I approach the huddled figure with caution, and I try to think of a practical conversation starter. 

"Uh... Hello. Why are you in my library at 11 o'clock at night, sir?" 

"Go out and party or something. You don't look a day over 15."

"Sorry for... interrupting, but can you leave, I was getting comfortable before you barged in."

No. Those are all a bit too upfront. But, that's really no matter seeing as there's currently a crying teenager who's piss drunk lying on my library floor. I just continue walking to where he's lying in a heap of tears. A tad dramatic doesn't he think?

I'm about two feet away from the boy, and I've already prepared what to say to him when he grabs my ankle, and I yelp in fear. Instinctively, I kick, but I catch his face and immediately my smooth plan to get him out completely just flies out the door.

"Ow, ," the teen begins at my sudden outburst. He looks regretful. I feel terrible. "I'M SORRY I JUST WANTED TO-" he stops. 

He looks up from the floor in which he was previously sobbing, and glances at me for the first time since intruding. 

"He's looking at me," I think to myself, "do something, you ing idiot." 

His eyes scan my figure, assessing everything about me through one glance. It's as if he's been awe-struck, but I'm not anywhere near awe-worthy. I feel suddenly incredibly invaded personally, and mentally. It's like he's looking me through inside and out, and I don't like it. My face grows hot, as I see his facial expressions change from shock to interest, and then to curiosity all over my appearance. He his lips, but I don't think it's meant to be taken seductively- just him rehydrating his chapped lips.. that's all.

I wiggle my ankle out of his grasp, and in doing so I also seem to shake him out of his "Taehyung trance." He looks down to the floor, picking at something that probably doesn't need to be picked at, and I just stare. The air is uncomfortably thick, and I just want him to leave. I want to be alone, why did he have to show up, everything was fine, I didn't need this piss baby ruining my comfortable environment. I was just fine on my own, god dammit.

I hate people, I just want to bury myself deeper into my sweater, and I bite my lip trying to suppress the hot tears I feel coming out al too quickly for my liking. I try my best to keep from panicking; I do breathing exercises, I count in my head, I gnaw on my lip- but nothing seems to be helping at the moment. 

I open my mouth to speak, and break the silence. "Can y-you... Uh," . I can barely speak in front of him. "Do you- I... um" I choke, up and it feels like I can't breathe. My throat doesn't dare let another sound leave it other than that of a pathetic cry. He immediately stands up seemingly worried about me which is a ridiculous accusation. But, he winces slightly and it seems that he's in pain? I really don't have time to observe, because before I know it-

I black out.
-
It feels like I'm moving, and the feeling is.. incredibly comforting. I feel like air, I feel so light and so safe. I feel some sort of.. I don't know- embrace around my body that puts me to ease. I feel like I'm steadily swaying and it's relaxing. My eyes open and I see my arms around a figure? I have no time to be suspicious because my eyes close, and I drift off again. It smells nice in this odd dream land. It reminds me of a pleasant book. It kind of smells like Earl Grey tea, and cigarette smoke. I thoroughly enjoy this feeling. I hum in delight and wish to stay here forever.
-
I open my eyes, and for a few seconds my vision is distorted, but eventually it clears. I yawn, and scratch my head. I stretch out onto the sofa, but instantly panic, because the couch that I'm sprawled out on is most definitely not my own, and the clothes that I'm wearing are most definitely not mine either. I sit up straight so fast that my head experiences slight pain, and I begin to take in my surroundings.

The walls are grey and littered in posters that are unfamiliar to me. The space is small so I'm assuming that this is a bedroom of sorts.

It's definitely not my bedroom.

It's strange, though, because there doesn't seem to be a bed anywhere in the room. But, there are a pile of clothes that seem to spark my interest, and I walk over to them. 
I pick up a simple black shirt, and I don't know why, but I just feel that what I'm about to do is important: I bring it up to my nose and in a big whiff of the shirts scent. 

Earl Grey tea, and cigarette smoke.
Where am I?