Chapter Text
“If I die tonight, delete my search history,” you mutter, shoving a forkful of food into your mouth like you have something to prove. Dami looks up from her drink, deadpan. “You literally just searched ‘can champagne expire’ five minutes ago.”
“It’s called due diligence.”
“It’s called alcoholism.”
You point your fork at her like you’re about to file a legal complaint. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I’m not drunk. Third of all, why is rich people food always this tiny? For the price we paid, this is way too less, don’tcha think?” Dami glances around the restaurant—glass walls, city skyline, people in suits laughing too loud like their bank accounts are part of the joke. “Because you’re not supposed to eat it. You’re supposed to look at it and feel inferior.”
“Ah,” you nod seriously. “So capitalism, basically.”
“Exactly.” You lean back in your chair, stretching like you own the place even though you absolutely don’t. “If I pass out from hunger mid-conversation, just push me under the table. I’ll haunt you later.”
“You already haunt me in real life.”
“Wow. Love you too.” Dami takes a slow sip of her drink. “You’re extra chaotic tonight. What’s with you?” The question hangs there like it already knows the answer. You pause mid-bite, then shrug. “Nothing’s wrong with me.” Dami stares. You stare back. “…Okay, a lot of things are wrong with me,” you correct, taking a sip like it’s water and not something expensive and dangerous. “But not in a sad way. In a functional chaos way.” Dami squints. “That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if you stop being judgmental.” Dami leans back. “You’re getting drunk.”
You gesture vaguely at the restaurant like you’re rejecting society itself. “I'll be fineeee. Anyway, I’m bored. This place feels like I’m being silently audited while I eat a leaf.” Dami checks her phone. “We can leave.” You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Didn’t even finish your—”
“I said yes.” You hook your arm through hers as you walk. “Where are we going now? Home? Bed? Responsible adulthood?” Dami hesitates. That hesitation is the mistake. You notice immediately. “Oh my God. You’re thinking about going home and doing nothing.” Dami sighs. “There’s a club nearby. It’s the new one that opened up. It’s ‘The’ something.”
“Oh really? Is it really ‘The’ something?” you exaggerate. Dami nudges your shoulder. “Oh shut— wait, yes. The Hive. It’s called the Hive.” You scoff. “Wow. The Hive. What a crazy name for a club, huh?” Dami rolls her eyes. “We going or what?” The club is already loud before you even step inside. Bass vibrates through the walls like a second heartbeat, lights flashing red, gold, and blue—everything slightly too much, slightly too alive. You immediately grab Dami’s wrist. “Oh this is disgusting.” Dami looks at you. “We can leave.” You shake your head. “No. I love it. It’s disgusting but like in a good way.” Dami snorts. “Jesus, you're so drunk.”
Inside, everything is movement—bodies, heat, noise, overlapping laughter and glass clinking under bass-heavy music. And then familiar faces. Namjoon first, leaning against a booth like he just wanted to disappear. Yoongi beside him, looking like he’s one bad decision away from leaving immediately. Hoseok laughing too loudly at something no one else understands. Jimin already halfway through flirting with a stranger like it’s cardio. Taehyung in the middle of it all, smiling like chaos is his natural habitat. You lift a hand. “Oh wow. It’s the losers.” Namjoon spots you first. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” you ask, already walking over.
“Like you’ve committed a crime and are debating whether to confess or double down,” Yoongi mutters without looking up. “Respectfully, shut up,” you reply instantly. “Respectfully, no.” Hoseok leans in, laughing. “You’re alive. Barely.”
“Unfortunately,” you say. “But I’m thriving.” Yoongi glances at you. “She says while swaying slightly.”
“I am not swaying.” Dami immediately grabs your elbow. “You’re swaying.” You sigh, “…Okay, maybe a little.” Taehyung appears between everyone. “This is the best night of my life. The whole gang’s here.”
“I wouldn’t call this a gang,” you say. “More like a group of people who peaked emotionally at different times.” Namjoon sighs. “She’s drunk.” Dami leans closer. “I’m getting a drink.” You nod distractedly. “Bring me something that tastes like bad decisions.”
“Everything here does. Also, why are you speaking in riddles?”
“Just get me a damn drink.” She disappears into the crowd. You turn back to the group, already mid-argument with Jimin. “Your haircut is offensive.”
“It’s literally the same as last time,” he replies.
“Exactly. Offensive again.”
