Tonight, Jimin is a fox. He is small and sleek with a soft, ruddy coat that ruffles in the wind as he runs. It’s amazing how fast a fox can run, especially when he’s caught the scent of a nice, juicy rabbit. He ducks branches and leaps over roots, tongue lolling out of his mouth to help him taste the scent of his dinner.

Jimin skids to a stop at the edge of a clearing in the woods. Moonlight shines through the opening in the canopy of trees, illuminating the tall grass that sways in the gentle breeze. Fireflies dance and blink, and he snaps at one that flashes near his ear and sniffs the air. Rats! He’s lost the rabbit.

Long ears perk up at the sound of running water. There’s a stream to the left of the other side of the clearing. Jimin has run a long way; he’s parched. He slowly makes his way around the edge of the woods, keen eyes alert for any motion that would indicate a predator hiding in the grass. The closer he comes to the stream, the louder the rush of water is. Pretty soon his paws are sinking slightly into wet earth. Jimin enjoys the way the mud squishes between his toes, and he presses his paws deeper, dirtying the white fur of his underbelly.

Huge rocks form a path across the stream, and after he’s dunked himself under the running water a few times to rinse the mud out of his fur, he settles himself on a boulder right in the middle. He laps at the cool, fresh water flowing by and sneezes when he accidentally dips his snout too deep and gets some up his nose.

Tiny fish swim past Jimin’s perch, and he lazily paws at them, not trying to catch them, just toying with them a bit. He keeps his ears open, listening for any rodents scurrying around near the water’s edge, and he sniffs at the air periodically. Once, he thinks he smells a bobcat, but the scent floats away on the wind and disappears quickly enough that he doesn’t worry about it.

Leaves rustle, and a grouse lands just within leaping range. Jimin is still hungry since his dinner escaped. He quietly pushes himself to his feet and crouches into pouncing position. His tail sways as he settles his back paws against the surface of the rock for maximum traction, and at the perfect moment, he kicks off.

Jimin’s agile body flies through the air, jaws open wide, and as he lands they snap shut around… nothing. The bird is gone.

No, not gone. Another fox is running off with Jimin’s kill. He gives chase. That’s his dinner bleeding out between the other fox’s teeth.

Jimin follows the new fox, eyes focused on the shift of lean muscles under his amber coat and the flashes of white tail that trail behind him. They sprint upstream, hugging the edge of the water that seems to be flowing faster than before. Jimin throws all his energy into the chase, digging his paws deeper into the mud and rocks and gaining on the other fox with every step. He’s not prepared when the other fox slides to a halt, and they collide muzzle to muzzle as it changes direction, fleeing downstream from something Jimin has yet to notice.

He has dropped Jimin’s bird, his mouth empty as he pants from exertion and whimpers in fear. Jimin is torn between recovering his dinner and finding out what has spooked the other fox. He takes a few awkward, disoriented steps in both directions before making a decision and scooping up the bird in his mouth. He carries it to the edge of the woods and watches curiously as the other fox runs in confused circles in the mud.

The fox darts left toward the water and then sprints a few meters upstream before turning to run even faster downstream. He makes little noises of panic at every turn, and Jimin can’t figure out what he’s doing until he hears the sound of the water increase from a trickling, babbling noise to a loud whoosh. The stream has expanded into a river in the time that he’s been watching the other fox, pressing at the boundaries of the shallow streambed and threatening to overflow the steep bank where the other fox is still pacing erratically.

Jimin glances upstream again and finds a wave rolling down the hill, water splashing up into the woods and dragging sticks and mud and other debris with it as it flows back into the river. He turns to the other fox and calls to him, a loud ‘wow wow wow’ sound that buzzes inside his skull. The fox looks up at Jimin, and they lock eyes. His eyes are a deep green, the color of the darkest leaves in the forest, and his pupils are round. Human eyes, the other fox has human eyes.

“Run,” Jimin tries to tell him, but when he yells, all that comes out is a coughing noise. “Run!” he tries again, louder, screaming in his mind and emitting a shrieking bark. The fox’s eyes widen, and he turns tail, taking off downstream as fast as his body will carry him. Jimin leaves the bird behind and follows, running through the woods alongside the riverbank, avoiding the mud and water unlike the other fox. “Run faster!” he shouts, the words escaping as more strangled yelps. “Hurry! Up here, in the woods! Come on!” The other fox isn’t as quick as Jimin, and it’s possible he can’t comprehend that Jimin’s frantic noises are actual words. “Here, here!” Jimin directs him when he finds a spot that isn’t as steep, easier to climb. “Come up here!” He begs, but the fox passes him by.

The rush of the water gets louder every second, and Jimin doesn’t know what else to do. He digs his paws into the ground harder and runs faster, catching up to the other fox and snapping at him whenever he gets close, trying to get his jaws around some part of the fox to drag him to safety, but the fox misunderstands. He thinks Jimin is trying to hurt him. He’s trapped between a raging river and an animal he can’t understand, and Jimin watches as he makes the decision to take his chances with the water rather than wait for Jimin to devour him. The fox veers toward the river, still running, and Jimin slows to a devastated stop as the wave catches up with them and swallows him up whole.

He’s gone. The current is swift, the river now deep, and the other fox is washed downstream along with everything else, including a sapling ripped from the ground by its roots.

