HYSTERIA | BTS Horror AU

XI

     The Looking Glass is a portal to a realm where reality blurred and sanity fractured. A place that Jimin couldn't yet recognize—determine whether or not he had fallen in an area of salvation or damnation.

Jimin's fall was a chaotic haze. His body twisted, gravity pulling him into the realm that he hadn't yearned to acknowledge yet.

When he finally landed, pain pitched through his limbs. The jagged shards of the mirror surface dug into his palms with a minor brute taste of blood picking along his tongue.

Jimin stumbled, sat up on his knees as he gazed at the checkered tile below him. He groaned lifting himself with his arm pressed against a glass table.

The room was eerie, a distorted altercation of an unbiased reality. And there, at its center, stood the glass table.

The same glass table Taehyung had knelt him over.

Taehyung's, The Hatter's vile creation.

Except... He, and the table weren't in Taehyung room anymore.

Jimin didn't recognize this room as he gazed around a little further, finding nothing more beyond stone walls.

He stared back at the glass, his peering elongated with the remembrance of the image that mocked him with a grotesque version of the 'Taehyung' he still truly admired.

Fuelled by resentment, Jimin seized his elbow above the glass to reign down and shatter it. The horrid memory perished, but the cut on his arm grounded him to an area of unrelenting thought. He looked back to a fallen shard, reaching.

He didn't know whether or not he'd been awake, even if he already had agonizing gashes all over him. It hadn't been enough to determine his awareness. Not yet.

Jimin took the glass and cut around his cheek.

He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the precarious beat of his heart. It hurt.

It really hurt. Maybe he cut too deep.

But he never cut too deep.

"What the fuck..?" Jimin was awake.

He kept the shard in his pocket, trembling in place to repeatedly swing his eyes from one wall of the room, to another.

Before he found a door.

Was that there before?

The door coaxed, and Jimin found himself in the shape of escapism.

"When you long for something and never receive it, do those things begin to beckon for you instead?"

Jimin was hopeful of an exit, which he didn't have.

He does now.

Jimin tripped over the glass fracturing further beneath him before he found an acute hand around its knob.

It was fucking locked.

He tried again, perhaps he had wheeled it in the wrong direction.

It wouldn't open.

He huffed, punished by his own defeat.

"Is there nothing in this room? A key? Nothing!?" Jimin found himself pacing, dragging his hands and feet against the walls and floor.