DREAMING || YOONMIN [COMPLETE]

7: Pretty People

"Nonono, please, I'm not ready to die," Jimin rushed out a mess of incoherent, mumbled words, scrambling as the invisible force pulled him closer. His hair blew into his face as he crossed his arms, progressively growing more and more annoyed.

"You'll shut up if you know what's best for you," the voice snapped—his voice.

In all honesty, Jimin didn't know that he was that rude. But he did know one thing, which was to not talk to the strange voices in your head; they weren't worth the trouble. Especially considering that his mind had literally dragged him over to a random guy in the middle of his peaceful slumber.

Rude.

He kicked his legs, struggling to move, to push against the force. But eventually, he ended up stuck in a bush, which he then got up out of after struggling for a few minutes, proceeding to leave the place. Maybe, if he went home, he could wake up again.

Then, something triggered and he went flying back to hit a tree. Sparks of pain shot out through the point of impact, down through his spine and up to his shoulders, his neck aching in a dull throb. He reached up to dab at something that hurt, huffing when he realized that he couldn't move his hands higher than his shoulders. 

So he let them hang by his sides uselessly, looking around for an escape. It wasn't much of a surprise that there were no escapes, since his own mind had created this for him. Either that, or he was hallucinating. Both ideas were horrible.

He should've known that he couldn't just sneak away from his own mind, because that would be like pulling his brain out of his head. He rubbed his head, groaning and looking up. The force stood him up, kindly dusted him off (though none of this was nice), and placed him back down.

Soon enough, he was standing in front of the man, head tilted slightly up to meet his gaze.

The first thing that Jimin noticed were his eyes. They were a deep, deep brown, like pools of chocolate. Shaped almost like a cat's in a sense, reminding him of Moon. His hair was a mocha-like color, tousled in a way that made his eyebrows disappear below his bangs. It was frizzy, but it was pretty, highlighting his pale skin that glowed under the rays of sun.

In both ears, he wore silver earrings that dangled low against his neck.

He was strangely pretty. Jimin supposed that he only thought this because his head had constructed him that way; he couldn't possibly be a real person. A person that pretty wasn't likely to exist. 

Jimin almost felt like touching his hair again, but he refrained.

"Uh, hello," Jimin said with a frown, blushing a bright red. "Who're you?"

The man didn't reply, instead boring his lifeless eyes through Jimin like he was clear. His hands came up to the sides of his neck and pulled his hood up over his head, not fully covering his fringe. He smiled a little, a lopsided, unnatural thing, and pointed at his mouth. After a little while, the voice told him that the male couldn't talk.

"Oh," Jimin's facial expression lightened, though not completely. "What's his name?" 

No reply in return, just a few clicks of the tongue.

He looked up toward the sky, talking as though the voice were coming from up there. "Why is he in my head? What does he have to do with anything?" He expected the voice to answer almost straight away, but it took him a few moments. 

Yes, Jimin had named the voice "him". How could he not? It was his own voice.

"He's in your head just because."