He got beef

Prologue: in a pickle

"Nice to meet you! my name is-"

What in the actual fuck.

His smile dropped as soon as his eyes landed on my face, and so did whatever was left of mine.

No...

This was not actually happening.

There was NO way.

No way that whoever was pretending to play God up there was doing this to me and having a good time, enjoying what was unfolding right before its eyes.

"Wendy's." I whispered to myself, pointing at the boy who just walked in through the kitchen's rainbow coloured beaded curtain, which by the way, was definitely not the most nineties thing in the room. I opened my mouth to speak, only to close it again, pretty much resembling a goldfish. (Or any kind of fresh water fish if you're picky about this kinda thing.)

This cannot be described as coincidence, there's no such thing. Someone must have planned this. From the start this has all been one big fucking joke and we're getting right to the climax. I'm waiting for a camera crew to jump from behind the leather couch, yell 'surprise!" in my face, shoot a confetti cannon and hand me a god damn sash and a $50 Build-a-bear gift card. Deep down, I know I'm not getting any of that.

"Actually, his name is Jungkook." Props to the pink haired boy for bringing us all back to reality. I was low key losing it in my own head.

I smacked myself hard on the forehead (for good measure), earning a hushed and concerned sounding "ohmygod" from mylittlepony (a.k.a Jimin) who was still holding on to my pink, rhinestone encrusted 'hello pussy' suitcase, and hid my face in my hand.

"Are you... like,... okay?" The boy put my suitcase down but didn't make any advances to come closer to me. I mean, I can't blame him. The look I was sporting on my face could mean anything. It was a confusing mix of 'I just saw the holy spirit' and 'I just buried our neighbour in the back yard'. I wouldn't come anywhere NEAR that. Also, I started slightly shaking like a rabid dog. At least I wasn't foaming at the mouth... yet.

"You." The boy pointed angrily at my face. How do you point angrily you ask? You know, I hadn't heard that one before either but when someone will do it, you'll know. I promise. I pointed at myself and mouthed "me?" because yes, apparently I am really fucking dumb.

"What are you doing in my house." He seethed, his knuckles turning white from clutching onto... I guess just clutching his own hand? Holy shit is he about to go ape shit on me or what.

"Do y'all... know eachother?" Jimin scratched his head and pointed his (smol) finger, switching between me and angry boy.

What's with all the pointing? Did no-one ever taught you that pointing is actually really impolite?

Anyways.

A single, chocked sob could be heard. It was so quiet, I almost missed it.

Who is crying at this moment in time? The whole situation itself is already pathetic, whoever started crying is making this particularly god damn awkward.

Oh wait,

that was me.

That single silent sob turned into another one, and then another followed, and suddenly I found myself ugly crying, wiping snot on the sleeve of the 3000$ gucci-sweater I was wearing, in a tiny run-down apartment with two strangers in the middle of New York city.

Then I puked for the second time that day, right on that hideous aqua blue carpet.

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