Six of a Kind

삼십이: Day in the Life of: Jimin

Jimin always awoke to hands on his chest, giving him a gentle shake. His eyes fluttered open on muscle memory. He couldn't see anything other than blinding white. Shadows danced across his vision, and then he was being lifted up. His head bumped something firm, and the whiteness was gone, filled with only black.

He felt the sensation of moving, something vibrating against his ear, but he couldn't figure out what. The noises danced in and out of his foggy brain.

He was placed down onto something, and the white was back. A primal instinct inside him told him to shut his eyes, to cry, but his body had no reaction. The hands pulled the soft things off his clothes, and he felt cold sting his bare skin. Again, a small, far away urge to cry sparked, but he couldn't hold onto it long enough to actually do it.

Soon he was wrapped into more soft things, and there was that firm thing again, and his world was dark again. He quite liked this moving sensation, but he had no idea how to do it himself, or what the sensation was. He was pretty sure it happened often, though he couldn't remember so well.

The world went white again as he was placed into something. A soft thing supported his back and his head, so he couldn't flop down. He could make out shadows moving around.

Jimin's eyes felt very sore. He slowly closed them, listening to the sounds behind him. He didn't know what they were. It wasn't a very soothing sound.

He could feel something taped to his face. Jimin was always more aware in the mornings, when he hadn't had his sedatives yet, though he was clearly still very high. His pupils were too blown out to see anything properly, any form of light blocking out everything else. He heard sounds, but had no recognition of them. Once he came off the sedatives, he would have no recollection of these days at all.

The thing taped to his face moved suddenly, so he slowly opened his eyes. The shadow was right in front of him, making sounds he couldn't decipher. Then, a cold rush went past his cheek, into his nose, and down his throat. A primal reminder that this must mean he was eating kicked in, and he started smacking his lips. He had no control over it.

The shadow made a bit more noise at this, and the hand touched his hair. It was comforting. He liked when the shadow touched him. It grounded him a little. He wished he would do it more. He kept smacking his lips as more cold stuff went down his throat. He was pretty sure that was what he had to do, anyway.

Jimin had no connection to the real world. He had no thoughts, no pure emotions. Unable to understand words or sounds, he drifted around in his consciousness, time lapsing into nothing. He had no recollection that life should be any different.

The shadow left him. Jimin shut his eyes again, blocking out that constant blinding light. It hurt his head, but then, what does a headache feel like, truly? The pain he felt was quick, and vanished soon with heavy medicines.

A burst of sound entered Jimin's consciousness, stirring him back as awake as he could get. The sedatives were kicking in for the day. Small shadows bobbed about in front of him. He felt something touch his knee, then slide away again. So much noise, so much light ... Jimin made a small gurgling sound.

Suddenly, he was pulled out of the comfy thing, and he was against the firm thing again. The firm thing was warm, and he liked that. He gave another tiny wail at all of the noise, and the hand was back in his hair, cupping his ear so that the noise was muffled. He liked that a lot. He soothed himself.

The big shadow was always a comfort to him. He forgot each day as it passed, but somehow, he knew that big shadow was gentle, and cared for him. He smelt nice, though Jimin's brain could never process the smell, and those hands were gentle, shielding him from the loud sounds and the bright lights. Jimin knew he was there without actually knowing. He trusted the big shadow.

There was that cold on his cheek again, with liquid dripping into his stomach. He started smacking, something somewhere in the fog reminding him he'll choke otherwise. He felt something wet on his chin, and one of the shadow hands brushed it away. He felt more comforted, and relaxed. The big shadow continued to hold him up, protecting his ear. He felt deep rumblings come from it on one side, and a soft, constant thumping sound. Whatever it was, it was nice.

The peace was broken quickly. He was moved out of the firm thing, off of the big shadow and the warmth, and into the comfy thing. He wailed, and the hand touched his hair, so he silenced again. He felt the moving sensation, and then the shadow was touching his feet, putting something onto them. He couldn't move his legs to kick them off, however.

More movement. The comfy thing went, and he was placed into another comfy thing. The noises of the little shadows were encased around him. A small shadow hand held onto his own, squeezing it. It wasn't the big shadow, but he liked it. His pupils dilated a little as he relaxed.

A sound, and then the movement feeling, but much faster this time. There was a rumbling sound, a rhythmic chant that went along with the movement. He was swaying slightly with it, though the hand never left his. He was strongly comforted by it all, and soon, his eyes were slipping shut. The back of his eyelids were red with light, but he faded away nonetheless.

*

Jimin jolted back awake to being moved around. He was against a firm thing again, but as well as being warm, this firm thing was fluffy. Fibres tickled Jimin's neck and cheek. He remembered that feeling from somewhere, deep in his locked up memories. He knew it was good, a gentle shadow in his life. Not the big shadow, but another one, with soothing hands running up and down his upper arm.

There was that rumbling, but in a different way. It was rhythmic like the swaying movement, but deeper, and louder. It went up in octaves, lilting gently. He was sure he was being rocked. Something soft and fluffy was being placed into his hands, and although he couldn't grip, he was conciliated. Life felt content for Jimin, if that was a feeling he could feel.

As time went by, more things were placed into Jimin's hands. Something that flashed lots of bright colours, more fluffy things, feathery things, squishy things. Sometimes he would grip, other times he couldn't get his fingers to move. The shadow helped him, gently squeezing his hands so he could get the most out of these sensory toys.

He mostly like the rhythm noise, that came from the shadow itself. He liked the fluff against his cheek, the rocking motion. It made him feel safe. When his brain had odd little zaps, they grounded him, reminded him that something had hold of him. The brain zaps made him feel sleepy. He couldn't figure out what they were.

Jimin's days were routine, especially in his eyes, where he couldn't locate exactly what was happening to him. There sounds, textures, feelings, that all blended into one. When he wasn't with the fluffy shadow, he was in the comfy thing. The cold on his cheek meant he had to open and close his mouth fervently. The movement lulled him. The sounds sometimes scared him, sometimes placated him.

Then, his big shadow was back. The rhythmic swaying movement was back, and his eyes drifted shut again. For Jimin, that was the end of his day. Being awake was exhausting. He would start tomorrow afresh, with no memories, no insights. Just the gentle big shadow, and the boisterous little shadows.