Dance to This [kth]

e i g h t

The moment I take the contraption out, Jungkook's hands are all over it. He pops open the film before looking at me with wild, wide eyes.

"Where is the film?"

"Um. . ." I ponder. "I don't know."

"Eunha," he insists eagerly.

I'm panicking now to remember. That camera wasn't in my possession for the entirety of the night, and to be quite honest, I don't have any idea how to even open the film cartridge myself.

"Jimin was the last person I remember who had my camera," I recollect. He was taking pictures all night while drinking on the couch.

Jungkook doesn't seem too relieved by my answer, and is at a loss for words as he stares at the empty cartridge. He closes and reopens it as if it will change the outcome. My panic is settling in again not only because I lost all of my really bad photographs, but also because Professor Kim's voice can be heard faintly beyond the wall.

"You don't know where your film is?" Jungkook asks again for clarification.

"No," I reply nervously. "Why—"

"Jungkook, Eunha," a voice interrupts us. "Will you be joining class today or disrupting from the hallway?

I freeze and grow small behind Jungkook at the sound of his voice. Air has escaped my body and I'm shriveled, feeling targeted as my name leaves his lips once again. I haven't seen Professor in almost a week— the last time being when I kissed him. The calm and cool complexity to his voice as if nothing happened is admirable. I'm staring at the ground because I'm too afraid and embarrassed to look up at him. I want to leave.

I have no choice when Jungkook answers for the two of us, "we'll be there."

Jungkook's tone is distant and I can tell he is heavily stuck in his mind; his eyes are still trained on the camera.

I am too curious not to glance at Professor Kim. I wish I hadn't. A lump grows in my throat and tears want to threaten my eyes— I'm scared at the sight of his gaze and nervous for his reaction to me. Professor's attention is already on me, eyes hitting a peak in interest.

For the first time since meeting him, he uncomfortably shifts his attention away from me after our eyes meet. Oh no. This is it for me. I swallow hard and attempt to dodge my attention from his fitted pants and broad shoulders, but now I'm biting my lip as I remember leaning into him.

Professor's tone is unwavering and cold; emotionless. "We're starting now."

"Um. . ." Jungkook trails off into nothing.

I'm put off by how awkward the tension is right now. We are standing in a large, open area of a hallway yet I feel as though the three of us are trapped in a box. Jungkook isn't saying anything, and I'm growing anxious and unruly at the silence.

I exhale quietly, waiting for the last possible moment to take a social cue. Jungkook finally sighs and lifts his head to reply, but it's too late. I'm speaking before I know it.

"Okay, P-Professor," I force out.

I don't wait for any response; instead, my hands grasp my camera back from Jungkook and I shyly pass Professor with shielded eyes to enter the classroom. A cloud is following me and it's not filled with summer rain nor sun showers— there is a hurricane attempting to wipe me out. The final blow is found in that the only two seats left in the classroom are in the front row.