League of Fame | Jungkook

16

I don't know what I was expecting at exit 11.

But as Jungkook and I descend the staircase to the abandoned station, I sense the buzz of energy. The crowd's rhythm before I even see a single person.

Jimin is surrounded by dozens of admirers. He's dressed differently, in flowing black pants and a matching cropped top. Upon seeing me and Jungkook, he grins. "So the clue winners are here," he says. "They want a lock of my hair. Do you guys think they'll get it?"

The crowd hums a mixture of yes's and no's. Jimin is so close. I can just rush up to him, yanking out a lock of hair and achieving half of our goal. But something tells me we'll have to play by his rules to get his precious hair.

"I'll give you a lock of my hair," Jimin says, with a playful grin, "Only if you two dance with me."

The shock must be clear on my face, because Jimin laughs. "What?" he says. "You are going to be stars if you win. You're going to have to learn to dance at one point."

"Dance with you?" Jungkook's brows are drawn, dark eyes suspicious. "That's it?"

"If you please me with your dancing," Jimin says, "I'll give you a lock of my hair."

The crowd parts, making way for me and Jungkook. Soon, we're in the center of the circle, and Jimin is closer than ever. From what I've seen on the billboards across the city, Jimin is a graceful dancer. It will take a lot to impress him.

"The music," Jimin says.

A Korean ballad begins to play from a speaker somewhere, and Jimin begins to move. He's so graceful, moving in an almost ethereal fashion. My first thought is no way. No way we can ever impress him. I can't dance for my life—maybe I would win if pumping my fist would count.

But I forgot that Jungkook went to an arts school. He moves gracefully too, embodying the lyrics of a lover missing an opportunity to confess. I try to match Jungkook. I know some onlookers are laughing at me. My first attempt at contemporary dance. But I don't care if I look like a fool. If Jimin wants me to dance for his hair, then I'll dance and embarrass myself a thousand times.

At one point, Jimin stops. Jungkook also pauses in the middle of a turn.

"Stop," Jimin says. "I don't like this. It's obvious only one of you has experience. I want a matching duet, not one overshadowing the other."

"What did you expect?" Jungkook says, incredulously. "Not everyone in this competition can dance."

Jimin taps his chin, and even though he's a graceful man I sense his power in the moment. He's one of the six who decides who becomes a star just like him. If he wants to be selective, he has every right to. Still, I want to run up to him and steal his hair.

The crowd is mumbling, displeased with the turn of events. They wanted to see their favorite pop star dance, not witness an argument.

Jimin lifts his hand and waves. "You didn't impress me. But because you two are pretty, I'll give you a clue. Practice your artistic abilities. The challenges to come will be like this one. Anyway, I'll see you later." He waves and heads off deeper into the dimly lit station.

Frustration eats me alive. I can't help myself. I burst through the crowd, reaching for my dagger to cut off his hair. Jungkook yells after me, and Jimin's fans cry out a warning.

Jimin turns in all his grace and power. He kicks me straight in the chest. I fly to the ground. My lungs feel like they've been impaled.

"You're lucky you're not dead," Jimin whispers.

My only thought, betraying my commitment to stay strong and unfeeling, is how pretty the idol is. It was one thing to see Jimin on a screen, another thing to witness him in person. He is as powerful as he is beautiful. Jimin was meant to win League of Fame. Jungkook too.

I don't know if I can say the same for myself.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please vote and leave a comment, it will help me a lot!