Amethyst // BTS AU

"Dream Journal"

“Dream Journal”
The Study

//

"And how is her training going? Is she improving?"

"Yes, Jungkook has been training her day and night."

Malia loved how Namjoon and Jackson always managed to talk about her as if she was not in the room. Whenever it was time for their usual therapy-like soulmate-meetings, the two older men always ended up just throwing themselves into conversation with each other while the amethyst-eyed girl often sat and just listened.

"Jungkookie is taking on so much responsibility," Jackson said, and Malia could see a glaze of something she could only describe as 'pride' as he spoke of the youngest member of Bangtan. "I remember when he was just a curious fifteen year old."

Fifteen year old, Malia pondered on.

It always blew her mind just how young Jungkook was, how he still is, forced to live in a very crude world. Thinking about it whenever they spoke, it was the biggest thing that her and the boy had in common; they were both just children who did not ask for the cards that they had been dealt by the universe.

Namjoon and Jackson continued on their light banter between one another, throwing in a light-hearted joke here and there. While the two men spoke, Malia read.

The small notebook that Malia read from was her dream journal. Since Jackson had given it to her during their first meeting, the once blank pages were filled with smudges and scribbles of ink. Each word was penned with a layer of emotion and longing that Malia felt for the subject of all of her writings; her soulmate.

The details grew in significance each night and drove Malia to wake up each morning with the willingness to fight. To fight Jungkook as she trained, to fight the painful memories of her appa and to fight away that small voice in the back of her mind that promised of her failure in finding her golden boy.

"Each day, Dear Dream Journal, I crave to be asleep. As soon as the son raises in the sky, I feel like screaming. Why couldn't we share more than just our dreams?"

Malia ran a delicate finger over the words "our dreams" as it excited her to think of her and her soulmate sharing something, even if it was something as trivial as their subconscious thoughts.

The chatter between Jackon and Namjoon had gently fizzled out as Malia paid attention to her written words instead of their spoken ones. Jackson cleared his throat as he sat down in his usual seat opposite Malia's.

Her head snapped upwards and towards his direction. Jackson was smiling.

"How is the journal going? Is it helpful at all?"

Malia nodded her head, closing the book with a soft clap. She held it gently between her hands.

"It helps me feel..." the girl paused, unsure of how to encapsulate her abundant feelings in only about a sentence. "It helps me feel closer to him; like it's okay to be hopeful. It helps me feel like maybe my appa did not die in vain because my boy," Malia couldn't help the small smile that graced her lips. "My boy is dreaming of me just as much as I am dreaming of him."

Jackson leaned backward in his seat, a comfortable silence bridging the gap between the two parties.

"You know, you remind me of a very special girl. She was soulmate-bonded just as you are, except she was a Wildflower."

Jackson's words made goosebumps appear on Malia's skin, especially at the mention of a Wildflower. She found her attention peaking to a level that it never had before. She politely asked Jackson to tell her about this girl and to explain what it was about her that made him think of her.

"She was very young — definitely younger than you are now," Jackson went on. "She was caught between two men; one that she loved with all of her heart and one that she absolutely hated. Both men were her soulmate and in trying to stay with the good man that she loved, she lost her life."

"She died?"

Jackson nodded, mentally fighting with himself on whether or not he should continue.

"All soulmate bonds differ, Malia, even if we try to categorize them. The choice was easy for the girl to make, she knew who she loved, but to her other soulmate—"

"The man she didn't love?"

"Yes," Jackson agreed. "To the man she didn't love, the girl was everything and he couldn't live without his everything." Jackson momentarily paused before speaking his next sentence.

"He was the one who killed her."

A chill ran up Malia's spine and made her shift around her seat uncomfortably.

That poor girl.

"The people that knew her said she was so full of love, even in times when she shouldn't have been. That is what you two have in common; all she ever wanted was to love."

What an unfortunate turn of events. Sometimes love is not met with a boom of thunderous applause and tears of joy, but tears out of pain.

"Anyway," Jackson reverted. "Enough about that story; I want to hear about what's been going on in that imagination of yours. Any new clues?"

Malia sheepishly smiled at Jackson, opening her notebook up to her latest entry. Jackson pulled out a notebook of his own and began to jot down as much new information as he could. Malia read, explained, interpreted and helped guide the expert through the inner-workings of her psyche.

What she did not know, however, was that a Bangtan boy also tentatively listened from the other side of the closed study door with his own thoughts swarming and making a mess of all of his sanity.

"I need to steal that journal."

//

Kim Taehyung had been losing sleep.

His eyes were raw with fatigue as the whites of his eyeballs were painted with a shade of red so light that they almost looked pink.

Being his Seokjin-hyung's full-time doctor and caregiver was plaguing the young man in more ways than one. The need to save his hyung ate away at Taehyung as he had barely eaten since the night of the shooting.

And he never slept. He never allowed himself enough time to drift away from this sickening reality and when he did, Jimin was always around to help.

Taehyuhg didn't like sleep anyway, not for the last few nights.

He didn't like the way he felt whenever he woke up; like he had just ran a marathon and couldn't breathe. He couldn't understand the betrayal of his body nor could he explain what he had been dreaming of.

It was a big blur; a mess of paint on a once blank canvas.

But what picked at the man the most was the girl who appeared before him every time he closed his eyes. On that messy canvas, she was terrifyingly vivid. She had a smile that he had grown to know all too well and her eyes were the most beautiful shade of purple; amethyst.