"This is it." Jimin said and pointed towards the little corner where he was supposed to sleep. It was a slim space which was just fine for one little mochi. But for two people, who had met for the first time that night, it was really small. "Ughm...Jimin, are you sure that you'll manage? Like, we can still just run towards our tent. We'll probably be fine, you know. We're smart women." The last sentence was really unnecessary.

"I'm sure." was his brief reply and he turned and bent over to settle the pillows and smoothen the blanket. I stood there, 2 meters away, just watching him. He raised his body up and ran his fingers through his hair.

He caught me looking at him but that did not stop me from doing it. He just, to my utter surprise, asked me, "Why did you call me Jimin? Last time you said Jimin-ah. I prefer that."

"I prefer Jimin-ah too." I agreed.

He smiled a baby smile and said, "Go on, bed's ready."

I'm not saying that my heart ran at it's normal speed throughout the past few hours, but it had tried it's best. But after what Jimin said, my heart failed. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't shaking. I sighed heavily at how bad my body was at hiding those emotions. I was disappointed at myself for that reason for the first time. Yuki always complained about how I had no control over my facial expressions. But the 'problem' was not appealing enough, until that moment.

Jimin had probably detected the hesitation and I hoped that he did not misinterpret it for being discomfort.

He said, "Don't worry, it's okay. You won't fall into trouble for this." He held my wrist loosely and gently guided me towards the little part of the tent. "Sit down."

I did as I was told. I moved slowly, inconveniently. But he was patient. He was not in a hurry, he was not uncomfortable or awkward. Of course he was Jimin, and I, a screeching (from within) fangirl. But there was this calming air that surrounded him which comforted me and gave me frenzied thoughts, simultaneously.

I retired on the bed(or whatever) and pulled the covers upto my chin with my arms still outside. It was pretty warm but I needed to cover my face upto my nose, so he wouldn't see my smile as I looked at him. I did so, I pulled the covers over my nose.

He flopped down next to me and took his phone out. "You go to sleep." he said to me, without turning to look at me.

I considered asking him something but quit the idea. I fidgeted a little and turned to my left so that I didn't face him.

My eyes were wide open. Even thinking of being able to sleep that night was a sin. I did not want to waste my time being unconscious  and not appreciating the moment. So I stayed up. But I couldn't turn to face him.

After pretending to have fallen sleep for about half an hour, I heard him majorly shifting from his initial position . I felt his eyes on me for a while and then he couched in next to me, moving a little more into the corner, making sure not to have his movements traced.

Another half an hour or so, which took almost like a decade to pass, had passed. He was not moving, at all. His heart was beating, of course, but I couldn't hear it. I wanted to hear it, to make sure that all of that was real, that it really was him, that I didn't have to wake up to face disappointment again.

So I stiffened and gathered courage to move. I shut my eyes and started turning. It was warming up and I badly needed to breathe the fresh air in, and pee. But I held on to all that and kept going.

Almost there, almost there, keep going, you're doing just fine,  I was cheering for myself. Finally I could stop, for there he was.

He was lying on his back, so I was looking up at his side - face. His left leg formed a triangle, his left hand was on this stomach. His right hand was on the other side. His face was glowing even with no lights on.

And then I noticed something - that one bead of sudor trickling down the soft skin on his forehead.

Then came the sudden urge, the sudden urge to touch his face. I thought I wouldn't do it but my fingers were not in coordination with my thoughts.

I was bringing my hand out of the blanket.

Don't do it. This is harassment. He did not allow this. Stop doing it, stop thinking of it, but I did not listen to myself.

My fingertips reached the sides of his eyes and dared to touch the area, but as gently as possible. I took it sliding down his cheek area, lifting up my hand once in a while, so that I did not wake him up. Then I went on to his forehead. I swear I was really careful.

But just then, like in every other chick flick, he opened his eyes. I did not know what to do. I just froze. I had given up. I couldn't handle all the excitement and embarrassment with proper mental health. Maybe that's why I was touching his face in the middle of the night - because I was crazy.

"Um, what... are you doing?" he made the question sound easily answerable. That was when I took my palm away from the fine art.

"I couldn't sleep. I, ugh, I'm sorry that I woke you up as well." I wanted the conversation to end and with it, the awkwardness.

"If it helps-" he said after a few seconds of quietness, "I mean, if, what you were doing, helps you sleep tonight, you should keep doing it..." he ended with what seemed like a nervous smirk.

With that, I turned into an apple. Oh, yes, of course he was allowing me to touch his face. So normal, woah.

"I, ugh-" I decided not to say a thing more than that and turned my back to him. He did not move for one solid minute. After that minute, I heard him turning to face the wall.

I wanted my brain to stop analyzing things then, because it was getting more and more stressful. So I forced my mind to sleep, for 2 hours.

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