You nod, taking his arm, albeit wearily.

“It’s not as upscale as other parties I’ve attended, so I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought my car.” Upon noting the expression that falls on your features, as if you’re silently asking why on earth he wouldn’t bring his car, he resists the inch of a smile that’s creeping up on him. “Instead of a chauffeur and limousine, I mean.”

You nod, a little too quickly for it to be a casual reaction. “Of course,” you cough out, trying to sound as convincing as you can so that it’s not obvious it’s a whole other world to you. Biting your lip, you offer an unsure smile, as if asking who’s to take the first step to this car, whether you’re supposed to walk ahead or allow him to lead you.

The latter, apparently.  

It’s sleek, black, with tinted windows; a flawless design with the perfect assortment of color, hints of silver. The closer you go, the more you note the metallic color, shimmering in the sunlight. It’s sophistication personified, much like Jongin himself it seems. Likely costing more than your apartment block would be in its entirety. You daren’t ask the price, and ever so gently open the door, completely unaware that the scenes in movies in this particular instance usually take place in real life as well.

Jongin seems mildly disappointed that he wasn’t the one to open the door for you, but doesn’t berate you for it, and slides in beside you, making sure you’re buckled up.  

“Truthfully,” you say, mulling over your earlier point in conversation. “This is more upscale than I’ve ever personally witnessed.”

“I know.” 

You blink. You knew it’d been obvious there was a class difference between the two of you just because of who he was, and also let him know that your dates usually skipped straight past the date aspect, that outside of romance movies, with their over the top romantic gestures, dating culture wasn’t something you were really in the depths of. A lot of this stuff was going to be new to you, evidently, but he said like he’d known all along that these lavish conditions in particular were way out of your comfort zone, and considering the tier of the school you go to, usually the opposite is implied. 

Hence your confused expression.

“It’s evident you got into our school with nothing but hard work and dedication, so please don’t think I’d ever judge you for not being as ‘well off’ as me, I’m not here to judge you or belittle you for actually earning your place at the school, rather than buying your way in through daddy’s inheritance.”

You nod. 

“But I should warn you beforehand that the deal with these parties, is that if you accept an invite, it’s highly recommended you stay the night, and by recommended, meaning it’s kind of forced upon you. Elite circles have customs and parties such as these are how they make useful contacts or carry out their assessments on future business partners, ad infinitum, I won’t bore you to death with the lingo, but a lot goes down through these parties. I’ve paid for a stay for two, but you’re welcome to leave at the end of the night, should you wish to. I’ll you back, so don’t worry about having to make a break out of there yourself.” 

But you’re already aware of this. “I know,” he’s the one to blink in surprise this time. “I went to one of these parties one time before.” There’s an awkward cough on your end. “The only time, actually.”

He peers at you, curious note to his tone, “why do you say it as if it’s nothing but a painful memory?”

You don’t hold eye contact and instead glance ahead. “I had no idea what I was doing,” and you can’t hide the awkwardness behind the tone. “Definitely didn’t have Louboutins on, nor a dress as expensive as this. I tasted all the wrong wines, mingled with all the wrong people and like you mentioned before, had to make my way out alone.” You drum you fingers against your knee, trying not to cringe at the painful memories. “I went with Taemin.”

The mood seems to darken at the mention of this name. “I feel like you have more to add,” he says, though he skips over Taemin’s addition entirely.

Which you do, you definitely do. “Basically, I made a mistake,” is how you choose to sum it up. “And it’s a mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

Jongin’s intrigued as he quietens, but he doesn’t push the subject, knowing it’s not a route you want to go down. 

You don’t have much to speak about on the drive there and you’re kind of at a loss for words yourself, so use this time to mull over recent occurrences. Jongin’s focusing on the journey and seems to find the quiet comfortable, so you don’t make a move to break it.
 

Pulling up at the grande hall leaves you more nauseous than in awe. It’s exactly like the hall you visited the first time you experienced this kind of party; a night shrouded in darkness, a night you don’t like to talk about. You know it isn't the same one, much as you've tried blanking as much of that night out of your memory as possible. That night happened in a Lee hotel, and that was a whole other can of worms...

Safe to say that some things don't disappear however hard you try, though.

Taemin was as bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual, a skip to his step, the sense of security that enveloped you as he extended his arm to you and escorted you inside ever present, much as Jongin’s about to, though you’re sure the aforementioned feeling will differ with another being.

It was the first time you really took the time to look at your best friend, notice how much he’d grown into his features, how dashing he looked in a suit. You felt giddy, like the protagonist of a fairy tale who’d just been swept off her feet and placed into the arms of her ever loyal and dashing prince, who she was to twirl around in the arms of, be whispered the promise of forever from. True love’s kiss, as it goes.  

You glance at Jongin, and you feel something else entirely. You know you’re not on the best of terms, and you don’t really know how to define your current dynamic with the elusive and dark haired male – though you believe things are getting better – but it’s almost impossible to deny the aura of sophistication that envelops him and yourself at this present moment. But rather than be fairy tale-esque, it’s rather aristocratic, perhaps even villainous.

