You're still thinking about Bambam when you're walking down the dim street. He had comforted you yesterday, but he also shared some of his pains with you. You feel closer to him in a way, because in that moment, when you were both sitting together, he opened up. It had been more than just small talk.  When you finally open the door of the building, you breathe in. The smell of vinyl and the sound of loud music greets you, it's a combination that has become familiar.  You had gone through the choreo a few times at home, trying to remember the steps. It didn't turn out as badly as expected, so you're feeling more prepared for this lesson.

It must have shown in your expression, because a few steps later, a voice teases you. “You're so happy to see me?”

K is standing close to the door, tying her hair up into a messy ponytail while looking at you. A smile is tugging at her lips and she looks as fashionable as ever.

“Yup”, you retort, feeling happier now that you see her. “I couldn't wait.”

She gives you a playful wink and beckons you forward, closer to her. “Did you like it last time?”

“I...” Well, you did. Kind of. Of course, there was Yugyeom, too. Yugyeom who seemed to abhor you for some unknown reason, but even though his dislike for you was obvious you had to admit that he is a good teacher. Maybe you can just endure it, maybe Yugyeom is going to realize that you're not so bad after all. Maybe...Scratching your head nervously, you look at K. She's still looking at you, waiting for a response.

“I liked it”, you finally say and she fakes an over exaggerated sigh of relief, her ponytail finally done. “I'm glad then.” She pulls down her shirt. “Who knows, if you're dedicated, you might even make it to my group of more advanced students.”

You laugh at her. You probably wouldn't even make it to the intermediate level, not in this life time, at least.  K raises her fist into an encouraging gesture and gives you one last smile, before leaving you. You hesitantly head over to the practice room. It's already pretty full, but you recognize the girl from last time, Somin, and walk over to her.

“Hey”, you mumble and she turns to you with a grin on her face.

“Hey, no lagging behind today, please!” She says it with a playful tone, but you blush nonetheless, pouting a bit.

“I won't”, you promise. “I even practiced at home a bit.”

She fakes disbelief and shrugs “We'll see the results then.”

Your playful banter stops when Yugyeom enters. He towers over most of the students in class, you notice, he's wearing all black again. You frown slightly and look away.  You hear him greeting everyone, then he puts on some music and everyone gets ready to warm up. You copy Somin again, but when the music changes to the one from the routine last time, you actually get into it, dancing with a bit more confidence this time. You're not perfect, of course, but you think you're doing at pretty good job compared to last time.  That's what you think at least.

“Right foot forward.”

Yugyeom's voice cuts through the loud music, harsh and commanding. A few girls turn slightly to giggle at you and you realize that he must have been talking to you. Scolding you, you've missed a step, biting your lip, you do your best to keep up, glancing at Somin, to check if you're missing anything else.  When you're done, Yugyeom stops the music, the music still reverberates on the air.  He introduces the next steps, a series of moves that ends with a slight spin, nothing too dangerous. You all go through it again and Yugyeom moves through the rows of students, giving them tips on how to improve their posture. You can't help but stare at him through the mirror, although he must be older than you, he looks younger than Bambam. Maybe it's his smooth skin or the hint of a boyish smile that seems to tug at his lips when he's not looking at you.  Though, seeing him teach and help the others makes him look more mature. You let out a slight sigh and get back to repeating the steps. You should stop pondering about useless things.

You get back to practice, the spin at the end makes you slightly breathless and you end up smiling at Somin, wanting to share your feelings with her. “I know I'm not very good at it”, you let out a smile, “but it's so much fun.”

She stares at the mirror, concentrated and focused on her own footwork. Distractedly, she opens to reply. “Well, at least you acknowledge that you're not good at it.” Then, she lets out a giggle and you pout again. You have made progress!

When Yugyeom appears behind you, you stand still for a moment, His eyes are narrowed, as he stares at you with a disparaging glance. You don't say anything and go through the steps again, trying to be unabated but your skin tingles under his gaze. You end up making a wrong step, the spin turns into a stumble.

Letting out a scoff, Yugyeom shakes his head. His dark fringe falls in front of his eyes. “I'm sorry”, you let out quietly. “I can do it again.”

His gaze is cold and he scoffs before continuing, not giving you a chance. “Your back isn't even straight and your feet are in the wrong position. It's the left foot that has to go first.”

