Pale, pale, he is pale.

His lips are chapped, and his eyes are lifeless. His hand on mine is cold, and so is the wound on his side. My hands are coated in... blood. His blood?  I scream as I realise the mess I am kneeling on, and he is lying on. His own blood.

look at me, look at me Namjoon. Please don't go, stay with me please. Please...

Jin.

Jin.

"Jin."

I jolt up in cold sweat from my sleep, turning to my lie on my back in the process. I am hot, but incredibly shaking. My heart is beating erratically, and I can't shake off the feeling of having my hands smeared in blood, his blood. "Jin, are you ok?"

Namjoon asks from beside me, and I realise he is the reason I woke up in the first place. He is still lying stiff on his back, his head turned my direction, eyes set in worry. "Am sorry did I wake you?" I ask through a dry throat, trying to keep my unsteady breathing unnoticed. "No, I was awake." He answers rushed, his eyes never leaving my direction. "Did you need anything?" I ask him, taking deep breaths before looking at him. He might have wanted something for him to be awake, but his eyes are trained on me, almost like he can see through my facade.

"No, I am fine." He answers finally, and I let out a breath lying back on the bed, facing the ceiling as well. I am relieved I woke up from up that, it felt so real, so daunting. Just thinking about it I can feel my throat clog up, and my eyes well up with tears. Few more moments in that dream and I would have lost my mind, just like I would have lost Namjoon. It sounds so natural in my head, like he is mine, and mine only, and losing him would devastate me.

I know it would.

"Jin?" Namjoon calls after a bit of silence, and I know he is going to ask, what do I say? what do I do?
"Are you alright. You were calling for me in your sleep." I am not surprised I did that, I remember it vividly, and how horrifying it was, how could I not call out to him, for him. "I was?" I ask anyway, I am not sure how I can explain this to him, knowing well he is not teasing, and I can't make this into some joke.

"Was it a nightmare, is it from the other night?" He pretty much captures everything in that sentence, but I don't know if I want to share this with him, he is already sick, and knowing Namjoon this past few days, he would probably worry if I told him. Somehow he looks out for me like nobody else has, he worries about me, and my safety even when he doesn't have to. I am still in the process of thinking what to tell him when he stretches out a hand to me.

It lands on my stomach, and he squeezes me gently, fingers caressing over the hoodie. "Hey, I am here with you, alright. You don't have to be scared anymore." He says, almost whispers. I can feel his gaze on the side of my head, and I know his eyes are gentle right now. It's a small gesture, but it calms me to no end, it reminds me that he is here with me right now, and not out there on a bloody pavement. Maybe sleeping together wasn't the worst option after all.

After a thorough discussion of the sleeping arrangement, testing the couch, and checking the alleged dusty bedroom, I decided that sleeping together would be the most convenient option. It was easier to help out Namjoon if he needed anything, which was the reason I was here to begin with.

But of course some ground rules were laid, by me, which included no funny business, like touching, to which Namjoon had accused me of thinking sexual things as always but obviously wasn't the case since I was just taking precaution as always. I ended up lodging a fluffy pillow between us, to protect his injured side, in case I got too close to him in my sleep, and to keep his perverted but pretty hands away from me, not that Namjoon could have done anything in his state, seeing as he was still lying on his back.

Speaking about that, "Your back must be cramping." I say turning to face him, I don't make an effort to move his hand that is still resting on stomach, I like it there. "It is, and my legs don't feel right anymore." He laughs a bit, and I see his dimples in the moonlight shinning on us from the blind drawn open in the room. He looks nice, handsome. "Do you want me to help you on your good side?" I ask sensing his discomfort.

"If I turn on my good side I'll be facing the wall instead." He states in a flat tone, and I hum along in agreement, waiting for him to give me the go ahead. "I don't want to face away from you. It's tough enough that I can't see you properly." He confesses suddenly, his eyes meet mine, and I can tell he is not bluffing, or pulling on some smug prank. I don't know what to say to that, if anything I am thankful the lighting is dim in here, because god knows my cheeks do things when he speaks to me like that. Incredibly soft.

