“Wow. Looks like someone had a rough night.”

I rest my head on Joonmyeon’s arm. “Tell me when Professor Choi walks in,” I mumble, covering my head with his jacket.

“Good morning, class!” Professor Choi calls out, strutting into the room, and I quietly groan.

“Hey, Hyo,” Joonmyeon whispers. “Professor Choi just walked in.”

“No , Sherlock,” I huff, getting out my notebook. Thank god Sora made us go home at that time. If we had stayed any later, I wouldn’t have even been able to wake up this morning. I silently send a prayer her way. Good luck trying to take a test with no sleep.

Although she might be used to it, what with her being “young, hot, rich, and sociable” and going to all those parties.

“What were you doing last night?” Joonmyeon murmurs in my ear as Professor Dae drones on.

“S-S-Studying,” I yawn.

“Really? For what?”

“Mmmm,” I groan, my head lolling.

Joonmyeon has to jab me in the arm 12 times to ensure that I do not fall asleep. By the end of the lecture, I am dying. I stagger out the door to the classroom, swaying precariously like a tree during a thunderstorm.

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, steadying me. “Okay, that’s it. No more class today.”

“What? No, we can’t ditch class, we have to learn-,”

“What was Professor Choi’s lecture about?”

I tiredly rub my eyes. “Uh... photosynthesis.”

“Wrong. She teaches Art History. We’re leaving.”

Joonmyeon practically drags me into his car and drives us to his high-rise luxury apartment complex, which he is able to afford as a member of the obnoxiously privileged upper echelon of Seoul society. I do make a point of telling him that every time he takes me there, which means that Joonmyeon has to sit through an angry lecture about class divides in South Korean society, courtesy of a girl who has been a part of the lower class all her life.

Today, however, I am too exhausted to do anything but collapse onto his enormous king-size bed the moment I get there.

“Get a blanket,” I murmur. A few moments later, I feel a downy comforter being thrown over me. Joonmyeon takes a seat right next to where my head is.

“Sleep,” he says, gently massaging his fingers in my hair, and a little skitter jumps up in my chest. I try my best to hide the large smile curving my lips upward, but judging by Joonmyeon’s satisfied chuckle, I can tell that he can clearly see my pleased expression.

Shut up, Hyo, I sleepily command myself. Go to sleep.

I march down the velvet-walled halls of the nightclub, a Glock 26 and 27 in my hands. There is a hardened look in my eyes as I make my way down to the end of the hall.

My phone buzzes in my pocket for the hundredth time. And, for the hundredth time, I ignore it. I know who it is. Zelo, Yongguk, Himchan, Daehyun, Jongup, and Youngjae have been calling and texting for the past three hours, ever since I disappeared from my apartment.

They think I am delivering a package right now.

They don't know anything about what I'm going to do.

Finally, I reach the large red door. Laughter, cheering, and upbeat music is audible from inside.

I take a deep breath.

And then I slam the door open.

They have not even fully turned towards me before I start shooting. I fire my guns simultaneously, watching them drop down to the floor like dominoes, one by one.

Hyungsik collapses to the floor, blood oozing from a shot to his head, while Minwoo lands on top of him, his eyes wide in a look of permanent shock. Kwanghee fumbles for a gun at his side but he is too late; he topples backwards, a bullet embedded in his throat, as I strike Junyoung only moments afterwards.

My eyes glaze over as red washes over my vision. Boom. Boom. Boom. Kevin, Taeheon, and Siwan collapse over each other. Dongjun manages to lunge at me, a knife in his hand, but I shoot him before his blade can even touch me.

His blood spatters up on my face.

The only one left is Heechul.

“Please,” he begs, cowering on the ground. He looks nothing like the cocky, arrogant gangster who had a hand in my parents’ death; no, he looks absolutely pathetic. The peppy karaoke song that they were singing to is still playing in the background.

Zelo’s voice echoes in my head.

It won’t help, Lia. If you kill them, it’ll make you feel even worse. Don’t do it. Don’t ing do it.

I take a slight step away. Tears are gushing down Heechul cheeks. I reach for the door handle, open the door, step out of the room-

I turn and shoot Heechul just as he is mouthing a thank you to me.

The look in his eyes haunts me as I back out of the room, my guns in my hands, telling myself- forcing myself- to stay together until I am back home, to calmly leave this place and never look back because I am done, I have accomplished my goal, I am happy, I should be happy, why aren’t I happy, and then all of a sudden I cannot move and there are ropes binding my body and suddenly ZE:A is alive again, their bodies reanimated, their eyes stuck in that look of despair, and they are chanting my name angrily over and over again, Lia, Lia, Lia, Lia-

“Hyo!” someone shouts.

I shoot up, my entire body dripping with sweat. Joonmyeon is clutching me, a worried, frightened look in his eyes as he stares down at me. The comforter is completely twisted around my legs and half hanging off the bed.

My body deflates. .

They’re back.