You look at your feet timidly. You can't help but feel like a kid in elementary school being scolded by her older teacher. Why does he have to sound so rude every time he opens his mouth? Can't he convey his words in a more polite way? Your lips curl downwards as he moves on to Somin. When his tone suddenly becomes polite your expression turns into one of disbelief.  Dance practice continues despite that and finally ends. You're panting and breathless, lying on the floor as everyone slowly trickles out of the room, Somin bids you goodbye and leaves. After giving you everything, you're still too exhausted to move, you bury your head in your hands, slowly regaining your breath.

“Don't come again.” Yugyeom's voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

“Wha-”

He cuts you off before you can say anything. Cuts you off before you can even fully register the meaning of his words. There is no hint of the gentle tone he uses for the other students. “I said don't come again. You're disturbing everyone else.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and you feel your cheeks turning red. His words weren't particularly loud, just loud enough to be heard and you look up at him with disbelief, your breathing becoming faster at his icy glare.  Yugyeom is standing a few meters away from you, his arms crossed against his chest, his dark eyes fixated on you. Your heart thumps against your ribcage and you breathe in quickly, your chest heaving up and down. Strangely enough, you think of Suyeon for a split second. In moments like this, you would love to be her. You would love to just be able to tell him off. Ask him the thousand questions that are tormenting your mind right now. Ask him why he's treating you so unfairly. But everything you manage to force out is a quiet and pathetic whisper.

“I- I'm sorry.”

The words ring hollow. You don't even know what you're apologizing for, yet you're unable to say anything else. Anything. You stare down at the floor, waiting in the painful silence and it's only a few seconds later when you hear a quiet scoff. Then the door gets slammed shut. You're left alone in the practice room.  Quietly, you stand up and grab your things, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and breathe out, running out of the door of the practice room.

**

When you're sitting on a bench in the school yard the next day, a girl approaches you. A girl that has short, black hair and cat-like eyes. Sharp. Calculating. Her steps have a sway to them and she looks confident. For a second you feel envious at this stranger.  You have never seen her before, never talked to her before, but she abruptly stops in front of you, looking down at you from above. Her lashes are long and dark and her skin seems flawless.  You blink and lift your head slightly, glancing at her.

“You were at Jinyoung's party, weren't you?” She crosses her arms against her chest, eyeing you for a few seconds, making you gulp. “My cousin's friend saw you.”

Her cousin's friend. You tilt your head. For a second you wonder who she's talking about. But you can't remember talking to someone at the party who has a cousin at your school. You can't remember talking to anyone at all, hearing her exhaling impatiently, you open your mouth.

“I- I was there”, you reply quickly and nervously, straightening up. The memories aren't exactly something that you want to think about, actually it isn't something that you want to talk about either. Not with a stranger at least

“How did you get invited?” she suddenly asks, her tone demanding an answer. “It's for university students only.”

It's for university students only? You feel queasy for a second and place your hands under your thighs, afraid of unconsciously beginning to fiddle with the hem of your skirt, of showing openly that even the slightly hostile tone of a stranger can make you feel so uncomfortable. You didn't know.

“I-...” Your voice comes out in a stutter. You can't lie. You just can't, but you can't tell her the truth either, knowing how interested everyone in this school is in the newest and juiciest rumors, telling this girl what really happened would just give fodder to the rumor mill.

You see her rolling her eyes and for a split second you're reminded of your sister. Then, the girl uncrosses her arms, proposing something. “Just take me with you next time.”

**

When you head to the library, you think back to your encounter with the girl. You hadn't responded to her demand, making her roll her eyes again, but after that she disappeared, leaving you alone.  Shaking you head at the thought, you ascend the steps, arriving at the area for students. Most of the tables are empty, but when you peer at the table on the left, you see someone familiar, someone that you haven't seen since this weekend.  Looking up, he meets your gaze. Your eyes lock for a second and he freezes, his eyes wide before quickly looking away. You feel your own heartrate picking up speed, but decide to go to him to greet him nonetheless.  He had seen you notice him, not greeting him would be nonsensical very impolite. You head over to his table slowly and put on a slight smile. He must have known that you're here, because he averts his gaze even further and fixates on his book, but when he scratches his neck with one hand, you know that he isn't really immersed in the books.

“Hello”, you force out and he looks up immediately, but still avoids your eyes. His brown hair covers his forehead. It looks kept and orderly.

“Hello”, he greets back, mirroring your own words. His voice sounds smooth, but he's mumbling his words, swallowing the last syllable. Then you're both drift into an awkward silence, mainly caused by the fact you are both introverts, shy.

You lower your gaze timidly, deciding to just go and look for your table. “Then I'll just...” You turn to leave, but before you can take a step, he stops you with his words.

