BTS, WHO? [ON HIATUS]

>> Nightmare <<

(imagines)

Theme : Nightmares are just the goth version of sweet dreams---or so they say. (I seriously suck at thinking of themes)

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"I'm home..." you said, out of habit as the front door of your tiny apartment of one bedroom and one toilet swerved shut on its hinges.

Ah, that's right, you are alone. 

You no longer live with your parents. Searching for independence, you have moved out. 

"So much for seeing the face of your loved ones when you come home, beat-up and tired from work," you mumbled to yourself, with no one in particular to hear you out.

Placing the keys on the table with a clink, the sound of the analogue clock hung on the wall sounds so deafeningly loud in this quiet night.

10pm... you guess it's late today, again...

Shrugging yourself out from your work clothes, you left it in a heap by the door outside your restroom.

"Nothing beats a warm shower to soothe my muscles," you sung, attempting to brightenem, the atmosphere.

Stepping into the shower, you hissed when the water comes pouring out, a little too hot for your preference, initially. Thoroughly washing yourself with lots of lathering and bubbles from cheap shampoo and soap products bought off the shelves of local marts, you sighed in content as the sweet fragrance blinded your senses.

Now in your robe, you tried to manage your thick, black and wet hair with a white soft towel, trying to wring out as much water as you can, while you pondered about whether you should use a hairdryer instead.

Laziness got to you so you decided to just sit slumped, on the two-seater couch in your living room as you switched on the TV. Blaring noises of incoherent mutterings filled your room and you giggled, thinking about how you complained there weren't any noises and to you, this, is too noisy.

"I must have the mind of a 50-year old now," you, a girl in her early 20s said as you shut the TV off.

"I'll just go to bed," you shrug as the clock on the wall now indicate it is 15 minutes to 11pm.

For youngsters your age, they would say the night is still young; partying is the way to go---but you, you prefer bed over parties.

Jumping onto your double bed, you sighed in content yet again at the feeling of comfort, warmth, and the soft bouncy pillows with mattress.

You might still be in your robe but you didn't mind. Oddly, you love the feeling of it on you as you rolled and tumbled about in bed.

Your hair, which is now almost dry, is sprawled all over your white mattress sheets and you felt your breath began to slow down, in a rhythmic way as you laid comfortably on your pillow.

Staring at the black poster that is pasted on the wall in front of your bed, you felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, your breathing becomes more and more even and you fell into deep sleep.

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You woke up, with a sick feeling in your stomach as if nothing was right. Your room is dark, the only light source is that of the street lamps and the full moon, enabling you to bask in its glow.