Chapter Text
Day 1
You couldn’t help but smile as the stewardess offered you a hot towel. What was the point of them? Were you supposed to wipe your hands with them? Cover your face in a last attempt to calm yourself down? You hoped your smile looked polite, but inwardly you were laughing at the extra-ness that is first class. Not that you were complaining. Flying first class on international flights was ideal. You were grateful for the space above all else. Sitting by strangers for fourteen hours, awkwardly excusing yourself to go to the bathroom as you climb over their legs, trying not to watch anything they might judge you for on the tiny little TV screen—you had done it before, and you were simply relieved to not have to do it on this flight. After all, you had plenty of other things to worry about.
Setting aside the towel—seriously, what were you supposed to do with it?—you picked your flashcards back up and ran through them again. After an hour of flipping them back and forth, you stuck in your headphones and loaded your language app. Thirty minutes in, however, you stopped, placing your phone and head down. Your own words so often repeated to your students came flashing into your mind—"If you’re not ready, you’re not. Cramming won’t help you any!” Well, you certainly didn’t feel ready, and you would beat yourself up about it the rest of the flight, but there was also nothing you could do about it. Transferring your headphones to the TV instead, you tried to find a movie to help you relax.
You kept your eyes on the screen for the next six hours, only glancing at your phone to check the local time or to steal a peak out the window. Whenever your eyes began to burn, you would close them for a few minutes, but you never allowed yourself to go to sleep. Even though you were sitting by yourself, you couldn’t allow yourself to be so vulnerable and exposed. Finally tired after three movies, you switched to reading instead, and soon, three hours later, you had finished your book. Silently cursing, you put the book back in your bag. Summer is when you did most of your reading, and you were annoyed you had already finished one of the four books you had brought. You wondered if you could find more to read during your visit, or if you’d have to resort to using your Kindle.
Whatever the case, you fumbled through the last couple of hours, losing track of exactly what you did. When the stewardess announced that all tray tables must be put up and chairs must return to their upright positions, you hurried to put everything away, applied some chapstick, and took out your folder of papers. You have placed everything in the order you thought you would need them, so you only took out the first two to look at. The official BigHit Entertainment logo was on top, and a professional header was on the left, formally addressed to you.
Dear Miss Y/N,
We are pleased to announce that you have won a spot in the BTS’ dorms for an exclusive summer experience. Enclosed is all of the information you will need as well as official legal documents to sign and who to contact with questions. We look forward to seeing you on June 4th.
Of course, you had read this letter more than once. You probably had it memorized. But each time you read it a little of you felt like pinching yourself. It really was too good to be true, and you kept waiting for someone to pull out a camera and yell “PYSCHE!” Steadying your breathing to the best of your ability, you turned to the second one, instructing you on what to do once you got to the airport. First, get off the plane. Second, get your bag. Third, find Lee Mina. Should would be waiting for you at arrivals with a welcome sign. It sounded simple enough, but you have traveled enough to know how anxious airports, especially ones you had never been to where there is hardly any English present, made you. Before you left your seat, you double checked that you hadn’t left anything behind. Satisfied, you turned Airplane Mode off your phone and texted your phone.
“Just landed.”
“Good! How was the flight?”
“Long, of course. But good. Watched some movies and finished my book.”
“Sleep any?”
“No.”
“☹ I hope you can soon. It’s 10 there?”
“Yeah,” you replied and started to exit the plane. As expected, you immediately felt a little overwhelmed by all of the signs in Korean, but you had memorized a few essentials to get you to bag pick up. While waiting for your bag, you checked your e-mail out of habit and continued to text your mom until you told her you would talk to her later.
“Have fun. Keep me updated,” she said. You couldn’t help but smile, honestly missing her already. Soon your bags arrived and you began the awkward dance of trying to navigate two wheeling bags behind you with a backpack on your back. Your bags weren’t enormous, and you weren’t one to overpack on trips, but you had never been gone for two months before, and you had been worried about not being able to find certain products. You were sure some people were staring and judging you for having two bags—or maybe they were staring because one stupid wheel was squeaking obnoxiously—but there was nothing to do now but try to find Mina. Despite being exhausted—you could feel your eyes just watering from stinging so much—the whole trip had gone smoothly, so as your eyes darted around trying to find a sign with your name, you were immensely relieved when you heard someone call out,
“B?” You waited until you heard it again before responding, approaching a thin, gorgeous lady. She was dressed pretty casually, in jeans and a t-shirt with a blazer, but the atmosphere around her immediately intimidated you. Everything about her seemed perfect.
