“No wonder you’re late . . .

Why this watch is exactly 2 days slow!”

* * * * *

“WHAT the HELL was THAT?” Shouting at Kookie in disgust, Jimin, mocked the tone of his friends’ voice, “here . . . they’re beautiful, just like you . . . And, YOU?” he added, pointing directly at V with the same disdain. “Both of you . . . TOO MUCH JUICE. The point is to get the ‘F’ out of here. Not ease into Prom and settle in to wait for the wedding.”

Nodding his head agreeably, Jin dropped onto the end of the bed, crossing his feet patiently. “All I want is to get back home, in one piece,” he sighed. “I miss Destruction and the others. I’ll bet they had a great time. Probably didn’t spend any of it locked in a damn closet either.”

“Okay, okay. Point made.” Leaning against the wall, JungKook the bottom of his bangs. “But, geez. You have to admit . . . it’s gonna make a great video once we get back. Ye?”

“OH ANI. HELL NO.” Jimin barked loudly. “I’m NOT reliving this nightmare again, I don’t care how much money it makes us.”

“Yah, is that the picture box?” V questioned, lunging toward a large bookcase against the far wall, well past the Prom shoot set-up. His colored drawing. If he was leaving, he wanted to take it with him to remember the odd experience by.

Grabbing it he threw open the lid, peering inside at the assortment of papers. “My drawings in here. I want it,” he announced rifling through them hurriedly. As they fluttered about the bed, he zeroed in on a collection of photo’s, wrapped tightly with a large red ribbon, clear to the bottom of the box. “Whoaaaahhhh . . . pics.” Smiling he waved them in the air for the others to see. “Maybe it’s baby pictures or their parents or something.” His curiosity more than peaked, he fumbled with the ribbon tossing them across the bed randomly.

But, they weren’t baby pictures . . . or family pictures. They were an odd assortment of the girls in crazy outfits, goofy expressions on their faces, and random guys. All in tuxedos . . . looking much like they did . . . ready for Prom. And, the icing on the cake . . . photos of themselves . . . obviously snapped from the camera’s that followed them about the house, from the bedrooms on down . . .

V gasped, rushing to stash them back in the box before the others could see. Coughing loudly, he dumped them into the bottom unwrapped, slamming the lid, heading back to the top shelf of the cabinet with it.

“It was nothing,” he muttered, his heart pounding wildly against his chest, the animation and excitement gone in his face, now replaced with a renewed sense of foreboding. Where the hell had they come from? Was it true? Was it true there really HAD there been others here before? And, what had happened to them?

His mind clicked down all the reasons he didn’t want to think about. No television sets in the house . . . locked doors . . . a disappearing vehicle . . . strange rooms . . . no cell phones or electronics . . . and finally . . . the dreaded, ‘happy juice’.

Gulping, he swiveled on his heels quickly, about to announce his decision to leave as well, when he realized the door was locked and they weren’t going anywhere until the music started and the Prom began.

But a light knock startled them all. When the lock clicked open, Sumre’s head peeked through the crack.

“I told you I wouldn’t let her lock you in. See you downstairs. Just don’t be late.” Smiling at them all, she waved slightly as she disappeared.

* * * * *

TIPTOEING quietly down the back stairs, the boys followed each other, hoping that the music wouldn’t go off while they were attempting to make a mad dash for freedom. (But, they weren’t that lucky). As Jin hit the bottom step it creaked loudly, the sound of a loud whistling teapot covering the chorus of gasps as they bumped into each other. Nearly plummeting head first out of the staircase, they threatened to crash loudly onto the old rickety wooden floor.

“Dammit . . . ! Don’t touch me! What the hell was that?” came the exasperated murmurs of the four creeping ‘dates’ gone AWOL.

To the singing of ‘The Tea Party Song’ they brushed themselves off, proceeding quietly past the closet room where Jin had been locked in overnight. Pulling them inside he pointed to the handwritten exclamation across the inner doorway.

“See that?” he half-whispered. “It says, ‘F*** we’re all gonna die!’ Now you know why we need to get the hell out of here?”

