A/N: Words cannot express how sorry I am to have gone on such a long hiatus... Somehow I only found time to write a couple of sentences at a time, though I was always thinking about this fic :( From now on I don't think I can ask you guys to expect timely updates... I understand if you want to stop reading. I'm always thankful for you guys!

It takes a horrifically long period of time to calm myself and regain my senses. It is only when the vibrations suddenly stop that I unfreeze, two minutes later. A very short time, perhaps to some, but in my line of work (or lack of work) that's enough time to get killed several times over if I don't pay attention. I can't afford that kind of panic attack. Tiger would whack me upside the head if he found out I lost focus in an insecure area. No– he would torture and kill whoever ended my life, resurrect me, and then flatten me.

Shaking off the nervousness that has uncharacteristically filled me, I square my shoulders and advance up the stairs. The music hasn't yet restarted when I reach the room.

I picture a group of adolescent boys staring at me as I enter and flinch, deciding to wait outside until they start practicing again. To be fair, RapMon isn't so much an adolescent, but it'll also give me more time to observe the Jung Hoseok that has thrown a wrench into my life. Carefully, I peer through the little window in the door to the practice room just as an explosion of laughter occurs. My eyes are drawn immediately to one figure.

It's like a punch in the gut. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't that Jung Hoseok as an adult would look almost exactly like the pre-pubescent Jung Hoseok of my childhood years. Sure, he's much taller now, but so am I. He's filled out some, and isn't gangly like he was before. However– that wide, toothy half-laugh smile of his, when his eyes curve into crescent moons, has stayed unchanged.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. In two days, I've returned to the place of my childhood and met my two best childhood friends. How twisted is it that neither of the latter can know who I am?

Irked, I admonish myself. Stay in character, moron. Shaking my head self-deprecatingly, I force myself to stride forward and open the door. Even as I turn the doorknob, I realize I need to pull it back slightly to keep the door from creaking, and I do so. Quietly, I slip inside unnoticed by all but the dance instructor.

"Annyeonghaseyo, I'm Shin Minho," I introduce myself quietly.

"Annyeonghaseyo. I'm Son Seungdeuk," he replies. "You're the taekwondo trainer?"

"Primarily," I answer. "Though I'm good for just about everything else as well. Is this the performance piece?"

"This?" He nods towards the practicing boys. "Aniyo. We were waiting for you. They're practicing Danger right now."

Nodding, I finally look at Bangtan, scanning each of them.

I pinpoint the oldest and youngest in a heartbeat. The maknae looks like an all-rounder, and the mat-hyung must be a vocalist. The others… a few of them look like troublemakers. One of them I know is a troublemaker, and I hold my breath as his eyes land on me. He grins. My stomach flips but I keep the slight smile on my face and keep breathing.

All of them are sweating to some degree. It's a familiar sight, except the boys I usually watch throw real punches, not metaphoric ones. And- I listen to the song, grinning- the fight is never about a girl. I mean, a love interest, because obviously the gang has gotten into countless fights over me. Back when I was Sarah Yang, and creepy stalkers abounded… never mind.

Too soon, the song is over. Oppa, the maknae, and Namjoon make their way over to me with welcoming smiles. The others drop, panting, to the floor, closing their eyes and struggling to calm their heartbeats.

My heart speeds up as I bow, introducing myself. "Annyeonghaseyo. I'm Shin Minho, your taekwondo coach."

"Annyeonghaseyo. I'm Jung Hoseok and I'm a rapper. Nice to meet you!" Oppa grins.

My smile tries to falter but I won't let it. "Nice to meet you too."

"I'm Jeon Jungkook, the all-rounder maknae," the (adorable) stranger volunteers. "But officially I'm a vocal."

"And you've already met me," Namjoon says. "Those rude people over there are our other members. Kim Taehyung is that one. He's a vocal. Very eccentric but don't worry, you'll get used to him. That one's our mat-hyung, Kim Seokjin, also a vocal. You can call him by his stage name, Jin, or Princess. That's Suga, or Min Yoongi. Rapper, dancer." He rattles off the roles and names of each member and I commit them to memory. "And that one-" He points at the last member, who's just heaving himself up from the floor, and shrugs mischievously. "I don't know what he's doing here."

"Don't listen to Namjoon," the new arrival complains, whacking Namjoon on the head. "I'm Park Jimin, vocal. I'm also in charge of the ab flashes." He drags his shirt up a bit and reveals washboard abs.