Jimin backs away into the woods and lies on his belly in a pile of leaves. He covers his snout with his paws, and he cries.

 

Vivid dreams are not unusual for Jimin. What is unusual is for him to wake up sobbing uncontrollably. He buries his face in his pillow, already soaked with tears that continue to flow as he gasps for breath. His shoulders shake as he cries even harder. The thought of that poor animal being swept away in a wave of rushing water is bad enough, but the worst part, the part that just breaks him, is knowing that the fox with the human eyes is probably a real person, someone Jimin was meant to rescue.

“Jiminie? You okay?” His roommate’s voice is muffled by his bedroom door.

He opens his mouth to answer, to tell Namjoon that he’s fine, but what comes out is a wobbly, “No.”

The hinges creak when Namjoon pushes the door open, and the bedsprings squeak as he clumsily crawls under the covers behind Jimin. Namjoon presses his body right up against Jimin’s and holds him. He doesn’t ask any questions, and Jimin is grateful for that. If he tried to explain it would probably come out as hysterical nonsense. Namjoon just lets him cry himself out until his eyes burn and his whole body aches.

Jimin doesn’t remember the tears drying up and the sniffles subsiding. The next time he’s conscious, waking from a blessedly dreamless sleep, he’s alone in bed again.

 

It’s weird how even when his dreams warp reality in the strangest ways, Jimin’s mind just accepts the new reality as fact and goes with it.

He’s in his apartment, only it’s not his apartment. It is his, but the layout is different. For some reason the kitchen is missing, replaced with a balcony that overlooks the elevator shaft. Every so often his neighbors will ride past his living room on their way to or from their own apartments. Perfectly normal, nothing strange here.

Namjoon stands at the far end of the hallway where their bedroom doors are, only the hallway is twice as long, and there are twice as many doors leading off it. Jimin can hear Namjoon, but his voice is distorted. It sounds like when Jimin was twelve years old and he and his best friend tried to communicate while underwater, ducking their heads beneath the surface just long enough to say a few words and then laughing at each other when they emerged and tried to repeat the words accurately. Jimin was never very good at that game. Jeongguk always cackled at Jimin for misunderstanding everything he tried to say.

Since he can’t rely on his ears, Jimin tries to read Namjoon’s lips, except Namjoon’s voice and mouth aren’t working together. He resembles a poorly dubbed version of Jimin’s favorite anime. Jimin wishes dreams had subtitles.

And they appear.

NJ- “… new roommates. Taehyung will be moving in tomorrow. He’s taking your room so you’ll have to move into one of the new rooms.”

Well, that makes sense.

Time skips, and Jimin is in his bedroom, surrounded by moving boxes. It seems a bit excessive to pack everything in boxes just to move one room over, but Jimin won’t argue. He carefully empties his bookshelf into the boxes and lifts the first one to carry it down the hall. It feels like it’s filled with nothing but packing peanuts, and Jimin opens the flaps just to be sure he picked up the right box. Yep, books.

With every step Jimin takes, the hall lengthens by another meter. The door to his new bedroom is further and further away, and the box in his hands now feels like it’s full of lead. He drops the box on the floor, cracking open the hardwood. Jimin hears a series of snaps and pops that sound like a dead tree breaking apart in a hurricane, and then he’s falling through the floor, splinters of wood turning to sawdust and floating down with him like confetti until he lands in a bed.

He doesn’t exactly land, of course. There’s no impact, no bounce on the springy mattress. He just stops falling and is in bed. In fact, he’s under the covers, and he’s not alone. Tucked into the other side of the bed is a boy about his age, sound asleep, soft brown hair falling haphazardly around his face and on the pillow.

The light is too bright, blinding white and reflecting off of equally white sheets, but it accentuates the golden tan of the boy’s skin. The covers are pulled up to his chest, leaving his shoulders bare. Jimin can count the tiny moles that dot his skin along his arms and neck. There’s even one on the very tip of his nose, and it moves when the boy’s nose twitches in his sleep. He whines, softly, like a puppy. Jimin has the strong urge to pet his head.

He reaches out to brush the back of his knuckles across a smooth cheek, but before Jimin touches him, the boy’s eyes fly open. They’re familiar, deep green and wide in terror. He’s not looking at Jimin. Whatever he’s afraid of, it’s behind Jimin, and he twists his neck to see what it might be.

A wall of water stretches from one corner of the room to the other, clear like glass but moving, rippling like the surface of a still pond ruffled by the wind. The ripples turn to waves that splash against the white ceiling and drip onto the floor, leaving puddles that grow deeper with every wave, the carpet collecting several centimeters of water wall to wall, and then half a meter and more, creeping up the sides of the bed. The edges of the sheets billow out in the water, and the waves turn horizontal, the water level still rising and beginning to dribble over top of the covers.

Jimin stands on the mattress, and so does the boy, hopping onto Jimin’s back and squeezing his arms around Jimin’s neck, leaving him gasping for breath. Jimin tries to pry him off, but the boy is strong, holding on like he’ll die if he lets go.

The water rises faster, pouring into the room from who knows where, and it pulls at the boy, tugging him by his toes and feet and knees and hips, trying to drag him away from Jimin. The boy’s grip tightens around Jimin’s throat until he starts feeling light headed, his heart pumping harder to try to keep his brain supplied with practically nonexistent oxygen. As the water level exceeds his height, Jimin instinctively kicks his feet to keep their heads above water, but the force that’s pulling the boy away is also pulling him down.

