When the two of them meet, only in their dreams.
Every time, a different location.
Every night, a little more is learned.
Without knowing their true identities.
Park Jimin has much more to worry about rather than silly dreams. Bangtan's name has...
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p.j.m.
Something's tickling my skin.
Before I even open my eyes, I can sense the light beating down on me from above.
Rolling from my back onto my stomach, a groan is forced out of my mouth as I sit up to look around.
When I do take a second to focus on my surroundings, my heart stops.
It's beautiful.
Tall trees of different variety reach for the sky in the distance, a mountain range painting the background. Light, fluffy clouds dot the infinite palette of blue above me, slowly moving in the wind. In front of me is a lustrous, calming lake, stretching out through the landscape. I'm only sitting in a small clearing, home to an abundant amount of flowers and green grass.
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I fall back to the floor, the greenery surrounding me, cushioning me like a pillow.
It's alluring. . .
It's somewhere I don't want to leave.
But it almost seems unreal.
It hits me with a pang, causing any amount of joy built up in my chest to shrivel away.
There's no way this is real. It makes no sense for me to be here . . .
My mind wanders back to my most recent memory before this one.
Crawling into bed late at night after shooting a few more scenes.
Somebody had said a groggy goodnight before the lights turned off. . . it must have been Hoseok hyung.
I don't remember if I responded to him.
It's one of those dreams again, isn't it?
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to sit up. The discovery makes me deflate. Was I really hoping for this to be real?
The wind blows against my face as I look down at my hands, examining them and flexing my fingers.
This dream. . . is different. The sun is out, and everything is basked in light, burning away some of my softer worries, coating the outer layer of my heart. But the real ones are still hidden somewhere deeper.
I like this dream a lot better.
I squint as I hold a finger up to the light, slowly rotating it.
Every indent, shine on the nail, every imperfection; Even the cuticle is crystal clear.
Did I ever dream like this before?
Not that I recall.
Lowering my hand, my gaze follows the horizon to the edge of the lake.
There's someone standing there, alone, back facing towards me.
I squint, trying to make out more features in the figure's silhouette, but before I thoroughly decide if I should be fearful or not, it bends down, picking up something off from the ground.
Some kind of rock? A stone?
I hold my breath as I watch the figure look left and right, but it doesn't crane his of her neck far enough to see me standing here.
Taking a few cautious steps closer, I blink as the rest of my body freezes.
The figure's features become clearer as I catch a glimpse of it's face again, this time oddly familiar.
A simple outfit: just a T-shirt and jeans.
A flash of something metallic, perched on the bridge of her nose.
Her hair falls to her elbows.
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