Pretty Little Thing || PJM || ✔️

1.

It was happening again. The gentle but insistent knock, knock, knock on his bedroom door. Then came the sound of long fingernails scraping down the wooden surface, gently scraping away the peeling paint.

He knew what came next. It happened every time, with no exceptions.

The door creaked open, as slowly as it would in every stereotypical horror film. But this wasn't a film. It was reality.

The slow, heavy sounding footsteps came along the floorboards towards his bed, joined by the deep, fast breathing. Was it coming from him or whoever was walking towards the foot of his bed.

This wasn't a film.

It was reality.

No.

It wasn't reality.

It was a dream.

He felt the bedclothes slowly being pulled from him, and it was all he could do just to keep them clenched in his trembling fists.

It was a dream.

It was time to wake up.

The heavy breathing, catching in the throat of whoever was pulling at his blanket got louder. The blanket was gone from his body, leaving him cold and unprotected.

It was time to wake up.

The footsteps began again, deliberately slow, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Why hadn't he woken up?

He had always woken up by now.

The footsteps stopped directly by his head. The breathing was much louder; louder even than his rapidly beating heart.

Why hadn't he woken up?!

Fingernails dragged over his wooden headboard, stopping right above where he lay.

Wake up!

The heavy breathing caught again, sounding raspier and louder than ever before. It was like someone couldn't breathe.

Wake up!

He couldn't breathe.

He hadn't woken up yet.

He couldn't move.

Why hadn't he woken up yet?

Wake up!

Wake up!

Wake up!!

Park Jimin jerked out of sleep so fast that he almost threw himself out of his own bed. He was covered in sweat, but icy cold and his limbs were trembling almost out of control. His eyes were wide as he surveyed the room.

As usual, his bedclothes were in a tangled mess around his ankles, and after staring at them for a moment, he leaned down and tried to free himself. It took longer than he would have wanted, as his muscles didn't seem to be working. He was shaking so much.

When he finally untangled himself, Jimin swivelled to the side and touched his feet down onto the floor. It was cold, as floorboards usually were, and he waited for his legs to stop trembling before he pushed himself to his feet. He quickly changed out of his wet clothing in favour of a pair of loose blue boxers and a plain white t-shirt. He would shower later.

He crossed his bedroom quickly and pulled the door open. The outside of his bedroom door was smooth and unmarred, except for the brown handprint that Jungkook had left there after he fell into a muddy puddle and was trying to wipe himself off on Jimin.

He closed the door behind him and went straight to the bathroom, quickly relieving himself and splashing his face with water to try and wipe off some of the sweat.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. Apart from looking a little tired, he was the same person. Deep brown hair the colour of dark chocolate, with eyes to match. A long, straight nose and plump pink lips. Slightly tanned skin that would glow if only he got a decent nights sleep.

With a sigh, he turned the water off and headed down the stairs. He needed coffee.

The smell of his much-desired drink came wafting out of the kitchen, and he knew that one of his housemates was already up.

As he headed into the kitchen, he saw Namjoon facing the coffee machine and slumped heavily down into one of the chairs at the old, round wooden table in the centre of the kitchen.

"I hope there's enough for me," He croaked, his voice scratchy and much deeper than normal.

"You're up early, Jimin," His friend said, turning around and offering him his own coffee, "Another nightmare?"

Jimin nodded and took the mug from his hand, ignoring the burn and pulling it straight to his lips. Even if it was too hot to drink, he would never be betrayed by coffee.

"You know," Namjoon poured himself another coffee and took a seat at the table, "You should probably go and see someone about this. You're not sleeping well, at all,"

Jimin just sighed and drank more of the coffee. If he saw someone, he would have to talk about what happens in the reoccurring dream, and he didn't even want to think about what his brain was coming up with in the middle of the night.

Every time he spoke about it or replayed what had happened, the dream became reality, and not just a dream anymore.

"Do you wanna talk about it with me?" Namjoon offered, "Or maybe Jungkook? If you need to talk, you know we're here,"

"I know," Jimin's voice sounded a little clearer now, and he was able to smile at his friend, albeit a little weakly, "Thanks,"

Namjoon hummed and stood up, "I gotta get to work," He said, "Are you sure you don't want me to look into someone who might be able to help?"

"I'm fine, Joon, but thanks," Jimin said, as firmly as he could with his tired voice, "I've got some things to get done, anyway,"

By things, he meant the giant pile of coursework that was sitting on his desk, waiting to be completed. He had been too unfocused to finish it yet, but it needed to be done. He knew Jungkook probably had some work to finish, too, so was planning on waking him up to go grab yet another coffee at the café on the corner, before coming back and knuckling down to do some work.

Maybe if he finished his work, he would be less stressed and might sleep a little better. But he wasn't counting on it.