7- word count 1570; warnings: none 

I run my hands down the skirt of my dress nervously. Bangtan had arrive at the event early, to get settled and do introductions, so I’m walking into the ballroom of Seoul’s fanciest hotel alone. People near the doorway stop to look at me, wondering who I am and why I’m here.  Even the security guards almost scoffed, until they saw that my name was indeed on the list.

Relief sweeps through me when I spot Bangtan sitting at a circular table against the wall. An ensemble plays music for the attendees to dance to, violins keening in a way that makes me want to twirl. As I approach Bangtan, I see the boys’ eyes go wide. Jimin smiles in the way that makes his eyes disappear. “Ri-nim! You made it!” I give him a little hug before sitting between J-Hope and Jin, with Namjoon and Taehyung across from me and the managers near them.

“I am very grateful for the invitation,” I say with a polite smile, nodding my head to Namjoon and then the managers. Namjoon shakes his head- “Please, you’re family. It would be wrong not to invite you.”

We talk amicably for a little while, until the music turns into that of a slow dance and couples begin to move to the center floor. I cannot help myself; I rise, looking around at them until my eyes catch Namjoon’s. “Would any of you care to dance?” Joonie’s cheeks go red as he shakes his head and mumbles “I don’t slowdance.”

After a few minutes of me standing awkwardly, a man approaches me; one of various actors whom I do not recognize. “Could I steal you?” he asks in perfect english. I respond in korean with a warm “Of course,” and follow him.

I can feel eyes burning me as I walk away.

-Namjoon-

I watch her glide away with a stranger, some other idol who is not me. The black of her dress clings to her torso, falling away at her hourglass hips like a waterfall. Her dyed hair is shiny in the warm lights of the ballroom, flipped over to the right so that her neck is bare on the other side. I’ve been watching her dance for more than two months now, but the way she twists and turns to the slow thrums of the music is captivating.

My blood boils when I watch the other man laugh, when his eyes rake over her form. He isn’t gentle enough, he should be more careful with her. She’s too important to drag around, too delicate to break. But  she isn’t delicate, a voice in my head reminds me. She is strong, and quick-witted, and she works harder than anybody I’ve ever met.

“Hyung?” asks a bright voice. Taehyung is watching me watch her, and his eyes (which are usually darting all over the place) are focused sharply on me. “Hyung, why don’t you dance with her?” He is whispering, keeping our conversation away from the ears of our brothers.

“I...can’t,” I mutter back. “She’s our teacher, and we’re idols, I shouldn’t…” Tae rolls his eyes.

“It’s just a dance Leader-mon. You don’t have to sleep with her.” his mischievous grin lights up his face. “But you could.” I scoff, standing.

“Shut up, Tae.”

It’s hard to count how many times I clear my throat and straighten my tie just walking over to the happy couple. My heart is pounding, my palms are sweating. Why am I nervous? I’ve known her for months.

“Excuse me? Do you mind if I cut in?”

The man’s eyes hesitate to look away from her, and I don’t blame him, but I try to ignore it. My hand is held in the air, hoping for her to accept. “Sure,” the man says awkwardly, stepping away. All I see are Ri’s eyes, locked onto mine. Her pink lips are curled into a smile, white teeth biting softly on the glossy skin.

Being an idol, I’ve seen hundreds of thousands of beautiful girls, from young ages to late twenties. I’ve seen hundreds of thousands of girls throwing themselves at me, screaming at my every breath. But Ri is my teacher, and to me she is unattainable. She’s never shown a glimmer of interest in me, or my group members. After Rae-kyo, she seemed to lose interest in dating altogether. Who could blame her? He was a cruel and abusive excuse for a man.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my hands drifting to her waistline. She can’t have more than a 25 inch waist; I try not to think about that. She tilts her head, laughing. “For what?”

I shrug, hands tightening around her torso while her fingers drift across the lapels of my suit jacket. “You looked like you were having fun with him. I interrupted.” She shakes her head, still smiling while her eyes scrunch closed.

“Nah. I mean, he was kind, but I don’t know him. I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than a few months.”

I’m focusing largely on my own two feet, trying not to embarrass myself in front of my choreographer. Her heels make her almost level with me. It would be so easy to lean down, to rest my forehead against hers.

“Ri-nim?” I begin. Her eyes are closed, a far-away smile gracing her lips. “Hm?”

“How old are you?”

Her blue eyes fly open, her rosy skin looks a shade paler. “W-what? Why?” Her usual attitude returns, covering her moment of uneasiness. “You know, it’s impolite to ask a woman her age.”

I chuckle, albeit nervously. “Sorry, just...you seem so mature, you’re so successful with your studio, and you talk about things like you’ve been around for centuries. But I know you can’t be far from my age, right?”

She inhales deeply. “I know it seems weird not to tell you, just, I also know that age dictates how people treat you.” Her eyes meet mine again, her nose skimming against my own. “In korean years, I’m twenty-one, so in american years I’m nineteen.” I barely contain my surprise.

“You’ve gotten a degree, bought your own studio, and worked with several famous kpop groups at the age of nineteen?” It’s her turn to shrug.

“Yeah.”

I swallow thickly, halting in our slow spins around the room. “It’s hot in here, can we go outside?” I incline my head towards the balcony nearby. There’s a flash of apprehension in her eyes, but she nods.

When we’re outside, I let the cool breeze wipe away my nerves. I don’t know how long ago it was that I started liking her. I had always thought her beautiful, I knew that she was talented. It was really when she dated that Rae-kyo, when I thought about how differently I would treat her. That was when the tricky disease set in.

“I like the city, but you can’t see the stars.” She pouts, leaning against the rail of the balcony.

“Can you see the stars in your hometown?” I ask, standing close beside her. She nods a little. “Where are you from?” My tone is inquiring, but really I just want to hear her voice again.

“I’m from Arizona...and California...and New York.” She grins. “So I guess you could say I’ve had a lot of hometowns. But when I went to Fordham, I could see all kinds of stars.”

I know that name; Fordham is one of the best dance schools in her country. “You’re amazing,” I mutter unashamedly. She looks startled again, a deer in the headlights, when I place my hands against her jaw and tilt her face upwards. I lean in carefully, gently, not wanting to hurt her. Her lips taste like the gloss which caught my attention earlier. Before I can taste more of her, she pulls away.

“Namjoon,” she whispers pleadingly, her voice raw. “We can’t. You’re an idol...I swore I wouldn’t…”

My own voice is almost a growl. “Swore to whom? My managers? I don’t have a dating ban like most idols, I’m allowed to kiss you.”

Ri sighs. “No, not your managers, I swore to myself. I’ve listened to your music for years, yours more than Bangtan’s. When I moved, when my dad died, when I lost everything, I listened to you and felt just a little better. If I’m with you, people will talk. People will say that I’m using you for fame, or that Big Hit is trying to fake the relationship to get you more popular. You remember when some of the Exo members got girlfriends? It was an explosion...I don’t want to hurt you, or your fame. I want to keep hearing your voice on the radio, for years and years.”

I can’t think of what to say. I’ve always been in charge of making speeches, I can usually say something poetic and thoughtful, but part of me knows that she’s sincere. She doesn’t want me to lose what I’ve worked so hard for, and people will talk. “Let them talk,” I huff. “If my fans love me, they’ll be happy for me. Right?”

But Ri shakes her head, her silk arms tugging away from me, pearl skin flushed with mixed feelings. “I’m sorry Namjoon. I am your choreographer, and nothing more.”

A/N: Hope I didn't jump into anything too fast...pleeeeeeeeeeeease gimme any feedback you have :)