Don’t worry, sunshine!, she said. It’s going to be so much fun, she said.

Yet, as your favourite dark brown boots cross the threshold, seeing people screaming and sweaty bodies fondling, it seems everything but fun. Quite frankly, it's more likely your fault rather than the mass' since you have never been an out and out jokester nor a wild party animal. Looking around, watching the familiar faces that you recognize from your classes, you are one hundred percent sure that it will never change. The way the music envelopes the crowd, the way they dance to the rhythm and their hands touch every bit of skin. Well, it is definitely not your cup of tea.

’I want to go home,’ you say as your white knuckles grab the hem of your so-called best friend's leather jacket. The faint pink material feels rough under your palm. ’Please!’

her lower lip, Hayoon turns towards you, shaking your desperate fingers off of her clothes out of annoyance. She knows you well enough to be aware of your antisocial moments like the current one that drives her out of the world. Therefore, she takes a deep breath and pulls you out of the spotlight before your childish tantrum could attract too much attention and you would commit a social suicide. She doesn't shout at you, only scolds you as you both find your peace in the nearest corner.

’No way! A party like this can open the closed doors you always complain about. We stay!’ she demands, crossing her arms in front of her chest, slim brows knitted to each other. She looks beautiful, that's the first thing that pops up in your mind as your gaze loiters over her midnight blue dress and dark brown locks that embrace his swan neck as pale as snow. With her long lashes all mesmerizing she looks just as gorgeous as the day you first met.

Han Hayoon is the typical wild girl who runs on gasoline and keeps her golden heart hidden, far away from those who don't deserve her kindness nor the loyalty that comes with her honest friendship. She can be rude and disrespectful, she doesn't fear other's opinions. She is the definition of a free spirit and you have always envied her for this since she is everything you could never be, the complete opposite of your reserved personality.

’But…’

’You will thank me all this later. Let’s buy some drinks!’ Hayoon's slim fingers wrap around your wrist knowing literally no personal space and the next thing you are aware of is the familiar feeling of her strength. You still don't understand how a tiny fairy like your best friend can exert so much power and will.

Exaggerating the agony she had inflicted upon you, you sit onto a metal barstool near the kitchen counter, , while Hayoon steps to the huge rounded table in the middle of the room and finds her company. She acts so naturally it tugs your stomach - unlike her who seems to know every single person in the house, kissing cheeks and shaking hands with a smile, you are nothing but a ghost in the background. For a passing moment, you honestly doubt that she still remembers your presence that she clinged onto so much.

’Eight vodka shots, please,’ she says as if she was in a pub and your dark eyes already rolled some pathetic circles when your best friend halts right next to you. She looks at you as she looks at her favourite sandwich without mayo - that cheeky smirk cries like a hyena. 'I know what's in your mind and it really, truly rips my heart out.'  You cast your eyes down, watching your boots.

Patting your shoulder, Hayoon slides a small glass towards your body and encourages you to take it, lifting it in front of your mouth. Counting one, two, three she puts her glass in the air with a barely noticeable nod and drinks it up all at once. You? You cough, trembling like a withered leaf in an autumn storm, fighting the urge to spit on the ground. The sour taste of the transparent alcohol doesn't want to disappear from the tip of your tongue.

Two down, six left to go.

’Gosh… I hate you so much,’ you cry out in metaphorical pain, lifting the last vodka shot to your already parted lips. It's a shame that you cannot say no to your friends. You should have learned by now that Hayoon's ideas never end well, not for you, not for anyone. Anyway, lacking of any other possibility, you curse yourself because of your squeezability and drink up the last drops of alcohol. It is not that bad when your system finally gets used to the unpleasant aftertaste.

’You love me, we both know it,’ Hayoon declares with a sweet - or bittersweet? - smile on her lips before she grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the kitchen.

The noise hits you right in the face, kicks your stomach and pulls the ground out of your feet. You feel dizzy when the vividly bright lights blind your eyes and blur the living room, the corridor, every damn atom of the mass.