“Yes, hi,” you said, letting go of one of your suitcases to extend your hand—panic flooding through your body. Did they shake hands in Korea? How had you not looked that up? You only had a second to freak out, though, as Mina took your hand firmly. “Hello,” you said, and she smiled at you.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Mina, and this is Choe Jisung.” You smiled at the broad shouldered man dressed in all black behind her. He also intimidated you, but he gave you a small nod. “He’ll be your driver.” You couldn’t help but smile, having no idea what that really meant. “Do you have everything you need?” Mina indicated toward your bags, and you nodded. “Great! Let’s go.” Let’s go, you thought to yourself, following them. You were grateful when Jisung reached out to take one of your bags for you. The squeaky wheel one. You noticed him glance down at it once before leading you both out of the crowded airport.
At the car, you tried to help Jisung place your bags in the back, but he waved you off.
“Thank you,” you murmured, and you saw him smile. You realized you probably sounded way too formal, but he looked young, and you were extremely grateful. And tired. You could figure out how to thank him properly later. You stammered another thank you when he opened your door for you, and he smiled again. Sitting next to Mina, you listened attentively as Jisung pulled out of the parking lot. You wanted to look out the windows and take in the sights, having never been to Seoul before, but the windows were super tinted, and you really needed to listen to Mina.
“Now, before we arrive, you need to sign this paperwork.” She handed you a clipboard with several sheets. A sticky note arrow was placed on the bottom of several, indicating where to sign. You accepted these and a pen from her, but your hand lingered in the air when you noticed everything was in Korean.
“I’m sorry,” you said.
“Oh, these are the same ones we sent you.”
“Okay, but,” you said, flipping through them, your father’s warnings running through your head, “could you summarize each page for me just so I know exactly what I’m signing?”
“Of course!” Mina said, smiling again. “This one is the Non-Disclosure Agreement. You can not share any information with any outside parties while you are here. You may not post any information on any social media site while you are here. In short, no one can know you’re here.” There it was. You had heard it before, and it had honestly sounded a little ominous. When they had first explained this part of the agreement to you, you had honestly gotten very worried. Not that you expected BigHit to be kidnapping young women, and not that you had a lot of friends you wanted to tell, and not that anyone cared what you posted on social media, but the whole thing had sounded too fishy in the beginning.
“Except my parents,” you said now to Mina, reminding her of the agreement you had come to before you arrived. She nodded, and you signed the paper.
“But do try to refrain from sending them pictures.” You smiled, knowing how annoyed that would make your mom, but you knew she would spend hours going over the thousands of pictures you were sure to take when you got home.
“This is the No Contact Agreement,” Mina said on the next page. You really didn’t want her to explain this one again, so you signed it quickly, but not before she said with a pursed lip smile, “No romantic relations, in short.” You could tell she had to, or wanted to, say something else, so you looked up at her. Even though it was bright out, the windows were so dark the interior of the car was dim. Her mouth was slightly open, and you took the opportunity to maybe guess at what she was thinking.
“I get it. Hugs are acceptable if initiated by the guys. I’m used to giving appropriate hugs to guys. Shoulder hugs, side hugs, that kind of thing. No hand holding unless initiated by the guys. Hand holding can honestly be really innocent, or really intimate. So I’ll be careful about that. No sleeping with the guys,” you said bluntly, and Mina smiled at you, maybe out of embarrassment. “I’m…” You hesitated again. What are you? Too insecure to even imagine anything intimate with any of the guys? With any guy? Too scared of getting in trouble and being sent home, as the agreement stipulated? “That’s not why I’m here,” you managed. “I’m 100% not worried about any of them falling for me,” you laughed at the absurdity of it, but Mina wasn’t laughing. This made you uncomfortable, to say the least. You could really tell something wasn’t being said, but the silence lingered for a few more seconds. “No physical contact. No problem,” you muttered.
“This one is about other conduct. No cussing if ever being recorded, for instance, no drugs, your dress must be modest, and no drinking if being recorded,” Mina said, moving on to the next page. You signed this one quickly, as well. You really had no problems with any of that. You had initially been a little surprised at the mention of a dress code, but you were pretty conservative and self-conscious, so you never wore shorts or sleeveless tops, anyway.
