-Ri-

Dance practice resumes a few days later. I've had time to compose myself, so when the boys walk into the studio to run through the dance one final time before I leave them alone, I act completely professional.

"Ri-nimmmm," J-Hope whines. "Why aren't you joking with us? You've been so cold and quiet today." I smile apologetically. "Sorry, I've just got a lot going on. My other students have a recital soon." That's not the reason why, of course, no recital would affect my attitude that badly. I’m well aware of Namjoon, shuffling his feet and keeping his head low.

"What are your students like?" Taehyung asks. I tilt my head, thinking.

“Well I had quite a few classes, but I had a second teacher take over the amateur group when Big Hit hired me. So right now I just have my advanced class; they’re all very talented. Lee-Woon, Soo-Jin, and Ji-Won are my best three, they could teach the class if I asked them to. I love teaching all of the students, of course, but those three make me especially proud.”

Taehyung flashes his square smile. “I wish I could meet them, it would be cool teaching a whole class.”

“Maybe you will someday.” I keep my voice smooth, making no promises. No outside contact, I tell myself. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.

But, naturally, some of the boys are more outgoing than others. I used to complain about Bangtan ruining my life when I was just a young fan, but I never thought they actually would. So when Suga speaks up at the end of practice, I have trouble finding words:

“Ri-nim, I want us all to have lunch with you again.” he states matter-of-factly.

“What? Why?”

“Because you promised you would show us your music.”

“Are you inviting yourself over?”

“No, I’m saying we should pick up some food and conveniently stop inside of your apartment to eat it.”

“That sounds like an invitation to me.”

“Well, then, thanks for the invitation.”

There’s little I can do when Yoongi makes up his mind. As caring as he is, his erseness and determination are what got him so far in life. A few days later I get a text from him (I assume he stole my number from a manager) saying that he and the others will bring food over on Friday afternoon, after their photoshoot. With a sigh of resignation, I turn to the task of cleaning my apartment.

I wish that the managers had turned Suga down, had told him it was inappropriate or that they were too busy to stop and have lunch with a near-staff-member. It isn’t that I don’t love spending time with the boys- I consider them my friends, like the older brothers I never had. The trouble is Namjoon. The trouble is that to date him would hurt his reputation and to lose him would hurt my heart. I’ve lost so much already, it would be overkill to have any sort of scandal with Kim Namjoon.

“Good afternoon Ri-nim!” Taehyung beams, holding out bags of steaming takeout food the moment I open my door. I take them carefully, bowing my head in thanks. The seven boys are each carrying more food, so I quickly usher them to my table, where I have dishes set up to hold the plethora of foods. Jin and I manage to get all of the food set out without making a mess while the jittery boys sit and wait to eat.

When we’re all sitting, I smile. “I’m glad you could make it. I would have given you a tour, but what you see is pretty much what you get.”

J-Hope chuckles. “We’ve gotta get you a room in the dorms. That way we can pester you whenever we wish.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Hoseok-ah, we can’t have a girl living in the dorms. The maknaes would never leave her alone.” He starts to eat, signaling for the rest of us to begin as well. It always amazes me how rapidly the boys can inhale their meals. I can’t help giggling when Jungkook looks at me with his cheeks full of food, dark eyes wide.

“You look like a hamster!” I squeak.

Namjoon tilts his head, swallowing. “More like a squirrel. Hamsters sleep during the day, Kookie never stops bothering us.”

Jungkook is blushing, finally chewing and swallowing the ridiculous amount of rice in his mouth. “Aish, leave me alone! I’m not a rodent. Jin-hyung eats more than I do.” Nobody can disagree with that; Jin’s famous for his eating.

After we’ve eaten I lead the group into my living room, where they flood the couches and chairs and make the room seem full for the first time. Namjoon approaches my bookshelfs, his thin fingers the spines. “There are so many,” he breathes. “And they’re all in different languages. Have you read all of these?”

I nod absentmindedly. “At least once, but I like to reread my favorites. I need new material- it’s just that I don’t have much room.” Namjoon laughs. “I can see that- the shelves are groaning.”

Jimin is sitting with his legs across Jungkook’s lap and his head on Hobi’s shoulder. “Are you gonna play your songs for us, Ri-nim?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I turn towards the piano. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t laugh at me, I’m still your teacher.” I sit on the bench, shoulders tight with the weight of fourteen pressing eyes. I haven’t played in front of anybody in years.

I decide to play the song I’d recently finished, one of my favorites. The music starts out slowly, winding through the room and soothing my nerves. As the tempo increases I forget that I’m being watched; by the of the song I’m enjoying myself. This is the reason I play: the melodies never fail to remind me that things get better. I finish with a fadeout of sound, taking a happy breath as I come back to earth.

I glance over my shoulder to the raucous sound of seven boys clapping. “That’s amazing,” Suga breathes. “Can we use that? I love that.” I laugh, the peals of giggles filling the gap where music was a moment before. “You can have whatever you’d like...Anything that I can offer is yours.” My voice is warm, the words sincere. Bangtan means too much to me, I can feel that now.

J-Hope is kicking his long legs in excitement while Jungkook and Jimin poke and prod one another. Taehyung has found my handwritten sheet music and is flipping through it while Yoongi looks over his shoulder. Jin has slipped into the kitchen, sneakily cleaning up the table before I can stop him. Namjoon leans against the wall beside the bookshelf, eyes raking over me. “What are you thinking about?”he murmurs, approaching and sitting beside me on the piano bench. There’s barely enough room, so his arm presses against mine.

