remember me

*Eleven*

"Mr Jeon..."

"Mr Jeon" a hand on his shoulder startled him. He reared back, feet stumbling behind him as his eyes widened at the scene before him.

...where?

Rain beat against the roof, the air was cold and his thoughts ran wild.

A dream?

No, it can't be. He's awake.

How could this be?

Was he dead?

"Mr Jeon?"

A hand reached for him, extended out just about to brush against his cheek when he panicked. Feet toppling over each other, falling backwards until he fell against sidewalk. He ignored the pain in his backside, the roughness he felt against his palms. All his focus was back on the man who tortured him, who caused such mayhem in his life.

The teacher before him was confused, his hand extended again, this time he quickly stood and ran. The rain slapped against his backside, hit against his face as he braved it. Panic setting in again as he ran down the streets, no destination in mind as his mind was blank.

What was going on?

His breathing was ragged, chest tight and a burn was starting in his lungs. Finally catching his breath as he fled under the coverage of a large tree. Collapsing onto the ground, mind racing of scenarios, possibilities of what was happening.

Taehyung...Jimin...?

Was it all a dream?

No, it was real. It happened.

Then how was he here?

Sixteen again, wearing a school uniform at that.

It was that night, tonight was that night.

The drive home that started everything. The rain, the look that man gave him. He curled his legs in, holding himself as he cried. Wails leaving him as he was still mourning for his loss to be thrust back into a nightmare all over again.

Body shaking, wrenching sobs that hurt left him continuously. Until the sadness in his cries died down and he was laughing instead. He was sixteen, he was alive and he was sixteen. Tae and Jimin, they were alive. He just had to find them.

With a newfound determination he never ran so fast. Relying on memory as he ran down the familiar roads leading him to the bus station. Thinking the whole time it was a dream, that he was in some coma state and hadn't actually perished like he had wished. Even if it were a dream, he'd live in it, refusing to wake up. Because this dream was too good for him.

It was the rain and the wind chill that bantered against his thinking. Maybe it was real. The scrape on his palms told him so, the cold rain that hit his face felt too real, the wind that blew against his clothing as he ran was bitter.

Was it real?

He didn't care. Because here, reality or not, right here in this time, they were alive.

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The bus drive was long, yet it didn't matter. It gave him time to gather his thoughts.

Four years, four years he had lived. Could remember every moment, every suffering. From homeless shelters, to starving, to that bastard building manager. Then to Taehyung and Jimin. They had to be real. Had to be. He couldn't have made any of that up. The raw pain he had felt, the relief, the love. All of it was so forefront in his mind. Then their deaths......

Had he been given a second chance?

Was he worthy of it?

Maybe he was favored or maybe it was all a delusion, a mirage.