"You want to talk about your nightmare?" He asks after a bit, and I heave out a sigh, not wanting to even think about that. He seems to catch on, and nods in agreement, his hand squeezing my stomach reassuringly again. He might always be perverted, but I know right now he is anything but that, his hand is only reassuring, eyes equally the same.

I on the other side, might be the pervert today, I can't help feel how long, and thick his fingers are, his palm, probably a bit rough, I know because they've touched me before, on different occasions that didn't involve this kind of intimacy; the dim lights, the close proximity, and of course the being in bed. I know a secret part of me wishes those times were now, that he would touch me now, minus the cloth and all.

"Why were you awake?" I ask for a change, not wanting to land myself in hot soup by indulging in dirty thoughts. Appealing, but dirty thoughts of Namjoon. "Nothing, just thinking." He sighs, like me earlier. I rake my brain of what might have been keeping him awake, thoughts that couldn't wait.

They are plenty honestly, since the stabbing I guess he has been inconvenienced, everything to him is limited and hindered, not to mention a near death experience that might have possibly traumatized him. "I am sorry this happened to you." I say genuinely, unable to think otherwise that this was my fault. "I told you before, this isn't on you." He says, head turning to look at me.

"I know, I just...are you not mad at me, even in the slightest?" His eyebrows furrow, forehead creasing in the process. "Why would I be?"

"Well, you almost died, defending me, right after we argued..."

"I would do it again if it meant protecting you from those bastards." He cuts me off with a stern look. Eyes hard to show me how serious he is. I know with him I am safe. Injured or not. There is this comfort when I am in his presence, security, when I am with him. It's weird to feel something like that for a person you barely know properly. But then again, here I am, in his bed, supposedly taking care of him. Maybe we aren't as strangers as I think we are.

"Thank you." I say in gratitude. "For everything. Thank you for risking your life for me." He stares at me a second, his hand tightening on my stomach in the slightest before he turns his gaze to the ceiling, a smile stretching on his lips.

"Sap." He replies to my heartfelt sincere gratitude, and I have the urge to smack him up the head. Why did I even think I was talking to someone different for a second there. Shaking my head, I try to will myself back to sleep, but it's almost impossible with the circumstances surrounding me; I am lying in bed, next to Namjoon, my sworn enemy who may or may not like me, who is also my 'adult bully', who I do, kind of like.

But other than that, I don't want to fall a sleep to another nightmare, I've had enough for one night, and I don't think I can take another. "Hard time falling a sleep?" He grumbles in a deep tone.

"I could ask you the same?" I mumble back, eyes closed. I may not be able to get a peaceful sleep tonight, but I hope Namjoon does, he needs it for his recovery. I am about to tell him so but he turns his head to me, "I could sing you a lullaby if it will help you." There is all kinds amusement to his tone, and I laugh internally thinking about him singing me to sleep. That, and, "sure, but I think I'd fall sleep much faster if I heard you rap."

He raises a brow in question for a second, before he groans rolling his eyes. "Jackson." He mutters under his breath. It's my turn to smirk, and of course taunt him a little. "Yes, he told me. But I could have figured out myself with all these..." I motion with my hand as my eyes rake his dim room in awe once more. His selective group of chosen rappers on the wall, different recording equipments, speakers, books, among numerous things he has in this room. It makes me think of how much he must love it, seeing as he has everything laid out in here, but still has some essential things lying unpacked in the other room.

"He didn't happen to show you a certain mix tape, did he?"

"No, Why? What's in the mix tape?" I ask turning so I can fully face him. His side profile is gorgeous as hell, his bed hair surprisingly nice to look at. "Nothing." He mutters with a humorous but nervous laugh. Weird. "That just makes me want to see what's in it more." I say, playfully narrowing my eyes at him. He laughs a bit, showing off those dimples, his eyes never leaving mine.