With one last shallow gulp of air, Jimin’s feet return to the mattress. The boy clings to his neck, the water envelops them, and for a moment Jimin forgets to panic at the lack of air because everything beneath the surface feels so peaceful. His hair and clothes fan out around him, and his arms float up at his sides, weightless.

The peace doesn’t last long as Jimin’s lungs are soon screaming for air. He struggles to swim to the surface, lugging the boy with him. It feels like the boy is carrying heavy rocks in his pockets, like his body itself is made of iron, and the harder Jimin swims, the more the boy’s grip slips until he’s sinking down while Jimin is floating up.

Pain bursts across Jimin’s forehead when he reaches the surface. He’s hit the ceiling, and there’s a bare few centimeters between it and the water, Jimin cranes his neck to lift his face and get a breath before plunging back down in search of the boy.

When Jimin opens his eyes under the water, a hole has opened up in the center of the mattress. It’s the water out of the room like a vacuum, causing a whirlpool with the boy right in the center. He’s swirling in circles, reaching for Jimin with both hands as his feet disappear into the void beyond the gaping hole.

It happens in a flash: The boy’s body stretches and distorts for a split second before sliding right through the hole and into the darkness. The opening shrinks and mends itself. The water pours out of the room through the open door where Namjoon stands, and Jimin drops to the bed on his hands and knees, the mattress as hard as concrete. Tears spring to his eyes, and his chin pours blood from the impact. Namjoon is screaming at Jimin for letting the black hole consume their new roommate, and he’s pounding on the wall in anger. Bang, bang, bang.

 

“Jimin! What is going on? Why is the door locked? Let me in!”

Jimin groans as he pushes himself up from the floor, kicking frantically at the blankets wrapped around his legs. He stumbles to the door and unlocks it, and Namjoon falls through when it opens.

“You were screaming. Are you okay?” Namjoon asks as he rights himself and checks Jimin for injuries. His fingers linger on Jimin’s forehead and chin. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” Jimin huffs, pushing Namjoon’s hands away from his face. He gingerly takes a seat on the edge of his bed, his knees aching. He must have rolled out of the bed in his sleep.

“No, really, your chin is bleeding pretty bad,” Namjoon persists. He grabs a handful of tissues from the dresser and wipes Jimin’s neck before pressing them gently against the cut on his chin. “What happened, huh? Was it another nightmare?” Jimin nods, and his face contorts as he tries to hold back his tears. “Wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head as the tears begin to flow, and he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

Namjoon wraps his arms around Jimin and shushes him. He rocks Jimin until he’s calm, then he carefully lays him down with his head resting on the pillow. Jimin clutches at Namjoon’s shirt when he pulls away. “Please, don’t leave me alone,” he murmurs, and Namjoon shushes him some more, leaning over to reach the blankets on the floor. He slides in bed with Jimin and covers them, and he pulls Jimin to his chest, soothing him to sleep in the safe cocoon of his arms.

 

“You never came back to bed,” Hoseok whispers as he passes Namjoon a cup of coffee over the kitchen counter. “Is Jimin alright?”

Namjoon takes a long sip before answering. “I don’t know. He seems too old for nightmares, doesn’t he?”

“Is that what it was? A nightmare?” Hoseok guides Namjoon over to the couch and snuggles up against his side.

“I think so. He had one a few weeks ago too. I heard him crying in his room and had to stay with him until he fell asleep.”

“Did he tell you about the dreams?” Hoseok asks as he threads their fingers together.

“No. The first time he didn’t offer and I didn’t want to pry, but last night he nearly broke down on me when I asked.”

“Mmm… Maybe ask him when he’s not still reeling from it.” Hoseok’s keeps his voice quiet. He knows Namjoon has hardly slept. Hoseok could hear Jimin tossing and turning all night, only really calming down around dawn. Namjoon’s eyelids sag, and Hoseok extracts his hand from Namjoon’s to place the mugs on the table before they both end up soaked with hot coffee.

“You’re not upset, are you?”

Hoseok nuzzles further into Namjoon. “Am I upset that you’re an amazing friend and the sweetest person on the planet? Nah. I’m not so selfish that I’d keep you all to myself, Joonie. I’m glad you’re here for Jimin when he needs you.” Hoseok stops talking when he hears Namjoon snoring softly, and he sighs. “Sweet dreams, babe.”

 

Jimin's feet are wet. His pants are rolled up at the ankles, but they're wet too, the fabric wicking salt water up to his knees. There's sand between his toes, and the sound of crashing waves drowns out everything else around him.

The moon is high in the sky, full and glowing bright, reflecting off the ocean and turning the shore into a field of sparkling diamonds. The breeze blowing off the water and mixing with the salty spray chills Jimin’s skin. He shivers and takes a few steps into the surf to let the water warm him.

Someone calls to him, and he turns toward the voice. Namjoon is standing on the balcony of a house. They’d rented it for a week last summer when Hoseok had insisted they needed a break from studies and work and life in general. The pale peach siding is washed out in the moonlight, turning it an odd, sickly green color, and Namjoon leans against the railing as he yells for Jimin to come back inside.

“It's late. High tide is coming soon. Don't want you getting swept away, buddy.”