“Ah, I did have one question about dress code,” you said. “Around the house. Well, at night.” You almost found yourself glancing at Mina’s chest, but you refrained. Needless to say, she was much smaller than you. “I don’t like to sleep in my bra.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay because it’s in my room?”
“Right.”
“And no guys are allowed in my room.”
“Right.” Mina was becoming more professional with each answer.
“But in the rest of the dorm?”
“Bra on.”
“Got it,” you said, turning to the next page.
“That’s the liability one. No suing us if you get injured, etc.”
“And no suing me if a boy gets injured, right?” Your attempt at a joke didn’t really land. You flipped to the last page.
“This is your work contract. It explains you are not receiving a salary, but your room and board, food, and travel expenses are provided for. In return, you will teach the boys English twice a week for one hour.”
“Even Namjoon?” you asked as you signed the paper.
“Yes, it was his idea.”
“Oh?” you said, wondering if he had had the idea for the summer or if he had come up with the idea after you had been picked. “Huh.”
“Finally, the last page has a list of contacts. Add me and Jisung immediately. Consider me your manager. You must ask me before leaving the dorm and going out in public. You must ask me if you need anything, even food. Check with me about schedules. Any questions you have should come to me first. Don’t bother the guys.”
There it was. The nagging concern at the back of your head was presented in front of you. You didn’t want to be a bother. You couldn’t be a bother.
“Jisung is your driver and bodyguard. I will arrange your pick ups and drop offs when needed. I’ll also be your interpreter anytime you’re out of the dorm or doing any official events with the boys. Don’t rely on Jisung for that. He doesn’t speak much English, do you?”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re here.”
You could tell what he meant even without understanding him. The car was slowing to a stop. Your heart, meanwhile, had picked up its pace. You let yourself out of the car, only to see Jisung standing there with his hand out. He removed it quickly, and you gave him a nervous laugh. You followed him to the back of the car to help him with your bags. He gave you another odd look, but you ignored it. You weren’t a child. You could handle your own bags. Still, you were glad there was an elevator. Not taking time to look around the lobby, you waved goodbye to Jisung with a quick thank you and followed Mina. As the floors dinged one after another, the elevator rising quickly to the top, you thought your heart was going to burst out through your mouth.
“The boys have to leave at 11, so we should just catch them,” Mina said. Your phone was tucked into your bag, but the car clock had read 10:48.
The elevator door opened, and Mina stepped out. Without glancing back, she strut down the hall. You struggled to catch up, your bags making far too much noise for your comfort.
Mina was at the door, knocking. It felt like she was pounding on your chest.
You thought you heard scuffling and a shout behind the door, but it was probably just the blood rushing to your head. You frantically swiped at your eye, which had conveniently picked the perfect time to randomly start watering.
There was a click and the swing of a door, some sort of greeting exchanged, Mina moved inside, and then there you were, face-to-face with none other than Kim Namjoon himself, the freaking leader of your favorite KPop group ever, BTS. You’d never really considered yourself a fan girl—you didn’t scream at guys even at concerts—but couldn’t help feel extremely flustered and nervous. What surprised you was his smile, and, unless you read him completely wrong—and you rarely read people wrong—the nervousness that rested in his face.
“Hi,” he said, sticking out his hand, “I’m Kim Namjoon.”
“Hi,” you said, trying not to break your face with your smile, “I’m Y/N. But you can call me B,” you said, extending your hand to shake his. It was dryer than you expected, though you quickly checked yourself. You just spent fourteen hours on a plane; it could be your hand that was dry. You quickly disengaged at this thought and moved yourself through the doorway as he held the door open wider for you.
The door led into a kitchen area, and around the island were four other guys you recognized immediately. Jin was standing tall, one hand on the island and the other in his pocket. He flashed you a smile. Yoongi was leaning on the island, his phone in his hand. He looked up at you and gave a small head nod. J-Hope stood at the end of the island, closest to you, with a huge grin on his face. And Jungkook stood on the other end, his phone also in his hand, clearly preoccupied, as he barely even looked up when you entered. You abandoned your bags to do the polite thing and introduce yourself. You opted for giving them small bows from where you were instead of approaching them for handshakes, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed with all of them looking at you.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Y/N, but you can call me B. It’s nice to meet you,” you said, stumbling over a few syllables and bowing your head low to try to hid the red creeping to your face. But Namjoon was smiling down at you, and J-Hope was clapping his hands, exchanging looks with the other guys in the room.
