Dirty Dancing with a Goddess

Chapter 8

Your POV

I am now, more confused.

Jimins a dancer? Well he works in the entertainment industry, that much intel I've managed to gain but now the death threats make... less sense? Unless they sprout from pure, unchecked jealousy, Jimins a godly dancer after all, in fact all his 6 friends are.

Envy is a normal human emotion, everyone experiences it but to let if fuel your decisions and manifest into a means of hurting another, that's not normal. 

And still, now as the people start to pack up the equipment and the main seven who were filmed are a little sweaty and tired, he smiles among them, bidding farewell to the staff and so on. Is he like unaware he's getting such threats?

He walks over, fanning himself with his baseball cap as he takes his phone back. Heading over to a new room this time, the walls dark, and a a window of glass separating the room in half, cut off midway horizontally by a large desk with black panels and knobs. A person I've never seen before seated in front of the panels.

In our half theres a sofa and tiny table but in the other half theres black spongey walls and more recording equipment over there.

Pointing to the couch, once again I'm given his phone and asked to remain quiet by him pressing a finger to his lips.

Disappearing behind a door into the other half he wears the headphones, music and such playing and he sings at certain parts. He has to repeat certain parts over and over, looks tiring, I'm surprised he's still going.

So a good dancer with a pretty voice, definitely in the entertainment industry. Now if only his issues would just drop from the sky.

-

As the Sun starts to set his recording session ends. He stepped out the building to a nearby pet store, getting stuff for the duck, dumping it all back in his dorm room before rushing to the main building where he seems to work.

In a separate wooden paneled room, like a tiny office, he finally looks relieved. Peeking out before shutting the door. 

"Okay." He claps his hands, taking my satchel from my hold, fishing out one of the books he bought and plopping down onto the seat by the desk, pulling a stool nearby and gesturing for me to sit.

He flips it open, pressing the page flat, grabbing a pen from it's holder and holding it out to me.

Are we studying right now?

Hesitantly sitting beside him, I take the pen from his grasp, just as I predicted he taps the page. Yawning as he does, after his long day, he seems to be barely keeping awake.

The alphabet, this book seems to be more of textbook, as I get along with reading. He positions a phone in front of the monitor, pushing himself as far away from me as the table allows, having the camera angle at him.

He hits his own cheeks, shaking his head as if to shake away the fatigue, before mustering up a smile and pressing more buttons.

"Yeoreobun!" He loudly begins.
(Everyone!)

Is he speaking to the phone? He sounds much less tired than before.

He continues talking to the phone screen.

And he looks at me like I'm the crazy one between us-

He laughs and smiles as he converses with his phone, shooting me a glare when I tried to take a peek at the screen. I suppose this is good, whatever conversation he's having, he sounds happy, he's been at it for nearly an hour too.