She sees him often, more often than people outside of the industry would assume. It’s because her group is new, and YG prefers to stack music shows rather than split time with variety programs. The CEO is still old school hip hop in this way. Jennie doesn’t mind; she doesn’t think she’s cut out for variety.

Bangtan is in the middle of a comeback, and she sees the members backstage at least once or twice. They always seem to be having fun amongst themselves, although they nod politely at her whenever they see her.

She always bows back. Jiyong-sunbae always bowed to his waist when she was collaborating with him; she saw how respect garnered respect and kept the lesson tucked under her heart.

She never says hello though, unlike her members. She’s got bullying rumors; YG told her it’s best to keep shut in public when she can.

After ditching her group by the restrooms, Jennie shuffles into the empty dressing room and drops onto one of the couches. She’s still looking at her phone so she doesn’t notice the young man dozing on the couch across from her until a snuffle breaks the silence.

She looks up, expecting a coordi-unnie and freezes. The male idol, (a Bangtan rapper?), cheek resting against the sofa cushion, is smacking his lips and blinking himself awake. The long line of his throat is as white as paper, and Jennie’s eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple in fascination.

Then his sharp eyes cut to her and widen. Jennie stares back in bewilderment.

“You’re from Blackpink,” the rapper drawls, his voice like gravel. A shiver rolls up Jennie’s spine. He’s either still sleepy or he always sounds like that.

“Yes,” Jennie says as she gets up slowly. “And I think I’m in the wrong dressing room.”

He watches her stand up, scratching the back of his blond head. He’s dressed in black from head to toe; denim, ripped knees, graphic tee, leather jacket. It’s just the style she likes best.

The realization that she’s checking him out and that he probably knows it, if the tiny smirk lingering at the edge of his mouth is any indication, makes Jennie hasten her departure. She bangs her knee getting past the coffee table.

“Ow,” she hisses.

“You alright?” The rapper has the audacity to laugh at her, and just for a moment Jennie’s temper flares. She glares at him, her whole face drawn narrow and mean.  

He makes a low sound under his breath that sounds like appreciation, but it makes her go hot with embarrassment. What on earth is she doing? Does she want to make her reputation worse? Stony-faced and eyes prickling, she stalks out of the room and tries not to make it look like she’s running away (even though she is).

She finds out later that the rapper’s name is Min Yoongi, and that he always sounds like he’s half asleep.