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ALICE GRINNED WIDELY as her thumbs typed on her phone, replying to a text Minjun had sent. Since their date, they had been talking even more than before, and every conversation she had with him only made her want more.
"Who you texting?" Jimin asked while walking by the couch that Alice was laying on. She had just gotten back from her classes and as soon as she got inside, she crashed onto the couch. She didn't even bother checking if anyone else was home, so Jimin's presence shocked her, along with his bright blonde hair. That was going to take a little getting used to.
"Minjun," she hummed, trying to hide her wide grin.
"Oh," is all Jimin said as he blinked and continued walking away toward the kitchen. Minjun, Minjun, Minjun. It seemed he was all Alice was talking about lately.
"I'm about to make some dinner, what do you feel like eating?" Alice asked while looking at her phone.
"I don't care," he bitterly replied, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of beer.
"Okay. How was the studio today?" She asked.
"Good."
Normally he would have gone off on a huge tangent about his recent choreography in excitement, so his reply caught Alice's attention as she turned her head toward him.
"Are you in a bad mood?" She questioned him, sitting up a bit.
"No," he said and avoided her gaze, opening the can of beer.
"Look at me and say that again, then," she raised her eyebrows. Jimin ignored her request, only scoffing at it, prompting Alice to stand up and walk toward him. "Did something bad happen at practice today?" She asked him curiously.
"No, just leave it," he swung his beer, sipping it as he brushed past Alice, retreating to his room.
She rolled her eyes at his sudden mood swing.
Is he a teenage girl? She scoffed in her head before going into the kitchen and preparing for dinner.
-
The rain was pouring hard that night.
Alice tossed and turned in her bed as she forcefully shut her eyes. It was half past midnight and she'd been laying there for nearly an hour. She just could not fall asleep.
All because of the thunder and the lightning.
With each rumble, her heart sped. With each flash of lightning, she squinted her eyes.
Despite being 24 years old and despite living alone for a few months, she still could not survive a night of thunder and lightning. Call it an irrational fear, call it overreacting -she was still deadly afraid of it. It'd been a while since the last stormy night, and the last time there was, it occurred a few weeks after her mother left, and she had spent the entire night in the closet.
