Chris swears he's about to lose his mind. His dreams seem to haunt him throughout the week, not letting him focus on even the smallest job. It's something someone is constantly breathing down his neck, watching him from behind.

Whispers seems to follow him wherever he goes, but they're just quiet enough so that Chris can't understand what they're saying. 

He's been sleeping even less than usual, dark circles growing noticeably under his eyes and even some scruff has been growing on his chin. On his way to work, Chris catches a glimpse of himself in the window and winces. He looks shitty, even for a college student.

Pushing open the doors, he makes eye contact with Changbin, who whistles slowly as he walks in.

"You look like you came from hell, man." Chris shrugs, out of energy to even muster up a response. A shiver runs down his spine as he walked through a patch of cold air, and Chris wants to cry. He didn't even do anything. Is his apartment built on a graveyard? Maybe he summoned something on accident. 

"I just want to left alone," he mumbles to himself. Changbin nods, thinking Chris was talking to him. 

"Okay, I'll be here. Jisung couldn't make it, he had to cram for some big test." Changbin falls silent and Chan buries his head in his hands, closing his eyes and slumping into the desk. 

A flowery scent surrounds Chris, and he slowly opens his eyes. He's sitting under a big willow tree, one that has leaves that almost block out all the sunlight. 

"Hi, Channie."

Chris jerks back, scrambling on his hands as he looks to his right. There, sitting just a few feet away, is a boy. The same one, Chris realizes, from his first dream. He's got kind eyes and brown hair that looks like it would feel like silk under his hands. 

The boy smiles, and Chris can't really help but smile back. He has a beautiful smile.

"You came back! I didn't think you were feeling okay," the boy says, starting to become more comfortable. He leans back on his hands, scrutinizing Chris. "I'm Seungmin. Wanna meet the others?" 

Chris blinks a few times before trying to clear his dry throat.

"Uh, there's others?"

Seungmin laughs lightly, looking over his shoulder. "Ofcourse there's others." Chris follows Seungmin's line of view and sees four other people standing right by the leaves. They step forward, none of them making direct eye contact with Chris. 

"The one with the blonde hair, that's Hyunjin. Then the next to him is Jeongin, then Felix, and Minho." Seungmin turns back to Chris, smiling brightly. "We're very excited that you came here. We thought you'd never make it."

Chris bits the inside of his cheek, head spinning. He gather his thoughts just enough to ask, "How do you know my name?"

The one with silver hair walks up, nervously pulling at the hem of his shirt as he approaches. He looks at Chris quickly before looking away. 

"Felix," Seungmin says. "Go ahead if you want to." Felix nods.

"We met." He says in a soft voice, refusing to meet Chris' eyes. "At orientation. We were in the same small group." Chris thinks back to that week, faintly remembering a small boy with similar stature and silver hair. 

Chris just nods slowly, his questions overwhelming. The flowery scent is distracting, not allowing him to really sink into his thoughts or situation. Shaking his head, he looks straight at Seungmin.

Just before he begins to talk, Seungmin shakes his head no.

"You have to go back," he says sadly. "You have to want to come back next time. We don't have enough dust to see you anymore." Chris' eyes flutter, and the smell comes back, stronger than before. Just as he closes his eyes, he recognizes the flower. Daffodils.

"Chris Chris Chris Chris Chris." Changbin's annoying voice brings Chris back to his world, and he jerks up, acutely aware of the lack of flowers. Changbin backs up, hands in the air.

"You looked dead for a second," Changbin laughs a little, eyeing Chris. "Are you sick? I can cover your shift if you want. No one ever calls the Art Department unless it's a referral or something."

Chris grimaces, pinching the bridge of his nose before nodding. 

"Yeah, I'm going home. My head feels stuffy." It wasn't a lie; Chris felt like his brain was going to pound out of his head and all that would be left would be cotton. 

On his way out, Chris kept listening for the small whispers or the prickling on the back of his neck. But he had nothing. There was no sign that what had been following him was there anymore.

Chris pauses, stopping on the sidewalk before pulling out his phone and googling the nearest florist. It's a long shot, he knows it, but maybe, somehow, that stupid flower might help.