The Christmas Ball is in a capacious, grandiose ballroom, complete with sparkling diamond chandeliers and beautiful paintings. Before Marge and I walk in, she plasters an enormous smile on her face mutters in my ear, “Look happy.” I grin widely, attempting to look like I want to be here.

The dance floor is packed with attractive couples waltzing to smooth classical music. Waiters wearing white cravats and black slacks offer champagne flutes to attendees. It all looks like a normal function- right up until Marge nudges me in the direction of a jovial old man chuckling over a joke with his friends.

“That’s Minsol Choi of the Golden Blossoms,” she says quietly. “They’re a smaller gang under X.E. He’s the head of a ion ring involving over 200 women.”

My eyes widen with shock. I look at him in horror.

“Why the hell is he allowed to be here?” I ask Marge with gritted teeth.

“Everyone else here is just as bad. That woman over there is Gemma Fronsac. She planted a bomb at a Seven Stars corporation meeting in London that wiped out half of its British executives. Oh, they were so pissed at us.”

“How in the world are all of these gang members able to be in the same place at the same time without killing each other?”

“We need each other,” Marge responds. “If the government were to find out about any gang’s proceedings, they could easily trace all other gang’s’ illegal activities as well. So we occasionally cover for each other if we’re in danger of being discovered. I promise you, that’s what’s on everyone’s minds tonight.”

Suddenly, her face contorts into a scowl. “Oh, great.”

“Well, well, Marge,” Baekhyun says in a silky voice, swaggering up to us. “You look stunning, as usual.”

“Shut the up,” she snaps. “Ami, this is Baekhyun. Stay away from him.”

“Oh, please,” Baekhyun smirks. “We all know that Ami and I know each other. You can cut the act.”

Marge glowers at him. “Keep your voice down,” she hisses.

“What I don’t understand is why you’re covering for her. You know who Chanyeol and I are. Why haven’t you reported that Ami’s scheming with us yet? Interesting.”

“You know what would be really interesting?” Marge says. “How loud you would scream if I shoved my high heel up your-,”

“Chanyeol!” I exclaim loudly, waving him over. “Hey!”

    Chanyeol glances at me- and then double-takes.

    “Ami?” he says, startled. “I- whoa.”

Baekhyun snickers at Chanyeol as he not-so-subtly goggles at me.

“Cat got your tongue, Channie?” he teases.

Chanyeol’s eyes irritatedly flit away from me. “Shut up,” he says brusquely. “Well, Ami. Hello. You, uh, don’t look like a puny little high schooler.”

I narrow my eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

“He’s saying that you look like you’re of legal age to bang,” Baekhyun pipes up. Marge chortles, and Chanyeol turns red.

“Shut the hell up, Baekhyun,” he growls. “That’s not what I’m saying. I meant that she looked nice.”

“Thanks,” I respond, chagrined. “You, uh, look nice, too. Do you want to, um, go get some soda with me?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t get lost, you two,” Marge calls after us, all traces of annoyance at Baekhyun gone. Traitor. How could she?

Chanyeol and I wade through the crowd of people to the refreshments table. Occasionally, he stops to say hi to some person or the other.

“You must know a lot of people here,” I say. He shrugs.

“I’ve been in the business for 4 years. You meet a few people.”

“So how’s it going with the data mining? Have you found anything yet?”

Chanyeol looks at me exasperatedly. “You’ve been asking me this every single day, and the answer’s the same: no. We’re getting closer, but we haven’t found any direct matches yet.”

I groan. “I hate computers.”

“Ami Hwang hates computers.”

“That’s right.”

Suddenly, I feel someone wrap their arms around my waist. “Hey, baby,” a husky voice murmurs in my ear.

“Eeeek!” I shriek, whirling around, an empty glass raised above my head. Who the hell-

Jin is squatting on the floor, doubling up with laughter. Behind him are Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung.

“Are you serious?!” I holler, angrily stomping on Jin’s foot. He yelps in pain and rolls over on the ground. “Dude, get up! You’re going to mess up your suit!”

“That was so worth it,” Taehyung sniggers, wiping away tears of mirth.

“Namjoon, what the hell?” I huff. “Why did you let this moron do that?”

“He’s actually the one who came up with the idea,” Jimin pipes up. “Hey, do you know where the hors d'oeuvres are?”

“Over there. Now come here, Namjoon. I’m going to beat the out of you.”

Namjoon slings an arm around my shoulders. “See, guys? I told you she would dress up for me.”

I blush, shrugging him off of me. “Shut up. I hate you.”

“Ooooh!” the boys jeer.

