A/N: So this chapter is literally the definition of a drag so woohoo, lucky double update today! From now on, is about to go DOWN! So keep your eyes peeled, and pay attention. Enjoy! xoxo

//

“Are you heading home now?”

Namjoon caught you at the end of your art class, the last period of the day.

As the school bell tolled, signaling that classes were over and students were now free to leave, you hefted your bag over your shoulder.

“Not yet,” you said, glancing up at Namjoon. He seemed to be genuinely interested, but in a way that slightly bugged you—as if you were a specimen of some sort. “I need to pick up a few things at the supermarket.”

“The commoner’s supermarket?” Namjoon asked.

You blinked.

“Um, sure.”

A tinge of awkwardness beginning to creep in, the two of you walked out of the school and off campus, turning towards the right. At the end of the busy street, past the various students and cars blazing their ways back home, sat the supermarket.

“Are you sure you don’t want to head home first?” Namjoon suggested. He casually slung your bag over his shoulder, much to your surprise.

Even after spending the day with him, you still couldn’t quite figure Namjoon out. This seemed to be the same with many of the Host Club members—in particular, Jungkook and Taehyung.

Namjoon was courteous, yes, but at the same time, slightly frightening. He always had such an aura of professionalism to him that he came off as cold.

Defintely the cool type.

“Why would I do that?” you asked Namjoon, wiping sweat from your brow. “The market is so close. Besides, it would be a waste of energy to—”

“We should head back to your apartment,” Namjoon said. Of course he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Throughout his various tutoring sessions with you, this was the one thing that you had managed to learn.

“You’re going to spending quite some time there, yes? You should change into something more comfortable, and you can leave your bag at home. That way you won’t have to carry so many things. It can’t be pleasant lugging a ton of bricks around, after all.”

He smiled at you.

How could he be so kind, yet so infuriating at the same time?

“Fine,” you muttered, turning back around towards the apartment complex. “You win, Namjoon.”

He just laughed at your statement, clapping his hands together in enjoyment.

“Believe me. I always win.”

You didn’t doubt it for a second.

//

As you thought, when you returned home, Junmyeon was gone.

Not a trace in sight.

This was the way he always was—randomly entering your life, erupting chaos, and then leaving again. And just when you managed to settle into a nice routine, maybe get to a know a few people or so—bam.

He managed to break his way in again and remind you that you had nothing, you would be nothing, and that you were nothing.

You tossed the thoughts aside with the same ease that Junmyeon had tossed Jungkook’s lilies away.

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked Namjoon, throwing your bag onto the couch.

He settled into one of your dining table chairs. Legs crossed and looking completely poised, he turned to you and said, “Yes, please. Water is fine.”

“Alright,” you said dryly. Anything that came out of his mouth was constantly dual toned, and it silently infuriated you. He was polite, yet demanding at the same time. You didn’t know how you were supposed to get used to this—how anybody was supposed to get used to this.

“Namjoon,” you said, pouring out a glass of water for him, “can I ask you something?”

He seemed to notice the way that you grew quieter, more reserved. Your actions were less hasty, your shoulders just a bit more hunched. You kept your eyes down, fingers tight around the glass you had pulled out of the cupboard.

Namjoon sat straighter, his face changing. Gone was the harsh and nitpicking demeanor of his, now more in favor of his softer eyes and fuller cheeks. “Of course, honey.”

Honey.

Your ears perked up.

It was a word that you undeniably hated—it was the endearment that Junmyeon had chosen for you, after all. You grew to despise the word, skin chilling and heartbeat freezing the minute the word reached your ears.

Yet, when Namjoon said it, it didn’t have that effect on you at all.

You were so shocked you just had to stand there in the kitchen for a second, taking it all in. How come you weren't about to throw up? Where was the dizziness, the sudden wooze of knowing that the monster had arrived?

These past few days, spending every minute with a different Host Club member…

Something about it had changed you.

“Are you alright?”

You hadn’t noticed Namjoon sidling up to you, putting his hands over yours so now both of you were holding the glass of water. He placed a comforting arm just underneath your shoulder, strong and tall and pristine—all the things that Junmyeon was, yet—

Somehow, the exact opposite.

“Y-yeah.” You cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”

“Why don’t we sit down? I’ll let you ask your question, and then we’ll go to the supermarket afterwards. How about that?”

His eyebrows, softened around the edges, seemed to convey a look of loving patience.

“Sure,” you agreed, not quite sure where this new kind of Namjoon had come from. “That’s fine.”

He was so kind in all of his ways, and you couldn’t believe that this was the guy who dominated all the business in the Host Club—the infamous “Shadow King”, after all. Something must have triggered him. After all, he was now pulling out your chair and tucking you in, voice gentle and rounded.

Where was the tutor that let you lug your bag around by yourself, the one with the harsh looks and never ending push push push of a work ethic?

“So what did you want to ask me?” Namjoon took a sip of his water, eyes still trained on you.

You ducked your head, not sure how to form your question without seeming to be rude. After all, kids from The Academy’s high class were most definitely taught manners and etiquette that you had been not.

“Yesterday,” you began, “Hoseok took me to his family’s patisserie.”

