand and tugs at you, already running down the hill. You have to gather your skirt with your free hand to match his speed, and that’s when you realize you’re wearing a hanbok as well.

There’s a cart at the bottom of the hill and it doesn’t strike you as odd that the vendor is working on Lunar New Year. The vendor may look familiar to you if you were at Adam Lee’s funeral or if you follow professional Go. You may even recognize him as Adam Lee’s father. The pastries he places under the heat lamp look so good, they smell so sweet, and all you want is for the steam to warm your face as you eat them. You hold out your hands for a bag, but the vendor places a heavy, wooden bowl in your palm. Inside the bowl are black stones.

You flop down in front of the cart, where there’s a go board. This feels natural, like this is a normal payment for pastries. You place the bowl on the ground and pick up a stone, rolling it between your thumb and index finger as you contemplate where to place it. There are already pieces on the board. It takes you a moment, but you realize the black stones are trapped. You are losing.

“Hey.” Your opponent speaks. You look up at your brother. “Gimme your stones.”

You catch the inside of your bowl with your finger and pull it back, instinctively.

“Stop, just trust me,” your (not Joshua, but looks like Joshua) brother laughs. “I don’t wanna play anymore either.” He takes both bowls, places a few more stones on the board, and gives you the white stones instead of returning black to you.

The bungeoppang vendor who is also Adam (and Lily)’s father scrutinizes the board and looks displeased, but hands you each a paper bag full of winter treats. You asian squat in front of the cart and start peeling a chestnut from the bag. Curious to see what your brother has in his bag, you look to your side and realize that he’s no longer next to you, he’s gone.

“Daughter,” You don’t see the vendor but you hear him from behind you. “You need to learn to run without your brother helping you stand.”

You’re in a high school classroom, watching the morning announcements on an old school TV on one of those TV carts that you never see again after you leave school. One of the students doing the announcements looks like the bartender from The Monkey’s Paw. The other is some white guy who could either be Diplo or Calvin Harris or Jack Dorsey.

The bartender student announces some exciting news. Retired soccer superstar (and one time striker for Manchester United!) Zlatan Ibrahimovic has announced his comeback to sports. He has been signed to be a striker for the New York Mets. This is very exciting for you although there are no strikers in baseball and it’s unclear if Zlatan even knows what the rules of baseball are.

The news feed cuts to Citi Field where Zlatan is eating a giant spinach bite (basically, a quiche). He holds up a finger as he finishes his last bite and the entire classroom is silent, waiting for his first words as a Met with bated breath. Finally, it comes.

With a Swedish accent, Zlatan simply says “Queens, you’re welcome. I have returned to sports because I am Zlatan. I will never die because lions do not age like humans.” And then he does a bicycle kick with a baseball that’s the size of a soccer ball, which flies into the corner of a goal that’s where home base should be. And then he rips off his shirt and starts running around the pitch.

You’re at a bar. No, a concert? No, a bar. And you’re dancing. Someone’s dancing with you. They’re solid and broad and their hands are just below your waist. And you can’t really see who it is, but you know it’s a certain thirsty soccer slut from one of the seasons of Love Island. Anyway, you’re really into him.

You pull him closer. You feel his breath against your cheek and his heart beating under your palm. The fibers of his shirt catch against your thumb and - Oh, you know this shirt. And you know the pants he likes to wear with this shirt. He’s wearing those stupid joggers he thinks makes him look like Timothee Chalamet although you have never seen Timothee Chalamet wear anything that looks like that. You can't see any of this, you just know it. The heat building inside you simmers a little bit.

He leans close and his mouth is by your ear and you can tell that he’s saying something he wants you to hear, but you can’t make out what it is.

“I can’t hear you,” you shout, but the music’s so loud that you can’t hear yourself either.

He just laughs and you’re close enough that you can feel his chest rumble when he does. You couldn't really make out what the music was before, but suddenly, the DJ starts playing a remixed version of Smash Mouth’s All Star and this Shrek thing pops up on stage.

You’re at a RAVE!!!

You’re sitting at a dining table, working on a laptop. From where you’re sitting, you can see that the apartment you’re in has the same layout as one of the Knevett Arms one-bedroom units. The living room is simple and tidy, with industrial elements and plenty of potted plants. You may recognize this as Adam Lee’s apartment. From where you’re sitting, you can see that there’s a comforter and pillow on the couch, like someone’s been sleeping there.

Your eyes are heavy and your chin droops as you fight sleep. Each time you force your eyes back open, you see something different on your monitor. First, it’s Final Cut Pro. Then, it’s a Word doc with nonsense on it. Then, it’s Ao3. Then, Neopets.

“Hey.” The voice that speaks is a warm tenor that sounds like it’s on the verge of laughter. “Stop sleeping out here. That’s what the bed is for.”

You may recognize the voice as belonging to one Adam Lee. You don’t see where it comes from, but it sounds like it’s right above you. Hearing it is like being doused with cold water and it shocks you awake.