Chapter 1 - Night mare's
The city outside was quiet, its lights glowing faintly against the dark sky. Inside his luxurious apartment, Yoongi lay restless in bed. The silence of the night was broken only by his uneven breathing as his body twisted beneath the sheets.
In his dream, flames surrounded him. A small room—familiar yet unrecognizable—was collapsing in fire and smoke. Through the chaos, he could see the blurred figure of a girl. She was calling out to him, reaching desperately through the fire, but every time he moved closer, the distance between them grew. Her voice trembled, fading into the crackle of burning wood until he could hear nothing but silence.
“Wait… please—” His voice echoed, but the dream swallowed it.
Yoongi jolted awake, gasping for air. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, trying to convince himself it was just another nightmare. But the sharp ache in his chest told him otherwise. This wasn’t just a dream—it felt like a memory.
He sat at the edge of his bed, rubbing his face with trembling hands. Nights like this had become frequent. The same faceless girl, the same fire, the same suffocating sense of loss. And every time he woke, it left him with an emptiness he couldn’t explain.
“Why… why does it feel so real?” he whispered to himself.
Unable to calm his thoughts, he poured himself a glass of water, staring out at the Seoul skyline. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase the image of the girl’s hand reaching for him from the flames.
And deep down, he knew—this dream was only the beginning.Yoongi’s eyes lingered on the city lights outside his window, but his mind refused to settle. The silence of the apartment felt heavier than ever, pressing on his chest. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and dialed the one number he trusted at times like this.
“Hyung?” Jungkook’s sleepy voice came through after a few rings.
Yoongi hesitated. “...I had that dream again.”
There was a pause on the other end, the kind that carried unspoken worry. Jungkook’s tone shifted instantly, laced with concern.
“Again? Hyung, this is the third time this week, isn’t it?”
Yoongi pressed his fingers against his temples, his voice low.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jungkook. Every time, it’s the same fire, the same girl… I don’t even know her face, but I feel like I’m losing her all over again. It’s eating me alive.”
The younger one sat up in his own bed, wide awake now.
“Hyung, you’re scaring me. You sound… exhausted. Have you talked to anyone about this? A doctor, maybe?”
Yoongi let out a dry laugh, though it lacked any real humor.
“A doctor can’t fix this. How do you explain something that feels more like… memory than a dream?”
Jungkook stayed quiet for a moment, trying to choose his words carefully.
“Hyung, whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. Maybe it’s time you try. Just talk to someone. Please.”
Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning back against the cold glass of the window. The sincerity in Jungkook’s voice was heavy, grounding him.
“I’ll… think about it,” he muttered, though both of them knew it was more of a promise than he was willing to admit.
Jungkook sighed softly, his voice softer now.
“Hyung, you’ve always been strong for everyone else. Let someone be strong for you this time.”
The line grew quiet, but the weight of Jungkook’s words lingered long after the call ended. Yoongi set his phone down and stared at his reflection in the glass. The man looking back at him appeared calm, but inside, he was unraveling piece by piece.
And deep inside, he feared the dreams weren’t done with him yet.
Next dayThe Session
The sterile white walls of the psychiatrist’s office made Yoongi uneasy. He sat stiffly on the leather chair, hands clasped tightly, as though holding himself together. His dark hoodie and cap made him blend into the shadows, but nothing could hide the exhaustion carved into his face.
Across from him, the psychiatrist adjusted his glasses and studied him quietly for a moment before speaking.
“Mr. Min, Jungkook mentioned you’ve been having recurring dreams. Would you like to tell me about them?”
Yoongi’s jaw tightened. His instinct was to brush it off, to say he was fine. But the weight in his chest refused to let him. He exhaled slowly, his voice low and rough.
“It’s not just dreams. It feels… real. Too real.”
The psychiatrist leaned forward slightly. “Can you describe them?”
Yoongi hesitated, his fingers tapping against his knee. Finally, he muttered,
“There’s always fire. A room collapsing around me. And… a girl. I can’t see her face, but she’s there, reaching for me. She’s calling out, like she needs me. Every time, I try to reach her… but I can’t. And then—” he stopped, swallowing hard. “She disappears in the flames.”
Silence lingered between them. The ticking of the clock grew louder in the quiet room.
The psychiatrist scribbled a note, then spoke gently.
“Dreams can sometimes be fragments of your subconscious, tied to emotions you suppress in waking life. But from the way you describe them… they seem to carry a much deeper impact on you.”
Yoongi looked away, his voice almost a whisper.
“It doesn’t feel like my subconscious. It feels like… memory. Like I’ve lived it before.”
The psychiatrist observed him carefully, his tone measured.
“Sometimes, trauma or unresolved emotions can manifest in this way. Whether from your own life or… something your mind believes is from before. Tell me, Yoongi—what do you feel when you wake from these dreams?”
Yoongi’s hands clenched into fists.
“Like I’ve lost something. Like I’ve lost her… all over again.”
For the first time, the psychiatrist’s expression softened, almost concerned.
“Perhaps your mind is trying to tell you something important. I suggest we explore this further—through therapy, and perhaps… by facing what these dreams are urging you to remember.”
Yoongi didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at the floor, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Deep down, he already knew—this wasn’t something he could just “heal” from. These dreams weren’t going to stop until he uncovered the truth.
The psychiatrist leaned back, folding his hands thoughtfully.
“Yoongi, sometimes the mind creates these vivid dreams when it’s under extreme stress. Given your career, the constant pressure, expectations… it wouldn’t be unusual.”
Yoongi stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“I would suggest,” the doctor continued gently, “take a break. Step away from your idol life for a while. Go somewhere quiet, away from the cameras and the weight of your schedule. A vacation might help your mind breathe again. Perhaps, when you’re free of the stress, the dreams will lose their hold on you.”
Yoongi gave a small, humorless scoff. “You really think a vacation can fix this?”
The psychiatrist’s gaze softened. “Sometimes, answers come when you stop searching so hard. Distance can give clarity. At the very least, it will give your heart some rest.”
Yoongi didn’t respond, but the thought lingered. A break. A pause from everything. Maybe… it was exactly what he needed
