Rewrite the Rules

BTS Live: Part 15

My head spun. The idea of being caught on camera after the chaotic events of the night was enough to send a wave of panic crashing over me. "Wait, what? No!" I sputtered, planting my feet firmly in place. Despite my resistance, his grip on my hand remained surprisingly gentle yet firm. He began pulling me forward, a slow, steady tug that I found myself oddly powerless to resist.

"But I can't just waltz into a live stream after what happened tonight," I protested, my voice laced with a mixture of fear and a strange, unfamiliar excitement.

"Who says you have to waltz?" he countered. "You can be on the other side of the camera, just watching us. You could even take care of it, if you wanted."

"No way," I breathed, shaking my head vehemently.

"Yes way," he insisted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Do you like Korean food?"

The question caught me off guard. "Uh, yeah," I stammered, momentarily forgetting my earlier anxieties. "Who doesn't like Korean food?"

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a scene straight out of a luxury magazine. Inside stood one of BTS's security guards, his face etched with a mixture of concern and disapproval as his gaze darted between us.

They exchanged a flurry of words in Korean, the rapid-fire delivery making it impossible for me to decipher their conversation. But the security guard's furrowed brow and pursed lips spoke volumes.

We stepped out onto a floor unlike any I'd seen before. Gone were the sterile white hallways of my own floor, instead, this one boasted a lavish Parisian-inspired design. It was blatantly obvious – this was the VIP floor.

Two grand, ornate doors faced each other, the only break in the otherwise walls. A security guard, his face now a mask of stoicism, gestured towards the right-hand door.

"We're using both suites these days," Namjoon explained, his voice a low murmur. "Long gone are the days of sharing rooms.

We made our way onto the empty suite.

Behind us the door creaked open. BTS filed in, a wave of familiar energy washing over the sterile room. Jimin was at the forefront, a piranha looking for food.

Jin followed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he mirrored Jimin's assessment. Suga shuffled in after them, a comfortable silence surrounding him like a well-worn cloak. He nodded and said a simple, "hey."

Behind him, the playful bickering, V rose and fell, a debate about pineapple on pizza clearly unresolved.

Greetings were exchanged as they settled around the room – casual nods, mumbled hellos, nothing out of the ordinary. A quick glance in my direction from a couple of them, but nothing to suggest they found my presence unusual.

Then, the door swung open again, and my breath hitched in my throat. J-Hope entered, his usual sunshine smile plastered on his face. But for a fleeting instant, a flicker of surprise crossed his features, a tiny wrinkle disturbing the otherwise perfect facade. He recovered quickly, throwing out a cheery "Yo!" before stepping aside.

And that's when the world seemed to tilt on its axis. Because as J-Hope moved, revealing the doorway fully, Jungkook barreled in like a startled puppy.

His eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, widened comically. His jaw slackened, and for a glorious, awkward instant, the famed Jeon Jungkook looked utterly speechless. There, perched on a chair across from Namjoon, sat the girl who was on stage just hours earlier – me.

"What would you like to drink?" Jimin's voice cut through my internal debate. He hovered beside me, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Sparkling water, please," I requested, hoping they had something less... potent. After all, the night's events were still swirling in my head like a cocktail gone wrong.

Jimin's smile faltered slightly. "No alcohol? We have soju and whiskey, too."

I hesitated, torn between wanting to fit in and the ever-present voice of caution in my head. "Actually, some whiskey would be great," I finally conceded, "but could I also get some water, please?"

The room bustled with activity as Tae and Jin began opening overflowing bags of food. The aroma of Korean BBQ filled the air, a mouthwatering counterpoint to the nervous knot tightening in my gut. They began arranging the dishes on the low coffee table, a symphony of colorful plates and steaming bowls.

Just as Jimin returned with my drinks and a single empty plate, Namjoon reached out and took it from his hand. "Hold on," he said in Korean, his voice a low murmur. Jimin raised an eyebrow but nodded in understanding. Namjoon exchanged the plate for a fresh one, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Hey," I protested playfully, reaching for the plate he held. "You promised me food, remember?"

He chuckled, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry, you'll get yours. Do you turn into a hangry monster when you're starving?"

"You won't be laughing if I do," I countered, a playful threat that felt hollow in my stomach.

He swatted me playfully with the plate, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through me. Butterflies erupted in my chest, a chaotic counterpoint to the nervous tension.

As the members settled around the coffee table, a camera materialized seemingly out of thin air. Namjoon cast me a reassuring smile before gesturing towards it. "You good on that side?"

Taking a deep breath, I nodded, the weight of the camera suddenly feeling monumental. With a tap of the record button, the world transformed. The playful banter ceased, replaced by a practiced professionalism as they launched into their greetings.

A mix of excitement and nervousness bubbled within me. Here I was, about to share a meal and their Live with BTS.