Realistic BTS Imagines

Kim Namjoon #2 (Karaoke)

After asking for yet another amber bottle, your hand lazily started grabbing at the air.  You were noticeably drunk at that point, to the point where you, yourself, had to admit that you were slipping into a bit of a stupor.  But, damn, beer and fried chicken was a combination that you couldn't resist.  

"Babe, why don't you just order a soda instead?  You know you'll regret this in the morning," Namjoon advised, only having his eyes move away from the beer bottle to meet yours.  He was a bit irritated, since you had a low alcohol tolerance and were intoxicated only half an hour into your arriving at the bar.

"Hey, mister!" you started, poking his chest, "You're the one who asked me to go drinking with you since he didn't want to!"

"Ahem, I have a name, y/n.  And it's not fucking sunshine either," Hoseok chimed in bitterly between sips of his sprite.  "If you call me that one more time, I will not hesitate to choke you."

You pouted playfully and countered, "Hey, you wouldn't do that, you love me!"

"No, he loves you," Hoseok corrected sassily while choking on bites of a breaded mozzarella stick.

"Even that's questionable sometimes," Namjoon muttered while scrolling through his phone, still annoyed.

At this point, you were irked as well.  "Hoseok, why are you even here?" you interrogated, hoping he might leave.

"Well, Namjoon always ends up paying for my food whenever you come along to eat with us," Hoseok muttered, "because he wants to look like some macho rich guy around you, which doesn't make sense since we've all seen him clip coupons, but that ain't any of my business."   Namjoon scoffed and winked at you, as if he truly were some macho rich guy.  You laughed while rolling your eyes, and rose from your seat at the bar.

"Hey, either of you wanna go do some karaoke with me up there?  After all, you two are musicians," you offered with a side of puppy dog eyes.  Nothing.  They both shook their heads while continuing to eat from the appetizer dish laid out on the table, barely acknowledging that you were leaving.  With a huff, you continued to make your way to the stage, fully aware that you weren't a good singer according to anybody's definition, and would likely embarrass yourself (to the point of wanting to crawl into a hole and die).  That was the fun thing about being drunk, though -- you could do whatever you wanted without feeling enough shame to discourage you.

It was a long walk towards the make-shift stage about twenty feet away, and you tripped a couple of times on the way there.  While there weren't any strobe lights in the room, you did feel a bit nauseous just looking at the lights illuminating the area.  It looked like a newborn deer learning how to walk, to onlookers.

"Hey, Karaoke Manager dude!" you called out to the employee resting behind the speaker system in the back corner of the room, headphones resting on their shoulders and eyes pulled towards their phone.

Before you could call out any song requests, a manly voice interrupted, "I'd like to do a song."  

You were completely prepared to fight somebody.

"Excuse me, stranger," you sassed, "I was here first."

"Yeah, you get 'em, babe!" Namjoon cheered you on from his seat, smiling.

"Well, I don't recall hearing you make any requests!" the person retorted with fake surprise.  The employee looked at you, feeling the magnetic tension race between the stranger and you.  Obviously, they weren't getting paid enough to have to deal with that.

The employee suggested, "How about you two have a sing-off and do challenge mode?"  You and the stranger scoffed, ultimately agreeing to do it anyway, in the end.  Neither of you could back down, or else it would've seemed too anti-climatic to all of the watching eyes.  A pair of those eyes being Hoseok's, daring you to go on.  Another pair being Namjoon's, grinning at how competitive his significant other could get over such trivial things.

"That one," the stranger instructed, pointing to the very first song listed on the monitor in the room.  "A Thousand Miles, by Vanessa Carlton."  Of course, he would pick that song.  The one with three thousand high notes, none of which you projected that you'd be able to sing accurately... or even tolerably.  

At this point, you were regretting volunteering to sing in front of thirty people.  Your hands were clammy with sweat, and there were definitely days where you have looked better.  You weren't going to back down though -- you were determined -- and your grip on the microphone showed that.

"Do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do," you sang at the speed of light, knowing that you were more than a bit off beat.  You were trying your best, but you, honestly, couldn't keep up very well in your intoxicated state.  The song was so much faster than you remembered, to be frank.

Abruptly, the employee halted the music.  "You know, you aren't supposed to sing the piano part, right?  That just lowers your score," they informed.  To your astonishment, you looked at the monitor and saw two things.  For one, a score.  You weren't even aware that Karaoke had a scoring system.  Secondly, you saw your score drop into the negatives after your imitation of the piano keys.

"Oh."

"Anyway, proceed," the employee encouraged, sitting back in their chair.  They felt as if they were seeing a battle in the Colosseum, but were you the gladiator, or the lion?