s u n d a y
3:03 a.m.
Your POV
I lunge forward up in my bed, trying to catch my breath. I can feel sweat beads drip down from my back under my shirt as I'm upright. My heart is beating at the speed of a cheetah running, ready to pop out of my chest. I feel like I'm going to upchuck my dinner from earlier.
"It's just a dream," I repeat myself, failing to convince myself.
In and out. Inflate and deflate. I start, imagining a balloon being blown up as I do a breathing exercise. An attempt to calm myself down. After all these years, I still can't do it. It's funny, makes me think sometimes that I can't do anything myself. Which I know is not true but, that thought is always in my mind.
"Happy thoughts," I whisper to myself, not wanting to somehow wake up the boys.
I manage to calm down, at least better than I was before. I look around and notice that it's still dark outside. I reach over to my bedside table and grab my phone. The screen lights up, blinding me slightly - it felt like a flash bang at this point in the night. I blink a few times adjusting to the light. 3:03 a.m. It shows, along with notifications that I have no will to read. I place my phone back on the bedside table and stare into the darkness. The subtle pitter patter of the rain plays around me. The droplets of water surrounding me in it's arms - a peaceful tune I won't ever get bored of.
"Sugar and sweets aren't ideal to have before bed but, ta - da!"
I smile, remembering the times my dad would bring me his famous hot chocolate when I couldn't sleep. I still have no clue how he made it taste so good. I've tried to remake it but, I can never get it to taste like his. It's funny, my dad often did it when I was sad and couldn't sleep. He did it so much that my mom "forbade" having hot chocolate in the house. My dad still did it, every time. All those nights, he was right by my side, always. I switch back into my reality, not realizing the fact that I made my way into the kitchen. The only form of light in here is an LED candle. It wouldn't hurt to have a mug, would it now. I think, opening the cabinet and taking out a pouch of hot chocolate and then a mug.
Yoongi's POV
I roll over in my bed to my left side, not comfortable. I roll to my right, still not comfortable. I sprawl out like I'm a starfish. Still. Not. Comfortable. I quietly let out an annoyed sigh. Why can't I sleep? I wonder, staring at my ceiling. The sound of gentle footsteps pass by my door, only heard because of a squeaky plank. I sit up in my bed, who could be up? I swing my legs over and open my door. There's no one in the hallway. I make my way into the living room area, no one. A cabinet being closed and opened I hear from the kitchen. I walk in and see Y/N, stirring something into a mug. The LED candle light illuminating onto their face faintly.
"What are you doing up?" I ask them in a soft voice, leaning against the entry way to the kitchen.
Y/N jumps and looks over to where I am standing, they sigh.
"You scared me! Don't do that!" they whisper-yell.
I nod my head and walk over, "Sorry," I apologize, holding my hands up in surrender.
"It's okay... Just give me a warning or something - so I know that you're here," Y/N explains to me, hoisting themself up to sit on top of the kitchen counter.
"So, what are you doing up?" they ask, taking a sip from their mug.
"I asked first," I reply, leaning against the counter.
"I asked second," Y/N snappily whispers, a playful smirk resting on their face.
I chuckle, "You tell me then I'll tell you," I try to compromise.

YOU ARE READING
🪐✨🌙I am not Moon🌙✨🪐
FanfictionMoon aka Y/N Miller. A popular music creator, the talk of the music industry for the past two years. The only problem being that no one knows who the person behind the screen is. When asked to produce BTS' upcoming album, the artist is conflicted. ...