Jimin waves him off, but suddenly the water rises from ankle deep to mid-thigh. He backs away clumsily until he's halfway back to the house, but the next wave that crashes against the shore brings the water up to his waist. Another breaks over the top of the first, hitting Jimin square in the chest and knocking him over. Before he can recover the undertow grabs him and tugs his head under, pulling him away from the shore.

He can’t swim away. He can’t get any traction in the wet sand. He’s at the mercy of the ocean.

Jimin gives in, allows the swirling waters to toss him to and fro, his body limp like a ragdoll. As rough as the waves are near shore, once he’s a little deeper it’s almost calm. There’s still motion, but it’s no longer tumbling him around like a washing machine or slamming him into the sandy bottom of the ocean. His arms and legs float around him like he’s dancing.

When the motion slows, his brain reminds him that he hasn’t had a breath in over a minute, and he propels himself to the surface for air.

“How do you do that?” a deep, throaty voice asks.

Jimin would gasp and jump if he weren’t suspended nearly a meter above the sand and already panting to catch his breath. Instead, he snaps his head to the right to see who the voice belongs to. It’s the boy from his other dreams.

“Do what?”

“Breathe underwater. You were breathing underwater.”

“I was?” Jimin his head to the side and immediately has to shake the water out of his ears as the angle causes drops to roll into them. “I don’t think I was.”

The boy nods insistently. “You were. You had to be. You were down there for ages. I thought you’d died.”

“I-”

“How do you do it?” He’s demanding now, his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, shaking him. “You have to teach me! I don’t want to drown again! Please!”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! ” Jimin answers as the boy grows even more frantic. He releases Jimin to tug at handfuls of his sandy brown hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I did it. I just… did. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“It’s coming,” the boy whines, and Jimin looks around to see what he’s talking about. There’s nothing there, nothing. The shore is gone and the house too. They’re surrounded by water all the way to the horizon in every direction. “It’s coming, it’s coming… you have to help me! Teach me how you did it, please. I won’t tell anyone else. I just don’t wanna drown again.”

Jimin shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t know how. It’s just a dream. I can’t really… it’s just the dream.” He wants to help the boy, just like he wanted to help him the last time, just like he wanted to help the fox, but he has no idea how.

And then the boy’s head dunks underwater. It’s sudden, like something grabbed his ankles and tugged, jerking him down. He surfaces, sputtering and crying, begging Jimin to save him. His fingers circle Jimin’s wrists in a tight grip as he goes under again, fighting against something Jimin can’t see and dragging Jimin down with him, and he’s right about Jimin breathing underwater because he’s just a second too late in a breath as he’s pulled down. He tastes the salt as his lungs fill with ocean and braces himself for the burn of water replacing air, but it never comes.

It’s heavier than breathing air but not unpleasant. He opens his eyes, prepared for the salt to sting his eyes, but that doesn’t happen either.

The water is dark, nearly black, and Jimin wonders as the boy tries to use him as leverage to climb to the surface, just how deep they are. He can see the moon shining overhead, but it illuminates nothing, only serving to help him orient himself as to which way is up.

The boy’s feet are on Jimin’s thighs, pushing himself up as he forces Jimin deeper. Jimin grabs at his ankles to stop him kicking and thrashing, and that’s when he feels it, something plant-like wrapped around the boy’s calf like a rope. It’s tight, cutting deep into the boy’s flesh and only constricting more with every movement he makes. Jimin pulls at it, claws at it with his blunt nails, and even tries to gnaw the boy free with his teeth, but nothing he does helps.

The struggling stops, and the boy goes limp against Jimin. His body slides past Jimin’s as he’s pulled into the black abyss beneath them. Jimin catches him by the wrist, and for a moment he’s pulled along as well until another force pulls him in the opposite direction, toward the surface. He screams as he holds onto the boy with both hands.

The force pulls him up by his feet until Jimin is upside down in the water, his feet kicking at the air, and his grip is slipping, his hands sliding up from the boy’s wrists to his fingers to… nothing. Jimin’s hands are full of water, and the boy is gone, devoured by the inky darkness below. When Jimin finally surfaces and takes a breath, he chokes on the air and coughs all the water out of his lungs.

The current takes him back to the beach and deposits him on the wet sand. The tide recedes, and Jimin curls in on himself and cries as he waits for the alarm to wake him from his nightmare.

 

“You look like hell.” Jimin waves Hoseok off as he stumbles through the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee. “Were you up late studying?” Jimin ignores him. Hoseok watches him pour his coffee and shuffle to the bar where he slumps over the counter, resting his forehead on his arms. “Aren’t you gonna drink that?”

“Not yet. Needa wake up first,” Jimin mumbles into the granite.

“Don’t you think the coffee would help with that?”

“Too hot. Where’s Joon?”

“Namjoon left early. He has the first time slot of the day in the practice rooms,” Hoseok answers, and he reaches over the counter to run his fingers through Jimin’s messy hair. “Didn’t you turn in early last night?” Jimin grunts something unintelligible. “More nightmares?”

Finally, Jimin looks up at Hoseok. His face is scrunched up in a most unattractive way, and his eyes are swollen and wet. “He just keeps drowning,” he whines as the tears start to flow. “I think I’m supposed to save him, but I don’t know how.”

