Through The Berry Bushes (Oneshots Collection)

Blurred Nights (Danielle Marsh)

A dull ache throbs in your head as you slowly regain consciousness, the feeling sharp enough to make you rub your temple in an attempt to ease it. Your mind is foggy, each thought thick and sluggish as if weighed down by last night's haze. You blink a few times, trying to orient yourself, only to realize that the room around you is unfamiliar.

The ceiling above is softly lit by the morning light filtering in through partially drawn curtains, casting a warm glow that fills the room. Glancing down, you notice you're bundled up in a blanket, tucked in as if someone carefully placed it over you. You frown, the events of last night only coming in fragmented flashes—a party, laughter, and the bitter burn of two shots offered by a friend. Beyond that, everything fades into an impenetrable blur.

Feeling an urgent need to understand your situation, you sit up slowly, wincing at the pounding in your skull. As your eyes adjust, you take in the room's details: potted plants perched on various surfaces, leaves draping softly over ceramic pots, giving the space a lush, cozy feel. The walls are decorated with cute knickknacks—photos, tiny fairy lights strung along a bookshelf, a few quirky little figurines. The room feels lived-in and warm, though utterly foreign.

A sudden, gentle movement beside you startles you. You freeze, heart beating faster as you glance down, carefully peeling back a corner of the blanket to reveal the source. Lying peacefully beside you is a girl, her face turned slightly toward you. Her features are delicate, almost doll-like, with a soft, serene expression that makes her look like something out of a dream. Loose strands of hair frame her face, falling in gentle waves that catch the morning light. She sleeps soundly, her breaths deep and steady, and for a moment, you're captivated by the peacefulness in her expression.

Confusion stirs inside you, making the dull ache in your head feel sharper. There's something oddly familiar about her face, yet you can't quite place it—like a name at the tip of your tongue that refuses to reveal itself. Who is she? And how did you end up here?

Slowly, you slide yourself out from under the covers, careful not to disturb her. Your movements are slow, deliberate, as if any sudden motion might shatter the tranquility of this strange morning. You plant your feet on the cool floor, feeling a sense of relief as you successfully make it out of the bed without waking her.

Standing now, you take a moment to gather your bearings. Your eyes flicker back to her one last time, your mind buzzing with unanswered questions. Swallowing back a sense of unease, you turn toward the door, your hand reaching out to the handle. It's slightly warm to the touch, as if the morning sun has already begun to touch every corner of the house. You pause for a second, taking a breath to steady yourself, and then quietly push the door open, stepping out into the unknown answers that might be waiting just beyond.

"Good morning, Y/N," a soft, groggy voice murmurs behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn around to see her, the serene figure from earlier now awake and looking at you with a sleepy smile. Her voice is warm but still touched by the remnants of sleep, slightly deeper than you expected, as though the morning hasn't quite let go of her yet.

Her hair is slightly tousled, framing her face in loose waves that only add to her natural charm. She blinks slowly, her eyes brightening as they focus on you, and a small, genuine smile spreads across her lips. For a moment, you're caught off guard by her radiance, an ethereal beauty that feels just as familiar as it does unknown. It's as if she's always been there in the corners of your memory, just out of reach.

"Good morning to you too," you reply, mirroring her smile, feeling an inexplicable warmth spread through you.

She stretches, her movements unhurried, as though savoring the start of the day. Her clothes are slightly rumpled, the fabric slipping off one shoulder, giving her a relaxed, effortlessly beautiful look. She walks closer to you, her steps slow, her bare feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor. As she passes by, she gently brushes your shoulder, a small touch that feels both casual and strangely intimate.