Stranded【PJM • BTS】

1 : Coffee

I looked back at the clock for the millionth time, my back aching from slouching lazily. It was already so late at night... The ceiling fan annoyingly made little sounds as it spun, my papers slightly swaying from the breeze.

I sighed, and turned back to typing my essay; the room lit from the bright light the screen flashed. I could feel drips of sweat sliding down my cheeks due to the hot room, which was a very unpleasing feeling. Ugh, why does it have to be this torturing when writing a single essay?

Ding dong!

You have got to be kidding me. Perfect timing, I'm the busiest right now. Whatever it is it better be important.

I got up, my legs aching from sitting in the same position for so long as my baggy pants practically mopped the floor. As I stumbled around trying to find my house slippers I could feel my messy bun slowly falling apart and the loose strands of hair sticking to my neck which was drenched from sweat. Ew. Just what I needed.

Ding dong-ding dong-ding dong!

"I'm coming!" I yelled, tired and frustrated. Who would come to my apartment at this hour? It surely can't be my parents, they stopped by yesterday to nag me. And I'm also pretty sure it's quarter past midnight. Finally after flicking the light switch on, my eyes heavy like a zombie, I answered the door, sighing loudly. Even though my mom nagged me countless times about how rude it is.

"What do you want?"

I groaned, while rubbing my eyes, not sure who it even was.

"Y/N???"

I quickly recognized my best friends voice, shortly after my blurry vision adjusted its focus like a camera. Immediately after I looked back up at her after rubbing my eyes I realized she was looking at me as if I stole her boyfriend.

Even worse I noticed she carried her large red suitcase and gray over sized bag stuffed so full it would double as a comfy pillow. She also had sunglasses, a fluffy jacket and a fat scarf despite it being like past midnight and 85 degrees Fahrenheit out. Which was strange because she was a very fashionable person, due to her day job as a stylist.

"Uh, are you drunk again, Harlow?"

I said, squinting and tying my hair back up again, the sweat on my neck cooling slightly after being suffocated under my thick hair for so long.

"What? Are you sure you're not the drunk one? Y/N, You look like you haven't slept in days! And what are you wearing? Hurry up, we'll be late!"

She nags, rushed and sounding even more stressed as I was. She paces around the entrance of my apartment quickly, biting her nails.

"Okay, I don't even drink! And what are you still doing here, staring at me like I'm some madman?! Hurry and get ready!"

Harlow exclaims, slashing her arms everywhere causing her bags to shuffle. This girl, aish... throwing a fit outside my door. The last thing I want is a neighbor complaining we're too loud. I also couldn't bear the fact that I looked like a mess so I avoided going out of the house.

"Shush! Get in and explain!"

I scold, struggling to drag her in. Harlow stubbornly stays put, impossible for me to move her.

"No, Y/N! There's NO TIME! Did you forget? We're going to be late!" She covers her eyes almost as if she's having a mental breakdown. Typical Harlow, she's always like this; I've known her since elementary. She just keeps repeating the problem and never stops to explain anything.