The boys leave for their tour a few weeks after my birthday. It’s simple enough for me to resume my previous teaching schedule, but there’s a hole inside of me now. I miss their constant laughter, I miss Jin’s cooking and Taehyung’s warm smile. I long to hear the sounds of Jungkook trying to freestyle rap while Suga groans at the terrible rhymes. I miss Jimin and J-Hope constantly wanting to show me dance moves; I miss Namjoon’s questions about anything and everything.

Of course, I can see their tv specials, I see fan videos and pictures, I can read articles online to make sure they’re safe and healthy. Despite my easy access, I still feel like I should be with them, just to keep an eye on things. After a week of them being gone, I bite the bullet and text J-Hope:

Are my boys being safe?? The studio feels empty without you…

I busy myself with tidying my apartment until he replies, Of course! Jimin tried to attack me with a hair dryer again but other than that things are going fine ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

A moment later he continues with: Also, Kookie and Namjoon say hello! Oh, now Joonie is complaining that Kookie stole his hello. They’re wrestling now...I’m gonna go save the maknae.

I have to control my laughter before I can reply, Tell Joonie to leave “oppa” alone ㅋㅋㅋ . It figures that Rapmon would get jealous- ever since I admitted I was younger than Jungkook, he hasn’t been so shy. He stated several times that he might ask for extra lessons like Namjoon did, much to his hyung’s chagrin.

I wonder if Namjoon will be as jealous when he sees the little project I’m working on- if  I let him see it. I’m still debating on how badly I want to embarrass myself.

My phone beeps again with a message from Hobi. Namjoon wants to know if you want to see us when we perform in Seoul?

Of course!  I tell him. I wouldn’t miss it. They’ve been touring Europe for the last week, meaning soon they’ll be in Asia after two stops in America. They won’t get back to Korea for another few weeks, making it an entire month until I can see them in person. The thought tortures me.

I spend my days teaching and preparing for recitals, and use my nights to make up new choreography. Eunja worries about me, as I’m always in the studio for hours after she leaves her desk, but I assure her that it’s quite normal for me to dance for twelve hours.

As the weeks pass, I do my best to keep in touch with Bangtan. The fans are getting wilder, making every flight between countries chaotic. I can’t imagine so many people loving us so much, Namjoon texts me one afternoon. I never thought I would have fans in such obscure places. I’m not at all surprised; anyone who truly listens can hear the beauty of BTS’s music.

The day finally comes when Bangtan lands in Korea again. They have a few days off, but when Namjoon offers to stop by I tell him to stay home and rest. “I’ll see you backstage after the show,” I promise on the phone. “I’m looking forward to seeing those dances onstage…” Namjoon chuckles. “You won’t be disappointed.”

For the concert I wear black denim shorts, a white crop top, and my red converse. I’ve been letting my roots grow out, so instead of black hair I now have red hair with black ends. I’d never liked my ginger hair, due to the fact that people always pointed it out and made me feel self conscious, but I know it’s unhealthy to dye it all the time. Once my makeup is done, I drive to the stadium with my ticket and backstage pass.

The atmosphere is electric; thousands of people, mostly teenage girls, flood the entrances. The same seven names hang in the air as strangers form friendships through chatter and song. I’m quite early, as I wanted to get to my seat easily, and it’s fascinating to listen to the conversations around me. If they knew I was Bangtan’s new choreographer, they would probably attack me with questions.

My seat is perfect, close to the front but not so low as to have my view blocked by the stage’s edge. I can see every inch of the stage and feel the energy of the fans around me. The noise is already deafening, even without screams of joy. Kpop plays over speakers, and every time a BTS song plays the crowd goes wild.

After I’ve been sitting for an hour, the lights go dark. I can’t help but let out my own shout of excitement, my voice lost among the others. “Hello, Korea!” shouts Namjoon, as screens flash with lights and the speakers blast his rough voice across the stadium. They throw themselves into the singing right away, their new songs filling the air and echoing into the city night.

I love every part of this; I’m singing along, dancing along, watching the manic energy in Taehyung’s eyes and the passion in Jimin’s moves. Suga goes to a world above, hardly touching the ground. Jin and J-Hope cause laughter with their silliness, Jungkook’s aegyo destroys the young girls. Then there is Namjoon, whose voice is raw and pure and absolutely filled with his devotion, his black hair damp with sweat.

The fifth or sixth song that plays is one of the intros, “What am I to You?” and I wonder if Namjoon is still upset about when I rejected him so many weeks ago. I wonder if he thinks of me when he says I just want to freely love. Seeing him sing live, watching the way his lips brush against his microphone, seeing the sweat glitter on his skin, I regret letting him think that it was easy for me to say “no”.

The boys talk to the fans happily in between rounds of song, the dance line stuns me yet again as they move fluidly across the stage. At the end of the night, after four encores, BTS says goodnight and the audience reluctantly leaves in energetic droves. I, however, make my way to the security entrance, where I flash my backstage pass and tell the guards who I am.

The backstage area is crowded with staff, but my eyes zero in on the group of gangly young men who are changing into shorts and t-shirts, drinking water and talking in worn voices. “That was quite a show,” I call, causing seven heads to whirl around. “You’re here!” V calls happily, and Namjoon steps forward, a grin lighting up his face.

I don’t fail this time- I run forward, jumping up to throw my arms around Namjoon’s broad shoulders. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me above the ground so that my red shoes hover in the air. “Hey Joonie,” I whisper in his ear. “You looked really great up there.”

His breathing is rapid, and though he lets me stand he keeps his arms tight around my torso, his face pressed against my neck. “I missed you, jagi.” he murmurs, his lips moving across my skin when he speaks. I sigh, not really wanting to let go until I hear Jimin whine “let us hug her, too!”

It feels like a breath of fresh air to look at them all again. I hug each of them, complimenting their show and telling them my favorite parts. Namjoon reaches over and takes my hand while I talk; I don’t think to mind.

The group takes some time off to spend with their families, but I tell Namjoon that before he returns to his schedule he needs to stop by my studio. I’ve decided to show him my project after all.

He shows up on a friday evening, wearing faded jeans and a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In contrast, I’m wearing all black. Black leggings and a black sports bra, with my multi colored hair tied up in a messy bun.

“What’s up?” he asks, watching as I practice a turn. I’ve been dancing for a while, so the room is warm and filled with music.

“I’ve been working on something for you. Do you remember when I said I listened to your music most? Like, more than BTS in general?” he nods. “Well I always loved “Your Voices” best of all your songs. So I thought, ‘why not do something with that?”’ I gesture to the folding chair that I set in the corner of the studio. He sits obediently, eyes wide.

“I choreographed a routine to your song. That’s what I wanted to show you.” I conclude, stepping over to the sound system and selecting the track. “Ri…” Namjoon begins, trailing off as I assume my starting position at the center of the dance floor. The dance starts slowly just like the song, with moves reminiscent of my ballet training. As the tempo speeds up my motions become more intense and fast paced, the whole thing a mix of several dance styles. I’ve put more effort into this particular dance than most others, because the song makes me feel more than most others. In this song you can hear every word and breath so clearly, his emotions like crystal with the way he pours himself into the music; in return, I throw myself into the dance.

At the end, I freeze in my stop position and wait for Namjoon to speak through the sudden silence. He stands abruptly, striding forward and pulling me against him. “That was beautiful,” he rasps, hands against my face. “It was perfect.” He leans in then, crashing his lips to mine with fervor. It’s alarming, knowing that those same lips just sang to me through old speakers, that the same tongue weaves poetry on album after album.

My fingers twine in his hair, tugging until his body bends closer to mine. Suddenly he moves us, pushing until my back presses against the cool glass of the studio mirrors. His hands dig into my hips, locking me in place while his mouth moves across my jaw and down to my neck. I can tell that he’s leaving marks on purpose, labeling me as his with nips of teeth along my collarbone.

As our kiss grows deeper his hips grind against mine, starting a pool of fire in my stomach. “We can’t,” I protest feebly.

“You’re right,” he growls. “Not in your studio we can’t.” And he steps away, darting over to the desk in the corner with the stereo. He finds my purse and keys, tossing them to me. “You lock up. Your place is within walking distance right?”

To say that we had a nice evening stroll would be a lie. It was a rapid jaunt through city, dodging late night travellers and sprinting into the apartment building with bright grins and quiet laughter.

-Namjoon-

My patience had already been wearing thin long before she danced for me. The weeks spent on tour had me tossing and turning at night, restless with longing, and finally seeing her again nearly broke me down. To watch her body move with my own song filling her ears was better than any turn on I could think of.