Jimin comes back with a plate full of devilled eggs and bruschetta. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asks Chanyeol between a mouthful of canapes.

Chanyeol flashes me a quick glance, and then cheerfully chirps, “Yeah! I’m an intern in the Tech Department! Oh my jeez, I’ve heard so much about you! You’re Jimin, right? You’re so cool! Harris always talked about you in Training!”

“That’s weird,” Jimin says, thoughtfully munching on a pakora. “I’m the worst at physical combat. Harris said he wanted to bash my head in once.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung remarks. “Once he brought a metal baseball bat and threatened to smack him in the face with it.”

“Whoa! Harris has told me that, too! We have so many things in common!” Chanyeol gasps. He sticks out his hand. “Hi! I’m Chanyeol Park! It’s great to meet you guys!”

“Nice to meet you,” Hoseok says, shaking his hand. “I assume that you met him during Training?” he asks me.

“Yup. Dream team right here.” I fist bump Chanyeol.

“Hey, Ami?” Taehyung asks in a serious voice, holding out his phone. I look at him quizzically. “Can you fill out a survey for me? It’s for a science project.”

“Yeah, sure,” I shrug. I take his phone- and facepalm. An “Add New Phone Contact” page is displayed on the screen.

“Will you give me your number?” he jokingly begs, clasping his hands together. “At least take a picture with me! I want to prove to my friends that I met a hottie tonight!”

Why are boys such freaking dips? I bury my head in my hands, utterly embarrassed, while all 7 of those morons laugh at me like idiots. I shove them all out of the way. “You know what? I’m done with you people,” I say, struggling to stifle a smile. “I hate you guys-,”

I bump into someone. “Sorry,” I laugh.

I freeze.

Jungkook is staring down at me, his expression unreadable. His jet black hair is combed to the side, mussed up just a bit. The crisp suit is flawlessly fitting to his lean, athletic form.  

We simply look at each other for what feels like an eternity.

God, my chest feels like it’s about to implode.

“Excuse me,” I finally say, brushing past him. My feet quickly move me away from him, as far away as I can go.

“Wait up, Ami,” Chanyeol calls behind me. He catches up to my brisk pace.

“Sorry,” I utter vaguely. Chanyeol lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“Look, you high schooler. You can’t just keep running away from your boyfriend forever. At some point, you two will have to kiss and make up.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I furiously snarl, turning on Chanyeol. “And you know how ed up he is. You’re the one who sent me the freaking video of him going ape on those X.E. agents! And he kidnaps people so their organs can be sold, and he murders people and he hooked up with Emma Carter right after we broke up-,”

“Okay, you know what?” Chanyeol clamps his hands over his ears. “I’m not going to play relationship counselor to your stupid high school drama. All I can say is that both of you are stubborn as hell. Good luck figuring anything out.”

My jaw drops in indignation. “Wow, thanks for being so supportive.”

He grins. “You know what? I have an idea. Let’s go dance.”

“What?”

“Let’s go dance.” He gestures towards the center of the ballroom, where partygoers are waltzing to the classical music played by the orchestra at the front of the hall.

“I don’t know how to dance.”

His smile widens. “That’s even better.”

He drags me towards the dance floor, and positions a hand on my waist and another on my hip. “Stand closer to me,” he says. When I squirm, he clicks his tongue in impatience. “I don’t bite.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, and take a miniscule step towards him. Chanyeol raises his eyes to high heaven, and then pulls me towards him. I let out a cry in surprise. Our bodies are now only a few inches apart.

“Perfect,” he smirks. “Okay, now follow my lead. One step back, one step to the side, one step forward... ow!”

“Sorry,” I wince. “I won’t step on your foot again, promise.”

Sadly, that promise is broken several more times as I proceed to trample his toes while we dance. By the end of the song, though, I have the general movement of dancing down.

“I got it!” I beam as Chanyeol twirls me. “This is kind of fun. Thanks, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol is staring with satisfaction at something over my shoulder. When I try to turn and look, he jerks me back around.

“Just wait,” he mutters. “3... 2... 1.”

An arm slips around my waist. “May I have this dance?” Jungkook asks me in a low voice.

I swallow, nervously peering over at Chanyeol. He rubs his temples in exasperation, and mouths, Say yes.

“Sure,” I tell Jungkook.

In a flash, he has whisked me away from Chanyeol towards the center of the ballroom. Jungkook is a smooth dancer, with fluid, purposeful movements that display just the slightest touch of flair. I try to ignore the feel of his hands grip my hips, how he gently leads me from step to step, the way he yanks me so close towards him that his chest is pressed up against mine. A sense of surrealness grips this entire situation. Somehow, all of this seems so dreamlike.