He didn’t get any disagreements, just nodding heads, and large eyes. V’s attention diverted to the basement stairs at the sound of the music, and flickering lights of a whirling ‘Disco ball’, tugged at his heart. The girls had gone to so much work. Obviously, the plan had been to party downstairs. Remembering the pictures, it seemed as though they hadn’t been the first ‘chosen ones’ to be invited in for parties, activities AND Prom. Still, torn between wanting to stay, and knowing they HAD to get out while they could, he eased one foot toward the music, feeling Jimin grab him by the back of his jacket, tugging him toward the doorway.

“YAH! TaeTae, get back here,” he hissed, “LEAVING . . . remember?”

Struggling with the code, his fingers sweaty, the four S. Korean ‘prisoners’ tumbled onto the back porch, and freedom. Scurrying down the stairs and across the mucky, snow-covered lawn, Jin spotted the familiar vehicle first.

“HOLY ,” he shouted . . . arms flailing in the air around him. “The other members are here . . .”

* * * * *

FIVE minutes had passed, then ten, and now it was pushing fifteen. Tapping her fingers on the arm of the sofa, Sumre raised her grandmother’s fan to her perspiring face, letting her eyes float mindlessly around the large living area. The music had automatically started earlier, and still there was no sign of the boys, or sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Her stomach knotted apprehensively, as her eye began to twitch with trepidation.

It was happening again. Should she have left the door locked? She hated the locks. They were Sundae’s idea. Everything was falling apart . . . like it usually did. Hatter had looked so dapper and stunning in his tuxedo, the long-stemmed rose at his full lips. Why did she know, even though he was the one . . . Sundae would never allow it to happen? She never did.

“Where are they?” Pacing back and forth Sundae rubbed her hands up and down the satiny material of her short dancing dress. Stopping abruptly she glared at Sumre, fanning herself on the sofa (seemingly oblivious to the time). “Do you even care?”

Folding her arms in a final show of disgust, she leaned against the wall daring Sumre to confront her.

“You unlocked the door, didn’t you?” she growled, her eyes dark and accusing. Of course, she did. And, that was what happened every time. With the music playing in the background, she waited for an answer before stomping toward her guilty sister, snatching at a long lock of blonde hair.

“Why? Why do you insist on giving in to them? We’ll never marry at this rate!” she screamed. “AGHHHH . . . Grandmother would be so ashamed. One minute you’re on board . . . the next . . . you’re a disgrace. Make up your mind.”

Sumre fanned herself casually meeting her sisters’ angry stare head on.

“I love him. I always have. He deserves better.” Tilting her head slightly, she pushed Sundae out of her way and rose arrogantly. “You’re the problem. Now leave me alone. I’m going to find them. They haven’t gone far. Dear GOD! You won’t let them.”

As she strode with confidence toward the staircase, the sound of footsteps could be heard on the front porch. Her ears pricked with delight that they had chosen to take her advice and come to the front and ring the bell to pick them up. It was so much more ‘fun’ that way. More like a real Prom.

“Sundae!” She squealed rushing toward the door with excitement. “They’re here.”

* * * * *

IT was 12:20 p.m. on the dot. RapMonster, scuffed his feet against the top of the wooden porch step anxiously. The remnants of helium balloons and sign reading ‘I’m late . . . I’m late for a very important date,” flashed at him with an eerie reminder that he was in exactly the right place. The hair standing on the back of his neck, he pushed one finger to the doorbell, hoping to God he wasn’t going to regret what he found inside.

J-Hope, usually talkative and bubbly stood beside him, now quiet and reserved, waiting to see if anyone responded to the loud buzzing of the antique bell. Suga, half hidden at his back, picked at his nail uneasily noticing that four pairs of tennis shoes were lined up at the side of the door. Clearly the other members either were still here (or had been here).

As the door flew open, Sumre squealed with delight, announcing their arrival, repeating what Sundae had said only days earlier.

“Oh, my goodness!” she crooned her eyes twinkling. “You made it. I thought the snow would delay your arrival. We’ve been expecting you. You all look so nice.” Adding with a hint of sassiness to her voice as she turned to Sundae . . . “I told you they would come. Alice is always right.”

Is this the end of BTS?

* * * * *