I knew I’d undergone some sort of change recently. But now was a great time to regain back who I once was: a wasted, bitter . It was perfect, just what I needed.

So there I was on a Saturday night, at another one of Suho’s houses, dancing the night away with a red solo cup in my hand. The music was blasting loud against my ears and I loved it. I loved that within all of this chaos, I could forget about everything. Or, more specifically, forget about him. I’d even smoked a couple of cigarettes. God it felt good.

“Wooooo! Yeeeaaahhh, go Daeun!”

I turned my attention to the dance floor, where the new girl was now busting out her hip hops moves. She was smooth, I admit. But I’ve seen better.

I pushed myself into the circle, probably half-drunk, and said, “You think you can dance, ?”

She abruptly stopped and glared at me. “Excuse me? Who are you calling , ?”

I smirked. “Cute. But you can’t dance.”

“Oh yeah? Why won’t you show me your moves then?”

“Gladly.” And then there I went, busting out a y body roll, then moved my hips. What I hadn’t told Sehun the night I saw him at the gym was that I used to dance too. And I danced pretty damn well. I ran my fingers through my hair, eyeing Daeun’s angry face. Her arms were crossed, judgemental. The crowd cheered for me.

“Go Yoojung!”

“Damn girl!”

“That’s nothing,” Daeun sneered. She did some popping moves, finishing it off with a checkmark.

I countered back with harder, stronger popping moves