We do not speak for half of the song. And then Jungkook suddenly says, “I broke up with Emma.”

A twinge of glee passes through me. “Sorry,” I say.

“I’m sure you’re very sad about that.”

“What made you do it?”

He gives me a look. “The way she talked about you in Chem, of course. That was terrible.”

“Almost as terrible as calling someone a , right?”

Jungkook stiffens. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to call you that. I was just... angry. It slipped out. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Whatever.”

“Ami.” Jungkook grips me tighter. “I’m serious.”

“Okay. Fine.”

We dance in silence for a little bit longer. I can see Marge and Baekhyun sitting at a table somewhere, downing glasses of a suspicious clear liquid. That doesn’t look good.

“Are you doing okay?” Jungkook abruptly questions. “You’ve seemed exhausted for the past few weeks. You’ve gotten thinner, too. I’ll ask Marge to give you a break.”

“I’m fine,” I utter. “But thanks.”

He looks down at me and I can see the hurt in his eyes. I can tell that he knows that I’m being distant, that I’m not treating him the same as I used to.  

    But he deserves it. I am proud of myself for the dignified, cool way I am handling myself.

    The song slowly draws to a close, and everyone begins to look around for new partners.

Everything would have been alright.

I would have been able to gracefully leave Jungkook and leave him with the parting impression of the dignified, cool way I am handling myself.

    Sadly, nothing ever works out for me.

    Someone stumbles up behind Jungkook, an overflowing champagne flute in his hand. He bumps into a tall, svelte woman, and she shoves him away- right into Jungkook. Jungkook staggers forward. As if in slow motion, his foot catches on the hem of my dress and he trips, causing me to fall as well. A giant rip! reverberates through the air.

    I clap my hands in front of my chest in mortification.

    The already excessively low neckline of my dress has split open even further, exposing... certain parts of me that I want hidden.

    “!” I swear. In a flash, Jungkook presses me to him, so that my front is totally covered. My face heats up.

    “Crap, I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Uh, okay, let’s get off the dance floor.”

    I look over Jungkook’s shoulder at the man who collided with the woman and started this entire chain of collisions.

    Baekhyun winks back at me.

    “Oh my freaking god,” I growl. “I’m going to kill him.”

    “Okay, that’s really great, but let’s go,” Jungkook says urgently, attempting to sidestep a dancing couple while clutching me to his chest. People are starting to stare at us.

    “Ow! You stepped on my foot!” I exclaim. He throws me an irritated look.

    “Like you weren’t doing that the whole time we were dancing,” he mutters.

    “What the- no I wasn’t! You’re even worse at dancing!”

    “Stop lying.”

    “Stop yelling!” I shout. “People are looking!”

    “Gee, I wonder why,” he muses. “Is it because of our loud voices, or because of the fact that I’m clutching a topless girl as I make my way out of here?”

Oh my god.

This is the worst situation I've ever been in.

A/N: wow this banquet is going to take up like... a good 3 chapters.... there's just so much to cover. and also didn't really go down this chapter but it will next chap (i think?)

sorry i haven't been updating every day xD i've gone out with my friends so many times in the past week i haven't had the time to write hehehe. plus... i went on my first date today with a guy who's one of my best friends.... :/// i posted cute selcas on my blog tho so u should check those out :^)

AND OKAY... I THINK I MADE A MISTAKE USING JUNGKOOK FOR THIS STORY. SO I DIDN'T REALLY KNOW HIS PERSONALITY WHEN I STARTED WRITING THIS (I JUST THOUGHT HE LOOKED HOT PLUS HE'S AROUND MY AGE THAT'S WHY HE'S MY BIAS), SO I WAS LIKE HM WHY DON'T I GO WATCH SOME BTS VIDEOS/SHOWS SO I CAN GET MORE INSPIRATION FOR HIS CHARACTER? WHAT THE HELL THAT KID IS SO FREAKING DUMB HES LITERALLY THE BIGGEST GOOFBALL EVER HE'S ALWAYS DOING STUPID THINGS AND DID Y'ALL SEE THAT VIDEO OF HIM IN L.A. WHERE HE HAD TO FILM THAT M/V WITH THOSE HOT GIRLS AND HE FREAKED TF OUT LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE THIS KID AS A SCARY GANGSTER???????? OH MY GODDDDDDDD LMFAAOAOOAOAOAO I LOVE YOU JUNGKOOK SO MUCH