As Hayoon elbows your way through the crowd, you turn your head around with narrow eyes, desperately trying to avoid every in' limb that crashes into your body. Everything is so hot, sweaty and smelly like that small changing room in your college's basement after an exhausting and sadly obligatory PE class. Words cannot describe how much you hate it.

Yet, as time passes and the vodka dissolves in your veins, you find yourself enjoying the bass. The music that you have always found annoying now becomes magical and almost unique as the DJ mixes the beats with his professional equipment and extremely talented fingers. You cannot tear your gaze apart from him who jumps behind the tables, acting like a fool. As far as you're concerned, a fairly cute and passionate fool.

’He is so damn hot, isn’t he?’ your best friend asks out of the blue. To be honest, her question catches you off guard because of multiple reasons. Mostly, because she dances with her back you and what's more important you two have never had the same taste in men. You like dimples, she likes muscles. You like natural colours, she likes everything above average. But as you tilt your head to right and your cogs make a lowkey turn, you can almost see something ethereal in the DJ's presence.

You take a deep, eager breath.

’Yeah! And he is so talented,’ you admit, smiling like a child whose little feet stepped into the candy shop. All of a sudden, being at this noisy party doesn't seem that bad anymore. Happiness blooms in your chest, filling your lungs with soft petals and silky blossoms. Is it possible? Falling in love with a complete stranger at first sight?

’Well, if his tongue skills count then hell yeah. He is,’ Hayoon agrees before she lowers her head so that she can look you in the eye. Her greedy gaze that glitters under the lights becomes darker when her left shoulder fits close to your right and you finally look at the same direction, observing the turntables and the young man who puts his headset onto one of his ears. You have absolutely no idea what your friend's talking about. Did you miss a moment perhaps blinked too much? When did she see the DJ's tongue? Did Hayoon know the guy?

Fighting with your own thoughts, you look lost as you turn towards your best friend, confused.

’What?’ you ask, eyes furrowed and lips slightly open. Your raspy voice echoes in your ears as you repeat the question louder and louder, attracting a bit too much attention. Yet, you couldn't care less. You are tipsy and lack of extremely important informations about this guy, your new crush whose presence cuts the air out of your lungs. You cannot help but crave for every single detail with tooth and nail.

’The guy in all black,’ your friend says, tilting her head to left. Her short and concise reply makes you even more confused. Can four shots of vodka cause severe brain damage? Or are you blind? Shock overflows in your system as you lift both of your hands and your clenched fists rub your eyes. You are one hundred percent sure that the DJ wears something lighter like beige or plain white. Otherwise, the party lights couldn't paint his shirt vividly colourful.

’No, the guy behind the turntables,’ you answer, pointing at the young man whose bright smile is wider than the Pacific Ocean. When he blurs the boundaries between two similar tracks, your silly heart skips a beat on instinct so that it can follow the flow. Of course, you blame it on the alcohol.

Hayoon's laughter dies in the noise.

’Wonpil? Not bad.’ And with that, she pats your shoulder, grabbing the lacy material of your dress and turns you at the right direction. Her index finger that crashes into a pumping chest points at the boy behind the crazy dancer and you almost let out an insane laugh. That boy from your Spanish class with his light pink locks is the exact opposite of your style. Wild, energetic and y. ’But I am more on team Younghyun. Look at those arms!’

You roll your eyes, smiling. You are so amused at your false train of thoughts, thinking that Hayoon and you might like the same person that you don't even notice, your talkative friend actually knows the name of your crush.

’Could you be less desperate?’ you ask, mocking Hayoon's facial expressions. Her parted lips, rounded eyes and rosy cheeks look quite funny knowing how independent she is, avoiding so-called crushes.

Your best friend isn't a nun, she has never been. She grew up in the States far away from the Asian culture and only moved here because of her father who got a job offer in the capital city, Seoul, that he couldn’t turn down. So unlike you, she knows how to have fun with boys and uses her knowledge quite often. Yet as her gaze sticks onto the boy flirting in the shade, leaning his manly arms against the wall, Hayoon seems utterly serious and green with jealousy.