It's crazy that we are having this conversation at three in the morning instead of sleeping, but I like it, I like talking to him, knowing him. He is interesting, so I keep it going. "Hobby of yours?" I ask, wanting to know more from him. "Music?" He asks, and I hum in agreement. He stares up at the ceiling for a bit, before a new smile stretches on his, lips. It's wide, and unique, like the one he had that day in the restaurant when he talked about his brother. I think it looks good on him.

"Music isn't just a hobby to me, it's..." His mouth opens and closes severally, like there are no words to describe what he is about to say. He sighs deeply, turning to look at me with a soft gaze. "Music is life for me, it's water to my soul, it's pleasing, and healing. I am alive with it, thriving when I rap, sure I use it for entertainment too, listen some times, just to sing along, or appreciate a good bop..." He laughs, and I find humor in that too, smiling along.

"But most times it's the answer to my questions, it helps me through life, always has. It's a message, and voice all the same. Music heals and wounds at the same time, but above all music is a language. One that you and me can understand no matter what." There is so much passion in his eyes as he speaks, so much power held behind his words. I didn't think he was this deep into it, but it's clear to me that he more than likes this, he adores and cherishes it, and his understanding, and point of view is way deeper than most.

"That's beautiful." I say, able to relate.

I know what it's like to have a passion, to be so immersed in something you feel like you can't live properly without it. I feel the same way about designing, I am alive when I have a pencil and a book, I feel like I can breath when I get out a good sketch, or when I have the gauge. My world revolves when I am on a sewing machine, and knowing that I am doing something that I love, and that I am doing it good.

I am tempted to ask Namjoon why he isn't following what seems to be his dream, but I know not all of us can get the chance to do so. Following my own dream wasn't easy, it still isn't. I have been fighting since I was twelve, the first time I discovered my passion, the first time I sew a dress to completion, as opposed to learning business and following in my mother's footsteps. I didn't get a choice back then, but I had to grab one, now that I am grown.

If music is Namjoon's dream, I hope one day he gets to live it.

"Can I listen to one of your works?" I ask, genuinely eager. He laughs, but doesn't oppose. "You probably have, but sure thing." I am suddenly excited, what if he has songs out there that I have listened to, that I like. What if his raps are my favorite. There are a lot of artists that I know their songs but have never seen their faces. Interesting.

"Cool."

"I'll have to charge you though."

"Oh, come on." I protest immediately, "your charging me for that wedding attire your making for me." He counters with a playful smile. "That's not the same." I say back, he is unbelievable. He smirks his lips loudly, pretending to be thinking. "Well, your special, so I guess I could loosen some strings for you." He says to which I playfully role my eyes.

"Oh sure thing Oppa, that would be an honor. I truly can't wait." I say enthusiastically in fan girls voice, just to add effect to my sarcasm. He breaks out into a loud laugh, one which causes a pain in his stitches. But he is far too amused to stop himself from cackling, and that contagious laughter of his.

We talk a while, about his music dreams, right from high school until now, and about what he aspires for the future with his dreams. His family pop up during the conversation, but he doesn't say a lot about them, despite him being cheerful when he mentions them. I don't push him to tell me more about them either, especially when I can tell something is holding him back. Similarly to me when I tell him about my dreams. My own family comes up once in a while, but I am too chicken to tell anyone about this yet. So we keep it simple, with a bit of flirting from Namjoon, which makes my cheeks blaze once in a while.

Somewhere around dawn, when the sun is rising, we finally find sleep. I am too tired, and too happy - the happiest I have been in a while, and all because of Namjoon, and his stories. I don't think much as my sleepy self laces Namjoon's hand that rests on my stomach with mine. Like always, it fits perfectly, and I smile a little as I feel him holding me back, squeezing gently.

Somehow I don't get any nightmares this time.