I wasn’t always a morning person.

When I was a teenager, I had never found myself awake earlier than 10:00 AM. It would either be awake at that hour or even later.

Sometimes, I would even sleep till the afternoon, skipping not only breakfast but also lunch. Dad would come into my room and wake me up, worried that I might have stopped breathing in my sleep.

The early hours I had to wake up during rookie period became a little issue. Some days we would have to be up and dressed so dark and early to avoid traffic on our way to a performance.

The videos you had seen of me sleeping weren’t staged.

I was sleepy and I would’ve rather stayed in bed.

Thank goodness the Squirrel and her squeaky voice were always there to get me from my back. I probably would’ve been left behind at the dorm many times.

Anyway, opening my eyes became more of a test whenever the weather outside was nice and warm.

Odd, right?

Some people preferred to be out on the streets and the park when the sun was up.

But not me.

I would rather enjoy the lovely weather in my bed. 

However, there were some noteworthy circumstances where I would be up with ample energy to tackle the day even if it was too early and warm.

That morning was one of them.

I found myself opening my eyes to the natural light making my curtains glow. There were some of them spilling to the ends, trying to make it inside my Arctic-like room.

I stretched my limbs and rolled around twice before I finally raised half of my body upwards.

I looked to the wall in front of me where a large clock was mounted and read the time: 7:35 AM.

It was a record even for me, that was really early and I didn’t even have any alarm on.

I exhaled, looking around my room.

There were bags on one corner.

Oh, that’s right.

I remembered.

I had gotten home from Paris yesterday and had gone through a Bermuda Triangle of people at the airport.

I looked down at my body—I hadn’t even changed my clothes.

I might’ve gone straight to bed.

I walked to the bathroom, taking my jeans, my jacket, and my shirt off and placing them in the laundry basket.

Now I was left with my black lingerie.

One of the many perks of living alone was this: you got to walk around in your house in just your undergarments or even .

Nobody was there to see you or judge you for the blemishes on your body.

I strutted my little to the kitchen like so and made myself a cup of coffee.

I was really feeling good that morning.

The rest of day was definitely going to be good.

It would be the opposite of yesterday in which I could’ve murdered a cow with those cameras they were shoving to my face.

After my first sip of the coffee, I had remembered another thing.

Hanbin.

Kim Hanbin.

But I didn’t think about him further. He was irrelevant.

A big part of me was triumphant that I had finally said to him the truth.

It shut him up and I was sure he would never pester me again.

Halfway empty to my cup, I went back inside my bedroom to retrieve my phone.

Because of my lack of interest to generally be alive after what I had gone through yesterday, I didn’t get the chance to contact Momo and ask how she was.

A pounding of guilt thumped in my chest.

I should’ve texted her even once or called to tell her I was home.

It was only our fourth day of being together and there I was being irresponsib