"All the pain, all the tears
All the questions, and all those years
We went here and there until we exhaust
Not knowing that we're just making ourselves lost
We both know the answer, yet none of us bothered
Who would've thought that the only solutio...
While watering the plants you've been taking care of since you were 14 yrs. old, you hear a soft, gentle voice calling out your name.
"Y/N"
You turned around, seeing only squirrels playing in the fields, butterflies hovering over flowers, and trees dancing as the wind passes by.
"Did someone call me?" you asked as your wondering eyes search for that mysterious voice.
"Y/N" someone called for the third time.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" You began to start feeling anxious and unsafe. The squirrels were now gone and butterflies were no longer visible as flowers start to wither. The blue, bright skies began to turn very dark, with a touch of scarlet red and a heavy atmosphere. Trees of green started to burn. The beautiful garden that you were once in is now starting to change into a place filled with fire.
"Help!" you suffered to shout as you felt like suffocating, "someone please help me!"
"Y/N!"
You opened your eyes and released a small gasp. Your breathing was heavy as a tear suddenly fell from your left eye.
"Y/N?" You faced the person beside you, and as you see him, and stared at his worried expression, your uneasy heart from the dream started to calm down . You looked up and touched your chest. Thank God it was all just a nightmare. He cupped your cheeks with his hands and wiped the tear that fell from your eye. "Are you okay, Y/N?"
You looked at him again, his eyes were locked into yours, then suddenly, you felt the need to hug him. "Jungkook." You whispered his name as you bury your face into his chest.
"Shh. I'm here."
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
