The tiny boy ran, his bare feet slamming against the hard, uneven cement with each step. The long, dirty strands of overgrown jet black hair flew into his face as he continued to run blindly through countless alleys and streets. The world passed by him without hesitation. When he finally came to a stop, his knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground with a cry. The bottoms of his feet were bloodied and raw, the palms of his hands no different. The yells had finally died away, and now all that he could hear were the disheartening high-pitched sobs that emerged from his own throat. He didn’t know why he was crying—he was beyond ecstatic at the moment. He told himself that he had finally escaped and had beaten all the odds of doing so. He told himself that no one could ever feed him lies again. He told himself that… he was now utterly alone.

He raised his head and took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He was sitting on the stairs of a deserted restaurant that had permanently closed down months ago. Dozens of people walked by without batting an eye. And if they did, it was one of pity, but that was pretty much all there was to it. A runaway orphan wasn’t on their list of problems. The boy sat there for hours as day melted into night, with his feeble, skinny arms wrapped tightly around his battered knees.  

The disheveled boy eventually drifted off to sleep, his exhaustion overpowering his thirst and hunger.

--

His eyes flew open the moment the burly man in uniform seized him by the arm. He cried out immediately, tears springing to his eyes as he fought against the man’s iron grip.

“You’re the boy who ran away from the orphanage aren’t you?” The ugly man was grinning ear to ear, his wide smile revealing a set of rotting teeth that made Yoongi flinch. 

The boy bit his lip as he stammered, “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me! I swear!”

“Don’t worry, they’ll take good care of you when you get back home.” The man sneered at the orphan.

Then a scream cut through the air, causing both heads to turn. “MIN YOUNGJAE!”                  

A young woman, who seemed to be in her late twenties, stood in front of the pair, her eyes laced with fury. She pushed the man off the child with startling force, causing the man to lose his balance and stumble to the ground. She grabbed the child by the hand and pulled him behind her.

“How dare you put your filthy hands on my child?!” Her words were strong and confident, yet the child could feel her hand tremble as she spoke.

The man stared at her and blinked, completely at a loss for words.

“I’ll have you—”

Before she could finish her sentence, the man scrambled to his feet and gave an apologetic bow before starting his spiel. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I thought he was the orphan who ran away yesterday afternoon—”

“Orphan? My Youngjae?” She turned her head and gave a cocky laugh of disbelief. She glowered at the man and hissed. “Orphan or not, touch any child like that ever again and I’ll make sure you rot in prison for the rest of your days.” And with that she strolled away, holding the boy tightly by the hand.

--

After scarfing down five huge rice balls that the woman bought him from the nearby convenience store, he sat awkwardly on the bamboo mat located in the living room of her apartment.

The woman wiped away the grime from his thin face using a warm towel. After doing so, she proceeded to carefully clean and treat his wounds. Once she was done, she took a seat beside him. He gazed at her numbly, still trying to understand her actions. Her features were ordinary— she had a button nose and a plump, oval-shaped face complemented by a messy ponytail of brown hair. Her expression was warm and kind, with a tired smile that made her eyes sparkle ever so slightly. 

“I’m not Min Youngjae,” the boy mumbled quietly, averting his gaze from hers.

She chuckled. “I know.”

“Then why did you save me?”

 “Because it was the right thing to do.”

And when he heard those words, he couldn’t help but cry. He rashly wiped away his tears using the sleeves of his tattered red shirt to no avail.

“T-thank you.”

“Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay…”

“Min Y-Yoongi. That’s my n-name,” he managed to sputter in-between sobs. 

“It’s going to be okay, Yoongi.”

It had been a very long time since he had heard those words.

--

“Yoongi. Wake up. YOONGI.”

Yoongi finally awoke with a groan. “What do you want?”

Hoseok sighed with relief.    

“You were dreaming,” Hoseok stated bitterly.

Yoongi stretched and yawned loudly. “I guess I was.”

“Yoongi. Although we aren’t alive anymore, there are still rules to be followed and lessons to be learned. You need to be careful. This is no joking matter.”

Grim reapers barely slept—their bodies didn’t physically need it. The moment a grim reaper closes their eyes to escape into a slumber, they begin to drift away into the dream realm. During their dreams, they relive their past lives in its entirety, never skipping a single detail. For most, dreaming itself is a form of torture—for it is just a continuous reenactment of every sin they committed. With every second spent in the dream realm, the barrier between the two worlds disintegrates more and more; thus, the longer they dream, the harder it is to return to the present. Dreaming is the sole way for a grim reaper to commit suicide.