“You were having a nightmare,” Joonmyeon says, his eyes wide. “Are you okay? God, Hyo, let me get you some hot chocolate-,”

“No,” I whisper, clinging to his arms. My chest is heaving. “Just... stay. Please.”

Joonmyeon bites his lip. “Of course,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. I rest my head on his chest, and he gently tangles his fingers through my hair. With a slight jolt, I realize that the sun is setting outside. How long have I been asleep?

Crap. Sora must be worried that I haven’t texted her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Joonmyeon murmurs. “You looked pretty... scared.”

I shake my head. “Just another stupid dream. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

He looks at me, his lips set in a firm line. I know that he wants me to talk about it. But honestly, what am I supposed to say to him? Oh, hey, Joonmyeon, I was having nightmares about the nine men I murdered. It’s no biggie!

I can’t. I can’t tell him about anything.

Suddenly, I become acutely aware of the position we are in. I am straddling him, the comforter covering the both of us, as he rests his hands on the small of my back, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. My body freezes; I can tell he realizes it, too, by the way he tenses. A long, tension-heavy silence fills the room. I can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt-

“Hot chocolate sounds pretty good,” I blurt out, scrambling off his lap. My face is a mortifying shade of puce.

“Oh, y-yeah,” Joonmyeon stammers, standing up. “I’ll go make some right now.”

Jesus Christ. I bury my face in my hands. It’s these kinds of weird, awkward moments that blur the line we have between friendship and romance. I mean, I don’t like Joonmyeon like that. He just tries to piss me off half the time! And yeah, he’s amazing, and he’s been my pillar of support ever since I’ve been here, and manages to stay goofy and down-to-Earth despite being an attractive, popular chaebol and-

.

My phone buzzes at that moment, and I hastily pull it out. The moment I see the screen, my jaw drops.

Kim Sora: 9 Missed Calls.

A slew of texts from Sora and two unknown numbers (who I assume are Himchan and Zelo) fill my notifications as well. “, , ,” I mutter as I hastily type an “I’m alive” text to all three of them. “Joonmyeon! I need to go!” I call.

“What? But I just finished making the hot chocolate!”

“I totally forgot about this conference I was supposed to have with Professor Min!” I yell, grabbing my purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He rushes out of the kitchen carrying two mugs. “Take a sip before you go so it doesn’t go to waste,” he says, holding the cup up to my lips.

“Mmmm.” I take a long sip of the hot chocolate. “Thanks.”

“See you,” Joonmyeon grins, and I run out the door.

The sound of laughter grows louder and louder as I near my house. Strains of Running Man are audible from through the door.

It seems like everyone is having fun tonight.

Was having fun tonight.

My hands tremble as I jam my key into the lock, slowly open the door. I walk through the foyer, my own footsteps seeming to echo in my ears.

“Lia!” Yongguk exclaims from the living room. He is sitting on the couch with Himchan, Jongup, Daehyun, Youngjae, and Zelo, who immediately shoots up when he sees me.

“Finally!” he says. “How long does it take to deliver a simple package to Sistar, doofus?”

“Your boyfriend missed you,” Jongup teases, and all the guys burst out into laughter when Zelo’s face turns an angry shade of red.

Chorong, who was cuddled up next to Yongguk, beams when she sees me. “Dinner’s in the fridge,” she tells me. “Guess what I made? Drum roll, please-,”

“Chicken wings,” Yongguk blurts out.

Chorong looks up at him exasperatedly. “I said drumroll! You were supposed to do a drumroll!”

Yongguk gives her the wide smile he only reserves for her, the loving, affectionate grin that causes me to long for the day that someone will treasures me as much as Yongguk treasures Chorong. “Sorry, babe,” he murmurs, pecking her on the nose. “It was just too good of a surprise to hide.”

Chorong blushes. “Oh, stop.”

“Get a room, you two!” Daehyun hollers from across the room as he shovels chocolate Pocky into his mouth.

I look at the seven of them. But I am not really looking at them. I am looking past them. I am looking at the nine bleeding corpses on the floor. I am looking at the smoking gun in my hand.

Slowly, I see the cheerful smiles on their faces slowly fade away as I simply stand there, my expression blank, my body frozen.

“Lia,” Zelo whispers, striding towards me. “Lia, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Did someone do something to you?” Yongguk asks in a deadly soft voice. I can see his hand grip the knife he always keeps in his back pocket. “Tell me.”

I will myself to open my mouth, to tell them what I did.

But I cannot move.

“Let’s go,” Yongguk utters, grabbing a gun sitting on the countertop. “Himchan, Daehyun- grab our weapons kit. Youngjae, face masks. We’re going to ing kill them.”

    The room, which had been filled with such happiness and joy, explodes into a tense, furious hub of commotion. Chorong is clutching me to her chest as Zelo gapes down in abject horror at my limp figure and Jongup is reloading his gun and Himchan is angrily speaking into his phone and Yongguk is clutching at my hands, asking me to tell him who did this to me, where I was, something, anything, so that they can destroy whoever did this to me-

    “Stop,” I whisper.