“Ah, yes,” Namjoon said, nodding. His eyes seemed to sparkle genuinely, without a trace of mischief in them at all. “The tradition is strong in his family.”

“I was just wondering…”

You bit your bottom lip.

“Do all of you guys… have, uh, families like that?”

“By ‘that’, I assume you mean families with rich backgrounds?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

You nodded.

You weren’t too sure why you were so awkward, though perhaps, you did understand it slightly.

Because to them, you were just another “commoner”.

You could never understood their actions, didn’t understand fancy terms and why you couldn’t use your salad fork to eat your fish, or why there was even a butter knife in the first place. Things like that—things that you always heard in conversations with Kichi and the other girls during lunch.

Things that you didn’t understand.

And though you knew that you had every reason not to be, you couldn’t help but feel ashamed. How could somebody like you belong to a school with people like Jungkook and Namjoon, so regal, so high class?

You felt a touch on your hand.

Speechless, you could only watch as Namjoon unfurled your fingers and chose to lace his with it lightly, skin tingling, skin just so slightly touching.

“Don’t feel upset, okay? I’ll tell you all you need to know.

//

I’m sure that you’re mostly curious about Jungkook, along with all of the others that have courted you so far, so I’ll start with those, okay?

Jungkook—well, Jungkook is kind of an oddball. It’s actually a little funny that he acts so regal, because his original ancestors used to be farmers. Eventually, they expanded to breeding horses and all sorts of colts and mares. I’m sure he’s taken you to the stables, yes? Well, Jungkook’s family owns all of those horses, along with many others around the country, and even around the world. They belong to the top of the top, with their horses selling for extremely high prices, meant to be bred for the most beautiful and most skilled of them all. Jungkook doesn’t talk about his family much—since he isn’t completely within the business. But I’ll let him tell you about that on his own. It’s not really in my place to give you Jungkook’s life story.

Jin and Hoseok go hand and hand. I know that Hoseok took you to his family’s patisserie, so you know about that. Well, whereas Hoseok is pastries and sweets, Jin’s family owns the most high class of restaurants around, famous three stars that have been unbeatable for years. Why do you think that Jin is such a good cook? He’s been taught by the best, after all.

Yoongi, or Suga, I should say—well, the kid’s a musical genius. He told me about taking you to the coffee bar, and though he’s always on the downlow about it, his family is probably one of the richest within the whole academy. He’s the son of the CEO to our country’s largest entertainment corporation—BigHit Entertainment. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, after all, how could you not?

Jimin’s family also works with Yoongi’s as well. Coming from a long line of dancers and performers, his great-great grandfather opened the most top dance school in our country, where students all over the world audition year in and year out to attend. Some of the teachers also help over at BigHit, and others choose to stay with the original school that Jimin’s ancestors created—traditional in their ballet and contemporary technique. The school in addition, feeds to the one largest and most prestigious ballet companies in the world.

My own family has its traditions. Always striving to be the top in medicinal sciences, our business provides the most up to date surgical information, health breakthroughs, things of all that sort. You might have noticed how strict I am with myself—this is only because I am the heir to a huge corporation, after all, and this is the mindset and attire I must strive to be in at all times.

Do you understand now? Though we might all be hooligans and fool around from time to time with Jungkook’s ridiculous notion of a host club, we do come from long lineages, historical heritages. We have responsibilities, and we intend to fulfill them to the best of our abilities.

It is what we were born to do.

//

“What about, um.” You scooted in your chair nervously.

“Taehyung?”

Your eyes shot up to Namjoon, your cheeks beginning to feel slightly warm.

Yes, Taehyung.

You could still recall the faint scent of auburn and vanilla, the way he had felt when he was underneath you, seemingly so strong and so human, so normal, almost just like you.

Even though you were aware that he obviously wasn’t.

“Taehyung’s family is a bit, ah—different from ours,” Namjoon explaining, his head bobbing as he spoke with earnest. “His mother is actually a fashion designer.”

“She is?” You raised your eyebrows.

Namjoon nodded. “She’s very clean cut, creative but traditional at the same time. I think you’d like her, she’s quite similar to you.”

“To… me?”

You couldn’t keep the incredulousness out of your voice. For Namjoon to compare you to some high class fashion designer, you… you were more than a little bit flustered.

And this was Taehyung’s mom, no less.

“Yes,” Namjoon said again. “Yes, she is.”

“Have you ever met her?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Once or twice. She’s very sweet, much like Taehyung is.”

You snorted.

Namjoon rubbed your fingers with his thumb affectionately, his lips. “I know Taehyung doesn’t seem like it, but he is very caring and very warm. Sometimes he gets caught up in being a host, and he stays mischievous, conniving.”

“But deep down,” Namjoon continued, something changing in his voice, “deep down he really is a hopeless romantic.”

You could feel your throat clogging up. Why did Namjoon’s words seem so directed at you? You couldn’t understand it.

“Well then,” Namjoon said. He stood up, tucking his chair back in underneath the table. “Should we get going then?”

You had been so engrossed in your conversation about the Host Club member’s histories that you nearly forgot that you had been meaning to go to the supermarket. You shot up from your seat, quickly grabbing your wallet.

“Of course,” you said. “After you.”

//