“You can stay here”, he offers politely. Then, adding, “The table is big enough for both of us.”

The table is originally meant for four people. There are four chairs, but study materials cover two thirds of the table. Books and folders, notes and various pens and highlighters, yet he brushes them aside as you look at him with hesitation. Reluctant to step out of your shell even more, greeting him was already a bit... As if sensing your reluctance, he opens his mouth. The corners of his lips tugging upwards slightly, into an awkward half smile. “It's better than studying alone.”

You're unsure for a second. Unsure not just because you usually study alone. Peering at him, you slowly put down your backpack, sinking down. “I'll take a seat then.”

You perch down on the seat and your jacket.

“Mark”, he suddenly says as you're putting your jacket aside. You look at him with confused eyes, tilting your head to the side.

He wets his lips with his tongue and you quickly look away. “My name is Mark.” The name is foreign, you realize, yet his pronunciation sounds perfectly clear. You reach for your backpack distractedly, getting out your study materials.

“It's nice to meet you, Mark.” You repeat his name, letting it roll off your tongue. “I'm Juyeon.”

You both continue working after that, quietly and efficiently without a sound. It's only when you're stuck with a particularly difficult math problem, that you release a sigh. You startle at the sound of it and raise your head slightly. Looking up, you see Mark seemingly immersed in his work. He's submerged in the warm light of the afternoon sun, the warm rays painting the shadow of his silhouette against a bookshelf.

“Are you having trouble?” he asks suddenly, not looking up from his book. His voice echoes across the empty library. As if embarrassed by the sound, he scratches his neck and you look at him. He's still staring down at his book, not meeting your eyes.

Did you distract him with your sigh? You blush slightly and look at your page again, your page that is filled with possible solutions scribbled down with your pencil. They are all approaches that had turned out to lead to nothing. “Sorry if I'm being too loud”, you mumble.

“You weren't being too loud”, he clarifies, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to offer my help.”

“Your help?” You look at his with surprise. His face is still imbued with the pale orange light of the sun, but it's undeniable. He's blushing.

“Math isn't my major”, he explains. “But I'm not too bad at it.”

“Not too bad?” you repeat pondering over his offer for a second. It can't hurt, right? Showing him the page and the particular equation that you're stuck on, he looks at it for a moment before jotting something down, then he pushes it back to you.

You raise your eyebrows and stare at the page. It's just a simple thing that he corrected, really, he just subtracted one number that you hadn't thought of before and you touch your forehead, feeling a bit stupid. “I didn't think about that”, you admit with embarrassment, staring at him dumbly. “Thank you.”

You can see him smiling slightly and then he looks down again. What is it with him and avoiding eye contact? He's even worse at it than you are.

Eager to break the silence, you open your mouth again, venturing into the slight uncomfortable field of small talk. “What is your major then?” you ask, referring to his earlier statement.

You peek at the cover of one of the books on the table and see atoms. “Physics?” you guess, tilting your head.

“Similar. It's chemistry.” He's still pretty tight-lipped, you notice, giving you such a short and precise answer. You go on.

“That sounds pretty cool. Do you want to go into research?”

Mark hesitates for a second before he answers, “Yes.”

Then he looks at you for the first time this afternoon. Looks at you with his brown eyes that are narrowed because of the sun light. For the first time that day you get a good look at his face, his angular nose, dark eyebrows and his eyelashes that leave a shadow on his pale cheeks.  For a moment, no one says anything, silent as you find yourself staring at the male in front of you.

“What is your major?” Mark asks suddenly.

“M- My major?” you repeat, startled by his sudden question. You stare at him dumbly for a second, then you see him nodding and realize. He had incorrectly assumed that you were a university student, just like him, for a second you're taken aback.

“Ah”, you force out with embarrassment. “It's not like that. I'm still in high school. I'm in my last year.”
 

**

You look at the white plate in front of you. The white plate that is probably more expansive than all of the crockery you have in your kitchen at home combined. On the plate is a soft and tender chicken . The menu used fancy terms to describe it, but looking at it, apart from the small drizzle of sauce on the side, it's really not all that different from the chicken you eat at home, only more expansive.

“What do your parents do?” you ask, suddenly curious. Bambam is expertly handling his vegetables at the moment, slicing the broccoli into small pieces but at the sound of your voice, he looks up.

“My father works in trade”, he explains. For a second, you almost see his expression turning dark, but when you blink, it is bright again. It must have been the lighting in this restaurant, playing tricks on your mind. “He has his own company back in Thailand, but they've been branching out into other countries.” Bambam picks up a piece of broccoli. “Like Korea for example, but they're also present in North America.”

