Jin’s eyes snap open and he sits up with a jolt, throat raw and stuck in a garbled scream. He stares unseeing at the walls for a long moment, his mind racing, continuing to play back the last few scenes from his dream. The queit stillness of the night is broken only by his harsh, panting breaths, and he shakes his head, trying to calm himself, calm his breathing. But he cannot stop shivering, and a full body shudder escapes him when he fails to will the disturbing images away. He gasps out a shaky exhalation and collapses on the bed, sweat making the thin t-shirt stick uncomfortably close to his body.
An hour later, the blanket is tangled up around his legs and he’s fisted the bed sheets tightly in his hands. Despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to get back to sleep; he’s wound up too tight. He turns until he’s lying on his back and is staring blankly at the ceiling. The sequence of images end up going through in his mind again, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
The ceiling in his bedroom is very white, with nothing marring the smooth perfection of the walls. Only a few weeks ago, Jin had tried his level best to persuade Kame to part with his precious projector for a night, convinced of the cleverness of his idea of using the projector to watch movies in his room. He’d been spectacularly unsuccessful in his attempts, to his great disappointment (“No.” “But Kame-” “No. You’re not even supposed to know I have it, it’s not like I’ve told anyone-” “How does that matter anyway? It’s on the third drawer of your cupboard in your bedroom, right, I can go get it right now, no problem-” “Wait, how do you know where I keep it?” “...Um, never mind that, oh look, we’re late for our photo shoot, let’s go, let’s go!”), and so had to settle on watching some stupid French movie instead of the action thriller he’d originally wanted, on Kame’s cramped bed that had barely enough space to accommodate the both of them, leave alone the popcorn. Kame keeps insisting that his new, insanely expensive cot is a priceless antique and had refused to part with it at any cost, regardless of Jin’s constant complaints about the item in question. Jin had grumbled, but had reluctantly given in to Kame’s iron determination. He’d spent the rest of the evening with Kame, laughing at the movie and its bad melodrama, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking of his western-style King bed, and how it would have been so much more comfortable in his room. His room, with its newly painted walls. Perfect to project images on, he remembers thinking longingly.
Now, as he lies on his bed at little past 5 am, he decides that he’s changed his mind. He wishes that the ceiling wasn’t quite so bare, wishes that there was something to focus on, some imperfection to distract him. He’s not up to closing his eyes quite yet - the blank shock on Kame’s face is still branded on to the backs of his eyelids; but even with his eyes open, he’s unable to stop thinking of the images from his dream; Kame, with him, Kame in the car, his head turning towards him in slow-motion and lit by the glare of the headlights from the oncoming vehicle, the uncomprehending look on Kame's face as he’s-
No, not a dream.
Jin tilts his head to face away from the first, faint colours of the breaking dawn that seeps in through the glass panes of the window.
Nightmare. Jin bites his lip and shivers just a little. Just a nightmare.
spreading to: darkgloom
Jin’s eyes snap open and he sits up with a jolt, throat raw and stuck in a garbled scream. He stares unseeing at the walls for a long moment, his mind racing, continuing to play back the last few scenes from his dream. The queit stillness of the night is broken only by his harsh, panting breaths, and he shakes his head, trying to calm himself, calm his breathing. But he cannot stop shivering, and a full body shudder escapes him when he fails to will the disturbing images away. He gasps out a shaky exhalation and collapses on the bed, sweat making the thin t-shirt stick uncomfortably close to his body.
An hour later, the blanket is tangled up around his legs and he’s fisted the bed sheets tightly in his hands. Despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to get back to sleep; he’s wound up too tight. He turns until he’s lying on his back and is staring blankly at the ceiling. The sequence of images end up going through in his mind again, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
The ceiling in his bedroom is very white, with nothing marring the smooth perfection of the walls. Only a few weeks ago, Jin had tried his level best to persuade Kame to part with his precious projector for a night, convinced of the cleverness of his idea of using the projector to watch movies in his room. He’d been spectacularly unsuccessful in his attempts, to his great disappointment (“No.” “But Kame-” “No. You’re not even supposed to know I have it, it’s not like I’ve told anyone-” “How does that matter anyway? It’s on the third drawer of your cupboard in your bedroom, right, I can go get it right now, no problem-” “Wait, how do you know where I keep it?” “...Um, never mind that, oh look, we’re late for our photo shoot, let’s go, let’s go!”), and so had to settle on watching some stupid French movie instead of the action thriller he’d originally wanted, on Kame’s cramped bed that had barely enough space to accommodate the both of them, leave alone the popcorn. Kame keeps insisting that his new, insanely expensive cot is a priceless antique and had refused to part with it at any cost, regardless of Jin’s constant complaints about the item in question. Jin had grumbled, but had reluctantly given in to Kame’s iron determination. He’d spent the rest of the evening with Kame, laughing at the movie and its bad melodrama, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking of his western-style King bed, and how it would have been so much more comfortable in his room. His room, with its newly painted walls. Perfect to project images on, he remembers thinking longingly.
Now, as he lies on his bed at little past 5 am, he decides that he’s changed his mind. He wishes that the ceiling wasn’t quite so bare, wishes that there was something to focus on, some imperfection to distract him. He’s not up to closing his eyes quite yet - the blank shock on Kame’s face is still branded on to the backs of his eyelids; but even with his eyes open, he’s unable to stop thinking of the images from his dream; Kame, with him, Kame in the car, his head turning towards him in slow-motion and lit by the glare of the headlights from the oncoming vehicle, the uncomprehending look on Kame's face as he’s-
No, not a dream.
Jin tilts his head to face away from the first, faint colours of the breaking dawn that seeps in through the glass panes of the window.
Nightmare. Jin bites his lip and shivers just a little. Just a nightmare.
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