It was 2 am, the lights on the streets weren't even reaching up to the sixth floor. It's been about two hours since Byul-yi carried her to bed, but Yong-sun has been lying in bed for nearly an hour, wide awake as she stared at the ceiling, a mild dull ache in her head being drowned out by embarrassment. She vaguely recalled ranting to her roommate about her life beforehand, but she was more concerned over what she did afterwards.

You're a damn annoying flirt, that's what you are."

The words she was fully aware of, yet felt as if it wasn't her who said it was keeping her awake.

Was it the alcohol? Was it the mood? Was it just pent-up annoyance towards her roommate?

It was frustrating trying to justify her actions.

She just felt like doing so.

Why?

She sat upright, swivelling over so her legs hung off the edge of her bed as she slowly stood up, the headache mildly intensifying as she shuffled to the kitchen, her eyes already used to the dark to get a glass of water, trying to get rid of the headache she had, and maybe cool down the burning sensation she was experiencing.

She sat there in silence, taking sips of her water, the frustration towards herself only growing with each second she spent.

Whatever, she needed a distraction.

She quietly tiptoed to her bedroom, her bags still barely touched in the corner as she pulled out her laptop, charger and wireless mouse, tiptoeing back to the dining table as she plugged her laptop in.

The blank page of a new document illuminated her face, not knowing what to type. It's been a while since she wrote a story that she found interesting, and it was a very depressing feeling to do what she enjoyed without any support.

No one supported her hobby, not her colleagues, her friends or even her mom. It was a very depreciating experience, a hollow void in your core that made your entire body hurt. She wrote and wrote to fill that void, but that only made the hollow feeling grow more and more, knowing that she wrote so much but no one enjoyed it. There were times when she wanted to give up, there were times when she wanted to cry, there were times when she felt like maybe everyone was right, that her writing wasn't good, and wasn't profitable, and wasn't useful.

But she kept writing, and the void fed off the feeling that she had, that everything she was doing was useless.

The blank page only made her depressed, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, the empty feeling completely drowning the embarrassment she felt less than 2 minutes ago.

She sighed as she suppressed that void, forcing herself to press the keys, trying to formulate a proper story, the depressing feeling she felt slowly making its way into her story as she sighed.

After what seemed like a few minutes, Yong-sun had typed a full story, a cliché story about a man and a woman realising their feelings for each other, but neither of them are brave enough to admit it. The story ends in a slight angsty tone, with the pair going their separate ways, each of them having their own relationships, but having the sa