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It starts the same way it always does - with a regular dream, perhaps not the happy or funny variant, but nothing wrong yet. He enters a museum of some sort, smiles at the clerk, and pays for a ticket. He heads inside and looks around before picking a direction. He walks forward, and starts looking at the displays he passes.
When he was younger, it used to bother him how the details of his dreams were always so vague and hard to remember in his waking hours, but he has learned to let that go. Dreams rarely make sense for anyone, he’s learned.
That, though, is far from his mind at the moment.
Namjoon wanders through a sort of exhibit of unknown origin, a common theme in these dreams. The exhibit he is currently walking through has an equal possibility to be a modern art showcase as a museum exhibit about minerals.
The lights are bright, and nearly blind him as he wanders down hall after hall.
Distantly Namjoon notes, as he turns his head and stares right at the displays of items, that at least it’s not another art gallery, even if the nature of the items gains no further clarity.
Turning a corner, Namjoon turns his head to look at the other wall, but the glass cases are identical to all the others he’s seen. The blurs inside them, too.
It used to freak him out, that in halls so burningly bright, he could never see what was actually on display. The things that blocked his view were never the same, either. In one case, the item is just too tiny to see from afar, the plush velvet it’s laid upon is not even indented. If lucky, he could tell if it was made from a reflective material, at best.
Elsewhere, the item is big and bright, but Namjoon wouldn’t see much of note anyway due to the glare of the light hitting the glass case over it. Or, in the cases that frustrate him the most, even to this day, there would be an irritatingly obvious pixelation or smudge blur over the item in question, the way how news blurs out faces or nudity.
Most frequently though, there would just be too many shadows between him and the display case.
Oh, how Namjoon hates the shadows. The shadow beings, who move soundlessly, crowding around him in the never-ending halls of a museum so bright that shadows shouldn’t exist. They never make a sound, and they never seem to touch him. They shift around him and block his view, and they freak him out, because despite them not having eyes - heck, they barely have shape at all, just a vague outline of a humanoid body - he feels every single one of them stare at him as he shuffles past them.
Turning right at the next junction, Namjoon keeps wandering, head occasionally shifting to look at display cases with items he never gets to see. The longer he walks, the longer he exists among soundless, shifting shadows, the more unnerved he feels.
There is no sound. No whispers of air shifting, of clothes rustling, of the shadows turning towards him, sliding out of his way as he passes and converging behind him. Of his footsteps. His breathing. Not a single sound. Just his restless, anxious thoughts, of the increasing thudding of his heart.
Namjoon wants to groan. He wants to stop moving, wants to sit down and rest. Or better yet, get out of here.
But no matter how many times he follows the sign to the exit, or retrace his steps perfectly, he never gets any closer to the outside. These endless halls are all he knows, and the pain he feels. The ache in his sore, tired feet, as his shoes start to chafe and press uncomfortably, not being made for so much walking. His thighs shaking under the effort of keeping him moving.
Namjoon knows why he can never stop, and why the exit seemingly doesn’t exist. It terrifies him, that knowledge, so he does his best to not think about it too much.
Thinking about it brings the danger closer, as if his thoughts are a beacon leading it straight to him.
No, instead Namjoon focuses on his current situation, and his task, albeit with some difficulty. He opens his mouth, letting out a soundless, frustrated sigh as he continues to try and see into the endless rows of glass cases. One of these infinite displays holds the item he needs to get out of this awful place.
That, or being shaken awake. God, he hopes someone will notice he’s having a nightmare soon, and wake him up.
Well, there was a third method, the most usual one… but he hates it, so he refuses to consider it.
As he thinks that, he spots something around the corner and down a hall he just passed. He lets out another soundless gasp, and with some trepidation, turns on his heel to march back to it.
The shadowy beings around him get agitated, obscuring his view and blocking his way. They still do not touch Namjoon, but they press together oppressively, their sheer presence and agitated force enough to slow his steps, causing him to struggle forward, as if fighting storm winds.
Namjoon is cautiously excited. This has never happened before, and he cannot hear a single sound still. He knows he’s on the right path - he just has to make it back to the last junction and go down the correct hall this time.
Pressing ever forward, this time with a lot of resistance, he does make it back and turns to his left. With a gasp, Namjoon jolts towards it.
There, halfway down a corridor, he sees a case, and he sees how it differs from all the others.
It is broken, for one. The glass is shattered, littering the floor around it, and shimmering on the velvety pillow inside it, along with the vague shape of an item. It’s not blurred, nor pixelated, nor does force his gaze sideways. It is not even blocked by shadow beings, the corridor oddly empty of them as he pushes past the throng and comes out into empty space, having safely made his way through the resisting crowd.
No, the item is merely vague to him due to distance. It’s a first, and Namjoon speeds up his steps, heart thudding inside his chest. As he walks, he keeps his focus solely on the broken case, eager to reach it, and to finally see something other than bright, white walls and glass cases with unknown items inside. He focuses solely on it, so much so that at first, he doesn’t notice anything change.
He doesn’t notice, that with every quick step he takes, he can hear the faint rustling of his clothing fade into existence, nor how his breath comes out in little, short puffs. As he gets closer, he overlooks his steps softly tapping along the floor, growing ever louder.
Namjoon doesn’t notice that as he walks, the light dims, little by little, nor how the shadow beings seemingly are no longer present. At all. They were few, at the beginning of the hall, but they were there, shifting and moving as always. They are gone now.
He only notices something being amiss, when he reaches the case, and his foot crunches down onto the broken glass. He freezes and looks down. Comes to a stop. Shifts his foot, and hears the glass grind against the floor. He gasps, and jolts at hearing his voice.
