What To Do At 1 Am 소설 & 이야기

"Just go to sleep, and tomorrow we can go men-hunting." I went back to my room and lay there, closing my eyes and trying to sleep. Closing my eyes didn't work, so I opened them and stared at the ceiling. At 2:47 AM, I gave up. I need a drink or something. The hallway was dark and silent. Camille's door stayed shut as I walked past it, tiptoeing not to wake her light-sleeping head. I needed to move, to shake whatever this was crawling under my skin. Maybe I could do that with a cup of coffee.

he bids, as he walks out. I stare at the clock, and truly, it's almost midnight. I sigh deeply… My brain and eyes are still as active as they had be in an afternoon. I pick up my phone, and place my foot on the stool. I am still awake even when it's three minutes past two am. I can feel my thumbs go sore from mindlessly scrolling on my phone. Nothing is interesting and everything else is confusing. I don't know why I am on my phone at such a late time at night.

CHARLES It’s almost one in the morning, but instead of being in bed, I’m driving aimlessly around the mostly deserted streets, with only the occasional vehicle or two driving past once in a while. The thought of sleeping in the hospital for another night when I have the most comfortable bed in the world does not appeal to me in the least bit.

I heard footsteps in the room and low mumbles but I didn't know what exactly they were talking about and if I'm honest with myself, I'd rather if I didn't. I wish I had my phone with me. I would love to do something to keep me busy and also to know what time it is. But from the moonlight, I can tell it's somewhat around 3am. It's almost morning and I haven't gotten any shut eye. I guess this is one of the things I need to let go as long as I am going to be Arden's guard. I wondered if I should go to the training ground to meet with Alpha Zone but it's late, he must have gone to bed already.

his hand intertwining with mine as he led us away from the scene. As we bid goodnight to everyone, the realization struck us – it was well past 11 o'clock, and my dormitory had a strict policy of closing its doors at 10:30. A wave of concern washed over me; no one was permitted entry after the designated time. The immersive game and the joyous moments we shared had led us to lose track of time, and now we faced the challenge of navigating the dormitory's rules.

The reminder looped in my head like a warning, but my body didn’t care. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional creak of settling wood. I glanced at the clock: 1:17 AM. With a frustrated sigh, I slipped on a pair of loose basketball shorts and a t-shirt and padded downstairs, hoping a glass of water might help.

Sleep wanted nothing to do with me. It was past 1 a.m. when I gave up. I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, restless. And then like a moth drawn to a flame. I reached for my phone. I should have scrolled through my friends’ posts, maybe watched a few funny videos to lull me into sleep. But instead, my fingers betrayed me. Ethan Fisher.

********** MAGGIE'S POV The anticipation coiled tight within me as I paced the confines of the bedroom, each tick of the clock echoing in the silent chamber like a drumbeat heralding the arrival of opportunity. 2 AM. That was the hour when the world beyond these walls would succumb to the embrace of slumber, or at least I hope by then they would all be out like light. It was my chance to slip away. With a steadying breath, I steeled myself for the task ahead, my movements measured as I crept through the dimly lit corridor, my footsteps mere whispers against the cool tile floor. I pressed onward, driven by a sense of purpose that burned bright within my chest.

It must be late, and this is not the best time to approach him. I look at the clock. It’s 3:23 AM. No good conversation starts at 3:23 AM. I give up and roll onto my back. My eyes go to the ceiling. Perhaps I should go there and see if he’s awake. Maybe he can’t sleep, too. Maybe he needs something. Or there’s something I can do for him. My mind is made up when I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push to my feet. Barefoot, I walk to the door. My steps are silent as I move toward the other end of the corridor.

It all started with a failure to sleep. Irina had been staring into the black for a solid hour, already in the middle of a full-blown argument with her own brain about absolutely everything and nothing at the same time. She'd tried the breathing thing. Counting. The just close your eyes and stop thinking-which, if you've ever actually tried, is the single most unhelpful piece of advice ever bestowed upon the human race. At half past midnight, she finally surrendered. She threw a hoodie on over her pajamas and went downstairs.