INSIDE [jaeyong]

[5]

[FIVE]

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There was a feeling of warmth, one of niavity and unbeknownst of everything questionable and cruel — it was safe. There was no doubt in his mind about that. It was a place rid of stubborn paranoia and prodding eyes. There was merely a conscious and no sound, and despite slight movement somewhere in between the black, it was peaceful.

This comfort — the one with no worries, real or fabricated nightmares, and dread to sleep and wake up to — was one that very rarely visited a particular boy with blue hair.

There was always something. Something that didn't feel quite right, or a weird inkling that he wasn't protected. Insomnia threatened him often that if he were to sleep, an unfamiliar evil would come and snatch him in its freezing cold.

It hadn't always been like that. Taeyong wasn't sure when the paranoia began: the one that would put him in flight or fight mode when he was drifting into his most vulnerable state. Maybe as he grew older and became of all the horrific and unspeakable side of the world that wasn't filled with untouchable rainbows and fairy tales, it swallowed him whole.

But it was extreme recently, as if his subconscious was trying to tell him that something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Taeyong wasn't sure what that feeling was, but right now, he preferred not to think about it. Instead, he wanted to fall deeper inside this safe haven and let it embrace him in its arms, slipping him into a fuller, more pleasant world of solacing silence and soft breathing, sleep.

There was something endearing here;

he was still in that small ocean of tranquility, but he felt his heart begin to flutter. In contrary, it was exhilarating, like a step outside of the slumber and he could choose to take its hand or stay here. The fluttering gave him a path to consciousness.

No, he wanted to stay.

He could almost feel himself move as his strands of hair tickled his skin, but tried to ignore it. The fluttering only got worse from here. He wondered what was on the other side making him like this, but the contempt of where he was at was too precious to let go of because of curiosity.

He felt his bangs brush against his temple once more before being caressed out of his face, the soft and gentle pace of it making him almost believe it was a piece of this wonderfully lethargic and understanding world. He wanted it to be; he wanted to stay here forever.

The touch was tender, but also had a tenacious care to it. It warmed his cheek and he lulled his head closer to it.

It stopped at once, abruptly, and Taeyong was suddenly whipped into alertness — he felt the cooling of the fan on the ceiling grazing his fair skin and the soft fabric of his blanket encase his body. His heart began to beat faster and the lights in his brain were all flickered on, the loud chaos of his thoughts becoming alive once again.

He was hesitant before opening his eyes, because he didn't really feel like moving. It was still warm here, although not necessarily as isolated and peaceful. He felt warm; that shouldn't be it, right? Could he not draw the line between fiction and reality?

Taeyong's eyelashes batted open, shards of light peering inside of his dark iris and shattering the brown colors into something yellow. Everything was blurred for a split second before he was fully aware of his surroundings.

He was still in Johnny's living room; that's right. Taeyong slowly blinked before he realized his cheek was flush against another blue blanket. But wasn't his blanket pink? The boy turned over, his hair falling away from his eyes. That's when he understood.