I wasn't sleeping at that moment. I was pretending, wishing I was. That desire changed whenever Jimin visited. I was stuck here for five days, and he's been here by my side as if the days and nights were one. An undefined separation of time. I liked thinking of it that way. It made me feel wise and philosophical, when I really wasn't.

I was warned about the drugs they sell on the streets, the ones that people could slip into my drink, and the ones that might become appealing to my eyes; however, they never prepared me for the ones that came with a smile. Nothing illegal, of course, just prescribed antidepressants. I felt like I could breathe. See clearly. I was always happy to see a new day. I began to appreciate the birds chirping from outside my hospital window. They gave me my life back. They gave Jimin's life back too. And for that, I was grateful.

I opened my eyes, and saw Jimin in front of me with a smile. He had always been here for me, even more so the past few days. It was nice. Feeling like you mattered. I never opened my eyes to find that he wasn't there. We both felt happier, and we had bonded over the strangest things. "Hey sleepy,"

"Hi Jimin," I yawned. I stretched my arms to the ceiling and sat up with some effort. I smiled.

He fluffed up his hair with his fingers. "Sleep well?"

"For once, yeah," I sighed. I still had a childish grin plastered on my face. I had an idea. I reached to my side, and grabbed the corner of my pillow. I tugged on it lightly, and Jimin caught the mischievous glint in my eyes. But his reflexes weren't quick enough. I swung the pillow at his face, giggling. I was on target. He looked at me with his shocked, yet playful eyes, as he gripped his own.

"Game on!" He whacked his pillow into my own face.

It was a turn-based battle, whacking each other in an intense pillow fight. Feathers burst through the seams and engulfed us in a white paradise. Jimin always said he hated his laugh, but every time I heard him giggling through his nose, snorting, I fell a little deeper into bliss. He had a crooked little laugh to match his crooked little smile, and his crooked little mind. My throat tightened as I struggled to breathe through my laughing fit.

I begged him to stop, and he complied with a soft smile, as soft as the pillows. We flopped down on the bed, our legs dangling of the edge. I squeezed my featherless pillow tight and wished that the day would never end.

Because this was a good day.