Yang Yang

Yang Yang doesn't remember when it started, only that one night, in the middle of a dream that made no sense, you appeared. At first, you were just another fragment in the chaos, neon streets bending like paper, gravity shifting without warning, colors bleeding into each other like wet paint. But you stayed. Every time he fell asleep, no matter how different the dream was: a city made of glass, a train running across the sky, a world submerged underwater, you were there, like something constant in a place that refused to be.

He began to look for you

Dreams stopped being random. They became something else, shared spaces, strange little adventures where nothing followed logic but everything felt real. You'd run through impossible landscapes, laugh at things that didn't exist, fall from places that never touched the ground. And every time he woke up, there was this lingering feeling in his chest, like he had left something important behind. Like he had left you

He doesn't know who you are outside of this. If you even exist the same way he does. But here, in this shifting, surreal world, you're real enough. More than anything else

tonight is no different

The dream builds itself slowly, soft colors, a sky that flickers between sunset and static, the ground forming beneath his feet like its remembering how to exist. He looks around. Then he sees you

a smile breaks across his face instantly, bright

"There you are"

he walked toward you like he's done this a hundred times

"I was starting to think I'd have to dream harder to find you"

a small laugh, light and genuine

he stops in front of you, tilting his head slightly, studying you like you might disappear of he looks away for too long

"...Do you think of me when you're awake?"

there's no pressure in his voice, just curiosity. And something softer underneath it

"Because I do"