While I Sleep? ? ?

It's daunting. Very very daunting. It's something he cannot bear. It repeats in a loop, every night; every single night.  He is watching it again, the same nightmare. He is watching it for months, he is trying to cope up with it. He knows he can't control the sequence of the clips that play inside his head, after all, these are dreams—whether good or bad. But he can surely choose what he sees, what he dreams.

He rolls on the bed, now lying on his right arm. He pulls his legs closer to himself, trying to hold back his fear, trying to fight this moment. This impairs him, much more than he already is. He is vulnerable, he is weak, he is alone; fighting battles that can never be fought or won against.

His eyes pop open as he springs up on his bed. His chest rises up and then lowers down in a repeating loop. His breaths are loud and unsteady. He is sweating and is afraid, that he might take a wrong step in the upcoming days.

He is now not back there. He lives with two other people, two strangers. He can't risk their lives by constantly bringing back the awful memory everytime.

His hands slowly grip his silky, ebony hair as he ruffles it in frustration. Sighs of vex leave his mouth for he is disappointed in himself for watching the same nightmare over and over for the past few months.

He brings his knees upto his chest as he hugs them and shoves his face in the miniscule distance between his abdomen and knees.

He wants it to stop.

Unknowingly, he starts to cry. He is impuissant and does not know how to stop this menacing nightmare from haunting him every night.

This is the only dream which he cannot stop himself from seeing. He wants this to stop haunting him, but he also wants to keeping seeing it, for this is the only way he can take a look at him.

A knock on the brown door snaps him out of his thoughtful state. He quickly wipes his tears and he sniffs and gets up to open the door.

His trembling hands tremulously hold the doorknob and he twists it to open the door to a slight bit.

The door is very slightly opened and the only thing someone can see is half of his face with the bangs of his brown hair hanging loosely.

"Hi." A tranquil voice speaks from the other side of the brown door.

His eyes rise up inchmeal, as he un-surely looks at the figure standing at the doorstep, giving him a sweet, heart-warming smile.

"Hello." Jungkook hesitantly replies.

"Uh, I was wondering if you'd like to have breakfast with Taehyung and I, or in your room." The pink-haired boy asks.

What should he say?

"I'll have it with you." Jungkook replies.

An ear to ear smile forms on the pink-head's face as he nods and goes to what Jungkook assumes the kitchen.

He closes the door as he stands idle, looking at his feet.

His new roomates are not that bad. Infact, he finds them good and friendly. Infact, whenever he secretly watches them goof around, he recalls how he was one of them once. He reminisces his past with his only friend.

Heaving a sigh, he walks towards the bathroom, going out of his room.

He enters it and the first thing he notices is the gloom in his eyes. His walnut coloured eyes are deep pits of grief. He can see himself struggling to get out a dark enclosed room to meet up the happiness he is striving for.