Sleepless nights were the worst. Having insomnia was downright awful. You would spend hours awake, and when three in the morning hit, you were fed up. You decided to go to the ground level bathroom, where the Hawthornes kept all of their pills (for obvious reasons). You fished out two pills from the melatonin bottle, and swallowed them with a sip of water. You looked at yourself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

Sure, taking melatonin at three in the morning was unhealthy, but you just wanted to sleep... or escape reality, whichever excuse helped best for the fact that you'd rather be unconscious so your overthinking mind couldn't torment you.

You checked the mirror again and almost had a heart attack when you saw a shirtless, gray pants wearing Grayson leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his silver eyes fixated on the melatonin bottle still clutched in your hands. Then, his eyes trailed up to yours and narrowed.

"How many did you take?" His voice was smooth, calculated. You rolled your eyes, about to say something about how it's just melatonin, when your eyes caught to the number on the bottle.

10mg. And you took two. Four times the amount you were supposed to.

Oh shit.