Like evil royalty, banished from the realm of good, making a shock reappearance. But maybe you're getting ahead of yourself there and it's simply more like the vibe from a Gothic novel, that you’ve read on the nights when you’re utterly alone and out of things to do. 

All of which has its own charm, admittedly, but you’re still at a loss of what to say. It’s occurring to you that as much as you’ve been around Jongin as of late, your conversations haven’t lasted very long at all. That you’ve never exactly gotten to know the other, outside of curt greetings and well placed insults, the rest is just observation and based on hearsay. 

Or so you could say, if you omit what appears to happen each time you lay eyes on the other, how quickly you can get under the other’s skin, read to their true meanings and motives. Pairing that with an undercurrent of attraction that’s only strengthening as the moments pass. You’re not sure if it’s mutual, but it’s definitely present on your end.

Which is an eye opening but strange feeling, and considering you’re no stranger to being around the opposite gender, doesn’t make much sense to you, how even his piercing gaze – in full clothing for that matter – can make you feel more exposed than the handful of men who have ravished and used your body to satiate their own primal urges, times before.
  
The more you allow your thoughts to deepen, the more vulnerable you feel. Exposed. You’re not even exchanging words, but he’s still able to read you like a book; how each assessment he’s made has hit the nail on the head.  

“_____?”

You glance up at him, and take his offered arm, almost shivering at the contact. It’s kind of cold, is your reasoning.   

Certainly not because of his sturdy, firm frame, that towers over you. The intoxicating scent that invades your nostrils from such proximity.  

But unlike usual, you haven’t made a move to thoroughly check him out or mentally undress him like you had on your previous interactions. Rather, you’re filled with curiosity at your next train of thought, which you voice.  

“Considering you have to attend these parties often, Jongin, do you usually come alone or with accompaniment?”

“Alone,” he says, almost forlornly. “People I’m acquainted with are kind of accustomed to this, so I imagine it’ll be a surprise to see you accompany me this time round.”

You purse your lips, contemplative. He seemed to be going all out. “They’ll probably smell the lack of class on me,” you mumble, suppressing your sigh. “If not in aura, then in behavior. I apologize in advance.”

He smiles at this, eyes brightening. The smile has you in awe for a few seconds, noting you’d only seen him chuckle or smirk – in victory of his scathing digs usually. “Pretentious as the most of them may seem, a lot made their way out of nothing, _____. And usually people are a er for the rags to riches tale. Just sell them that, if push comes to shove.”

“Except we’re not such a tale,” you whisper. “We’re like… begrudging partners in crime, drawn together on a high scale mission, ready and rearing to go.” 

His deadpan expression makes you giggle, and you’re sure the mood between the two of you lightens, conversation coming easier than you anticipated.  

“But seriously, how am I meant to refer to myself if someone does inquire? Am I your date? Your girlfriend?” The word girlfriend tastes foreign on your tongue, noting that no man has ever referred to you as such. Not that you’re truly bothered, seeing as the men who you had encountered in that sense, weren’t men you’d refer to as boyfriends on your own terms and didn’t fit your picture of a boyfriend to begin with. 

“Girlfriend,” he confirms, his voice lowering, but rather than it be purposely seductive, it’s enticing; almost as though it’s calling to you, edging you closer and urging you to snuggle up into him and have him encase you in his arms as he gently sways you from side to side. “Taemin's here too, if you recall. He’s about to experience the shock of his life, may I remind you?”

You mull over this. “I wonder if this will make him hate me.” Glancing up at Jongin, worry present. “He’s well aware that I know the two of you aren’t on the best of terms. Won’t this be like the ultimate betrayal?”  

Jongin’s doing well to hide the stiffening of his shoulders. “Regardless of prior relations of the suitor, if it all it takes for a person to fall out with their best friend is their romantic partner of choice, were they ever truly friends at all?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes narrowing a fraction. “That’s not true,” you say almost instantaneously. 

He raises an eyebrow at you, urging you to continue. 

“If a partner is abusive, obsessive, or generally unhealthy for someone, then a best friend has every right to not support the relationship!”

“I never said anything about supporting the relationship,” Jongin says lowly. “The heart wants what the heart wants in such a sense. Rather, my point is, it brings into question the solidity of the relationship, or friendship. Were they ever truly friends? – Granted it can be taken one of two ways. One where one half always desired 'more’ and can’t bear to see them with another…”

You avoid looking him in the eye.

“Even to the point of irrationality, perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow at this, expression bordering on incredulous. Since when were you irrational about Taemin? You knew your dreary circumstances. 

“Or,” he continues. “If romantic feelings don’t flow both ways, but the friendship would still end at the prospect of them ‘dating’ a specific someone, has the other half of this duo – Taemin – weaved the chain of events so precisely that there’s a clear mutual enemy between all parties involved, even prior to certain participants – you – interacting with said person – me – and forming their own conclusion on his character? Or better yet, forming their conclusion after they’ve left him and what they knew