You fall silent at his words. He told you before that his father works in import export, but hearing his words now, it feels like quite an understatement. You would have never guessed that his father has his own company.

“Are you surprised? I don't seem like a future company heir, do I?” Bambam asks with a smile on his face. His voice sounds teasing, that you almost fail to notice the hint of insecurity that is hidden in his smile. Almost.

You stare at his white dress shirt and icy blond hair, deciding to . There's something in you that desperately aches to see him smile brightly again. “That's true.” You tilt your head and stick out your tongue playfully. “You look more like an idol.”

Bambam blushes at your playful words that were meant to cheer him up. Then he quickly gets back to cutting through his broccoli again.

“Now, that I think about it, you would look great in this famous idol group.” You start humming the catchy tune of a song that you had heard on the radio, copying the signature dance part, too. When you look around timidly before dabbing slightly, Bambam finally breaks out into a laugh.

You continue talking comfortably after that and when you're finished with eating, Bambam takes you home in his car. When you're standing in front of your house, he suddenly takes your hand into his, intertwining your fingers. His hand feels soft and warm.  His smile is there again and his eyes are bright. You're relieved, for a moment, the two of you just stand there, gazing at each other. It's quiet, so quiet that it almost seems like the world has come to a standstill. You feel Bambam's warmth, it has become so familiar, your muse. Holding his hand like this.  Then, suddenly, he presses you against his chest, enveloping you in a hug, embracing you gently. The sudden gesture knocks the air out of your lungs and when you finally take a breathe again, your bodies have separated leaving you feeling cold.  Only the blush on your cheeks is proof of the fact that Bambam had just surprised you with a hug.

“I'll see you soon, ok?”

Before you can answer, Bambam quickly gets back to his car and you can hear the sound of the engine starting.

You're still slightly dazed when you open the door, sinking down against the wall near your wardrobe. You stay like that for a second, touching your burning cheeks with your hands. It's as if you can still feel the warmth of his hands, his body pressed against yours.

“You're the girl Bambam is dating.” The voice of your sister breaks you out of your reverie. You open your eyes to see her standing a few meters away, her arms akimbo. But her stance isn't belligerent. She looks almost... amused. “I didn't believe it at first, but it's really you.”

She comes closer, observing you intently.

“Do you like him?” she asks, her eyebrows raised. She's staring at you, trying to gauge your reaction.

You straighten up slowly, not meeting her eyes. “I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner”, you mumble. Desperate to make use of the fact that she's talking to you again, you open your mouth, completely disregarding her question. “I'm sorry about what happened, too. I just wanted to talk to him to help yo-”

Your sister cuts your off. “It's ok.”

You look at her, flabbergasted. She rolls her eyes when she notices your facial expression.

“What?” she questions. “I'm over it!” She gestures with her hands. “I was immature. I didn't have a chance with him to begin with...” She stops for a millisecond to give you a sarcastic smile. “Especially if girls like you are his type.”

You tilt your head and pout, eyeing her. Girls like you? What does she mean by that?

“You and I are too different”, she points out. Then she shakes her head. Her eyes are dark, but you can see the pain in them. “I can't say that it doesn't hurt anymore...” she frowns and then extends her hand. “So don't you dare talk about this guy in our house even though I'm over it.”

You smile at her contradictory words. She claims to be over if, but doesn't want you to mention his name. Not that you would have talked about Jb anyways. You're happy that the conflict is resolved, but despite the resolution, there's still something that weighs on your shoulders and you bite your lip softly.

“I- I had no intention of dating him”, you quickly clarify when Suyeon lets out a breath. “And I'm pretty sure that he wasn't really interested in me either. What you saw was only... a misunderstanding.”

You exhale feeling as if a sudden weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Your sister rolls her eyes again. “I'll pretend I didn't hear that”, she jokes. “But only if you cook Spaghetti today. I haven't eaten all day and I'm seriously so hungry...”

You take her hand and she pulls you up. Quickly taking off your shoes, you follow her into the kitchen, only halfway listening to her rambling about her busy day. Your thoughts are drifting off to somewhere else, to when you first stepped foot into the house and your sister asked you those four words. The question that now weighs on your mind, the question that you don't have an answer for.

Do you like Bambam?

A/N: I apologize. Updates might come a little slower now. I'm moving out and I'm starting to work soon, but I'll try my best to find time to write.