Chapter 13: 3am

I sit on my bed with only the lamp on. It spills yellowed light beside me, casting weary shadows around the room. I stare blankly at a patch of carpet a few meters from my bed. I’ve been in this state since the darkness crept out of the shadows.

I hug my pillow tighter and drop my chin into it. I sigh, unsure what to do with myself anymore. Part of me is thinking of the current Hoseok and the way my heart flutters around him; another part of me is thinking of the past Hoseok and how my heart aches with the thought of him; whether the past and present Hoseok can be considered a single person anymore—I don’t know; and the final part of me is thinking about Namjoon.

Namjoon has been with me through so much; him and Yoongi have been encouraging, inspiring, mentoring and caring for me for so long. I could say the same for Hoseok but he doesn’t remember any of that so can the him at his current state be credited? Would it make more sense to say Namjoon has supported me more out of the two?—no, but—wait, can I even deny that? Is it truly a fact?

I grumble and gnaw on my bottom lip. I’m so confused that I’m starting to stress. I want to be happy—I really do—but why is it so difficult not to think about the negative things when you’re alone?

‘Namjoon… how long…?’

‘And why only now?’

I feel slightly frustrated. He should know how much I’m going through already. He was there to comfort me at the start so why is he doing this now—as if he’s taking back his previously considerate acts?

I heave another long, heavy sigh, hoping my worries would be dragged out of my body along with my breath. Of course they do not and I’m still alone in the room with the dim lighting. The thoughts circling my head are like vultures, keeping me awake while I fear of being eaten.

‘What will I do when I see him again?’

I blink as I realise my vision has blurred. I shuffle around slightly, the bed sheets crackling.

‘How should I act...?’

I feel like I can all my questions are blurring my usual thoughts. I wish I could at least sort them in shelves and file numbers in my mind—maybe that way I could clear some away. If only I could physically gather them. I would put them in a box and hide them away—or discard them completely.

I frown bitterly at my wishful thinking. Reluctantly, I turn my head to check the time. The digital clock by the bed reads almost three in the morning—last time I had checked it was a quarter past one. I frown, lean over and place the clock down so it doesn’t stare at me with its intimidating face.

‘Why is my situation so much like a drama?’ I can feel my forehead fix into a grimace, suddenly I don’t like how fictional stories portray this kind of situation. They romanticise it and make the victim a masochist for painful thoughts. I don’t like it. I feel so anxious and lost. I keep thinking ‘What do I do?’ ‘What can I do?’ ‘Can I do anything?’ It’s a vicious cycle with no answer to put it in line.

‘Why can’t someone just save me?’

It’s the only hope I have. I let silence sink into the room until my mind is buzzing so loudly it echoes.

“Hoseok…”

I murmur his name under my breath. My voice is strain and raspy, muffled against the pillow. I can feel myself tearing up. I squint, lift my head and try to blink it away. A tear slips down my cheek, my head follows with it, and both curl into the fabric of my pillow. I stare at the fabric pressed below my eyes take on a darker shade. I’m desperate to escape.

“Why can’t you just remember?” I croak.

I wake up unsure of when or how I had fallen asleep. But one thing I know is that my eyes and face are numb, and that my neck is in incredible pain. I’m curled up on my side, my legs and arms strangling my poor pillow and the blankets lazily by my feet. The light taps at my eyes, they would have pierced them if my lids had not doubled in size.

I lift my head, a hand on my neck as to not strain in, to check the time next to me. The clock is still faced down. I reach over, groan as the pain in my neck squeezes, and fix it back to where and how it usually is, though it still seems slightly off. It’s past twelve in the afternoon. I grumble and collapse back into bed.

I roll over to stare at the wall. It’s empty. I touch it, yearning to find answers as I wipe them with my fingertips. Nothing happens and I sigh, still in the same slump I was before I had fallen asleep.

I hear a chime and flinch slightly. I half roll over to find my phone. I bring it to my face, mushing my swollen eyes together as the light still manages to startle me.

‘I bet you’ve only woken up now.’

I frown. It’s Namjoon acting cocky all of a sudden—he used to be the sweet one, Yoongi is supposed to be the arrogant one. I don’t know why their personality switch bothers and upsets me so much. Another text arrives, the vibration tingles my fingers.

‘Forget what I said yesterday. I’m not going to come between you and Hoseok.’

I furrow my brows. Another text.

‘Stop worrying.’

I grumble, ‘If he knows so well how I’d react why did he tell me?!’

Now I feel like a fool for falling for his trap. ‘First he ignores me, throws me a confession then acts cocky and takes it all back?!’

I stare at the device in my hands and wonder whether I should give him the cold shoulder or get angry. Suddenly my phone begins to ring and I immediately choose the latter.

“What do you want?!” I bark.

There’s a startled silence before a voice different to the one I was expecting speaks.

“So-sorry,” Hoseoks muffled voice stutters over the line.