A/N: Gahhh sorry this is so choppy and random! It’s literally my dream I had last night and you all know how random dreams are sometimes hahaha~! I hope you still like it. (n_n)

You felt a spinning sensation twisting in your forehead as you pushed gently through the crowd of people. A large group had convened at the street corner, loudly protesting a recent initiative passed in the city. They held darkly lettered signs, waving angry sheets of red poster board and sporting paint on their faces. It was an interesting spectacle, their loud voices ringing over the heads of others and down the streets. You were uncomfortable with their outrage, and wanted to distance yourself as far from the assembly as possible.

Even as you pushed open a set of heavy glass doors, the chanting of protesters pounded in your head. You sat down at a barstool, picking up the menu near your seat. The restaurant you sat in was a popular venue for passersby and people from your nearby university. A few familiar faces sat at nearby tables, and you gave them friendly smiles when they waved in your direction. Checking your watch, you sighed. An hour still remained before your bus would arrive to take you back to your building from downtown.

You placed your order with the tired waitress and picked at a napkin while waiting for the food to arrive. The restaurant’s door opened loudly, and you heard several people shuffle through the entryway. You looked over to the crowd, startled when a hefty man from the group sat down next to you at the bar. He and his friends looked frightening, all of them tall and with menacing expressions on their faces. As you shifted to your left, you noticed black letters painted around his muscular forearms. It wasn’t the prospect of sitting next to one of the intimidating protestors that brought forth the bubbling sensation in your stomach, nor the tightening around your lungs. But as his unwavering, soulless eyes turned to meet yours, you felt a deep-rooted fear you had never before experienced.

“It’s an outrage, isn’t it?” he said in his gravelly voice, pointing to the sign leaning against a barstool, carried in by one of his friends. You turned away from him, trying with little result to convey a message of disinterest. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you clenched your teeth tightly as you shifted roughly away.

“Please don’t touch me,” you said with anxiety wavering in your voice. He glared.

“You don’t support us, do you?” His voice was even and controlled, like the deceiving coolness of a furnace before it flares with heat. You shook your head.

“I don’t have an opinion.” He laughed with a chilling sound that raised bumps on your skin.

“No opinion?” he asked. “A pretty girl like you, with no opinion. I’ll help you make up your mind.” His hand reached forward again, touching the crook of your elbow with the tips of his stocky fingers. You jumped away, pushing your palms against him with all the force you could exert. He wobbled from the chair, lunging at you like an infuriated animal. Your glass of water hit the floor, the sound of splintering glass loud in the ears of everyone around. Again you shoved him, fearing his strength.

You turned around, running out of the restaurant and down the street, too frightened to look back. For a few moments you sprinted, trying to staunch the burning tears in your eyes.

A hand reached for your shoulder and you spun to face the person, fear screaming in your bones. You nearly softened at the sight of kind brown eyes, but pulled away and turned to run again.

“Wait!” A gentle voice called out to you. “I’m here to help you. Don’t be scared.” The softness in his speech was calming, and you instantly trusted him more than instinct would have allowed. His hand returned to your shoulder, and his worried eyes stared at yours. “Are you alright?” He had followed you out of the restaurant when you ran, worried for your safety. You nodded, still shaking with adrenaline. Giving you a sincere smile, he extended his free hand in front of you. “You don’t recognize me do you?” You shook your head and raised your brow. Should you have? “I’m new this quarter, but I live on your floor. Dongmin is my roommate.” Familiarity rushed to your brain, and you let out a thankful sigh. You remembered only his name, having seen his face a few times when you walked through the halls.

As you walked together, you shivered uncomfortably. After your encounter with danger, everything in your peripheral vision seemed to be another attacker. Every sound of the city was the burly man, closing in to pounce. The boy from your floor noticed, his eyes glancing with worry in your direction. He took your arm, linking it through his at your side.

“No one is going to bother us. I promise.” You clung to his arm, still trying to blink away the tears. He stopped, holding you tightly to his chest. He was a stranger to you, yet the contact of a safe pair of arms was exactly the comfort you needed. Your eyes left a wet stain against the red fabric of his shirt, and you apologized for the mess you had become. He smiled, giving you a reassuring pat to your head.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault! I’m just glad you’re okay.” He walked with you all the way back to your building, still holding your arm tightly with his. You laughed in the hallway, realizing he lived only three doors down from you.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t recognize you!” you said quietly. He smiled.

“That’s alright. Like I said, I’m just happy you’re alright.” You hugged him tightly, disregarding the unfamiliarity between you two. Although still shaken, you smiled brightly. Something good would certainly come from this.