philophobia | ksj+mb

-30-

Don't date him.

Thanks a lot, Byul.

I gasped. My eyes shot open. I focused on the man in front of me, steadily breathing peacefully. His eyes were closed. He didn't move.

I let out a large breath, closing my eyes and trying to free myself of all the haze and the high; trying to get myself grounded.

Bad dreams. Not as extreme as those nightmares, but bad all the same.

I hated this; waking up at an ungodly hour with flashes and broken memories of something that never really happened, or did it? I've had dreams about Taehyung and Wheein, about Jin, about my family. None of them has ever really happened, hasn't it? But it can, right? It can happen, no matter how small the probability.

Jin shifted in his sleep, throwing an arm around me as he guided himself closer. His breath fanned my neck and the heat of his body was all over me. Any other time I would've pushed him away because, well... I'm not good with these things. But I could barely keep my thoughts straight because of the haze that doesn't exist. Jin seems unreal in my head. He's so close but I could barely register his presence.

Yoongi's words stayed like glue in my head. It's been a few weeks — three to be exact — since that last nightmare. Since the last call. Since "don't date him."

Well, he's got a point. And I swear I'd do it. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't tell him anything about the most important part of my life? It's a dark part, but it's important. I can't run away from it anymore.

It's easier said than done. Throughout these three weeks, I had to endure awkward conversations and constant pressure from none other than myself. I don't know if Jin noticed it, but I think he did. He didn't ask about it though.

Why didn't he ask about it?

This afternoon was another one of those days. He had come to cook for me, again. We'd spend our time together, again. I tried to bring up the conversation, again. I failed, again.

He stirred beside me, and I closed my eyes shut. He can't know I woke up. He can't know I had a bad dream. He'd ask about it. And then I have to answer.

But aren't you trying to tell him?

"I know you're awake," he whispered in my ear. It sent shivers throughout my whole body, and I heard him giggle at my reaction.

I opened my eyes and faced him. His eyes were hooded, half asleep, and he had a stupid smile on his face. His hair was a mess and a faded trail of drool was on his cheek. But even then, he looked amazing.

He must've seen my expresion — whatever it is — because his smile faded and he frowned. "What's wrong?"

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.

"I —" My throat blocked my voice, and the words are stuck in there. I shook my head.

You're such an idiot.

He brushed my hair, pulling me closer to him. "Bad dreams?"

I nodded. Technically, I wasn't lying. But that's not what bothered me.

His warmth engulfed me and we stayed like that for some time, with me in his arms, and his steady breathing calming me down. It's always like this, isn't it? I have some problems, and he's the one who took care of it. Didn't I want to get close to him because I wanted to help him? Why is he the one helping me now?

Because you're an idiot who can't even see her own problems.

I sighed, quite loudly. He must've felt it. I mean, of course he does. His body is literally in front of me.