My Light, My Jimin

Chapter 16: Tests

JIMIN

Things don't look the same at night.

That's the first thought that crossed my mind when I unlocked Professor Min's classroom door and stepped inside.  It didn't take me long to slip away from everyone with my backpack and into the quiet humanities building that even the janitors left alone for the night.

I originally sat at my desk, too afraid to move and draw attention to myself, but retreated to his couch after sitting in the dark awkwardly twiddling my thumbs.  Once my head hit the soft fabric, I don't remember what happened after.

Then, slowly, I pick up on the taps of knocking on wood, the sudden sound waking me up.  My head is fuzzy, and it takes me a moment to peel my eyelids apart, rolling to my side and adjusting my vision to the darkness of the office.

Distant memories of Trivia Night play out, and I begin to remember my triumph when I showed off my nerd-side for all things Disney.  I had never felt so alive reciting things that were supposed to be lost to me years ago.  And seeing that I was being encouraged just made it all the more exciting.

Swallowing around my cotton mouth, I drag myself out from the couch and trudge to the door.  I open it, and Professor Min stands outside, surprised by my appearance.  I haven't looked in a mirror, but judging from his concern that spreads across his face, it must be pretty rough.

"Did you fall asleep?"  He asks as he closes the door behind him, not bothering to turn on the lights.

I give a grunt, too tired to speak.  It's gradually getting harder for me to keep my eyes open.  I yawn so big I almost feel my jaw breaking.

"You can use the couch if you want," Professor Min offers.  "I need to straighten out a few things anyway."

Groaning, I slowly walk back into his office and flop down on the couch.  I'm short enough where I only have to bend my legs slightly, almost a perfect fit.  I shut my eyes and feel myself already drifting away.  I have no idea what time it is, and honestly, it doesn't matter.  Curfews don't scare me when Professor Min is in my corner.

It doesn't take me long to dream, but I'm aware of the dream, and it throws me off.  In my subconscious, I'm in a blank room looking at a deep blue painting.  It's only paint strokes of blue, all varied in width and length, but all make up one big blue painting.  Behind me is a paintbrush with a vibrant yellow tip.

I pick it up absentmindedly and brush it against the blue painting.  The colors mix instantly, but not into a new green color.  They swirl together while keeping their own colors.  Like skating on ice, the colors dance around each other until meeting in the middle and spin in harmony.

It's beautiful, and I watch contently until I hear something like the taps again.  But that's not it.  These taps are too quiet, too muffled.

Then my dream fades, and my conscious returns.  My muscles tense and relax as I try to gather everything that has happened, try to collect the fragments of my dream my memory will allow me to replay.

I suddenly feel a presence near me.  Before I can open my eyes, a soft material grazes my arm and drapes over my shoulders.  I recognize the smell first.  It's Professor Min's cardigan.  Which means that he's standing right above me.

For some reason, my body doesn't understand how to be relaxed.  As he leans over me and tucks the end of the cardigan closer to me, his fingers brush my arm.  I inhale sharply and slowly open my eyes to see dark, almost black eyes staring down at me while I blink awake.

He goes to move, but my hand grabs his wrist limply, and I feel his breath catch.  I've never touched him like this; it was always him who touched first, and that was only my hands.  This, although it's not far from our original place, feels much different.