Eunhae.

            The whir of machines greeted Eunhae as she opened the door, the bell clingking. Her squelching sneakers met the faded white floors as washing machines covered the dirty, grey walls. The space was small, enough to fill about 8 people crowding. There was a big, white table in the middle and clothesbaskets on the corner. Eunhae wasn’t rich, and her mother the same. They owned this small laundry shop, dirty and cheap.

            “Eunhae? Is that you?” feminine voice called out. Her mother poked her head out from a small room where the supplies were, locks of black, silky hair following. She was gorgeous; high cheekbones, big-doe eyes, amazing figure. She could’ve been a model, but she refused the career. ‘All people in that path are rotten,’ she’d say. Eunhae’s mom was the kind of person who could pull of any look. Sadly, that didn’t pass on to her child. “Come help me!”

            Upon seeing her daughter in her state, carrying a soggy bag, her shirt soaked with purple stains on it, socks itchy and carrying an extra blazer, she stopped in her tracks. “Hi, Eomma.”

            Her mom looked unsure. “Welcome… back. Wash them at the top left machine, along with Minwoo-ssi’s clothing on the bottom middle when you’re… done.”

            “Right.”

            Walking up the stairs to their rooms, the warm air left her, feeling freezing in her soggy clothes. The rain hadn’t stopped, gotten worse actually. Her dried clothes once again got wet, and her coworkers had already left. She had to do extra time to make up for when she was late. Steering to the left, her ratty, peeling room door opened with a creak. She was greeted with a familiar sight; a small, white mattress on the corner, a brown closet, and a desk with a lava lamp. She had begged her mother to buy it as a child, and now only does she realize the money it must cost. The bare essentials, at least.

            Stickers covered a part of the wall, and a few posters she made, too. Her drawing materials littered the floor, along with a few poster papers. At school, her classmates would sometimes ask her for help when it comes to making posters. As it seems, she was pretty good at drawing and making the perfect image show up. All her personal drawing supplies were bought on her savings, but Eomma would sometimes buy her a little present.

            Stripping off her clothes and walking to the shower, she scrubbed her skin twice to get rid of the icky feeling only wet clothes could make. Her hair was soon toweled off and she grabbed the defected, ugly green laundry basket packed her clothes in before bringing it down. They live on the second floor of their laundy, the space much smaller. Only fitting a petite hallway and 2 rooms that filled only half a classroom at most, it wasn’t the ideal place for living. But they were together, and that was fine.

             Filling the machines with her clothes and Im Changkyun’s to wash, she moved on to Minwoo-ssi’s laundry. He was a frequent costumer here, going here twice or thrice every week (which was odd, until she realized he probably came here for her mom). He would chat up a conversation with Eomma, but he was an odd man. He’d wear those black masks that cover up the nose below, a beanie and sunglasses. Eomma thought he was odd too, until he pulled her into a corner one day and showed his face. Ever since then, Eomma couldn’t make eye contact with Minwoo-ssi without blushing furiously. He must be an attractive man under his layers. Eunhae thought it was cute, their interactions. They were the same age, too; 37 (pretty young, she thought).

            Once, he showed Eunhae his face by accident. Eomma was away, and Eunhae went downstairs to check up on the store. He was there, eating cup ramen. Thick brows, long nose and pink lips. He scrambled to get sorted, but Eunhae persisted that it was fine before getting him a drink. That was a month ago, and when she realized that it was Lee Minwoo, a member from Shinhwa. She got over it quick, though. Even in the presence of an idol, he was still a human being.

            Finished with her task, Eunhae wanted to ask her mom on what to do next. Walking to the small room, she saw that her mother had fixed her hair onto a messy bun and was trying to find something in the depths of their supply closet. She had a black grease smear on her cheek and her clothes were dirty. All her 17 years of living, she was always amazed by how her mother could look so elegant and beautiful in such states. “What are you trying to do?”

           “I’m trying…” She trailed off to inspect a piece of metal before throwing it away. “To find a wrench.”

           “What’s broken?”

            Sumi sighed. “The washing machine on the right corner. Malfunction, it won’t spin.”