Awareness hits him like a truck, then. Namjoon gulps, and looks at the velvety pillow inside the broken case.
On it, lies a single, rusted key. With trembling fingers, he reaches out. Grasps it gingerly. Carefully pockets it. The sound of his jacket shifting as he tucks the key away is loud in his ears.
Namjoon feels a breeze hit his neck, and he shivers. He stands frozen, thoughts whirling loudly in his mind, as he considers what to do.
When the breeze - the breath - hits him again, he ducks, and then bolts down the hallway.
Behind him, an enraged screech and the shattering of glass sounds, and he swears under his breath, speeding up. He had fucked up, not paying attention.
The environment never changes, in this stupid dream he has. There is never any sound, and the brightness never dims. The shadows never leave his peripherals. Never, except for when it does, it’s because the danger has caught up to him.
It had never gotten up so close without him noticing before. He tries not to vomit at the thought that it could have gotten him entirely unaware. Killed him, so easily.
Usually, Namjoon liked to put up a fight, make it work for it at least. If he had to wake up due to dying in his stupid nightmare, he could at least make it an honorable one.
Abandoning that particular line of thought as a second screech rings behind him, hot on his heels, Namjoon darts past a cowering shadow, curled between two displays and trying to remain unseen.
More glass shatters, and with it, the lights dim as lightbulbs explode. Namjoon takes a harsh right, pushing himself to run faster. His legs protest the effort, but he pushes harder anyway. He knows he has never gotten this far before, and he won’t give up now, when the end is so close, just barely out of his reach still.
He just has to survive the angry shadow monster that is hunting him down, intending to murder him as brutally as possible.
No big deal. Piece of cake, really.
The static grows louder, and the peripherals of his vision grow blurry. Namjoon lets out an impressive string of curses and ducks down a different hall.
As he runs, he starts to recognize some stuff. Actual displays, of actual items, in varying sizes of cases, some hung on the walls or sat in open shelves. Grinning triumphantly, Namjoon starts taking specific turns, instead of at random.
He knows exactly how to get to the exit, now. He’s so close, that he can taste it.
The static grows deafening, and Namjoon suddenly has to dive sideways, crashing through a fenced-off display, and knocking over the replica of a celebrity of some kind.
Pain explodes down his back, and he screams. Red-hot liquid runs down his back even as he forces himself to his feet, and runs as fast as he can, even with the pain jolting through his back with every step.
Running in the general direction of the huge doors that lead to the precious outside, Namjoon starts to zigzag, ducking behind displays and giant shelves filled with items and books alike, even running down a corridor he knows loops back around. He feels the static recede, and he knows that for the moment, he has gained distance and his only chance at getting out alive.
Stopping for only a mere moment, Namjoon peeks around a corner, and once he makes sure the coast is clear, he runs for the doors, sprinting as fast as he can. The static is still there, faint but ever-present now, so he only has a minute or two to get out.
Skidding to a stop in front of the door, Namjoon digs the key out of his pocket, breath hitching when at first he can’t find it. He thinks, for a long, painful second, that he must have dropped it, but no, Namjoon pulls it out of his pocket. With shaking hands and his breath held, he inserts it into the rusty keyhole, and with some massive effort, twists it around.
The lock clicks. Down the hall, the loudest, most enraged screech so far echoes, making his ears bleed, despite the distance. He winces, ignores the ringing, and twists the doorknob.
The door creaks open, hinges screeching their complaint. He has to push hard to get it open enough to be able to slip out.
He looks over his shoulder and watches the creature run toward him, angry howls and screeching echoing through the halls.
Flipping it the bird, he smirks and slips outside.
The door slams closed behind him, jolting as the creature slams into it with one last, furious screech.
Namjoon jolts awake with his breath in his throat and with his heart pounding in his ears. He sobs, even as a giant grin splits his face and dimples dig deep craters into his cheeks. He had done it, he had survived! He got out, on his own!
His crying finally wakes his bedpartner, and with a tired grumble, Taehyung rolls over and squints up at him.
“Hyung..?” he murmurs, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face as he pushes up so he’s sitting with the other. “What’s wrong?”
“I broke out to the nightmare, Tae-yah.” Namjoon huffs, chuckling to himself as he grins at the younger. The younger, who, in his sleepy state, takes several long seconds to understand what he means before he lights up, more awake now.
“Wait, really hyung? You really got out?” he asks, bouncing a little where he sits. Their entire team is fully aware of the nightmare Namjoon has suffered for most of his life, and how sure he has been of what he needs to do to be free of it. They all had their nightmares, and they’ve always kept each other in the loop of how they’re doing.
“Yeah, Tae. I really did.” Namjoon promises, wiping his tears. He yelps and cradles the younger when he gets tackled down onto the bed, his maknae grinning wildly at him.
“Hyung, that’s amazing! You did great, and I’m so proud of you.” he praises and then smothers his hyung in kisses, a fate Namjoon is more than happy to succumb to.
After a few minutes, they both grow tired again, and settle down to sleep some more. Namjoon happily lets Tae octopus onto him, almost fully over on the younger’s side of the bed, and falls asleep in his arms.
In the morning, when they tell everyone else about his success in winning over the stupid nightmare, no one notices the faint static humming at the edges of their hearing, the clanging of pots, and shouts of joy drowning it out. Later, Namjoon notices a few spots of dried blood on his sheets, but chalks it up to scratching himself in his sleep, and just asks Jungkook for help washing them. He doesn’t remember that he had slept in a shirt, nor how the shirt itself was spotless.
He doesn’t notice the new scar, thin and faint, spanning the entire length of his spine.