The dream felt real. It always did.

Jeno stood before you, his gaze steady, his presence warm despite the endless twilight around you. Here, in this quiet, untouched world, nothing else mattered. Just him. Just you.

“You’re here,” he murmured, his voice laced with something soft—something aching.

You nodded, fingers reaching for him. His touch was light, barely there, but it sent warmth through your chest.

You wanted to stay.

But the world around you trembled, colors bleeding into darkness. The dream was slipping away.

“Jeno—”

Then, nothing.

You woke with a sharp breath, eyes stinging as reality settled in. The silence of your room felt colder than before, emptier.

Your hands curled into the sheets, as if trying to hold onto something already gone. A tear slipped down your cheek.

Every night, you found him.

And every morning, you lost him again.