"It's you...the man from my dreams. You're real,"
Plagued with nightmares of drowning in lakes and being pushed from cliffs by mysterious men, Jimin is haunted by his subconscious mind after a couple of near, and quite literal, death experiences. Be...
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DROWNING.
Jimin was drowning.
He struggled desperately for air, clawing at the hands that held him under the icy water. They were the only warmth he felt submerged in the lake and even then, the warmth wasn't that friendly. The warmth wanted him dead, and he didn't understand why. Jimin was scared. He didn't want to die. He didn't understand what he'd done to make someone want to kill him in such a horrific way. The hands were merciless as their grip tightened around his neck, making him gasp underwater. Water spilled into his lungs, which only made things worse. Jimin continued to take on more water after that. His chest tightened and became heavy to the point where it hurt. Jimin was crying under the water of that lake, but it didn't matter. You couldn't tell.
His strength was leaving him, the lack of air starting to take effect, and the fight to stay conscious was just as strong as the fight to pry the warmth from his throat. But with each kick, and broken sob from under the water made everything feel hazy, dizzying almost, and Jimin could feel his arms become very heavy. His motions became slow, he felt like he was trying to move through honey or molasses.
The water that once rippled above him from his thrashing suddenly stilled. The hands around his throat loosened slightly. It was clear enough that he could almost make out the face of the man who was killing him. He couldn't make out any distinguishable features as he began to sink into the depths of the lake. The further he sank, the colder he got. The man seemed to be shouting at him, but he couldn't make out the words, they were muffled by the water and by the fact that he was suddenly exhausted and wanted to sleep. But what caught him off guard was that it seemed like the man had been crying.
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Jimin awoke with a start, coughing loudly in the process. He was not surprised that water spilled from his lips as he sat gasping for air in his bed; it came sputtering out of his mouth, spilling down his chin. It was icy cold, like he'd chewed on several ice cubes, held the water in his mouth and then spat it out. He never understood how the water got there, but he always woke up choking on it.
As usual, he was soaked, his white, long sleeve clinging to his body in several places, along with his boxers. It took him several minutes for him to collect himself and only then did he realize he was shivering. He carded his fingers through his sopping wet hair that had matted itself it his forehead, and yanked the covers off his bed. They were soaked too, but again, Jimin wasn't surprised. Every inch of his bed was soaked; especially himself.