“Oh, nice to meet you,” J-Hope said excitedly, rushing forward to clasp one of your hands in both of his. You couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Nice to meet you,” you heard Yoongi chime in, his voice more chipper than his body language.
“Oh, she’s good,” Jin said, and you raised your hands to your face like you did whenever you were embarrassed.
“No, I’m bad at Korean,” you said, gaining more surprised sounds from J-Hope and another smile from Namjoon. Jin began gesticulating and saying something else, but you were distracted by the arrival of Jimin and Tae coming down the hall. Both wore huge grins on their faces. Tae was fluffing the back of his hand and Jimin was finishing putting a ring on his finger.
“Told you I wouldn’t be last,” Jungkook said, waving his phone in Namjoon’s face.
“Hi, hi, hi,” Jimin was saying in your face. Your face really felt like it was going to explode from smiling so much. His hands were pressed together in front of his face as he looked at you with the sweetest smile. “I’m Jimin! I’m sorry—” he glanced across at Namjoon.
“You were late?”
“You were late,” Jimin said confidently, but Namjoon laughed at him, shaking his head.
“No problem,” you said, and you were greeted with a sparkle in Jimin’s eyes.
“Ah!” he said, “look at her smile!” You had no idea what he had said, but you grinned as he placed a hand on his forehead and basically spun away from you.
“Hi,” you heard, and finally turned your attention to Tae, whose deep voice was greeting you with an extended hand.
“Hi,” you said, positive you sounded like a barking seal. His hand engulfed yours, and now you were sure Namjoon’s had been the rough ones, as Tae’s was smooth to your touch.
“How was your flight?” he said, looking straight into your eyes as he held your hand.
“Good,” you said, realizing you would have to pull your hand away first, which you did. “Long,” you said, and several of the boys nodded understandingly. “Jet lag is the worst.” More nods.
“Jet lag,” Yoongi muttered and tsked, shaking his head.
“Feel free to take a nap while we’re gone,” Namjoon was saying.
“Ah, thank you, I don’t…I don’t nap.” You noticed several eyebrows go up at this remark, and you were annoyed with yourself that you didn’t know the word for nap.
“She doesn’t nap,” you heard Mina saying. You had honestly forgotten she was there, pressed against the wall, busy typing away on her phone. Several of the guys were exclaiming surprise, all of them standing up now.
“What, what, what?” You heard from more than one source. Yoongi was staring at you in disbelief, and you really felt like you had just insulted all of their mothers.
“I can’t,” you tried to explain. “It makes me feel sick. Sick. I feel sick.”
“You feel sick?” Jimin said, his voice laced with concern and coming closer to you.
“Ah, no,” you said, panicking. You knew communicating would be hard, almost impossible, but this was going to be a nightmare.
“Napping makes her feel sick,” Namjoon said this time, coming to your rescue. “Right?”
“Yeah,” you said.
“That sucks,” J-Hope said, sounding apologetic. You pressed your lips and nodded, but smiled around at all of them. You didn’t want to be a bother.
“Well, I’m sorry we have to head out so soon, but make yourself at home,” Namjoon was saying again. “Mina can show you to your room. Let me know if you need anything.” You looked up at him—he really was taller than you thought he would be compared to you—and gave him a nod.
“Thank you.” Your stupid eyes were watering again, and you really didn’t want it to look like you were crying like a pathetic idiot. There was a flurry of good byes and see you laters and a flurry of men moving past you out the door until only you and Mina remained. Lifting herself off of the wall, she waved for you to follow her, so you did. Down the hall and to the left into a small room with a bed, a dresser, and a desk with a chair. Your heart became full. They had asked you multiple times what you would need for the summer—a TV? Do you need a TV? Are you sure you don’t need a TV?—so you had finally requested a small desk so you could do your work. It was simple but cute, complete with two drawers.
“I know it’s a bit small,” Mina said, looking uncomfortable for the first time, “everything in Seoul is…squished. But you have your own bathroom.”
“I lived in a loft for six years,” you said, looking around with a smile. “My bed was in my kitchen, in short. So this is great.”
