Just One Day│MYG ✓

[01] Dancing Ants

It was so worth it. I was afraid it wouldn't be, however I could not have dreamt of a better night. It took a chunk out of my savings but fuck it. You only live once.

When I got back to my room I still felt giddy. Adrenaline continued to pump through my veins and my face was sore from smiling all night. My hands were shaking as I removed my crossbody purse and dropped it on the pristine bed.

My new ARMY Bomb light stick rolled out of my bag, making me smile. I released my feet from the silent hell that was my shoes, picked up the light stick and fell back on to the bed, sighing. I was hoarse from all the singing and screaming. My ears were probably worse for wear too but the room was too quiet to test that theory. I clutched my ARMY Bomb to my chest and released a happy squeal. I felt a single happy tear squeeze out of the corner of my eye.

Flying three hours by myself to see BTS on tour was a gamble. I was a workaholic who never deviated from routine. I had a decent job, a modest salary and a few supportive friends, but no one really understood my love for Kpop. My friends tolerated it, they would humour me when I played it in my car and they feigned interest when I told them about the latest group disbandment or controversy but that was as far as it went. None of them would ever have considered spending a few hundred dollars on flights and accommodation to watch a group of boys sing in Korean. Not to mention the ticket prices! I wished I had been able to afford a better ticket. Back in the nosebleeds the band members looked little larger than ants. Sparkling, charismatic, dancing ants.

But they were real.

My hotel room was too quiet. Not ready to let one of the best nights of my life end, I set up my portable Bluetooth speaker on the bedside table. I turned on my BTS playlist, which truthfully was their entire discography because it was impossible narrow it down, and I placed it on shuffle and repeat. I was determined to ride my high for as long as I could. My battery was low from all the filming, so I dug through my luggage for my charger and plugged my phone in.

I danced my way to the bathroom to wash my face. I put in my best effort to remove my thick glittery concert makeup, but I resigned myself to accept the trace amount of black waterproof eyeliner that refused to submit to my travel face wash. I tied my hair up in a messy ponytail and threw on plaid pyjama pants and a spaghetti strap tank top. My stomach was beginning to growl so I kept my bra on. I couldn't afford room service, but I remembered there was a small selection of goodies that could be bought at the front desk.

I slipped on a pair of Birkenstock sandals and grabbed my room key and a ten dollar bill and stuffed them in my bra. I headed out to the elevator with a spring in my step in search of a light snack in the night.