My eyelids are on fire.

I’m positive of that.

A groan slips out of my throat as I will my eyelids to crack open, immediately wishing that I hadn’t when bursts of light suddenly drown my cornea with colour. I feel flooded with excess visual imagery, and for a few seconds all I see is burning fire and white. I press my eyelids back together in hopes that it will calm the sudden pain whizzing through my skull, before fluttering them back open with hesitation.

God, I feel like hell. My throat hurts and I feel like my head is filled with lead. It’s hard and heavy, hot to the touch when my hand reaches up to my forehead. I let out a soft sigh and fling the blankets back over my face in hopes of cutting off some of the light, before I realize that this isn’t the scent I’m accustomed to.

That’s when I take in my surroundings and realize that I’m not actually where I’m supposed to be.

This isn’t my home.

My eyes narrow. Realization strikes like lightning, searing across my brain like wildfire. Literally.

It hurts to even think about it.

This is Namjoon’s place.

What the heck?

My first instinct is to throw off the covers, but I can barely pull myself up with the pounding headache that roars through my skull and beats down on my nerves. Groaning, I feel every bit of my body sag with weight as I sit up and take a look around what definitely seems to be Namjoon’s apartment. The usual grey couch I reside in, the two bar stools and the wooden tabletop that separates the kitchen counter and the living room. The dining table is at the other end on the far right, a matching wooden table with two red chairs facing each other. There are a few potted plants by the window edge, adding a bit of color that seems to glow in the morning sunlight. I’m usually very fond of these cute little settings, and though I must admit that he has a very nice sense of aesthetic taste, the flurry of blurred colours are the last things I want to see right now.

I spot my phone on the coffee table right beside the couch, and make a move to grab it. As the screen lights up, my phone suddenly fills with a stream of notifications that makes my head head spin. What is up with people and spamming me with messages at this time of day?

Oh right. It’s 1pm in the afternoon.

Namjoon’s name is the one that pops out, catching my attention as I unlock the screen and read through his text.

Drinking until you can’t take it anymore. What are you? A kid? I put some aspirin and water next to you. Take it and don’t you dare complain about your headache. You caused enough trouble for everyone yesterday night.

I’ve gone out to set things right with Haeryung. Don’t wait for me.

--Namjoon

“Wow,” I mutter under my breath, a wave of dismay hitting a little bit too close to home for my liking, “He could’ve been nicer about it.”

On cue, the doorbell suddenly rings and fireworks jump around my skull. A groan escapes my lips as I force myself to get up and stagger to the door. Leaning my palm against the wall, my hands slip twice on the lock before I manage to twist it open.

Hoseok gazes at me with amusement from the other side of the doorway, a small smirk twitching across his lips, “Well hello there, sleeping beauty.”

“What are you doing here?” my words are practically slurry as I turn to crawl back onto the couch, practically collapsing into the mass of blankets and somehow, Namjoon’s jacket that I happen to find.

“Namjoon told me about your little adventures yesterday” Hoseok follows me inside and proceeds to take off his shoes, slipping them off his feet with as much balance and grace as that of a dancer. His hair is dishevelled, a sign that the wind outside is not to be messed with, “So, care to tell me how that happened?”

I narrow at my eyes at him and hopes that he can feel the burning fire in my gaze, “I hope that’s a rhetorical question.”

“What?” He shrugs before walking over to the couch and sliding down onto the carpet, so that his back is leaning against my leg, “I seriously, genuinely want to know how went down.”

“Namjoon already told you, stop playing dumb.”

“Yeah, but I want to know your version of the story. Namjoon was pretty pissed about the whole thing.”

“I never told him to take care of me or to bring me home for that matter. I could’ve gotten home myself.” I state as a fact and can feel the blood boiling in my veins. How dare he be angry at me when he’s the one who decided to play private chaperone for the rest of the night? I hadn’t asked him to supervise my actions nor did I ask him to be so fussy about what I’m doing in my life.

I definitely did not want his attention, and I hope that’s not what Haeryung is thinking right now. She’s probably fuming, thinking that he chose me over her because he decided to look after me instead.

“Did he come back to Haeryung after that?” I ask out of mere curiosity, and when Hoseok shakes his head in negation, I taste the horror at the back of my throat. It’s a miracle she hasn’t managed to murder me yet.

“He just left her there?” my tone gives me away even though I want to act casual, and Hoseok raises an eyebrow at me in question.

“No,” He says, “She just took a cab and left. It would’ve been too late for him to come back anyway, by the time that he’d walk.”

“How is Haeryung not barging through the door at this minute and holding a knife up to my throat?” Unconsciously, my hand goes to the said body part and I wince slightly, not really liking the mess I’ve gotten myself into.

“Because Namjoon’s probably on his knees at this very moment asking for forgiveness.” Hoseok says, “If I were Haeryung, I’d break up with him without question.”

I frown at that, “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hoseok throws me a look that’s asking whether I’m just dumb or playing retard, to which I answer by sticking out my tongue. He rolls his eyes before continuing, fingers playing with one of the table marks that had made a dent in the wood, probably due to the countless times Namjoon would bang his knee against it whenever we’d get a little too wild with his Wii Console.

“If I were dating a girl and she decided to spend a night with her friend who's a boy instead of me, I’d feel pretty offended.” Hoseok says.

“Enough to break up with her?”

“That’s beside the point, but you get it don’t you?” Hoseok says while ruffling his hair and combing through his auburn strands, “What you and Namjoon have, Haeryung’s probably jealous of that, whether it’s consciously or unconsciously.”

“But that’s not her problem,” I scoff, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket, “Does she expect me to just stop being friends with Namjoon because he’s taken now?”

“In other words, I think she just feels threatened.”

I almost burst out laughing. Her? Threatened? By what? Haeryung is a naturally graceful, feminine woman who knows how to set herself up and knows exactly what she wants. She has this delicate, fragile nature about her that screams at men to protect her, as if she’s a damsel in distress ready to be burnt alive by a dragon. And yet, she has some kind of fierceness in her