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Summary
His legs carry him down hallways that should feel warm in their sunlit haze but don’t, through barer stone corridors that should feel cool but don’t. His awareness has shrunk like a pinprick to the throb of his deadened pulse that he can feel all the way into his aching teeth, the need burning so bright through every part of him that even his eyes sting hot. Jimin presses his forehead against the polished wood door in front of him, grips the brass handle so hard his fingers threaten to pop. At the soft contented sigh and susurration of movement just beyond the door, he pushes it open without waiting.
The first thing he lays eyes on is Taehyung.