V did send someone for me.

A man dressed in black and looking like a typical bodyguard headed over to me and quickly whispered.

"Are you Miss Nam Bora?"

When I nod, he grips my arm and quickly leads me through the distracted crowd.

They're too focused on the picture of V and Jungkook displayed on the large screen in the front of the stadium to notice two people passing by.

"I apologize for the rough gesture, but V wanted you to be safely transferred."
The bodyguard explains to me, and my ears heat up bright red at his words.

V wants me to be safe.

Even though I knew it was meant to be polite and not intimate, the thought still made her cheeks flush in ecstasy.

Stop it, I tell myself. You're just a normal commoner. Why would a world star care for you in that way? Know your place, Bora.

I keep my temperature down as the bodyguard leads me to a huge room  filled to the brim with people.

Stylists tend to the members furiously, dusting their final touches onto their features, avoiding the cameramen who are struggling to keep their lenses focused on each of the band members.

The air in the room is anything but quiet and serene. Instead, it's filled with an aura of hurried preparation.

Six pairs of eyes turn to me as soon as I come in the door.

"Hey, mute girl! 'Sup?" The shorty guy yells at me, and I immediately want to fire back venomously at him.

But the corners of his mouth lift up when my face twists in disdain instead.

We're both well aware I can't do that.

"Ignore hyung. He's just salty that V hyung likes you more than him." Jungkook comes up to me, tilting his head at my murderous features. "Are you looking for V? He's not here."

I tear my attention away from Jimin as I nod at the bunny boy in front of me.

"You'll find him in the room on the right. End of the hallway," he continues with a puzzled expression, with a tone to match. "He usually doesn't sleep before concerts- that's Yoongi hyung's job. I really don't know."

He's sleeping?

My eyes seem to communicate my surprise because the maknae smiles apologetically at me.

"He might be awake. He was texting you a few minutes ago, right?"

When I nod, I hear whistling from the other members, clearly pointing out their ridiculous imagination that somehow V and I belong together.

But that's just preposterous.

Quickly, I escape the room, thanking the maknae briefly. I'm starting to think that the boy is the nicest out of the six boys in that waiting room. Although he's the youngest, he seems to be the most mature one out of the group.

When I open the door to the room quietly, I see V passed out on a white bed, clutching a gray pillow tight to his chest.

It's absolutely the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

He's clothed in a white long sleeve shirt, one of his arms angled to rest on another pillow. The brown locks cascade artistically down the side of his face, which is tilted slightly towards the right.

I'm caught in a sudden dilemma, with one foot out the door and my other foot in. The thought twists viciously in my mind.

I don't want to wake him.

But I want to talk to him.

I lick my lips, which has somehow gone from perfectly soft pink to a chapped, dry blush.

After standing there for what seemed to be like an hour, I finally decide that he needs his sleep more than he needs me.

He'd probably only slept an hour or so last night to be tired like this, so I finally conclude that I should let him get some rest.

I spin on my heel to leave the room silently when four words stop me like a deer in headlights.

"Where are you going?"

I freeze like a statue at the deep, familiar tone.

Damn it. He's awake, isn't he?

I hear a sigh and a rustle of bedsheets, and for a second I think he went back to sleep, thinking I wasn't worth the trouble.

Then a heavy arm falls on my shoulder, and I nearly scream my poor face off at the sudden weight.

But of course, I'm unable to.

Instead I flinch and turn to regret my decision of ever texting this guy for fashion advice.

His face is inches from mine, and I can smell his intoxicating scent, a mix of sweet and dark. We're so close that I can see the slight tan blended with the pale skin, the a small mole beside his nose.

I don't do well with people, especially if they're this close to me. But for some weird reason, I find myself enjoying the close proximity, the contact of his hand with mine. I find myself drowning like a child at sea, helpless and destined.

Destined to fall, that is.