Dance to This [kth]

e i g h t

ミ★
eight
❝misplaced discoveries❞
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Monday

Vaguely familiar faces pass me as they walk into the classroom. I can hear the low mumblings of students seated inside as the time gets closer and closer to 8AM, but I'm frozen in the hallway. As much as I'm dreading this moment, I know that if I miss another class my grade will start to reflect it.

I am anxiously glancing back and forth in each direction, waiting patiently for Jungkook to show up. I'm counting on his attendance today— I'm not ready to face Professor alone. I haven't seen nor talked to Jungkook since Friday, so I have no idea whether or not he will come to class.

Friday. Heat rises to my cheeks at the thought of everything I did. I cannot believe nor even fathom the fact that I, Eunha, had partaken in anything illegal (other than drinking) or sexual.  The entirety of what happened is mostly a blur; I'm embarrassed. Namjoon was kind and effortlessly comforting in that he didn't expect much from me, but I don't think I can do something like that again. . .

I was thinking about him: in my most vulnerable moment, Professor was the one in my mind. This is why I'm so nervous. Who am I becoming? Things that are more and more unlike me continuously happen, and I'm not sure I truly understand what is compelling me to do it.

I'm gnawing on my inner cheek, eyes focused on the many posters taped to the wall across from me. I feel sick to my stomach to see a L'ange de Noël audition reminder; the first round of auditions are at the end of this week. The poster is surrounded by other little nothings, like charity dance marathons and department held move nights.

My interest in the wall is short lived when Jungkook finally appears.

"Convince me to go inside," I plead. Without encouragement I don't think I'll make it very far.

His hair is damp and shagged as if it has just been ruffled through a towel. He is holding just a pen and camera in hand, athletic slides adorning his feet and pajama pants clinging loosely to his legs.

I'm expecting him to help and motivate me, but instead his voice is just as panicked as mine.

"Do you have your camera?" he asks hurriedly.

My expression drops from his tone of voice and I nod my head. I slide my bag from my shoulders, unzipping it to expose my camera and all of my other belongings. I was able to retrieve the device from from the kitchen before I left the basketball house on Saturday morning.