“Who?” Hoseok asks as he moves around the counter, closer to Jimin, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s shoulders and letting Jimin burrow into his neck.

“I don’t know him, but the past few weeks this boy has been in all of my dreams. I try to save him, but I can’t.” Jimin sniffles until he’s finally able to regain control of himself.

“Do you think the dreams mean something? Aren’t dreams supposed to be your brain’s way of solving problems it can’t solve when you’re awake?”

“I don’t know. What could my brain possibly be trying to solve?”

Hoseok hums and rests his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “Dreams are usually symbolic, right? Like, if you dream about eating, it probably doesn’t mean you’re actually hungry, but maybe you’re hungry for knowledge or adventure. You said the boy in your dreams drowns?”

“Mmm… pulled underwater by invisible forces or overtaken by a flood.” Jimin gets a little choked up talking about it, but Hoseok shushes him softly.

“Maybe it symbolises you struggling to keep up with your schoolwork or something like that?”

“No. Besides being tired all the time, I’ve been keeping up just fine. I even had time to help Yoongi with a recording for his production class last week, and my supervisor cut my hours at work so I have an extra free evening to study every week.”

“Money?” Hoseok suggests. “Are you having money troubles since you’re working less hours?”

Jimin shakes his head again. “My parents pay my tuition and my share of the rent. All I have to pay is utilities and food. I’m still making more than enough to cover that and still have some spending money leftover. I’m not sure the dreams are about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m never the one who drowns. It’s always the boy. In my last dream I could even breathe underwater.” He pops up off the counter so fast it causes Hoseok’s teeth to clack together. “What if it’s the boy who’s struggling?”

“You talk about him like he’s a real person and not just a boy you’ve seen in your dreams.”

“I kind of feel like he’s real. He doesn’t talk much except to ask for help, but he’s…”

“He’s what?” Hoseok prods.

“I… don’t know.” Jimin frowns.

“Jimin, does the boy have a name?”

His frown deepens, pulling his brows together and forming creases in his forehead. “Namjoon said his name once. I think it started with Tae, but I don’t remember the rest. Tae is definitely right. Maybe I’ll ask him when I see him again.”

“When you see him again? You think you’ll dream about him again?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe. I feel connected to him somehow, like he’s reaching out to me in his sleep. And he’s so pretty, even when his eyes are full of tears and he’s panicked and struggling to breathe. Wow. That’s… it sounds worse than it really is. You’re right, they’re just dreams.”

“Mhmm. Just dreams. Wanna sleep with us tonight?” Hoseok offers. “Just in case.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, hyung. I’ll be fine in my room,” Jimin assures him. “Don’t worry about me.”

Hoseok isn’t so sure. He decides to ask Namjoon about it later. Jimin needs rest, and it doesn’t seem like he’s gotten any real sleep in weeks.

“I gotta get dressed for work. Let me know if you change your mind. You’re welcome in our bed anytime. Well… almost anytime.” Hoseok winks, and Jimin giggles and blushes. He grabs his coffee and follows Hoseok down the hall to start getting ready for class.

 

Jimin is in a bathtub. It’s not his bathroom in his apartment; they only have a tiny shower stall. This is an enormous jacuzzi tub complete with bubbling jets. The water is pink and frothy and warm, and the steam rising off of it smells like strawberries. It comes all the way up to Jimin’s shoulders. It is, without a doubt, the most relaxing dream Jimin has had in recent memory.

He melts into the tub, leaning against the wall and resting his head on a small towel lying folded on the edge. His eyes slip shut. He takes a deep breath and sighs as he lets the tension seep out of his muscles.

“This one is nice,” a deep voice startles him. He opens his eyes and finds the boy sitting across from him. The tub is so wide that the boy isn’t even touching Jimin. He’s on his own side of the tub, reclining in the water and looking completely at ease.

“Yeah, it is. I wish I had a tub like this at home. I’m Jimin, by the way.” The bubbles on the surface of the water make it impossible to see anything underneath, but Jimin is relieved to realise that he has on boxers or swim trunks or something under there. He doesn’t like the idea of being in a bathtub with a stranger, even if it’s a dream. “What’s your name?”

“Taehyung,” the boy answers, and Jimin mentally pats himself on the back; he knew it started with Tae.

“What are you doing here?”

“In the tub? I’m relaxing.”

Jimin’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Not in the tub, in my dreams.”

“I thought they were my dreams.”

“What would I be doing in your dreams?” Jimin asks.

Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. What would I be doing in your dreams?”

“You mean besides tormenting me by making me watch you drown night after night?”

“Hey!” Taehyung shouts. He sits up and leans toward Jimin. “You think I want to drown every time I fall asleep? I’m not enjoying these dreams any more than you are.” He slumps back into his own side of the tub and mumbles, “Except for this one. This one is nice.”

Hoseok’s words are floating around in Jimin’s head. In fact, they’re floating in the bubbles on top of the bathwater. ‘Struggling with schoolwork’ is circling Taehyung’s right shoulder, ‘money troubles’ around his left. “Taehyung?” Jimin asks hesitantly, getting a low grunt in response. Taehyung’s eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful that Jimin feels guilty for disturbing him. “Are you… ya know, are you okay?”

“Okay? I’m ing fantastic. I love bubble baths.”

“No, I mean awake you, not dream you. Are you okay in real life?”