Taehyung laughs so hard he nearly spills his drink. Namjoon rubs his face. Yoongi mutters, “We didn’t let her out. She escaped.” You lean back against the booth edge like you own the place even though you don’t, the bass pressing through your ribs and blurring your thoughts just enough to make everything feel slightly unreal. The room is loud in a way that should be fun, but there’s a strange dip in it anyway, like the atmosphere has shifted without anyone announcing it. You frown, eyes scanning on instinct. “Why does it feel like someone died in here?” Jimin glances at you like you’ve lost it. “That’s… not normal.” Taehyung laughs into his drink. “You’re just drunk.”
“I’m not,” you start, then pause, correcting yourself with a flat look. “Okay, slightly. But not emotionally.” You straighten a little, still looking around. “Where’s Dami—” and that’s when you see him.
Jeon. Fucking. Jeongguk.
Near the bar, one hand on the counter, the other holding a drink like he’s been there the entire time. Black shirt, tattoos visible under shifting lights, lip piercing catching briefly when he turns his head. He’s talking to the bartender like he belongs there without effort, like the space has adjusted itself around him. You stop without meaning to, your body reacting before your thoughts fully land. Jeongguk looks up at the same time. No surprise. No hesitation. Just awareness.
You immediately scoff and look away. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Of course he’s here.” Jimin follows your gaze. “Who?”
“Him.”
“Oh,” he says casually. “Yeah, he’s been here.” Taehyung nods like it’s nothing. “Came with us earlier.” You blink. “He was already here?” Namjoon doesn’t even look up. “Yeah.” Yoongi adds, “Went for drinks like ten minutes ago.” You slowly turn toward them, then toward Dami as she arrives with drinks like nothing in the world is off. “So I’m the only one who didn’t know he was here.” Dami slides a glass into your hand. “You were in chaos mode. It didn’t come up.” You take it automatically, still looking toward the bar. “It mattered.” You don’t know why it matters, only that it does, like something in you reacts before logic catches up. You take a sip too fast, then set it down. “Tell me again why I came here.”
“Bad decisions in peace,” Dami says. “Yeah,” you mutter. “That tracks.” Then you stand up. “I’m going to dance.” Dami doesn’t even hesitate. “No, you’re not.”
“I am.”
“You’re like sixty percent alcohol and forty percent spite.”
“That’s still enough.”
You’re already moving before anyone can argue. The dance floor hits immediately—too many bodies existing too close together making you severely overstimulated. You don’t really dance at first, just let it swallow your thoughts until your brain stops trying to organise anything and just exists in rhythm instead. Then you feel it. A presence behind you. Close enough that your awareness sharpens instantly.
You turn slightly. “You always stand like that?”
Jeongguk glances at you. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to look taller in a room full of people who don’t care.” A beat, then he exhales through his nose like it almost amuses him but he refuses to admit it. “I don’t try. It just happens.”
“Right,” you say flatly. “Must be exhausting being that delusional.” His eyes flick briefly to your drink. “You always talk this much when you’re drunk?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You look drunk.” You scoff. “You look like you still take mirror selfies unironically.” That lands, just slightly. You catch the faint shift in his jaw before it resets.
“Still observant,” he says.
“Still annoying,” you reply instantly. The space between you tightens in a way neither of you acknowledges. Not new, not old—just something unresolved sitting right under the surface. Jeongguk leans back slightly against the wall, relaxed in a way that feels deliberate. “So do you come here to start fights, or does it just follow you around?” You step closer without thinking. “Depends. Do you come here to be insufferable, or is that just your default setting?” His mouth twitches slightly. “Still loud for no reason.”
“Still pretending you’re not entertained?” A pause. Then, quieter, “Maybe I just like observing bad decisions.” You smile, but it’s sharper now. “Careful. You might be describing your entire high school experience.”
“High school,” he repeats. “That’s where you still live, right?” Dami groans from behind you. “Can you both shut up? What is this, 5th grade?” You don’t look away from him. “Ask him. He started it with the emotional intelligence of a brick.” Jeongguk takes a slow sip like he’s watching something mildly entertaining unfold. “Still overreacting,” he says. Taehyung laughs somewhere off to the side. “They haven’t changed at all.” Namjoon sighs. “They got worse.” Yoongi mutters, “Predictable.” You break eye contact first, because you decide to, not because you lose. “I’m getting another drink.”
“No,” Dami says immediately.
“I am.”
“You’re going to start a fight.”
“I’m not going to start a fight.”
From behind you, Jeongguk’s voice comes calm and certain. “You already did.”
