t w e n t y • n i n e [pt. 2]

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ミ★
twenty-nine
part two
❝little white pill❞
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ミ★ twenty-ninepart two❝little white pill❞━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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"Eunha, Eunha," Taehyung's voice startles me awake.

My eyes shoot open as a frail gasp escapes me. My boyfriend's palms are at my shoulders; his cold fingertips hold onto my body as if to stop me from moving. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that he is waking me up from a nightmare. I can barely make out any of his facial features due to the darkness of the room, but nevertheless the feeling of his worrisome eyes watching me intently is not lost in the abyss.

I can't catch my breath. My chest is rising and falling rapidly; the feeling is like I've been given the ability to breathe again after a long time. I push away hurriedly at Taehyung to allow me to sit up in the bed. When I do, the skin of my back peels from the fitted mattress sheet. I can feel the dampness of the sheets beneath me, and when I clutch my hands to my chest, my skin is filmed with sweat.

Taehyung clicks on his bedside lamp. I squint my eyes to adjust to the light, but the scathing darkness does not disappear although it does visibly. I can feel it in my chest, my fingers, and my toes. Every nerve in my body is tingling, and I can barely swallow due to how dry my throat my throat feels.

"Baby," Taehyung softly urges me to look at him. Although his tone is soft, his careful eye-contact behind his thin framed glasses when I turn my head is an indication of his pretense.

"I. . . I just. . ." Words evade me.

The distraction doesn't stem from Taehyung's half-naked body. Although looking at his bare chest and abdomen in his tight black briefs should occupy my mind, I am instead troubled with the vague recollection of what I had been dreaming about.

This is the fourth time this week. Each nightmare is a continuation of the last one; it feels as though my mind will not go to sleep with me in any of four phases of sleep— I am never truly resting. From the moment I close my eyes and fall into myself, my thoughts go into overdrive.

Taehyung's fingertip begins tracing small nothings on my bare shoulder as a way to comfort me, and despite the fact that it usually works, right now too much of my body is tingling and reeling in fright; I feel disgusting. I jolt away from his touch.

He seems apprehensive of what to do. I am too. Our dynamic has been totally upended since the first night this happened. Our usual bedtime cuddles and pillow talks are now just me being too anxious to talk to him or touch him. I stare at the ceiling trying to console my mind into going to sleep.

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