One eye peeks open briefly. “What makes you think I’m not just part of your dreams? What if I’m just some kid you made up in your mind? My face could be some combination of all the faces you’ve ever seen in your life, your brain playing puzzle with noses and eyes and foreheads… lips.” Taehyung extends his foot across the tub and kicks at Jimin’s shin. “Did you at least make me pretty?”

The heat in Jimin’s cheeks has nothing to do with the warm water swirling around him. When he doesn’t answer right away, Taehyung tilts his head at him.

“What? Am I really ugly?”

Jimin giggles. “Definitely not,” he promises. “No, I was just wondering if there’s anything I can do to help you. Maybe if we can work out your real life problems, our dreams can be more like this.”

“So I am pretty?” Taehyung asks with a wicked, rectangular grin.

Jimin scowls at him, frustrated that he’s not getting any clear answers. “You’re deflecting.”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” he tries to bargain.

“I asked first.”

“I see we’re at a stalemate then. I’m just going to enjoy the bath until you give in.”

Jimin watches Taehyung lean back against the edge of the tub again, taking in his smooth skin and strong eyebrows, his soft, shaggy hair, his pink lips and the tiny bit of his tongue that peeks out to wet them. “You’re not pretty,” he whispers. Taehyung’s eye opens again. “You’re not pretty, you’re ing gorgeous. Now will you answer my question?”

Taehyung’s face scrunches up, his nose wrinkling and his brows drawing together in the middle as his lips lift in what could be a snarl if the rest of the expression didn’t look so cute on him. “Being an adult is just so hard,” he sighs. “Nothing in my life prepared me for being on my own. My job doesn’t pay enough to cover my bills unless I work full time. I can only keep my scholarship if I keep my grades up, and I don’t have time to study because I’m always working. I never get enough rest or food, and I feel like I’m not even learning anything because I’m just memorizing material to try to get through exams.”

He’s staring down the bubbles like he thinks he can burst them all with just the power of his mind, and Jimin thinks it must be his own dream because if he were in Taehyung’s dream it would be possible.

“Jimin, what if… what if I don’t graduate? What if by the time I do graduate I’m homeless? What if I’m so tired and hungry I get dizzy and step into traffic and get hit by a car and I’m paralysed but I can’t afford hospital bills because I can’t work anymore? What if-”

“Woah, woah. Hey, Taehyung, let’s calm down. That’s… that’s a big what if there. That’s like, beyond worst case scenario.” Jimin doesn’t remember moving across the tub, but he’s now on his knees in front of Taehyung, water up to his chest and bubbles popping and crackling around his ears. He searches for Taehyung’s hand under the water and grips it tight when he finds it.

“But what if-”

“Shhh shhh. None of that is going to happen. We’ll work it out. I’ll help, just tell me what I can do.”

Jimin tries, he tries so hard to calm Taehyung, but the boy is already so worked up that it’s changing the dream. The water in the tub is starting to move, sloshing side to side as Taehyung panics.

He slips. Taehyung slips, that’s all. His head goes under, and Jimin waits for him to come back up. He waits two heartbeats, ten, and then he reaches for Taehyung to drag the boy up himself. He can’t. It doesn’t matter how hard Jimin pulls, Taehyung won’t budge. It's like he’s stuck to the floor of the tub. Jimin's feet can’t gain traction against the porcelain, his fingers can’t find a grip on Taehyung anywhere, and Taehyung is so still, like he’s already…

 

“No!” Jimin wails. “No no no. I was gonna save him this time, damn it! Why? It’s not fair!”

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Namjoon is pressed against Jimin’s back, his legs wrapped around Jimin’s thighs and his hand pinning Jimin’s arm down to stop his thrashing.

“We’re here.” Jimin can feel Hoseok’s breath on his face, his gentle fingers pushing Jimin’s hair out of his eyes and wiping the tears from his cheeks. “You’re safe. Come on, calm down.”

Jimin gives in to them. His body goes lax between the couple, but then he’s really crying, chest and shoulders shaking with sobs as he whines pitifully, “I was gonna save him. I was gonna save him this time, I was. I tried, hyung.”

“I know, Minnie. It’s okay.” Hoseok lets Jimin bury his face in Hoseok’s shirt, twisting his fists into the fabric as he continues to cry, and Namjoon has released his hold on Jimin’s arms and legs in favor of wrapping an arm around Jimin’s waist to keep him close. They surround him like this until he’s too tired to fight sleep anymore, comforting him and whispering reassuring words. His last thought as he gives in and drifts off again is that he hopes Taehyung has someone like Namjoon and Hoseok to comfort him as well.

 

There’s no water anywhere in sight, and Jimin can’t remember the last time he had a dream this dry. He’s in a waiting room, maybe a doctor’s office, sitting on a surprisingly comfortable couch. For some reason just being in a waiting room makes him feel impatient, even though he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be waiting for.

“Jimin?” a woman’s voice interrupts the rhythm his toes are tapping into the carpet. She is short and round, with fair skin and dark hair. Her purple scrubs have tiny pictures of fairies printed on them, and she has a smile on her face. The way her cheeks bunch reminds Jimin of his own smile, but she has a small dimple to one side of , and her eyes lack the crescent shape his make. She gestures for Jimin to follow her, and Jimin obeys, trailing behind her down a long corridor with doors on both sides spaced every four meters or so.