’Of course. But I choose not to,’ she declares, mimicking your rolling eyes. Although, the hidden joy in the corner of tells you everything you have to know. She isn't mad, hell no, it's just an act. And she is utterly genius when it comes to playing the actress. ’Wish me luck!’ she aks, leaning close to your ear. Her warm breath tickles the thin skin behind your lobe.

Chewing your lips, you nod.

’Good luck!’

Knowing that you aren't mad at her either, Hayoon turns her back on you and elbows her way through the crowd. Her wavy locks bump on her back like a ping pong ball while her sight focuses on nothing but the lovebirds in the corner. You cannot decide whether your best friend was a person with way too much confident or simply too drunk for her own sake. Either way, the upcoming situation will be awkward as hell. And you are happy that Hayoon didn't ask you to follow her around. Your face is already red due to embarrassment.

When a sharp elbow hits your side and cuts the smelly air out of your lungs, you cannot think of anything else but the reason Hayoon used to persuade you after your boots crossed the threshold and you almost chickened out. 'A party like this can open the closed doors you always complain about.' What the hell? The only things this party opens up are the girl's legs who dance next to you. Gross!

Making a face, you walk out of the middle of the mass and sit down on the fifth stair, high enough to see both your best friend and the man behind the turntables. Your dizzy head leans against the wooden handrail.

With time, you stop fighting and start enjoying the music as simple as that. You are genuinely happy when your blurred sight finds Hayoon, smiling and dancing with Younghyun. His pink hair fits close to your best friend's skin as he puts his sweaty forehead onto the girl's shoulder. Maybe you were wrong and he was more than just a bastard player. Or you were right and Hayoon would have a fun night. Either way, it's a win and win situation.

When your favourite song reaches your ears you forget to breathe and turn towards the man, Wonpil without hesitation. As your gaze takes a nap on his manly figure you swear you can see him lowering his head, hiding a childish chuckle. Is your embarrassment this obvious? Did he find you amusing? And the redness that spreads all over your face, burning you from the inside? Did he see you blush because of the mere thought that he watches you?

As if your uneasiness wouldn't be enough, he then lifts his head, waving his right hand with a cheeky smile on his badly handsome face. You are over the moon and even happier. Therefore, you shut out your doubting thoughts and take a deep breath before you make a decision to lift your right hand as well. It's almost in the air when a noisy girl runs down the stairs, screaming like a lunatic, crashing into your side. You almost fall off of the stairs because of this tipsy idiot! Would she like to die?

Grabbing the handrail, you fix your dress with a loud swear then stand up shyly. Trying to bring out the best of this unpleasant encounter, you decide to introduce yourself to the cute DJ who caught your attention nearly twenty minutes ago. After all, the alcohol made you bold enough to think that you have nothing to lose.

Nothing but your dignity.

As you step onto the third stair, you almost lose your balance, watching the crazy nuts who just ran into you and your crush making out behind the tables. Suddenly you feel sick, tasting bitterness and vomit on the tip of your tongue.

The whole situation is so typical, you simply laugh it off. From a second to another, the music becomes too loud for your taste therefore the only thing you can think of is your bed, your puffy blanket around your body and a cup of hot tea. You crave for the newest episode of After School Club.

Walking through the crowd, you look for Hayoon with one goal in your mind: you want to get the hell out of here. Yet, as your gaze finally finds your missing company you need to change your mind and halt between two movements. Your always sassy friend looks lovely as she smiles at Younghyun with a honest beam she saves for her rainy days. Despite the fact that you cannot bear this party, you don't find the power in yourself to destroy her happiness.

With a deep breath and a fake smile you make the small distance between you two to disappear and pat the loverboy's shoulder. His feline eyes seems sober as his right palm glides down Hayoon's side and touches the girl's hand. Look at him! How protective!

