He was a Punk. He did Ballet. |nomin|

Thirteen

The narrow hall was a blur. Jaemin squeezed through hundreds of partygoers, people he did not know. Their faces were distorted but their bodies jumped and swayed in slow motion. He was surrounded by a cacophony of laughter, shattering glass, and blasting music. The lights strobed red, blue, and purple, altering which way was left or right. The heat suffocated him. He was defenseless, at risk of being trampled, and every aspect of it made him want to scream. But he had one goal, and that was to find what he was looking for.

Jaemin jerked his head around, searching within the ocean of people engaged in debauchery. "Jisung? Jisung?" Jaemin cried, hoping for some kind of answer. "Jisung, where are you?!" he screamed even louder, but the noise canceled him out. The crowd was quicksand, and with each altered minute that passed, he felt himself sink in deeper and deeper. Jaemin fell on his hands and knees. He covered his head and shut his eyes.

Everything went silent.

It was too good to be true.

Jaemin sat up. He found himself in the middle of a crosswalk. Streetlights glistened against the rain-wet asphalt. Paramedic sirens filled the air. In the distance, he noticed a sedan with its hazard lights on and its driver's side door open. The engine smoked beneath the hood. Somebody was lying on the ground.

Jaemin's stomach twisted. Horror loomed over him. Something was wrong. Jaemin picked himself up and ran down the road.

Jaemin arrived at the scene. He stared at the body on the ground as more paramedics and police officers stormed into the area. There was a dark puddle pooling beneath the body. Their graphic t-shirt was stained red. Jaemin couldn't make out their face... but he already knew who it was.

But before Jaemin could beg for them wake up, the body moved. And then it stood right up like any person would. It faced Jaemin and said nothing.

"Don't go," Jaemin pleaded.

With that, the person walked into the night and left him there, all alone.

The paramedics arrived. All of a sudden, Jaemin was surrounded by police officers. They grabbed him, and he flailed his limbs, hoping to be set free. He screamed but the sirens drowned him out.

Jaemin tripped and fell backwards. Upon impact, he heard a voice in his ear:

"He's gone."

His cellphone began to ring.

Everything went black.

*****************************************************

Jaemin woke up covered in a cold sweat. He groggily sat up. He was back in his bedroom.

The sun shining through the large window washed away all of his horror. Everything was familiar and safe again. But his headache was unbearable. Confused, Jaemin threw the covers off of him and discovered that he was still in his clothes from last night.

"How did I get here?" Jaemin groaned. "And how much did I drink?"

Jaemin searched for his phone and found it charging on the night table. It was only nine in the morning. He had three recent missed calls from his studio, and a very long text message from Jeno.

"Oh no," Jaemin swallowed. Although it was a haze, he remembered everything up until the altercation with Jeno and Mark. He just couldn't remember what happened after he got to Jeno's house. And that's what frightened Jaemin the most.

He opened up Jeno's text message and braced for whatever confession he had coming.

Jeno, 1:37am: