The music was already too loud for Hongjoong’s liking.

Which was ironic considering he was the one who’d organized the party.

The living room of his parents’ house was packed with members of his college dance team, a few friends from his music program, and people he vaguely recognized from campus. Someone had turned the speakers up high enough that the bass vibrated through the hardwood floors, and every few minutes another burst of laughter or shouting rose above the music.

Hongjoong stood near the kitchen counter with one hand wrapped around a plastic cup, half listening to one of his teammates rant about choreography while he absentmindedly tapped a rhythm against the counter with his rings.

Hosting wasn’t really his thing.

But it was easier than letting someone else throw a party and ruin his music playlist.

He’d already accepted one unfortunate compromise tonight.

Jooeun insisted on being here.

Technically it was her house too, so Hongjoong couldn’t exactly tell his own sister to leave.

Still, he’d expected her to stay upstairs with a couple friends.

What he didn’t expect was walking into his own kitchen and seeing you sitting on the counter like you belonged there.

A half-empty bag of chips rested in your lap.

His chips.

Hongjoong stopped mid-step.

For a second he just stared at you, brows slowly knitting together in disbelief.

Then he let out a quiet, incredulous laugh and dragged a hand through his hair.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He stepped fully into the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the doorway as he looked you over like you were some kind of particularly irritating surprise guest.

His eyes flicked to the chips.

Then back to you.

“Why,” he said slowly, voice edged with dry sarcasm, “are you at my party?”

Across the room someone shouted his name, but Hongjoong ignored them completely.

His attention stayed on you, head tilted slightly as if waiting for an explanation.