“I’m glad to hear. Really. Now, there are eggs, apples, brown rice, bottled water, and chicken as you requested in the kitchen somewhere. I made sure to label your stuff, and I suggest you always do. The boys are used to eating anything around. I honestly don’t know where it got put, though, sorry.” You nodded. You had a roommate at home, but you hadn’t lived with boys since you lived with your parents and two older brothers. But that was over ten years ago. “Any questions?” You shook your head. You were sure you had a million questions, but you were so tired and were grateful that no one was going to be around while you settled in. “Okay, let me show you the code for the door before I live. Though, again, you shouldn’t leave unless you let me know so that I can go with you. Or if you’re with one of the guys.”
“Ah, I have to say, Mina,” you said as she showed you the door code. “This will all be a big adjustment for me. I really like to take walks, for instance. Do I need to let you know every time I want to go walk around the block?”
“Yes.”
“Ah,” you said, disappointed.
“For safety reasons. I obviously don’t need to come on the walk with you. Unless you want me to,” Mina said, smiling again at you before closing the door behind her. You really weren’t sure what was going on; you were just happy to hear you were free to go on a walk.
The rest of the afternoon you unpacked and explored your room, bathroom, the living room, and kitchen. You avoided any other rooms, even if the doors were open. No way were you going to snoop into any of the guy’s rooms. You had this paranoid feeling that there were hidden cameras everywhere. You set the goal of staying awake until 8pm, so after unpacking, exploring, and updating your mom, you sighed when you noticed it was only 1pm. Sometimes you were too efficient, you told yourself. Even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t not do something, so you decided to spend a few hours working on your computer preparing the lessons you were going to have to give the boys. You were grateful to see a Wifi name and password on a note on your desk with a little note. It took you a moment to translate it, finally reading I’m excited! You wondered who had left it.
By 3pm, your eyes were burning more, and your stomach was growling, so you made your way to the kitchen. Your body was really messed up, but jet lag never bothered you for more than a day or two, so you weren’t really worried. Your main goal right now was to avoid getting a headache. And to not bother anyone. You thankfully found everything you needed to make a quick rice and chicken dish you made often at home, and you gathered everything neatly on the island in the order that you would need them. You struggled with the eye a little—you hated gas stoves as you were always afraid they would blow up in your face—but you finally got it going and heating up the oil. It was when you had first in the first few pieces of chicken when you heard the front door opening, and you froze. You suddenly felt like a burglar who had broken in only to steal food and was then foolish enough to stay there and eat it. Your eyes were wide—and burning and watering—as you watched who walked in. Jimin, Tae, Jungkook, and Jin. They were all talking amongst themselves but stopped when they had all entered, looking at you. You honestly believed they had forgotten you were there.
“Are you cooking?” Jin asked, looking at you holding a spatula. It was seriously the stupidest question you could imagine considering the circumstances, and you laughed loudly. They all looked at you, a little confused, but smiling. “Ah, what are you cooking? What’s that?” Jin said, pointing at eye.
“Smells good,” Jungkook said.
“Chicken,” you said, stirring more. Jin came and stood beside you, looking at the pan and then at the sauce you had a made in a bowl and lastly at the rice you had made.
“Brown rice?” he said, a look of disapproval on his face.
“Ah, I like it better than white rice,” you said, feeling ashamed and very American at that moment.
“Better than white?” Jin said, his voice high and a look of hurt on his face. You really, really hoped he was just exaggerating. You emptied the first batch of chicken on a plate and added more to the pan. As you concentrated on not burning anything, you noticed Jin grab the plate and take it away. Wordless, you turned around to watch him place it on the island and pull out chopsticks for the guys. Soon, he, Jungkook, Jimin, and Tae were all eating the chicken. Your chicken.
“Hey,” you said softly, a smile on your face only because you often smiled when you didn’t know how to express how you actually felt. Currently you were feeling hungry and exhausted but also awkward around these strangers who you had looked at more pictures and videos of than you would like to admit, and felt a tear fall from your eye. It wasn’t a crying tear, but your eyes from being dried out and from allergies of a new country and from the steam of cooking were watering like crazy.
“It’s delicious,” Jimin was saying, eyes closed and a smile on his face. Jungkook nodded, stuffing another piece of chicken in his mouth.