    No one hears me. Everyone is barking orders or yelling instructions or shouting that they are going to make the gang who did this pay-

    “Stop,” I repeat, a little firmer.

    “It was UKISS, wasn’t it?” Yongguk growls. “Those dirty ers have been eyeing us for a while. They took you, didn’t they?”

    “I’ll slit each and every one of their throats,” Zelo says, his voice a faint whisper. There is pure, sheer rage blazing in his eyes. “I’ll kill them-,”

    “Stop!” I scream, and suddenly everyone goes still.

    Everyone’s eyes are on me.

    I jerk away from Chorong’s grip, stumble towards the staircase. My entire body is trembling.

    And then I retrieve the empty gun tucked away in my jacket and throw it on the floor.

    “I did it,” I utter.

“What happened?” I frantically ask Sora, clutching my phone as I speed-walk back to my dorms.

“We have a problem,” she responds. Wait- is she laughing?

“What the hell is it?”

“Okay. So. You know that party at LUXE? They just released the theme.”

I narrow my eyes. “You made me run all the way from Joonmyeon’s just for this?”

“No, okay, look, it’s Himchan and Zelo who’re freaking out about it. Well, mostly Zelo. Okay, so the theme is ‘Glo In the Dark’. The entire club is going to be blacklit and there's going to be neon paint thrown everywhere and it's going to be really lit.”

“Okay, and...?”

“Well, as a part of the dress code, we’ll have to go in white swimsuits.”

I literally freeze in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Sora,” I say when I have finally managed to find my voice. “It’s the middle of November.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s their dress code, not mine. I’m not surprised- LUXE is known for holding crazy wild parties. This actually sounds kind of hot, you know, like, all the neon paint on the bikinis and-,”

“Sora! I don’t want to be around other people in a bikini in the middle of winter!” I blanch. “, wait, does that mean that Himchan and Zelo will see us in our-,”

“Yeah, that’s what they’re flipping out about.”

“Ew!” I shriek, clapping my hand to my face. “That’ll be like my brothers seeing me wearing skimpy clothes! Ew, ew, ew!”

“Ew you!” Sora says. “Stop thinking about it like that. If you don’t wear it, you won’t be able to get in.”

“. !”

Well, at least all thoughts of my nightmare have flown out of my mind. Instead, they have been replaced by another horrendous prospect that is awaiting me at the end of this week.

“I don’t even think I own a white bikini,” I mutter to myself. “Where am I supposed to get one in ing November?”

The things I do to avenge my parents' death.

Ha, ha.

Sora and I spend the rest of the week sketching out our exact plan for Saturday night with Zelo and Himchan. We have gone over every detail and scenario each one of us could conceive. I am to enter the club with my normal appearance (minus clothes appropriate for the weather, of course), but will hide a face mask in my handbag. We get in, Sora texts him asking if he has anything “especially trippy” for her to try, he gets to a dark corner, I beat him into admitting who gave him the bingo book. We leave. Zelo and Himchan drive us home. The end.

Of course, there are a million other variables involved in this plan, too. But if there’s one thing I learned while running with gangs, even the best-formulated plans can fall apart. Successful jobs break down like this: 40% foresight, 25% intuition, and 35% pure, sheer, dumb luck.

So I’ll wing some of it. No big deal.

I relive my murder of ZE:A three times in the following week.

    Sora has managed to wake me up two out of three of those times.

    But that last time, my mind keeps replaying it over and over again. Like some kind of twisted Mobius Strip. Everything repeats over and over again. Every single gunshot. Every single drop of blood that spatters on my skin.

    I am too terrified to sleep that night. I text Joonmyeon and he picks me up and wraps his arms around me and tucks my head beneath his.

    “Do you want to talk about it?” he quietly asks me.

    I shake my head.

    I know what we are both thinking.

    What happened that afternoon at his house was not an isolated incident.

    The nightmares are coming back.

But I manage to pull myself together. I do not permit myself to be shaken by my dreams.

Any time my mind wanders to what I did that day, I picture Joonmyeon wrapping his arms around me and whispering, “Do you want to talk about it?” in my ear.

No, I don’t.

Because I’m okay. I’m ing okay.

And it works. Everything is fine.

Until approximately an hour before Sora and I are scheduled to leave for the LUXE Club on Saturday night.

A/N: Hey guys! I've joined an app called RadishFiction where authors publish chapters weekly, and readers can either pay 50 cents to read the chapter or wait 7 days until it's free. I'm going to serialize The Faces on there, a dystopian fic I published on AFF a while back, but I'm going to change the names. I can also start working on Black Daisies again (a Sehun X OC fic I had a while back), if you guys want. Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if you download the app and check it out!! :) The first 4 chapters will be free. 

I'm also going to unlock The Faces on AFF and publish the first 4 chapters there. I'll put the link here when I do so! Also, I will eventually start putting new, original fics on there.

Anyway, please check out RadishFiction and my profile (PrincessVivi, ofc!!!!)

ALSO S/O TO TSAINEE WHO MADE THIS INCREDIBLE POSTER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH