In hindsight, this was an absolutely awful idea.

  She eyed the messy, turbulent crowd of rambunctious teens in front of her, gyrating off-time to ignition (which in her opinion was honestly criminal), leaning back against the wall and feeling every kick of the snare as the music thrummed through the entire building.

  She made a mental note to bake an entire batch of cookies for old Mrs Kim four doors down, it was the least that poor little lady deserved after putting up with this and not reporting them to their landlord.

  She was also going to make sure that Chaeyoung, who had been talking to the tall, pretty girl Momo had seen a few times in the other dance studios on the other side of the room for the better part of half an hour now, would come over with her and apologise herself to Mrs Kim. This party had been her idea after all.

  She’d looked at Momo with those big, child-like eyes, and her hands clasped in front of her pleading oh so desperately for her approval for this party. She had begged and whined about how her new ( just a friend!) ‘friend’ had just moved over here from Taiwan for an exchange year and she wanted to host a party to make her feel welcomed and introduce her to new people and there wouldn’t be that many people, honest!

  Momo looked up from the half-empty red cup in her hand to look at the throng of people milling about between her kitchen and the living room, sat up on the counters flirting with their chosen conquest for the night, or cheering on their friends as they downed another crack-pot concoction (she was too scared to ask what their red cups contained at this point). She saw a boy from Chaeyoung’s art class, BangBang or some other obnoxious nickname like that, throwing up in their recycling bin.

   She had said yes to this , she admits with a drawn out weary sigh, watching the boy dry heave repeatedly. She tips back the rest of her cup down (coca cola, before anyone gets any ideas) crushing the plastic in her fist and tossing it back somewhere behind the couch. She’d have to clean this all in the morning anyway, so what was one more tiny crushed red cup?

  She makes her way over to the boy, wincing at the sight and placing her hand on his back, giving him a pat or two in what she hoped was somewhat soothing. He barely looked up, head swaying haphazardly above the bin (and she had just sorted their recycling out this week) but he did give her a weak grunt of recognition, so that was something at least.

  Chaeyoung better end up married to her ‘definitely just a friend!’ crush for all the trouble she’d put Momo through for this.

  Momo sighs (her new favourite habit, it seemed),  and rifled through the information in her head. She thinks she’s seen BoomBoom hanging out with Jackson from her mandatory Korean elective once or twice, and she remembers seeing Jackson hanging out near the bathroom with Youngjae about five minutes ago. Hopefully he was good enough friends with the ailing boy crying ( oh god he was crying now ) into her soiled recycling bin to take care of him so she wouldn’t have to.

  She reluctantly wraps an arm around his waist, securing him against her side and ignoring the overwhelming scent of vodka skating along her neck as his head flopped against her shoulder. She cursed his parents for his tall genetics as she heaved his body down the hallway, practically heaving him onto her back and dragging his semi-lifeless body towards her hopeful saviour, also cursing them for giving him ty alcohol tolerance.

  She spies a very handsy couple spill out of the bathroom, giggling and correcting their clothes whilst falling over the line of people glaring daggers waiting against the wall (and she makes a mental note to check that the locks on the bedrooms and Chaeyoung’s art room are still indeed locked) including - yes, Jackson. She heaves what could be a sigh of relief or overexertion at carrying this dimwit, and straight up throws him at Jackson as soon as she gets close enough. He barely even looks phased at their arrival, just slinging an arm around the boy who seemed almost miniscule in comparison to his muscular frame, and shot Momo a salute. Thank God for that.

  “Take care of BinBin.” Momo shouted over the music, and she thinks Jackson shouted something back at her but she’d already began meandering around the sweaty bodies in every nook of her home. She sees some people she knows, and other people that must be Chaeyoung’s friends or fanciful hopefuls that saw an open party and made their way in - at this point she doesn’t really care - and she shoots obligatory greetings and head nods in their direction as she makes her way to her room.

  There’s a guy leaning on her door, but Momo points out to him that there’s a bottle of premium vodka hidden under the sink if he wants it (Chaeyoung’s just going to have to it up) and he leaves and Momo can finally breathe easy for the first time of the night. She jiggles the handle, and sure enough the door is locked and there’s at least one reassurance that everything’s not going so badly. She resists the urge to let her head fall against the door and makes her way to Chaeyoung’s room, relief spreading through her once again at finding her lock still intact.

  Well, she did have to prise Nayeon away from the door with a bent bobby pin clasped in her one hand and Jeongyeon’s in her other. She had the good grace to look a little sheepish, which is an improvement because usually Nayeon is shameless. At least they hadn’t tried to break into her room. She thinks.

  The two stumble off, hopefully somewhere not her apartment to continue their hopeful night, and honestly at least someone was getting something out of this party.

  A stray ping pong ball comes whizzing down the hall, narrowly missing heads as it hits the generic family portrait Momo had cut and pasted hers and Chaeyoung’s heads onto when they moved it