Last Resort - KTH BTS FanFic - ***Completed

2

Everyone always tell you that the ocean is soothing at night. Listening to the waves crash rhythmically against the beach, the wind swaying through the trees.

What a load of crap.

When you have a hard time sleeping, the ocean is loud. It's a vast reminder of the multitude of thoughts that crash against the inside of your skull, pounding relentlessly on your neurons as you try to shut them away, only to have another replace it in a neverending onslaught.

Frankie groaned in frustration, throwing the covers off of her body and stomping over to her desk. She grabbed a cigarette and lighter from the top drawer, throwing the white satin robe over her matching tank top and pajama pants, and slipped her feet into slippers while opening the door. Making sure she had her keycard, she walked to the elevator and pushed the button to the first floor so she could at least visit her beloved courtyard flowers.

As soon as the doors opened again, she regretted it. Music was bumping loudly from the usually peaceful gardens, people talking and whooping as they mingled and trampled over the pristine grass. Frankie groaned again, knowing that her respite was ruined, but trudged forward anyway so she could have her smoke and go back up to her room. She might have to grab a sleeping pill from the all-hours vending on her way back up, as much as she hated using them.

The lights in the courtyard hung prettily, adding a fae-like cast to the area, and shining over the mini-river water feature that split the space into two sections. People were everywhere, obviously drunk and/or high, living it up without a care in the world. The other side of the courtyard seemed much more empty, and since there were only service doors for staff in that area, that was where the smoking area was as well. Trying to make her way through the sea of bodies, Frankie headed in that direction.

The footbridge was packed with people, the music and their voices too loud to hear Frankie as she tried to politely and discreetly pick her way around them, flailing arms and dancing bodies alike. About halfway over the little floating bridge, one of those dance-flail combos smacked into her, sending her straight into a tall man and spilling his drink all over his nice clothing.

"Shit," Frankie cursed, "I'm sorry. I got bumped, I'm -"

Her voice died out as two angry, dark eyes snapped in her direction. He looked at her with unbridled contempt, and then at her unlit cigarette in her hand with disgust. Wiping at his shirt, she could feel the distaste for her general existence radiating from him.

"I'm sorry," she began again, "I'm trying to get to the other side over there to -"

"Not my problem," he cut her off, "It's a party. There are supposed to be a lot of people."

"Right," she nodded curtly, trying to get out of his face, as he obviously wanted her to.

Looking around, she saw no break in the mass of people before her. He continued to glare at her, his silence still screaming that he wanted her away from him as soon as possible. She tried to step around and give him space, but only got bumped back into him again.

"Maybe you should give up," he seethed, "Or go back where you came from."

"Maybe you should fuck yourself," Frankie snapped back.

"Disgusting mouth to match a disgusting bitch," he turned his back to her.

Frankie had had enough. Dipping low, she ducked under the large rope that acted as a barrier for the bottom part of the bridge. Stretching her leg out, she stepped into the cold water of the tiny river-lagoon feature, and entered the thigh-high water. Walking slowly, she trudged her way toward the far end. The rude man looked at her in surprise with side eyes, only to gain a glare and straightened middle finger from Frankie in return. Her slippers and pajamas were ruined, but it her stubborn nature was fully intact.

Making her way over, Frankie walked out of the water and across the short lawn, sitting against the wall of the building near the designated ashtray and lighting her cigarette. She watched the party rage on in contempt, fueling her wish to have the superpower of pyrokinesis so she could set people on fire with her mind. Within a few short minutes, a burly man in a hotel security uniform exited a nearby service door and stomped toward her.

"Ma'am, this area is for resort patrons onl - oh! I'm sorry, Miss Carter," he stopped and gave her a slight bow, "We received a report of a party crasher. I didn't recognize you."

"It's fine, Chad," she waved him off with her hand, "Just out for my midnight snack," he smiled as the man chuckled at their inside joke, "I'll be done in a minute."

"You're all wet?" his eyes moved over her soggy shoes and clothes.

"Seemed the only way to get what I wanted," she gave a noncommittal shrug.

"I'll wait here until you're done then," he offered, "And you can come back in through the batcave entrance."

"That's nice of you, Chad," Frankie smiled at him, standing, "You're a good kid,"

"I'm only seven years younger than you, Miss Carter," a blush dusted over his brawny face.

Frankie scrunched her nose, " I know. Practically a baby."

They laughed as she took the last drag of her cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray and following him back through the service doors so she could go to her room. Neither of them noticed the curious eyes that had followed them.

Once back in her room, Frankie swallowed the pill that Chad had gotten for her, so that she wouldn't be seen wet and in disarray in the lobby. She put her slippers and satin pants into the bathroom sink, and went to bed in just her panties and tank top. Within minutes, her eyes finally felt heavy, and she let them fall closed as she drifted off to sleep.