I nod and widen my eyes a bit after I notice their expectant looks. Apparently abs are a big deal here? Am I supposed to flash them to climb the ranks? How amusing.

"Yah, Jiminie, where are you?" Taehyung groans, crawling towards the sound of Jimin's voice. "Save me…"

I crouch, biting back laughter, as he approaches. "Annyeonghaseyo, Taehyung-ssi. My name is Shin Minho and I'm here to teach you taekwondo."

"Eo?" He lifts his head and stares into my eyes, only inches away. A short, high-pitched shriek and then he scrambles up, bowing. "Annyeonghaseyo!"

I bow, chuckling, the bow again repeatedly as the remaining members get up and approach.

"Annyeonghaseyo, I'm Jin," the broad-shouldered mat-hyung introduces himself.

"I'm Suga," Yoongi announces. "You're teaching us taekwondo?"

I shrug. "Not so much teaching you taekwondo as teaching you how to look like you know what you're doing," I say honestly. "Taekwondo is not something you can learn in a couple of weeks."

Good, they don't look offended. Surreptitiously, I check out Hoseok's expression and nearly laugh out loud. His expectant and excited face is still so familiar to me after all these years– it's like I've been transported back a decade.

"Alright, let's see what's been choreographed so far."

***

I spend the rest of the afternoon shut up in that practice room with BTS. Per usual, my efficiency (and stellar instruction, might I add) quickly produces results. I have the boys practicing their form for the first hour, then advance onto striking, etc.

If I only look at the other six members, I can almost pretend that Hoseok isn't there. But somehow the tail end of a laugh catches my ears, or his reflection in the mirrors bids me turn and look. I try and act natural, but I find myself only cursorily checking his form, avoiding eye contact. Even so, the line of his body soon becomes as familiar as it had been years before.

As a whole, the group works admirably, their teamwork in some ways comparable to Zodiac's. They pick up the skills fast enough, and I can tell they're all working hard. I guess the key to your motivation was dancing after all, oppa, I think sadly as my eyes rest unconsciously on the only person who matters to me in the room.

My attention doesn't go unnoticed, it seems. "Is there something wrong with Hoseok's performance?" The dance instructor inquires.

Mentally pummeling myself, I turn to look at him. "Not at all, Seungdeuk-ssi. I was just thinking how proud I am to work with such talented artists."

"I think that too, all the time," he admits, smiling fondly at the boys. "Though some days they can drive a man insane."

"I don’t doubt it," I laugh. "Boys our age are usually not in their right minds."

Seungdeuk raises his eyebrows. "Aigo, I thought you looked young but not that young."

I laugh lightly. "I'm 22 this year."

"How are you so accomplished?" he asks, bemused.

"Ah…" Avoiding death by rival gang member is part of my daily routine? "Let's just say I had very diverse interests that I pursued since a young age, and that I was fortunate enough that our family had the means to cultivate my passions."

He nods, satisfied with my answer, then turns to regard BTS again. "I think the kids are getting tired."

"Guys!" I call, getting up. "Enough practice for today. I don't want you to strain your muscles."

"Hobeom hyung!" Taehyung calls, dropping onto his knees. "Can we pleeeeease go out for dinner?"

The man I assume is their manager hesitates, then nods. "Araso."

"YESSS!" Jimin crows.

Jungkook flings his sweaty self towards me. "Minho hyung! Come eat with us!"

The rest of them converge. "Yes, come eat with us, hyung," Rapmon suggests. "So we can get to know you better."

"I think we've gotten to know each other plenty," I note drily, looking pointedly at Kookie, who has draped himself over me like a coat on a coatrack. The past afternoon has been hours of practice, true, but the guys are remarkably good at chatting while they train.

Suddenly, there's a weight on my other arm. I turn my head to look straight into Hoseok's eyes. I can't stop myself from tensing slightly.

"Pleaseee," he coaxes. Those goddamn eyes… like when he used to beg me for study breaks.

"…but fine, I'll come," I concede in the end, as I always conceded when oppa asked. Before I can stop myself, I rap Hoseok lightly on the head with my knuckles, just like I used to every time I gave in to his aegyo. Oh, . I cringe mentally when I see him furrow his brow slightly and loosen his grip on my arm. "Let's go, then!" I say hastily, dragging Kookie up with me as I get to my feet.

The whole way down to the street level, I remonstrate myself for making a mistake, but this preoccupation results in yet another mishap. As soon as we get downstairs, someone jumps on my back from behind. Instinctively, I tense and fold over, using his momentum to throw him, registering his slight weight and familiar build too late.

!