ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ➻〚𝙟𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙤𝙠 〛ON HOLD

8 p.m.

Following his friends, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Yoongi, Jimin reluctantly looked at the house in front of him. Unassuming by day, but at night, it was completely trashed by toilet paper strewn on the house, red solo cups filled with questionable mixes of alcohol littering the premises, flashing, rainbow lights pulsing through the transparent windows, packed with groups of sweaty young adults grinding against each other to the deafening beat of EDM music, and a light fog from weed and other questionable drugs permeating through the premises. Jimin didn't get the appeal at all. He could think of dozens of laws, local and national, that were probably being broken right at the moment, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

He was simply trying to be a responsible college student, making sure nothing bad got on his record. In fact, it was a feat that his friends were able to drag him along to this party that screamed trouble. The only thing that kept him going in life was his passion and talent for law, and he didn't need the shallow allure of parties and drinking influencing him. Jimin loved order and organization, to say the least. A calm atmosphere where he could dedicate his time to learning and studying would be his ideal setting right now, and he was far from it.

Regrets swimming through his head, his lips pursed in disapproval, Jimin's legs refused to move forward and instead, locked squarely in place.

"Jimin, come on!" Taehyung whined, grabbing his arm impatiently, thirsting for the excitement of the atmosphere. Jimin gave one annoyed look at his friend with the boxy smile, and let Taehyung drag him closer to the 'danger zone.' He settled on the fact in his mind that the only reason he cooperated with this foolery was to not seem like a fun-sponge or lame to the only friends he had, although he knew that they understood that this atmosphere was not his cup of tea.

Setting the record straight now, Jimin decided he was never again going to concede so easily to his friend's ludicrous wishes, as he just did. That was no longer on his agenda.

Frowning as Taehyung pulled him along, he looked down and noticed how much he had changed. himself, just for this stupid event. Wearing skinny jeans, a bomber jacket borrowed from Yoongi, and a white t-shirt, tucked in casually, this was certainly far from his usual dark khakis, tucked in, and silky, button-down blouse that showed his naturally slim figure. He looked way too casual for his liking right now. Yet, there was a tinge of curiosity bubbling in his stomach, but Jimin would never admit that. There had to be some positives to the night coming up, and if he was forced to be here, there had to be something he could engage himself in responsibly.

Closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, the young man, addicted to the pursuit of order and justice, whispered, "Fuck it," almost too rebelliously, before taking a confident step into the place of his nightmares.

It was a complete overload for Jimin's delicate senses. As soon as he stepped in, his nose was hit by the reeking,  pungent scent of alcohol and sweat, and his eyes couldn't adjust to the pulsating light that practically impaired his sight. Feeling on the brink of panic, he quickly diverged from the path towards the dance floor that his friends were taking, and instead squeezed his way through a plethora of odorous bodies, until he found a counter in the unfamiliar house's kitchen that shielded the overwhelming light and noise emanating from the room next to him.

Taking a dry inhale, Jimin found that he was already completely parched from getting through that maze of people while trying to distract himself from the sensory overload. Then again, he didn't trust any of the drinks here laying on counters with caps open and would never opt for the immature choice of alcohol, knowing that he would be the designated driver for tonight. Responsibility was key in all instances, and Jimin wouldn't let himself stray from his morals, no matter how dire this party was on his senses.