“It’s good,” Jin said, but he stopped when he saw the tear on your face. “Shit, what’s wrong? Ah, oh, guys, stop eating.” They all stopped mid-chew or mid-reach except Tae, who had been watching you the whole time and dared to eat another bite before placing his chopsticks down. “Sorry, sorry,” Jin said, laughing now. “We’re used to eating together, I forgot.” You really had no idea what he was saying, but he brought the plate back to you and shooed the boys out of the kitchen, leaving you to eat in peace. Breathing a sigh of relief, you ate until you felt better and then went to the bathroom to splash water into your face. When you came back, you found Tae at the sink washing your dishes.
“Ah,” you said, rushing to him and trying to take the towel from him. “I’ll do that. Please, stop. I’ll do it.” He lifted his elbow to hold you back and smiled up at you.
“I got it. Thank you for the meal.”
“Ha, that wasn’t a meal. But you’re welcome. Thank you,” you said, pointing at the dishes. You bit your bottom lip, watching him hum as he finished drying the pan he was holding. Stepping past you to put it up, he flashed you another smile. Feeling like you needed to say something, you said, “Your English is getting good.”
“Ah, no,” he said, almost mirroring you from earlier today, “my English isn’t good. I’m learning.”
“And I’m here to help,” you said, smiling up at him. You really couldn’t tell if he understood you, but he was really standing too close to you for your comfort, so you nodded and excused yourself back to your room.
The rest of the day you holed up in your room, really too exhausted to be pleasant company. You tried to become accustomed to the various sounds in the dorm. Soon you would learn whose steps were whose. Soon you would be able to tell whose voice was whose that permeated through the walls down the hall to your ears. Soon you would learn the non-verbal cues of each boy and what each look at you meant. Soon you would learn how to not be a bother to any of them. But for now, you washed your face and fell into your new bed a little past 7pm, not making it to your preferred time. Hugging a pillow tight, you soon drifted off to sleep.
A sharp intake of breath hit your esophagus as your eyes shot open. Someone was pounding on your door. Scrambling, you leapt out of bed and rushed to the door, flinging it open.
“What’s wrong?” you said too loudly. Namjoon stood there in the dim hallway, and when he glanced down at you once you suddenly remembered where you were. Feeling dizzy and sick all at once, you stumbled back and sat down on your bed, grabbing a pillow to hold in front of you.
“Are you okay?” Namjoon said, following you gingerly and squatting in front of you. You nodded, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“I just sat up too fast. What’s wrong?”
“Shit, you were asleep already. I forgot about jet lag,” he winced and rubbed the back of his neck.
“What time is it?” you said.
“Uh, eleven.” You smiled at that, knowing that was when you normally went to bed.
“It’s no problem. What’s up?”
“What’s up,” he said, correcting you. You nodded and repeated it correctly. “I just wanted to check on how you were settling in. Jin said he, uh, made you cry?”
“What? No,” you said, confused. “Oh, the chicken. It’s no big deal. I was just hungry and confused when they started eating it. No worries. I’d love to cook for everyone sometime.”
“Are you sure? Because I can talk to them about it.”
“No,” you said, reaching your hand out and hovering it over his knee. He glanced at it but returned his eyes to your face, trying to see if you were serious. “Sorry,” you said, though you weren’t sure for what. “I…it’ll take awhile to adjust.”
“Okay, but let me know if there’s a problem,” Namjoon said, standing back up and headed to your door.
“Ah, Namjoon,” you said, and he turned around, his hand on your doorknob. “There is one thing. I know I’m older than you all, but I’d rather be addressed as an equal. The formal language makes me uncomfortable.”
“Really?” Namjoon said, and with the light from the hallway behind him, you could see a smile on his lips. “You don’t like being called Noona?” You were glad you were sitting in the dark, because you were afraid your checks were burning again.
“Not by you,” you said softly. “Or the other guys.” You cleared your throat as he looked at you.
“Okay, I’ll speak to them. I’m sure most will comply. I can’t guarantee Hoseok or Jungkook, but I’ll work on them.” He turned to go but you stopped him again.
“Namjoon, thank you. Good night.”
“Good night,” he said, correcting you again. It was only after he had shut the door and you had buried yourself under the covers again when your eyes shot open and frantically looked around your room.
“If there is a camera in here,” you said, “first, ew, that’s not cool. Second, no boys in my room, I know.”
Day one and you were already breaking rules. And you were usually such a good girl. You pulled your covers over your head and hoped you fell asleep again soon.