When the two of them meet, only in their dreams.
Every time, a different location.
Every night, a little more is learned.
Without knowing their true identities.
Park Jimin has much more to worry about rather than silly dreams. Bangtan's name has...
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11:13 am
p.j.m.
I lean back in my chair, attempting to get as much more sleep as I can sitting upright.
It takes some effort to try to keep my head from lolling off to the side as I doze off, but eventually my muscles give up, drained of any energy left. A few silently apologies ring through my brain to the stylist noonas who have to hold my head upright as they work, teasing me for my sleeping composure.
"Jimin-ah, get some more rest, ok? We don't want to have to keep on piling make-up on your face to disguise those eye bags," one of them calls out jokingly. I smile weakly in my dreary state, laughing along.
But their words are unknowingly adding onto my pile of worries.
Jin, Hoseok, and Taehyung didn't tell anybody else about yesterday. I had requested them not to, so it wouldn't worry anyone.
This is a childish problem.
One that I can fix on my own.
I've done it before.
Something brushes against my lip as the stylists continue to work, trying their best to keep my head as still as possible. Something soft is dabbed on my cheek, a hand is messing with my hair.
They're still holding my head upright as they usher me awake, voices soft but urgent.
"You'll have to get up now. We still have to do Namjoon,"
I nod, feeling the two hands steadying my head disappearing into thin air.
Groggily, I stand up, spotting Jungkook already done on the couch. He's looking down at his phone, casually scrolling through something. Dodging around the few pieces of furniture on the floor, I stumble over to where he's sitting.
"Oh! Hyung-" I hear him begin, before his sentence is suddenly cut off as I throw myself down onto the couch.