’Take care of her!’ you ask him with a cheeky grin on your ruby face before you hug your friend and walk out of the house, leaving the loud noise behind.

The following day, you walk out of your creative writing class as if nothing had happened. Smile vividly bright and lips slightly open, you listen to your best friend's experience report with your pink laptop fitting close to your chest. As your gaze gets bored of your own, white knuckles, it glides to Hayoon who seems extremely tired but joyful as you slow down your speed and she halts in front of her locker.

’It’s a shame that you went home. It was so much…’ she moans while you leans against the painted metal, watching her messy hair and double sized tee. Even though she has a fabulous sense of fashion, she cannot mislead you as she misleads everyone around you. There is no way that this ridiculously colourful textil is one of her clothes. You would have never been able to forget a dispendious T-shirt like this and you two share the same wardrobe ever since you moved to Seoul.

’Fun?’ you ask with a handful of irony in your tone. You already heard this statement enough times to get sick of the words fun and house party. Therefore you hope nothing but Hayoon to shut up and change the topic to another matter. For example, you like animals and good foods, this new kpop group and your favourite variety shows, too. You could talk about them for hours without taking a breath.

’Exactly!’

Putting her old-fashioned exercise book into her locker, Hayoon closes it with a dramatic sigh then turns towards you, smiling. You hate the bittersweet feeling, the envy that overflows in your system. After all, it's not her fault that you cannot stand the crowd, the noise and the sight of that girl clinging to your crush. It wasn't even a rejection even thought it did felt like one.

’Well, eating ramen and watching the newest episode of After School Club was fun, too,’ you declare, chewing your lips. No matter how hard you try or how hard you clench your fists, your voice not as firm as you want it to be. Hence, you make a weak attempt at diverting the sudden spotlight that causes you pain. ’What about Younghyun?’

A part of you, the perfect friend with cheerful personality, wants to know every single detail and even more. Yet, your inner voice warns you to stop - your conscience knows that the plain Jane inside your body couldn't handle Hayoon's happiness, not without a sour aftertaste. And God knows your soul, you don't want to be jealous. You hate being jealous.

’He made me breakfast,’ she singsongs while you take a sharp turn to right so that you can put your own stuff into your blue locker before lunch. It isn't far, only a few steps ahead on a different corridor but at least on the same floor. Hence, you don't have to use the old stairs nor the elevator full of university students.

’Well, that’s something unexpected,’ you say with one of your slim brows sticking onto your wrinkled forehead. You try to laugh it off, the fact that - for you - Younghyun looks like the definition of being an player but fail badly and bear the ugly consequences. Hayoon's elbow between your ribs doesn't feel good.

Rolling your eyes, how typical of you, you open your locker and stop moving when your gaze catches the fall of an unfamiliar paper cover. It lies on the floor patiently waiting for you to pick it up. Yet, your limbs stay still and your lungs refuse to breathe until your best friend bends down and does the dirty work.

’A secret admirer?’ she asks while she turns the cryptic object around once and twice, looking for a hint, anything that could lead her to the sender.

On instinct, you get the envelope out of her hands.

’I don’t know,’ you admit as your fingers run through the paper's silky surface. Even though  it doesn't say anything beside a clumsy 'for you', it does make your heart leap. All of a sudden, you feel dizzy on the verge of fainting although it's really not your fault. You simply cannot fight its inhuman speed since it's your very first time, getting a gift from a man who isn't your father. You get all excited.

’Creepy,’ Hayoon whispers under her nose and her doubtful tone is enough to bring you back to reality where a secret admirer can kill you in your dreams. With a unwilling sigh, you put the paper cover into your bag and close your locker with a movement lack of any charm.

’Let’s eat something!’ you say, putting your hands onto Hayoon's shoulders, pushing her towards the canteen. Truth to tell, you are not that hungry at all since creative writing was your first class of the day and it's half past eleven but your lunchtime date is your favourite tradicion after making mulled wine at Christmas Eve and the holiday is way too far away. You cannot wait to try that new Chinese restaurant at the corner.