I lose patience again as the elevator slowly makes its way to her floor. I groan, grabbing her waist and locking my mouth to hers. “This is the slowest elevator in history,” I grumble, and she breaks the kiss to laugh. When we finally reach her door I make it difficult for her to unlock it, my hands groping everywhere they can while my lips do the same. At last we’re in her hallway, and the door is just clicking shut as my friend and choreographer pulls me into her bedroom.

I know what I’m doing, but I still trip over myself when she peels off her clothes because damn she’s gorgeous. She’s all curves and milky skin, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. I’m only slightly self conscious when I do the same, fingers struggling with my shirt buttons, but from the way she her lips I can tell she thinks I look just fine. We fall onto her bed hungrily, my hands pinning her wrists by her sides while I use my mouth to explore her. I make my way down her toned stomach, releasing her wrists so that she can weave her fingers into my hair. It’s been a long time since I had any kind of relationship, but my fingers and tongue know just what to do to get her gasping. She feels better than I could have imagined.

“Namjoon-” she groans. “I can’t wait this long,I want you now.” I chuckle against her skin. “Alright jagi, if you’re sure.” My mouth returns to hers as I settle between her legs, looking into her eyes carefully. “You definitely want this?” I ask just in case, examining her wide eyes and raw lips. She nods, back arching to increase our contact. “Yes, definitely, please.” I sigh with pleasure- I’ve been wanting her for months. I respected her space, but it killed me, and now I’m alive. The snap of my hips is instinct, the desperate motion its own sort of dance.

God, I could write a song about the feeling of her fingernails on my back. I'd write two more about the heat of her skin, an interlude of her gasping breaths. A shudder runs through me as we melt together, composing the album of our bodies. I wonder if either one of us will be able to talk in the morning. I wonder how many people will stare at the purple blossoms across her neck and shoulders.

She writhes against me when I give her what she needs; she cries out in every language she knows. I hit my high shortly after hers, fingers twisting in her blankets with her name a repeating prayer in my mouth. Collapsing beside her, I pull Ri close and try to catch my breath.

“Jagi?” I pant, suddenly curious about something. “What’s Ri short for?” She hums slightly, her head resting on my chest and fingers grazing my stomach. “It’s short for Victoria. Victoria Kay.”

“Victoria,” I repeat, running my fingers through her hair. “사랑해.”

“I love you, too.” she whispers, nuzzling her face against my heart.

It takes all of my willpower to drag myself out of her bed and head back to the dorms.

I get back to the dorms just before curfew. My friends all stare at me, asking where I was. "Ri had a dance to show me. She choreographed one of the songs from my first album."

Jimin grins. "Really? Cool. Why did it take so long to show you? You've been gone for two hours."

"I dunno. We were just talking about music and stuff." I go to my room where Jungkook is already in bed, sketching in a notebook. I'm exhausted, quite frankly, but my bones are tingling and I can still hear her voice. I tug off my shirt and pants to get ready for bed, muttering a hello to Jungkook.

"Hey hyung. What happened to your back?"

I stiffen. "What? What about my back?"

"It's got red lines. Almost like-" he mimes a clawing action through the air. Just as his eyes widen with understanding, I skitter from the room muttering "Nothing, gonna go shower" and slip down the hallway.

When I finish showering and get dressed, I hear Jin calling me from the couch. Walking hesitantly down the hall, I glance around at all six members. "Joon-ah, did you...go home with Ri?"

I try not to meet my hyung's gaze, but my cheeks go red anyway. "Aish Namjoon," Suga hisses. "You ed our choreographer?" I raise my hands in defense, annoyed by his tone.

"I didn't '' her. You know how I feel, how I've felt for months. She wants me, too. What's wrong with that?"

"That's not the problem!" Yoongi exclaims. "What if somebody finds out?"

"Nobody's going to find out."

J-Hope huffs. "So you say! The fans are gonna freak out. What if we lose popularity because you couldn't keep it in your pants?" The words slip from his mouth in anger, but I can see that he regrets it from the way his mouth turns down.

I run my hands through my hair, trying to control my temper. "Look, I'm not going to brag on tv or anything. We don't even have a dating ban!"

Jin breaks in, always the peacekeeper. "Joonie, we know you aren't trying to mess anything up. You've been doing well, really, just...maybe you should talk to our managers first." I nod, breathing deeply.

"Of course hyung. I'll make sure to get, er, permission before I do...anything. With her."

I start to turn around but Jungkook calls out "Hyung?" I glance back, catching his mischievous smile. "Yeah Kookie?"

“How was it?”