The night held them in a loving embraced. They were the darkness and all the life it held. Feared and forgotten warriors of old. Not good, not bad, but somewhere in the grey.
BTS X READER | based/ inspired of Ryan Kirks Nightblade trilogy. You DON'T...
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Jimin woke to the faint sounds of snoring. He had fallen asleep quickly last night. He didn't even remember Namjoon returning. And now, he found himself squished between Taehyung and Jungkook in a tangle of limbs. He also felt an uncomfortable pressure building up on his bladder. He needs the toilet desperately.
Jimin did his best to quickly slip out of his friend's arms without waking them. As soon as he left the covers, he felt the air. It was chilly, and goosebumps began to litter his skin. He hated he was here, but at least the bed was warm.
Carefully, he picked his way out of the tent as fast as he could, making sure not to tread not anyone. He grabbed an extra fur which hung by the door. Jimin could already feel how cold the morning air was standing next to the door. He already dreaded the outside. God knew how far away the bathrooms were.
The ground was wet in the early morning dew, and it instantly soaked his ankles and feet. He huffed. Jimin half marched, half jogged in a weird walk around the camp as quickly as possible.
It was fine. No one would see him hobble around. Everyone par the kitchen staff would be asleep so early in the morning, and he remembered the large food tent was on the other side of the camp. He waddled along until he found what he was looking for.
After relieving him, he decided he didn't want to go through the trouble of walking back to only sleep for an hour or so. Plus, he was still sulking and didn't want to deal with anyone. So, he kept walking down the fields ankle-deep in thick and tangled grass until the camp was but a distant glow in the blueish light of the morning.
As soon Jimin found a decent place to sit, he dumbed his body to the ground. The soil was damp beneath him, turning his clothes sodden. He watched as a bunch of worms came to the surface to breathe, only to finish the great cycle of life, as the crows flew over the grass with their inky wings, eating their meal.
Jimin's hand drifted into his pockets, searching for some warmth and protection from the brittle cold. They brushed against a wad of paper, and he quickly drew his hand back into the open. He sighed - ignoring the prickly, burning feeling that ran across his body as he stuffed his hand back into the warmth.
He didn't know what was wrong with himself at the sudden feeling. He decided to put it down to being in an unfamiliar place. He knew why it was deep down, but Jimin refused to acknowledge it.
He didn't even know why he was dragged along in the first place. He had made his view on the whole situation very clear. Jimin just didn't understand why he had to come. Sure, the rest of them could still go and risk their lives for something that was nothing to do with them. All the while, he could stay at home alone with his own bed and no strangers and his own toilet that he didn't have to walk ten minutes to get to. But no, he was at a war camp doing a favour for a girl.
But he also knew that wasn't the only reason he was so bitter. His sense was refusing to cooperate. It hadn't worked since that frightful morning (y/n) had gone. The chill of the cold was nothing against the nakedness he felt without his sense. Jimin didn't know how it had happened, but his gift had gone.