“I’m thinking that I’m lucky to know all of you. And that I’ve gotten in too deep, because someday your company won’t need me and all of this will leave me alone just like before.” Namjoon looks over at me, gaze intense. “That’s not true. You’ll always be our friend, no matter where we go and where you go.” He puts his arm around me, squeezing tight around my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I mutter. I can’t find it in myself to say anything more.

The time comes for Bangtan to resume their busy schedules, departing with several hugs and a lot of talking over each other. Shortly after they leave I go to my studio for afternoon lessons, seven voices echoing in my head.

At the studio, a few of the girls ask if it's true that I've been working with Bangtan. When I say yes, they squeal and beg to know all about the boys. "They're....I dunno, they're just boys. They like pokemon, and food, and they're always trying to have fun somehow. But they're also very serious about their work. They listen well, they've got a lot of determination." The girls look ready to swoon.

"If I was their teacher I would get distracted," Eunja giggles, and I grin. "Oh it's definitely distracting. Every one of them is handsome, but I'm a professional. If I were to get distracted then none of the dances would get done." I glance at the clock. "And speaking of that, we need to get started."

At home that evening, exhaustion pushes me to go to bed early. I take a shower first, my mind playing over all of Bangtan's kind words as the steam and soap rid my skin of toil. The more I think about them, the more I wish I hadn't pushed a certain rapper away. Books usually talk about never wanting to wash away kisses or touches; but while I stand under the steaming water and scrub my skin red, I can't seem to wash away my feelings for Namjoon- nor the guilt that comes with them.
 

It’s August, and the second of the month marks three years since I left America. The fourth of the month marks my birthday; normally I would spend the occasion alone, but it seems that the fates had decided to toy with me. I wake up on the morning of the fourth to the sounds of several rapid knocks on my front door. “Coming,” I call, straightening my white tank top and pajama shorts. My legs are exposed and my shirt is a little more see-through than I’d like, so I’m hoping it’s just the landlady.

“Happy birthday Ri-Nim!” Jimin shrieks, soft cheeks puffed up in a silly face. The other six are crowded in the hallway, holding balloons and a cake box.

“Oh my gosh,” I gasp, stepping back. “You didn’t! Get in here, come in.” They file inside, removing their shoes, talking loudly while I desperately tie my hair into a bun and rub the sleep from my eyes. “Don’t look at me,” I grimace as I follow them. “I look like death.” Namjoon glares, a thick-muscled arm flashing out to ensnare my waist before I can move away. “Don’t say that. You look just as pretty as always.” He continues with a slight smile. “I like you without makeup. You look...softer.”

Jin’s voice saves me from having to reply as he calls from the kitchen “Come on, cake!”

I’ve always loved Bangtan’s voices, but they sound even better when they’re all singing for my birthday. When I blow out the candles, I can’t think of anything I could possibly wish for. “How old are you turning?” Taehyung asks. “We promise we won’t tell anyone. We won’t treat you differently.” They all nod in earnest, but for Namjoon who knows my age. Sighing, I give up my little secret.

“I’m not the maknae!”  Jungkook screeches, throwing his arms in the air. “I’m older! YES!” He takes my hands and spins me around the kitchen. “Does that mean I’m your oppa? We’re like siblings now right? This is great!”

I laugh cheerfully. “What happened to special treatment? And if you want me to call you oppa I will, just not in class.”

Joonie frowns, catching Jungkook by the back of his shirt. “Excuse me? I’m the only oppa here.”

“No, she said she would call me oppa too! And besides we’re all older, we’re all oppas.”

“I called it first! I’m the leader you annoying little-”

Jin cuts in with a huff. “As the oldest here, let me be the first to say shut up and eat your cake. Both of you.”

If I could go back and tell my younger self that all of her misery would lead to her eating birthday cake while Bangtan fought over titles, she would never believe me.

Yoongi’s voice breaks me out of my trance. “I don’t want to get into your business but you once said that you’d lost  your family, and yet you have so much success at such a young age. If it isn’t too much, could you tell us more? You’re our friend, but we hardly know anything about you.”

I swallow a bite of sticky cake and take a deep breath. It doesn’t hurt to talk about it as much anymore, not after so many years. “Well, I was born in Arizona. My mother was very sick when she had me, so I was born very sick as well. I stayed in hospitals off and on until I was four, but my mother couldn’t hold out as long. She died when I was two. My dad took care of me, and when I was feeling better he decided to move us somewhere new; to get a fresh start. We went to California, and I started taking dance lessons. My father said for years that I had a gift, and I should do everything in my power to share it. I did performances and got accepted into prestigious schools- my father hired tutors so that I could get through school faster. I went to Fordham university at fifteen. Then…” I pause, my lips nervously.

“Then my dad had to go on a business trip to Japan. He had gone on all kinds of trips, I usually went with him, but this time I had to stay behind for school. His plane crashed. He was the only family I had. I couldn’t stay home anymore, I wanted to get as far away from the city as possible. I checked into foreign programs, since I could speak a few languages, and ended up moving to Seoul. I opened my studio with the money my dad left me, in the hopes that I could spread my talent in the way he wished.”

The boys all stare, either in disbelief or surprise, until Yoongi steps forward and hugs me. He above all understands family troubles. Soon I feel the others join as well, squeezing me in a seven-way group hug until I’m no longer breathing in oxygen, but breathing them in instead.

“I’m sure your father would be very proud of you,” Jin whispers, and a smile spreads across my face.

“I think he would have loved you guys.”