’Actually, I’m sorry but I cannot,’ Hayoon says as she turns towards you, pure regret settling onto her features. Her puppy eyes and pursed lips make it hard for you to get mad at her. ’Younghyun asked me out.’

’Really?’ Your arms fall back by your sides and you don't know what to do or what to say. The only thing that you're sure of is that you cannot force your best friend to stay and honestly you wouldn't have the heart to do so anyway. If anyone then Hayoon deserves her fairy-tale with a knight in shining armour. ’I mean, cool. Have fun!’

Your arms wrap around her body and you know that it's not because of her tight embrace but you blame your tears on the hug. It is too crapted to breathe.

Lacking of any better idea, after Hayoon leaves the building, you stay. You don't want to ruin your tradition and discover that restaurant all by yourself. Therefore, you turn one hundred and eighty degrees and change your destination to the library. With the computers in there and the earphone in your pocket, you can listen to the CD you got from your secret admirer or whoever spent the time with making this mixtape.

’Good afternoon!’ you greet the security guard and the librarians with a deep bow and a low-key smile before you circle the wooden counter and step inside the computer room.

As you guessed, it's almost empty so it really doesn't take too much time to find the right place with a computer that is actually working. With a deep breath, you sit down as quietly as you can and fight the urge to look around, acting all suspicious. You don't do anything wrong, you don't even break the rules. It's just a CD, nothing more, is it?

Yet, your whole body is a shaking mess when you put the disk into the player and your index finger pushes the right buttons. The first track is your favourite song. And you cannot be happier or more surprised.

Two weeks later, Hahyun is officially a thing which means you are officially the third wheel in their relationship. How in' hilarious!

’I don’t want to go!’ you protest with all your might, leaning back on your couch, enjoying the warm steam of your strawberry tea. With closed eyes, you take a deep breath while you make a weak attempt of finding the power in you to fight or act like a little slip of a thing who could kill with a single glance. What can you say? You are exhausted and despite of the fact that it's only Thursday, it's already the third time on the week that Hayoon cannot stay still.

’Please! You are my best friend,’ she begs from the bathroom with a dark red lipstick in her hand. Considering her outfit and the way her long lock embraces her neck, you know that Younghyun will be head over heels because of her presence and the cruel history will repeat itself in a short time. Like on Monday when the three of you went to the cinema and their whispering was the only thing you could focus on. Or yesterday when you accompanied Hayoon to a restaurant and her so-called boyfriend appeared out of the blue. You felt and constantly feel like a ghost whenever they are together.

’And you are mine. That’s why I cannot understand why you push me so hard when you know that I don’t want to go,’ you reply harsly while you take a sip of your tea and open a new page on your browser. Maybe a funny video or two could brush aside your anger and melt your uneasiness away.

Anyway, before you can even tap the touchpad or lean close to the left mouse button, a petite figure comes out of the dark and pushes the upper part of your pink laptop down. The loud knock of the plastic still echoes in your ears when you lift your head up and put your mug onto the table. Your slow motions are scarier than a scream.

’Because I don’t want to go alone,’ Hayoon replies, eyes narrow and lips clenched into a thin line. The way she looks at your face with her hands resting on her waist and her left leg being a step ahead of her right is almost entertaining. What a shame that you are not in the mood for fun. Tsk. For a party that could open those doors you always complain about.

Shaking your head, you stand up and with your mug in your hands, you turn your back on your best friend. For your part, the debate is over. Hayoon is a big girl, she can meet her own boyfriend without your unnecessary company.

’Younghyun will be there, too,’ you declare from the threshold before you close your bedroom's wooden door shut. Even if you wanted to go which you didn't, you wouldn't have anything to wear. The lacy dress from the last party with your unpleasant memories still lies in the corner, sticking between the trash can and your wall.

