Oneshots Collection || BTS.

Crocodile Tears || JHS. (2)

Ugh. Here goes nothing. 

They were watching her long before she began approaching them, obviously expecting her. Just like before, Group Eleven not-so-secretly ogled her chest, as much as she attempted to keep them covered with her tray of drinks.

"Hi!" Sora said, forcing her cheery demeanor back on despite how nervous sweat slid down her back. What she did notice, however, was that instead of eight guys like before, there were only three this time. 

"Fancy seeing you again, darling," one of the guys cackled, giving her a greasy smirk. Grimacing, she handed out their drinks.

"Thank you for your continued patronage! Here are your drinks, but I must remind our lovely guests that our state-of-the-art firework show is starting soon, and the pool will be closed for the night. We encourage you to—eek!" 

One of the guys' hands had whipped out onto Hoseok's jacket, which she'd been wearing the whole time, and had thrown it aside.

"You're not supposed to be wearing that." 

Flustered, Sora stumbled back, shocked they were so bold, but after looking around, she noticed that the lack of other people probably gave them confidence. 

Uh oh. This isn't good. 

The other guys laughed uproariously, and one of them shamelessly began ogling her up and down. Shrinking behind her tray, Sora forced a mini bow, sputtering, "Th-thanks again, and we hope to see you at the show!" 

"Woah, where do you think you're going?"

One of the tall guys lashed out, grabbing her by the wrist before she could turn away. Yelping, Sora dropped her tray. The tray tumbled into the pool next to them while the extra five drinks shattered onto the paved ground, spraying the stone and water a brilliant red.

Realizing now how serious the situation was becoming, she began peering around helplessly. Unfortunately, a silent hush washed over the pool area, a stark contrast to the thriving atmosphere before, everyone's back turned to them as they progressed up that hill. 

Heart racing, Sora regretted that she ignored every red flag and hadn't reported them sooner, and she gasped as another guy's hand began feeling her up, sliding along her leg,down and up. Her eyes widened when yet another man pulled out his phone, seemingly beginning to record or take pictures of her, and, squeezing her eyes shut, Sora opened her mouth, about to scream— 

"Woah, wait a second!" 

Eyes flying open, Sora whipped her head up at that familiar voice, and she sucked in a breath to see Hoseok materializing out of nowhere like a ghost, a cold, dead expression on his face so monstrous that her blood ran cold. But, in the next split second, his laid-back, coolheaded expression was back, so quickly she thought she'd imagined that first demonic look. 

He stepped towards them, disturbingly calm, before stooping down to scoop up his discarded jacket. Unlike before, he was now in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, and turning back around, he only gazed at them with concern, eyes glassy and filled with worry. 

"Can you please take your hands off her?" he said with overflowing politeness, brows knitted with concern. "She's my girlfriend, so I'd appreciate it if you don't touch her like that." 

Huh? Girlfriend? 

Sora couldn't speak, shocked into silence. 

"Ha, so what?" one of the dunces chortled. "Selling your girlfriend's pictures will get us lots of money, more than any of the other girls here, big shot. So get the hell out!"