remember me [kiho, kihyun x wonho]

-9-

At first when he opens his eyes, all that he can see is darkness.

It makes his stomach drop, his heart race, his blood run cold, his eyes go wide in panic, until he realizes that the very fact that he can even see anything, even in darkness, must mean that everything is alright. He's still able to see, after all, and able to have the physical reaction of his stomach dropping and his blood running cold and his eyes going wide, and that means that he's alive and well, or, at the very least, alive. "Well" is still to be determined.

He sighs, closing his eyes and taking a few slow, deep breaths, waiting for his heart to steady, waiting for his fear to settle. It feels strange, all of this. It's unremarkable, and yet, it feels so unlike anything that he's ever felt, to be here, to be feeling all of these things. Perfectly ordinary, but under these circumstances, incredible. He wishes he had the time to appreciate just what a miracle it is.

It takes a long moment, and an immense amount of effort, perfect focus, perfect concentration, extraordinary willpower, but he's able to open his eyes again, and he's able to move his body, little by little. He's able to sit up, slowly, carefully, his limbs unfamiliar and strange, even just moving them in such simple ways an incredibly difficult task, each signal from his mind to his body requiring all of his energy and determination, but he does it, he manages to sit up, and it's then that he realizes that he's in a bed, on a soft mattress and old bedframe that creaks loudly even beneath his diminutive weight.

The covers slide down off of his body to rest in his lap, and he carefully lifts his head to get a look around the room, his hands moving on his thighs to lightly grip the edge of the covers. Soft, clean, warm. It's the middle of the night, that much is clear, and he's in a dark room, a bedroom, only small slivers of moonlight coming in from splits in the curtains covering the window. His feline eyes adjust the longer that he looks around, granting him clearer and clearer vision by the moment, and he blinks, his head still feeling full and fuzzy as he takes everything in.

Sleeping. He was sleeping. Deeply, peacefully. He wonders if he was dreaming, and if so, what he was dreaming of.

He slowly looks around the room, at the floor, at the walls, at the door. It's nearly empty, and it's very simple, just the bed that he's lying on and a closet, a dresser, a mirror, a night table. It's nice. It's small, but it's warm and cozy. It's silent, but not the oppressive kind of silence that suggest lack of life, but the peaceful kind, the restful kind. Everyone around him is sleeping, deep and content in slumber. There's just the lull, that particular feeling in the air. The hush.

He sighs softly, relieved. It's safe, it's quiet. He feels good, his body feeling loose and relaxed, no pain, no aches, no trauma, nothing except a bit of soreness from sleeping so deeply. He's well-fed and washed. His breathing is clear and strong, his heartbeat steady, his whiskers picking up every tiny shift in the air. He breathes for a few minutes, admires the room in silence, taking the time to make sure that it's really real, that he's really and truly safe. His instincts confirm it, don't sense any danger nearby, no threats, nothing to be afraid of, only a soft, gentle world.

His eyes feel heavy. He's starting to lose a hold on his mind, quickly succumbing back to sleep. He won't be able to stay awake much longer. And his skin tingles; he's wearing a sleeveless shirt and underwear only, goosebumps rising on his bare arms exposed to the cool breeze coming in from the outside. The window is open, he realizes. His body craves the warmth of the blanket, craves to snuggle back to sleep.

He feels good.

He smiles a tiny little smile, relieved, happy, so happy, and he lies back slowly onto the bed, his head cradled on the soft pillow, and he looks up at the ceiling as he pulls the covers back up over his chest. He moves to lie on his side after a moment, curling even further under the blankets just the way that he knows that he likes it, allowing his eyes to shut as he breathes deeply, once, twice, allowing his body to fall back into a deep, deep sleep.