’Yeah, on stage,’ Hayoon shouts back at you from the other side of the door. Even though a part of you expects her to, she doesn't step inside. She waits, remains in silence and takes her time before she violates your personal space with a baby blue shirt in her hands. As if she could read your mind! ’Please, please.’

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you watch your best friend with the same facial expressions you always do before you cave in.

’Fine!’ Your dramatic sigh is burdensome as you drink your tea up and catch the silky material that Hayoon throws to your chest. It looks pretty.

You don't waste your energy on make-up yet you find your reflection more than okay as your gaze glides down the mirror and sticks on your face, your curly hair and plain earrings. With your favourite leather jacket and skinny jeans on, you are ready in no time.

The pub is average but the blue neon lights cast a spell over you and you almost feel at ease as the warmth of the cheerful crowd embraces your body. Everyone seems excited because of the non-professional performers and your best friend who walks through the mass a bit too aggressively isn’t an exception. Yet, you cannot blame her. All she wants to do is to cheer for her boyfriend from the first row.

But Younghyun's band is one of the lasts and you lose your interest way too easily. So leaving Hayoon behind, you steps onto the counter and order a mojito with some snacks. The peanuts taste salty in your mouth as you lean your head onto the wood and watch the female presenter who starts introducing the next band. And the next band. And the band after them.

’Did you like the CD?’ a raspy voice asks catching you completely off guard. Pulling out of your mind, you almost fall off of the barstool as you lift your head up, turning towards the guy in black tee. He looks just as handsome as he did when you first laid an eye on him if not even more therefore you find yourself wondering whether it's all just a dream, a cruel trick played on you by your own mind. Does being single try to get on your nerves?

’What?’ you ask, putting a piece of peanut into your mouth. You make an attempt to keep it cool, desperately trying to act as a normal person who doesn't lose her sanity after two weeks of desolation. Being the third wheel has never killed anyone and you truly doubt that you were an exception. You don't need a man to be happy you, keep telling yourself. You don't need anyone. Yet, as he repeats his question, his deep voice makes your heart leap.

Hearing his laughter, it seems that your handsome company finds your silent was it you? utterly entertaining hence you wish the ground would swallow you up. Not that the world could actually fulfil your desires. You learned this lesson ages ago. So, you're not even surprised when the talented DJ who you have a massive crush on sits on a stool right by your side. It's so embarrassing you could die from shame. What has gotten into you? Why did you assume something so unrealistic like this? Are you delusional?

But on the other hand, wasn't it him who mentioned the paper cover first? It's a secret only you, your best friend and your secret admirer know about.

’Well, yeah. I was the one who put that thing into your locker,’ Wonpil admits with a bright smile playing on his lips. He looks lost as he casts down his eyes, observing his own boots, waiting for his mojito. His shy acting makes you wonder whether he was a player or not and if he indeed was then: were you willing to play? ’Did you like it?’

When the bartender puts his drink onto the counter, you bite your lower lip but fix your gaze on the man, determination running through your veins. Your frustration that tends to overflow in your system whenever you talk with a guy makes you want to choke in sea water yet a part of you fight with the urge to throw up.

’Absolutely!’ you answer when the silence becomes too noisy, almost unbearable. Since that one peculiar occasion in the library, you have listened to the disk multiple times. Now, you know the tracklist as one knows their own palm from the beginning to the end. You know which parts make you happy and which parts make you sad. You learned by heart every single line, every chord that touched your soul. ’Why didn’t you write your name on it? I couldn’t say thank you.’

Playing with the colourful straw, your eager gaze takes a nap on the DJ and his right hand that scratches his nape.

’I wanted to,’ he admits, lifting his head up so he can finally look you in the eye. Watching him, you hear the presenter silky voice as she introduce the next band called Day6. You cannot help but turn towards the stage and take a look at the man with pink locks who waves to his girlfriend in the first row. Hayoon must be happy. ’But you didn’t wave me back at that house party and…’

Your jaw drops to the floor.

