There you go, messin' with my mind

I am usually better when I lie

There I go, stuck inside a shell

And you're living on the other side, a lover's carousel

- Neon Trees

Borders outlined the photograph she was in. Within, a smile had graced her lips - a closed smile - and her eyes had been crescents,  staring straight into the lenses of a camera in a pose that was decidedly candid. Dressed in a baby blue dress, sleeves ruffled, with a silver-coloured necklace round her neck, she was a vision. Minjeong breathed. In, out, in, out... 

The teacher droned on. A low rumble. Jimin disappeared - smoke now trailing after where the once square-shaped picture stood in her mind. 

Minjeong sometimes thought of her. (scratch that, she thought of her all the time)

When night arrived, she knew to expect recurring dreams. She was aware of her wish to forget when she was conscious. Jimin was always phenomenally resilient however, coming in the form of dreams where Minjeong was at her weakest. 

"Do it again." Minjeong could hear the smile through a voice, a faceless voice. 

Flowers and sunlight came into sight. 

"Do what?" Another voice uttered a response - her voice. 

What was previously fogged up, like a long lost memory, became clear. 

Jimin had been wearing a baby blue dress, laughing with her, smiling at her, like a lover or perhaps, a very close friend. The closest friend she'd have. No one smiled at her like that, like she had hung the stars in the sky. 

Suddenly, she turned to her, shining so brightly that Minjeong, watching from another universe, almost covered her eyes. Minjeong looked at them, saw them coming closer together, then, Jimin had pressed a kiss to her temple, had later held her hand and marveled at the flowers surrounding them. Her heart beat rose. It was a picture straight out of an animated film, all perfect and wonderful. She could hear them clearly, and she knew not why her heart ached so gravely. 

'Jimin.'

Grey clouds rose, obscuring their movements.

This was the last shot of them on that particularly sunny day. 

Jogging. 

Out of breath, she had been following her from behind, shouting in indignance. Jimin had turned back, had then stuck out a tongue at her, but, perhaps out of pity, she had waited by the road, hands on her hips, looking every bit the model Minjeong imagined she was.

When she had caught up to her, a frown between her eyes, Jimin had laughed softly.

'Here.'

Holding a hand out, almost coaxing. Minjeong's frown slowly came to vanish, and a smile took its place. Grasping her hand like a lifeline, the both of them nodded once at each other and dashed across the empty road. They reached an ice cream parlour, bought two scoops to share - one mint with chocolate chips, one coffee chip - while they sat by the road where the wind blew, upsetting Jimin's hairdo. It was a funny vision - strands of hair covering her eyes - and the Minjeong within had laughed. But she'd also extended an arm forward, spoon still hanging between her lips, and brushed her hair behind her ears. They tenderly smiled at each other. 

Please don't. 

She could feel her on her skin, and it burned, leaving a charred aftermath. It ached. God, it ached. 

Awaking with a start, she clutched her chest, and felt the beginnings of what seemed to be tears forming in her eyes. It was all very sudden, and, in her delirious state, she actually imagined that Jimin was going to appear in front of her like magic.

She had peered at the closed door of her room, a frown creased between her eyes. Clutching her blankets close to her chest, she had sat, still as a mountain. A second, two seconds...

Slowly, she came to her senses; her heart still pounded quite so rapidly. 

But she resolutely shook her head and concentrated on the soft whirring of the air conditioning, willing her heart to stop its pounding against her chest which ached so very much. But, alas, it was to no avail; the dream had triumph over her strength. If Jimin would just come to her, she was sure that she would be fine. Such a thought didn't help. 

Traces of last night's dream sunk itself into her bones. 

She wrote her dream out on a notebook, willing herself to forget. 

How many more nights? How many more pages? 

Maybe she had seen her from the last vestiges of a dream so long forgotten. Chuckling wryly, she grimaced. In her gut, there swirled writhing snakes. 

Who was she kidding? That voice, that face. She knew her. God, she knew her like she knew the back of her palm. 

Minjeong was fond of deluding herself when it came to a particular person. 

Minjeong disliked pain. 

Minjeong was a very simple person. 

Jimin was stood in front of her, dressed exquisitely. It was Prom. It was finally Prom. 

She had half a mind to simply leave but, clung to her side was Yizhuo - the one who had dragged her along to the dance and promised to stay by her side.

Everything else was a blur to her. Jimin was an arms reach away from her, looking so gorgeous it actually hurt.

'Hey.' Jimin