Not Perfect Night, Doomed Night -[BBANGSAZ AU]

6.) Hangovers are Worse than Hell

Third Person POV:

Minji groaned as the unforgiving light pierced through the gaps in the blinds, stabbing her brain like a thousand tiny needles. Her head was throbbing, each pulse a reminder that last night attending a frat party as a total newbie with the goal of getting laid was a terrible idea. She blinked blearily at the analog clock on the wall. The numbers blurred before finally settling into focus.

1:00 PM.

"Are you kidding me?" she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. She had already slept more than half the day over. Her head started spinning and she started to recount what she had missed in the hours she was asleep.

Morning basketball practice, weights, meeting with Haerin...fuck. Minji's life was in shambles, as you can clearly see.

Now she had to face the consequences of last night's terrible decisions with a splitting headache and an extremely dry mouth.

With the confidence of someone who clearly had never experienced a hangover before, Minji decided sitting up quickly was a fantastic idea. Big mistake. The room spun like a cheap carnival ride, and her head pounded harder, like a marching band had taken up residence in her skull. She immediately flopped back down, letting out a pathetic whimper.

"Ugh... I'm never drinking again," she mumbled.

She stared up at the ceiling, willing herself to move. The ceiling fan above her looked like it was moving in slow motion and the room continued to spin. With a sigh, she began the painstaking process of peeling herself off the sticky, beer stained floor of the frat house. Why did she end up on the floor? Oh right, because she decided to play hero and stand up for her friend Danielle which caused her to get knocked out by the queen bee, Hanni.

"Fuuuck..." she muttered, trying not to speak too loudly for fear that her own voice would worsen the drumming in her head. Minji's attempt to stand was more of a wobble than anything else, and she found herself leaning on every available surface—tables, doorknobs, a suspiciously sticky wall—as she made her way toward the exit. Her legs felt like they were made of Jell-O, and her brain felt like it was bouncing around in her head like an idle DVD screen.

When she finally reached the front door, which felt like an accomplishment on par with finishing a marathon. As she stepped outside into the harsh daylight, she squinted against the brightness, wincing as the sun's rays seemed to pierce her very soul. The fresh air hit her like a slap in the face, and she realized that the frat house smell—beer, sweat, and a hint of something she didn't want to identify—had followed her out. Or maybe it was just stuck to her clothes.

Leaning against the railing of the porch, she took a deep breath, immediately regretting it as the smell of stale beer wafted up from her shirt.

"Never. Again," she repeated, more firmly this time, though she knew deep down that this wouldn't be the last time she found herself in this situation.

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Minji practically crashed through her dorm door, feeling like she'd been wandering the Sahara for days. The thirst was real, like her mouth had been replaced with sandpaper. She could almost hear her body chanting one thing, and one thing only:

Must. Find. Water.

She stumbled toward the mini kitchen, vision blurry, head throbbing, and every joint in her body protesting each step. When she reached the fridge, she yanked the door open with such force that it nearly detached from its hinges. But hey, a girl on a mission doesn't have time for subtlety.

Minji grabbed the first container she could get her hands on, not caring if it was old, new, open, or potentially a science experiment. Her brain was too fried to make rational decisions, and besides, every second wasted could be the difference between life and death—or at least that's what it felt like.

She unscrewed the cap with shaky hands, tipping her head back and chugging the contents like her life depended on it. The first gulp hit her throat, and her brain immediately sent out a red alert.

This. Is. Not. Water.

But her throat, desperate and defiant, refused to comply. It was like her body was in a civil war—brain screaming "Abort mission!" while her throat stubbornly kept chugging. A mix of saliva and whatever this mystery liquid was dribbled down her chin, landing in a wet splotch on her already questionable party-worn shirt.

Somehow, Minji managed to swallow it down. Gasping, she tossed the container aside and dove back into the fridge like a zombie searching for brains. Her head was pounding, her vision blurred with every pulse. The second drink she grabbed was a fluorescent green bottle that looked vaguely familiar. This time, she actually took a second to glance at the label.

"Gatorade?" she muttered. "Hmm... close enough to water, right?"

With a half-hearted shrug, she downed the bottle in a series of desperate gulps, her taste buds rebelling but her body practically crying tears of relief. After what felt like an eternity, her brain finally started to rejoin the rest of her body.

Minji slumped over the counter. Now she needed to find something to ease her pulsating headache and she needed it fast.

Dragging herself over to the cabinets, she began swinging open doors with the urgency of someone searching for the Holy Grail. Her eyes scanned the shelves, squinting through the fog of her hangover until she spotted it: a bottle of Tylenol, tucked away in the back like some kind of treasure.

"Aha!" she exclaimed, victorious. With the grace of a zombie finding its next meal, she yanked the bottle down, popped the cap, and shook out a handful of pills. Dry swallowing the whole lot, she leaned back against the counter, sliding down slowly until her butt hit the cold, hard tiles of the kitchen floor.

She closed her eyes, feeling the sweet embrace of sleep pulling her in. But of course, her phone decided now was the perfect time to ruin everything. It buzzed angrily in her pocket, the vibration drilling into her skull. Groaning, she fumbled for it, squinting at the screen through one barely-open eye.

The notification glared back at her: NOTICE: CLASS AT 3:30 PM.

Another pitiful groan escaped her. The universe was clearly out to get her. Why was there always some stupid class standing between her and the sweet release of sleep? This wasn't just any class, though. No, this was the class she had to pass if she ever wanted to graduate and escape this hellhole.

Dragging herself off the floor with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on sedatives, Minji shuffled toward her room. Every fiber of her being wanted to crawl back into bed and hibernate for a century, but duty called. And by duty, she meant the stupid class that somehow held her entire future hostage.

"Just get through today," she muttered, pulling on the least wrinkled outfit she could find. "Then you can die."