’You waved to me!’ you scream as loudly as a clown on the circus floor. You need a minute, a passing moment to understand the situation and a few more to comfort your crazy heart. You cannot believe your own ears and you cannot believe in reality either. Therefore, you have to force your hands to stay still before your fingers come alive and touch the young man sitting in front of you. It would be ridiculous if he didn't dissolve into thin air at the moment you poke his nose. ’Gosh… I’m such an idiot.’

’What?’

Your trembling fingers run through your hair turning your messy hair into a nest. You have to calm yourself down before you scare your crush away with the insane glitter in your eyes. You put all the blame on the coffee you drank between your classes in the afternoon and your not-so- mojito that feels bitter on your tongue.

You shake your head before you explain your excitement.

’I thought that you waved to that girl. Red dress, red lips, big doe eyes,’ you say shyly as the flames of your embarrassament burn you face and kiss your pale skin leaving rosy patches behind. Saying it out loud, your childish judgement based on other people's actions and gooey dramas full of mischief sounds pathetic to the core. You should have known better than making accusations about someone you don't even know. How old are you? Thirteen?

’To be honest, I don’t even know her. She was so drunk, she couldn’t even tell me her name after she kissed my cheeks.’

He laughs and you listen to the melody that melts away your anxiety. With competent amount of time, it becomes surprisingly easy to talk with him especially when you find yourself reflecting in his personality. You exchange small talks about your desire of travelling around the world, your favourite foreign and Korean dishes and how being a professional musician became something he's willing to live for when the six-year-old Wonpil dreamt of the stars. He wanted to be an astronaut so as you.

You tell him a funny story about a potato and a carton of milk walking in the desert while he shares personal story with you from his childhood when he accidentally slided a sunflower seed into his nose. He was six and curious.

’Awkward,’ you say fighting with those tears that brim in the corner of your eyes. Your fingertips are salty due to the peanut that you throw into the air. You almost catch it with your mouth. ’Do you wanna dance?’ you ask out of the blue when the snack rolls away on the floor and the song in the background catches your attention.

’No, thank you,’ Wonpil says with low-key regret in his raspy voice. As if he was afraid that you would be mad, his starry gaze focuses on everything but you. His fingers fidget on the counter as they would fidget on the turntable. Watching him up close, you chew your lips, struggling. Should you say something cool or just laugh it off? It's not that he hurt your feelings or anything. ’I mean, I don’t dance, I cannot. But I would gladly take you out on a date. On a cute one.’

Taking a sip of your mojito, you almost spit it into your handsome company's face. You have to grab the edge of the counter to keep your balance and your sanity.

’Did you just ask me out?’ you ask with your brows knitted to each other. Knowing that there is hardly a single charming bone in your body, you find yourself pinching your own arm. Did you fall asleep on your couch in your plain pj while you were arguing with Hayoon? Or this is reality and your crush has a crush on you, too.

Awesome!

’If you say yes then yes,’ Wonpil replies, scratching his own nape out of embarrassment. You find his rosy cheeks cute as the chaste smile becomes wider on his face.

Younghyun's voice tinkles in the air as the music dies and the crowd dies with it. The two of you gets a little too much attention when the bass guitarist announces their last track that they made with a good friend. It takes you ten seconds to realize that he talks about Wonpil. The guy who seems confused as he cannot decide whether he should go on stage or stay by your side, waiting for your answer.

At the moment he is ready to leave you behind, you grab his hand on instinct and turn him towards your body.

’Yes. Take me out on a date,’ you ask, tilting your head to left, smiling like a complete idiot, a lovesick fool from another planet. Yet, he looks at you with the very same joyful expression and his cheeky smirk gives you enough power to shut out reality. With your closed eyes, you lean closer and closer. You do not stop until your warm lips on his right cheek send a jolt down his spine, dressing his whole body into goosebumps. You like the effect you have over him. ’On a cute one.’

He nods before he turns his back on you. And you do the same as you fight your way through the crowd just to see him doing what he is willing to live for from the first row with your smiling eyes.

the end.