Another Form of Paradise ; ym

2.

an.: hey besties what's up

~

The night sky was dark and cold and the trees all around them loomed over them like monstrous shadows.

"How does the world stand quiet and still," Jimin's mother sang, her fingers running through his hair, "Yet the embrace of twilight's veil's so cozy and so meek."

From afar, Jimin could hear their frightening yells. He sat up, his young, big eyes looking around and trying to make out any dangerous forms from the sea of trees.

His mother's hand slipped from his hair and dropped to the ground.

"Mom," Jimin whispered, and then a bit louder, "Mom."

"Like a silent chamber," she continued to sing like she could neither hear nor feel him, like she hadn't noticed the awful, awful screams from all around them, "Where we forget our sorrows..."

"Mom," Jimin cried and shook her shoulder, "Mommy, they're coming, we have to go!"

Her eyes looked so empty as she looked right through him. Around them, the howling beasts emerged from the forest, salivating and flailing their arms.

"... And misery the day has brought."

Jimin's lips parted to a silent, shrill scream when he felt foreign, cold hands grab him. His mother sat there, her dead eyes unblinking as the darkness devoured her.

~

Jimin wakes up screaming.

He is drenched in his own sweat as he scrambles back until he is pressed against the wall behind his bed; his blanket is tangled around his legs and he kicks it off while desperately gasping for air.

The door to his room flies open and the next moment, Jimin feels two gentle, comforting arms wrap around him. He squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can.

"It's okay," he hears his mother whisper as her lips press against his temple. Slowly, she rocks him back and forth. "It's okay, you're safe."

Jimin feels like he can't breathe, like he is falling into an endless, deep abyss. He desperately claws at his collar until his mother gently pries his hands away and holds them instead.

"Breathe," she reminds him, "You're safe with me, okay? Breathe, Jimin."

He violently gasps for air and breaks out into another sob. His mother's hand soothes up and down his back, he can feel the touch, and it's enough to distract him momentarily. Slowly, he dares to open his eyes.

His room is still dark. It must be early in the morning, very early; he can barely make out the silhouettes of his furniture. The curtains in front of his window peacefully sway back and forth.

Dimly, Jimin realizes he is not crying anymore. His heart hammers against his ribcage, but now, it feels grounding, calming almost. His mother threads her fingers through his hair, gently scraping his scalp.

"You're gonna be fine," she says with her lips pressed against his forehead, "Everything is going to be okay, yeah?"

As the anxiety leaves Jimin's bones, it's slowly replaced by exhaustion. He probably still has a few hours left before he has to get up, and there is a pounding ache in his head that reminds him of how tired he is, but just the thought of going back to sleep fills him with dread.

"Yeah," he says and slowly sits up, "I'll be alright."

"How are you feeling?" his mother asks. Jimin doesn't dare to look at her. The images from his dream are still vivid inside his head.