2:16 A.M. | BTS ✓

18

Jimin decides to sleep on his couch, hoping that the change of routine will give him enough of a distraction to calm his racing mind.

The strange encounters have been so small when he looks at them objectively; knocks here and there, things left different than when he left them and temperature drops.

But when he is the one experiencing these things instead of just reading or hearing about them, it's different. It's taking a toll on him. Every waking moment he feels the need to look over his shoulder or hold his breath to see if he can hear someone else breathing near him when he's alone.

He's losing his grip on reality; he's questioning if everything he sees, hears and feels is even real or if his mind has crossed into a place of lies and delusions.

Even now, Jimin can feel eyes on him, his fingernails digging into his palms as he lays on his back with his eyes closed, far too terrified to look for the source of the gnawing sense of discomfort.

He doesn't want to see it.

The first whisper that breaks the tense silence, Jimin just barely catches. It's more of a release of breath, just as he heard when things first started happening.

He tries his best to blame the wind again, though deep down, he knows that isn't the case.

The second whisper is more prominent, and not just a breath.

It says his name.

Jimin turns on his side to face the back of the couch, his chin trembling as he tries to focus on his own breath escaping in pants from his parted lips.

His heart is beating so furiously, he can hear it alongside the whisper of his name.

The third whisper is as clear as if he had been the one to speak it.

"Jimin."

"Stop," he whispers, goosebumps erupting on his skin as he feels the temperature plummet around him, that feeling of being watched intensifying - as if the person watching has moved closer.

As if they're just behind him, breathing on the back of his neck.

The fourth whisper makes Jimin scream in fear, jumping up and running for the front door of his apartment.

It whispers in his ear. Jimin can feel its breath tickle his skin as his name leaves its lips, the rasp in its voice causing his stomach to lurch.

Jimin doesn't look behind him as he pulls his boots on, desperately trying to find where his keys are in the darkness of his living room.

Dragging footsteps sound behind him, and his breaths are coming out as whimpers as he frantically searches for his keys.

As soon as his fingertips feel the cool metal of the keychain, he grabs them in his fist, not even flinching when one of his keys digs into his palm and he jumps up, nearly tripping over his untied shoelaces as he goes to unlock his door.

As soon as the door is opened, the footsteps stop and Jimin dares to glance back over his shoulder as the dim light from the hallway seeps into his living room.

And he knows, for the rest of his life, he will regret that decision.

Because after so long of squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn't see, he finally lays his eyes on what has been slowly tormenting him to the brink of shattering.

It's like the thing is made from shadows, nothing but darkness surrounding its limbs. It looms over Jimin by several feet, its head and shoulders slouching forward to compensate for the ceiling just above it. He can't make out anything except the whites of its eyes staring right at him from between strands of shadowy hair, fingers stretching out from impossibly long arms toward him.

A scream rips from its throat as Jimin runs, slamming his door shut as he takes off down the hallway, the residual screeches of his name coming from that thing burning themselves into his core.