You turn slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You walked over like you were looking for one.”
You stare at him. “You still think everything revolves around you.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“It’s implied in your personality.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“So is your ego.”
Dami steps between you both. “Okay. Done. Separate. Now.” Neither of you moves at first, like neither wants to be the one to break it. Then you turn away first. Dami dragged you back toward the booth, grip firm like she was escorting a walking liability. “Do not,” Dami said quietly, “go back over there.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t going to.”
“You literally turned around twice.”
“I was checking something.”
“Checking what?”
You paused. “…Air quality.” Dami stared at you. You stared back. “Okay,” Dami said slowly. “You need water. Or an exorcism. Possibly both.”
You dropped back into the booth like she had been personally wronged by gravity. Jimin slid a drink toward you immediately. “Peace offering.” You squinted at it. “What is it.”
“Something strong enough to erase your personality for an hour,” he said. “Perfect,” she replied, taking it. Namjoon watched you carefully. “You good?”
“I’m great,” You said instantly. Yoongi didn’t even look up. “She’s not great.” You pointed at him without hesitation. “I hate how correct you always are for no reason.”
Across the club, Jeongguk had returned to the bar again. Leaning slightly forward, forearm resting against the counter, like the earlier interaction hadn’t shifted anything at all. Jin said something beside him. Jeongguk responded half a second late. Which was unusual.
“You’re distracted,” Jin said flatly. Jeongguk didn’t look at him. “No.” Jin finally glanced up. “Yes.” Jeongguk took a slow sip.
Then, after a beat: “She’s annoying.” Jin blinked once. “Which one.” Jeongguk’s jaw tightened slightly. “Aera.” Jin nodded like that explained everything and nothing at the same time. “Right.”
A pause. Then Yoongi added, “You always said that.” Jeongguk didn’t answer. Because that was the problem. It hadn’t changed.
Back at the booth, You had already switched moods. Laughing again. Too loud again. Dami watched you carefully like she was monitoring weather patterns.
“You’re spiraling,” Dami said under her breath. "I’m vibing,” you corrected. Dami exhaled. “You talked to him for five minutes and now you’re pretending you don’t care while clearly caring.”
you paused mid-drink. “…I don’t care.” Dami raised a brow. Aera added quickly, “I don’t. He’s just annoying.” Dami nodded slowly. “Sure.” You pointed at her. “Don’t ‘sure’ me.”
Jimin suddenly leaned in, eyes bright with too much entertainment. “So… you two always like that?” You immediately snapped, “No.” Dami said at the same time, “Yes.” You turned to her. “Traitor.” Dami didn’t look away. “You literally almost started World War lll over eye contact.”
“It was hostile eye contact.” Jimin grinned. “That sounds like history.” You groaned. “Stop romanticising my problems.” Taehyung, who had been watching quietly, finally spoke up. “It didn’t look like you hated him.” You looked at him slowly. “…Excuse me?” Taehyung shrugged. “It looked like you remembered him.” That sentence landed differently. You immediately stood up. “Okay,” you said. “I need air.” Dami stood instantly. “I’m coming with you.” You waved her off. “No. I need air alone.” That was a lie. And everyone knew it. But no one stopped her.
Outside, the air is cooler, quieter, the bass dulling into something distant as you step out and exhale sharply. “Fucking insane,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else. He’s already there. Leaning against the wall near the entrance, smoking like he’s been there the entire time. Of course he is. He glances at you once. “Oh, you again.” “God— why are you everywhere?.”
“I don’t know. Maybe cuz it’s a public place?.” You roll your eyes so far back that it might actually get stuck there. “And of course you’re still smoking.”
“Still keeping receipts, huh?.” He scoffs with a smug grin playing on his lips. You don’t respond, just turn your head the other way. He sighs. “Old habits die hard I guess.” That was such a Jeongguk thing to say. You turn back to look at him, a scoff escaping your lips. “Enjoy your nicotine personality trait.”
“I will,” he says. “You enjoy yourself before the alcohol settles in.”
“Asshole,” you mutter. And then he goes back inside. You stay outside for a moment after he goes back in, staring at the door like it might explain what just happened if you give it enough time. The noise from inside spills out in muffled waves, but it doesn’t reach you the same way anymore. It’s quieter now in a way that feels wrong, like something has been left unsettled in your chest and you don’t have a name for it. You take a slow breath, shake your head slightly like you can physically dismiss it, and finally push the feeling down where it belongs—somewhere you don’t have to deal with it tonight.