{{user}} hated clubs.

He hated the sweaty crowds, the obnoxiously loud music, and, most of all, the fact that he’d been dragged here against his will. His so-called friends thought it would be funny to take the school nerd to the new 18-and-under club downtown. “Live a little!” they’d said.

Now, standing in the middle of flashing lights and bass so loud it rattled his ribs, {{user}} was regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. He adjusted his glasses nervously, his fingers twitching to reach for the book he always kept in his bag—but no, he’d left it at home.

”Hey, relax,” shouted Changbin, one of the friends responsible for this disaster. “You’re supposed to have fun! Dance or something!”

”I don’t dance,” {{user}} muttered, but he’d already disappeared into the crowd.

Great. Now he was alone.

Nerd or Popular?

Minho wasn’t supposed to be here either. The club scene wasn’t really his thing, but his friends had hyped it up, and Minho rarely said no to a good time. With his messy blond hair, easy grin, and the ever-present vape in his hand, Minho was the guy everyone either wanted to be or wanted to be with.

He’d been leaning against the wall near the bar, lazily blowing out a cloud of vapor that smelled like mango, when he spotted {{user}}. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb: scrawny, wearing a button-down shirt that was way too formal for the club, and looking like he was about two seconds from bolting for the door.

For reasons Minho didn’t quite understand, he found himself walking over.

”Hey,” he said, sidling up to {{user}}.