Hot Streak // (BTS Jikook)

Two

I flicked the light on; even the dim lamp sitting on my night stand was like a white hot light beaming directly into my soul. I quickly turned it back off.

My dorm was about as big as a cement jail cell, and at times it even felt like it. It was a studio room, meaning it was just me by myself. Other people opted for roommates; some had three or even four.

Not me.

I enjoyed the empty, man-cave vibe that my dorm gave off. It was my happy place. I studied here, ate here, played video games here, slept here, and if I had a boyfriend I'd hang out with him here too.

I kicked my shoes off and let them land gracelessly in my closet, I'd clean up later. Right now I was more focused on finding the stash of Advil I kept in my cabinet and drinking as much water as humanly possible.

I waddled over to the bathroom like an injured athlete, not bothering to turn the light on, I'd learned my lesson. I opened the mirror and fumbled around with whatever I could make out through the light I was granted by the crack in my room's blinds.

Once I popped the two pills and chugged whatever water I had in my mini-fridge, I retreated to my small twin sized bed.

I lifted the blanket and let myself collapse into the dark blanket chasm. Everything hurt: my head, my joints, my eyes, and even my pride.

I laid under the bed for only a moment before I felt as though I was going to vomit my entire soul out. I knew I didn't actually have to puke, because for some reason I never did, but boy did it sure feel like it.

My nausea was eating away at me, making it feel as though the entire room was spinning. All I wanted to do was sleep in that moment. Sitting there in the dark room, my mind doing backflips and my stomach turning, I got curious about whether people actually did die from hangovers.

After a second or two more of wondering, I couldn't help it anymore. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled my phone out, eager to quench my curiosity by Googling it.

I slid the phone unlocked and was immediately hit with another headache, remembering that I didn't have my own phone. It was this "Jimin" character's phone. I still didn't know how I ended up with it.

The phone looked the same and everything, even had the same black rubber case. It was the oddest thing.

I stared at the phone screen, quickly lowering the brightness to something that didn't make me want to wear sunglasses.

Jimin's background was a picture of Taeyang. This confused me. But who was I to judge, my background was a picture of a sunflower – it was the same one that came with the phone. I hadn't gotten around to changing it.

Before I could poke around any further, the device lit up and came to life in my hand, vibrating and giving off a small chime. It was a text.

I dropped the phone out of shock, feeling as though I was just busted snooping. When I picked it back up, I noticed that the text was from my own number. Jimin must've figured out that we swapped phones.

I don't know why I was nervous to answer the message. I didn't do anything wrong, it was an honest mistake. I got a little too drunk, Namjoon had to retrieve my phone for me, and it just happened to look exactly the same. There's no way he would've known.

I swallowed down and focused in on that single text, ignoring the other unread messages.

Jimin: Hey. I woke up with this phone, and I just realized that it is not mine...

The text was simple, and I felt a moral obligation to answer, but I wasn't sure exactly what to say. Here I was, totally hungover and tired; a half dead zombie lurking in the dark. I wasn't even up to meet strangers on a normal day, but with the added pain of being this sick, I was definitely not meeting Jimin today.