4.6 | Dark Ages ✓

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AGAIN, HE OPENS his eyes to find her beside him.

He reaches out, wondering if she'll disappear if he touches her. His fingers brush warm skin, and he immediately pulls her closer. She settles down on the pillow, her face inches away from his, and he raises a hand to her cheek.

"I've been searching for you," he whispers. "Where have you been?"

She turns her face into his touch, and he feels her smile against his palm. "I've always been here. I've been waiting for you to find me."

He swallows, his throat tightening with emotion. Burrowing his hand into her hair, he curls his long fingers around the nape of her neck and tugs her towards him. She ends up sprawled over his chest, one palm flat over his heart and her hair falling like a curtain to shield them from the rest of the world.

"Don't leave," he pleads. He slides his other hand up to her cheek, pulling her down to a hairsbreadth away from him. "Don't leave me."

The surprise in her eyes gives way to warm affection. She shakes her head minutely, her nose almost grazing his. "I've never left."

He breathes her in, watching as she closes her eyes. Slowly, he lifts his head and presses his lips to hers. She melts into him, her body a languid weight against his own. His hips reflexively push up into her and his fingers sift deeper into her hair. His other hand tightens around the nape of her neck, keeping her anchored to him. She makes a breathless sound that makes his stomach clench. He opens his lips beneath hers, just as she lets out a soft sigh and murmurs a word into his mouth.

He jolts awake.

For a moment, he breathes raggedly in the silence. He's flushed with the remnants of a dream all too vivid, but his arousal dies quickly in the face of this newfound revelation. With a strangled noise, he wrenches off the bed and grabs his bag. He rummages through it in search for pen and paper, but when he finds none, he chucks it aside and stumbles out of the room.

By the back door, he notices Jungkook sharpening an impressive array of knives but he pays the other man no heed. He shoves files and furniture out of the way in his desperation to find something to write on before his memory fails him again.

"The tank will be passing by tomorrow," Jungkook says, from his corner. "Have you packed?"

He ignores the man. Vaguely, his mind registers what Jungkook's saying. Something about a tank passing through to gather any remaining survivors and soldiers. Something else about a ship to take them to the safe-zone in Antarctica.

"If you come to Antarctica," Jungkook had said, just the day before, "we could have some use for you in the barracks. I'll put in a good word for you to the lieutenant. They'll be happy to have you, and you'll have food, shelter and protection."

It had sounded like a solid idea then. But now, there are more important matters at hand. His eyes land on a notepad by the counter just as Jungkook steps into his line of vision.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jungkook demands.

He pushes the other man aside and snatches the notepad. He scoops up a pen and scratches out a word. His actions seem familiar. All the dreams he'd had about her telling him his name rushes back.

A disyllabic word. Soft consonants, save for a hard one at the beginning. Something close to a gerund at the end. An 'e' and an 'n' somewhere.

He can feel the gentle caress of her fingertips as she'd spelt his name into his palm. He can hear her whisper it into his ears like wind picking up the autumn leaves. He can taste it—his own name, forged by his own blood and sweat and tears—falling from her lips into his own mouth—

taehyung