“Excuse me, why am I here?”

“He’s waiting for you,” she responds without turning around, and Jimin is momentarily mesmerised by her ponytail swinging back and forth as she walks.

“Who is waiting for me?”

The woman stops short in front of Jimin, and he almost walks right into her, forced to reach out for the nearest door frame to keep his balance as he barely manages to plant his feet in time. She looks over her shoulder at Jimin. “I think you know,” she answers with a wink, and before she can even turn back around, Jimin finds himself in an office, sitting across an enormous cherry desk from Taehyung.

The door is behind Taehyung, and all the drawers in the desk are facing Jimin, like the office belongs to him. Taehyung looks nervous. He’s sitting on the edge of his chair, his back straight and stiff, and he’s nibbling at his fingers. Jimin wants to tell him to stop because he has beautiful fingers, but instead he waits for Taehyung to speak.

And he waits.

Jimin is starting to think he’ll wake up before Taehyung works up the courage to open his mouth when finally he sighs and asks, “Did you mean what you said?”

“About what?”

“About… you know, helping me.” Taehyung’s fingernails are gnawed ragged, and he drops his hands to twist them together in his lap.

“Yeah, Tae, I want to help you.” Jimin’s voice is soft, just a whisper. He feels too far away with the desk between them, so he moves around to sit in the empty chair beside Taehyung. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung whines, and Jimin can sense the panic rising in his tone. Jimin needs to calm Taehyung before water starts pouring in from the ceiling or something. He reaches out a hand to touch Taehyung, running gentle fingers along his arm.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Let’s just talk, okay?”

Taehyung’s upper body tips forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, and he takes a few deep breaths. “Okay,” he agrees, and suddenly they’re in a bed.

The room is dark and empty except for the bed, a gaudy, four poster with a canopy and thick, velvet curtains surrounding it. Everything feels rich, from the smooth, satin sheets to the plush mattress. Even the colors are rich, the comforter a swirling mix of deep blues and greens, and Jimin struggles not to let his mind associate it with the ocean just in case the fabric turns into waves.

“Does this make you more comfortable?” Taehyung is still sitting rigidly at the edge of the mattress with his back to Jimin. He shakes his head. Jimin crawls toward Taehyung as he tries to think of a way to change the scene again, to get Taehyung somewhere he can feel at ease.

When he reaches Taehyung, Jimin rests his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. His body slumps back against Jimin at the contact, and Jimin brings a hand to Taehyung’s other shoulder to hold him steady.

“Better?” Jimin whispers. Taehyung nods. “Good. Now, let’s talk. Money or school first?”

“Money I guess.”

“What do you do?” It’s almost imperceptible, the movement of Taehyung’s body, but Jimin is close enough to feel it. First there’s a little shiver, then a deep inhale that fills his lungs and spreads his ribs.

“I’m a stocker at a market,” he says, and Jimin waits for him to exhale. He doesn’t.

“Mmm, you need a better job, and to breathe. Come on, Tae. Breathe for me.”

Finally, Taehyung exhales, but it comes out as a sob. “I’m so scared, Jimin. What if-”

“Nope. No what ifs this time. The last time you asked what if I lost you.” Jimin’s arms tighten around Taehyung, and he wonders when that happened, when Taehyung wound up surrounded by Jimin, nearly sitting in his lap. It’s a dream, he reminds himself. Time and movement are illogical in dreams.

Still, they talk for what seems like a long time, hours and hours, long enough for the sun to rise judging by the light seeping through the canopy. They talk through all of Taehyung’s fears and worries. They talk about possible solutions. Then they just talk, about themselves and their friends… their lives.

The longer they talk, the closer they get, emotionally and physically. Taehyung cuddles up to Jimin no matter where he moves on the bed. Eventually, Jimin finds himself lying back on the mountain of pillows with Taehyung’s head resting on his shoulder. Jimin’s fingers trail lazily up and down Taehyung’s back, and he hears Taehyung yawn, feels him trying to hide it against Jimin’s skin.

He would laugh, but yawning is contagious. He closes his eyes. When he opens them, he’s in his own bed, alone.

 

Jimin's dreams return to normal, or as normal as they get for Jimin. There are no more dreams with Taehyung or anyone else drowning, but one night Namjoon loses his phone, and by the time morning comes, Jimin knows to look for it in the freezer.

Another night he dreams he’s helping a stranger find a lost puppy. The next afternoon, on the way home from school, he comes across something tiny and fluffy hiding in a pile of trash on the sidewalk. He brings the puppy home and takes care of him in hopes that he’ll find the stranger from his dreams. It’s not even a full week later when Yoongi introduces the stranger as his new boyfriend, Seokjin. Seokjin hugs Jimin and thanks him for finding his dog so many times that Jimin goes home smelling like Seokjin’s cologne. It makes him wonder what Taehyung might smell like.

Jimin keeps an eye out on campus for a tall, tan boy with sandy hair and a boxy grin, but he’s not even sure if he and Taehyung go to the same school. He assumes the end of his nightmares means that Taehyung is okay, that Jimin actually helped, but he can’t help missing Taehyung. He starts to think they’ll never see each other again.

 

The very next day after his last shared dream with Jimin, Taehyung finds an advertisement for a job as a nighttime security guard. He almost doesn't apply for the job; what if it's something like Five Nights at Freddy's? That would be worse than his nightmares, but he knows FNaF is just a game. He decides to take the risk, and despite having zero experience in security, he gets the job.

It's the perfect job, really. Taehyung goes to classes all day, naps all evening, and spend his nights behind a security desk, watching the monitors and listening for alarms. The first few nights he gets startled by the cleaning crew when they arrive, but pretty soon he falls into a routine, getting to know the staff members who keep odd hours and studying when there's nothing else going on in the building.

He catches up on his homework and even gets ahead in a few of his favorite classes. He gets more sleep, and it's actually restful, no more waking up gasping for breath. Taehyung's life is great, fantastic, better than it's been since he moved out on his own.

But.

Isn't there always a but?

But he misses Jimin. Jimin with his pretty copper hair and his soft, round cheeks and his heartwarming smile. Taehyung knows Jimin is just a boy he made up to help him work through his problems, a sort of imaginary friend, but he felt real to Taehyung in those dreams.

 

It’s Wednesday. Wednesday is Taehyung’s busiest day on campus. It starts with early morning classes, so early he misses breakfast most weeks. His lectures are back to back all morning with a break for lunch before more classes.

His last class before lunch feels like it lasts an eternity, but when the professor finally dismisses them, Taehyung slings his backpack over his shoulder to rush across campus so he can eat the sandwich he packed for lunch in the courtyard. The day is sunny, the temperature mild, and a gentle breeze tickles his skin as he walks. Taehyung likes the sun. It warms his face and gives him energy, and the wind carries the voices of other students to his ears, chatting and playing around with each other.

And laughing. There’s the most magical tinkling laughter coming from the other side of the courtyard. Taehyung’s feet move without his brain even making a conscious decision, changing his path to cut across the soft green grass, weaving around groups of students gathered in clumps, lounging in the sun. He follows the bubbly sound of the giggles until he rounds the corner of a building and comes across a cluster of people gathered around a picnic table.

A skinny little slip of a man is standing on the table, wiggling his in the face of his incredibly embarrassed looking friend. The friend is trying (and failing miserably) to push the man on the table away from his face without touching anywhere inappropriate while a grumpy guy gives them a look of disgust, but what has Taehyung’s attention, what drew him here in the first place, is the boy on the ground behind them, rolling around in a fit of laughter that has turned his face crimson. The color clashes with his copper hair, and his eyes are scrunched up into little crescents so tight that Taehyung is sure they’re squeezed entirely shut. The boy chokes and coughs, only to laugh harder when he recovers, slapping his thighs and the grass beside him.

“Can we help you?” grumpy guy asks, and Taehyung is startled to find that all three of the men at the table have turned to him, curious looks on their faces. The boy is still trying to calm himself, swallowing down chuckles and wiping tears from his eyes as he looks away from his friends to avoid dissolving into giggles again.

“Jimin?” Grumpy guy keeps his eyes on Taehyung, but the other two turn their questioning gazes to the boy. They move from the table to help him up off the ground, and he stands there staring at Taehyung in stunned silence. “A-are you Jimin?”

“That depends on what you want,” grumpy guy answers. Taehyung is getting a little fed up with grumpy guy, honestly. Taehyung turns to give him a look and takes a step back at the glare he receives. Another guy stands up from the table and rests a hand on grumpy guy’s arm, and seriously, where are all these people coming from? Taehyung could have sworn there were four of them, but now there are five. He feels outnumbered and uncomfortable (and at least two of these guys could take him down no problem, three if grumpy guy is as tough as his attitude), but he’s so sure the boy is Jimin. He can’t just walk away yet.

He thinks over his options, quickly realising that the first thing he wants to say to Jimin after ‘I'm so glad I found you’ is, “Thank you. You did it, Jimin. You saved me. Thank you.”

“You're Tae.” It's not Jimin who says it. It's not even grumpy guy. It's the dude who was dancing on the table. “He is, isn't he, Jimin? This is the boy from your dreams.” Jimin nods, and Taehyung feels like he's about to collapse in relief. “You really are real. Holy , Joon. He's real.”

Jimin takes a step forward, and he looks like he has tears in his eyes. It makes them sparkle in the sunlight. Taehyung feels something warm and wet on his own cheeks and notices he’s crying as well.

Then Jimin’s arms are wrapped around Taehyung so tight, hugging the life out of him. His head fits right under Taehyung’s chin, and he’s saying something. It’s muffled into Taehyung’s chest so he can’t hear it, but it doesn’t even matter because it’s the first time Taehyung’s actually felt Jimin touch him. He thinks his bones are turning to liquid underneath his skin. They both sink down into the grass, and Jimin still doesn’t let go.

It’s suddenly funny. Taehyung laughs through his tears and sniffles, and Jimin looks up at him in confusion. “You should probably introduce me to your friends before you practically mount me in the courtyard,” Taehyung giggles.

Jimin disentangles himself from Taehyung momentarily, turning around to give a quick round of introductions, “Hyungs, this-” but they’re gone. Sometime in the middle of their reunion hug they all slipped away unnoticed, leaving Jimin and Taehyung alone in the grass. “Nevermind, there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

“Damn right,” Taehyung says as he pulls Jimin back into his arms. “I’m never letting go of you again, life saver.”

“Better not,” Jimin sighs. “You’re welcome, Tae. I’m so glad you found me.”