            Eunhae sighed, scanning the cabinets and the junk on the floor, until something caught the light. “Isn’t that the wrench?”

            Her mother’s head shot up. “Where?”

            Pointing to it, her mother exclaimed a thank to god in relief before cursing herself to be so stupid. She grabbed it before going outside with new motivation. She walked over to the washing machine closest to the door before calling to her only daughter for help. The thing Eunhae didn’t notice before was the supplies strewn about on top of it. Screws in varying shapes and sizes, hammers, screwdrivers.

            “Eunhae, help me move this thing!” She cried out, effortlessly tugging one part of it. She speed-walked to her mother’s side before pulling on the other edge. After minutes of tugging and pulling, the machine finally budged open. Cables were let loose, and some stretched a bit too much for comfort. Sumi squatted elegantly (The 8^th mysteries of earth, right next to the Pyramids of Giza, Eunhae thought) and inspected the damage.

             “Okay, I’m going to attempt to fix this thing.” Her mother looked at the backboard as if it was in greek.

             “Key word, attempt.” Eunhae sighed. Her mother cried out in dismay.

             Then, she set to work. Taking out screws here and there, plugging in different cables, setting Eunhae to see if it worked now or not. They had been att his for 30 minutes until Minwoo came in, the doorbell clinking noisily. He was about to wave to the counter until he looked to his right and stopped in his tracks.

             “What…” He looked bewildered. “Are you guys doing?”

             Eomma looked up, her eyes big and glimmering. A faint pink blush adorned her cheeks. There still was that piece of grease on her cheek. “Trying tfix this thing.”

             Minwoo froze for a moment before clearing his throat with a small blush. He squatted down to her level, muscles moving. Grabbing the wrench from her hands with care, he wiped the black spot with his thumb gently. At this point, Sumi was completely red. “Right. Let me have a try.”

            Feeling like she was intruding a private moment, Eunhae turned away and walked back up the stairs. Her phone that had been sitting on the desk for a while had a new message from an unknown number, and it had the address of the starship building, complete with the room number and everything. Im Changkyun expected everything to be sent before morning, no matter how early it was. Her nose flared with anger and annoyance before locking the device and opening her bags to get her textbooks.

            Her homework was done and she had time to kill before the clothes dry, so she decided to watch dramas. Her acting was the reason why she was accepted with a full scholarship to SOPA. It came to her naturally, the way she recited lines to the slightest movement she makes. A tilt in the shoulder, a twitch in the finger, the smallest frown in distaste accompanied with lowered lashes. Cheese In The Trap was good, and she finished the first 2 episodes before checking on the washing machine once more. Minwoo and Eomma were talking by the counter (she was quite surprised he was still here, but it happens sometimes) excitedly. She had moved Im Changkyun’s blazer from the washing machine to the dryer two hours ago, and there were 8 minutes left of that thing. Instead of going upstairs (because laziness!), she fished out her phone from her shorts and took a picture of the spinning clothes. It came out as a clear picture with a colorful, blurred middle as the spinning clothes. She decided to not add a filter and just post it.

‘Doing the laundry today, because I’m so independent! I’m an adult now, mom. #notlying #totallytrue #nofilter’

            Clicking post, she scrolled down her feed before the comments started pouring in. Even nearing 12, there were still some active people. Of course, she thought, time difference; How stupid am I? Soon, the dryer was done. She took her clothes and Im Changkyun’s blazer out and went to iron it out; the blazer first, of course. She could do her own clothes in the morning. Fresh and crisp, she folded it neatly before putting it in a small brown bag, ready to go.

            In the end, she decided not to change. No one to see, anyway. She would just drop it in front of the doorstep and leave. Her black oversized shirt went a bit above mid-thigh, swallowing her white short shorts with the exception of a little bit poking out. She tucked in the front, though, giving a neater look. The rain hadn’t stopped, so she grabbed a yellow umbrella from her room for use.

            “Eomma, I’m going out for a bit.” She called out.

            Her mother raised an eyebrow, making a firm line. “At this hour? Young lady, I’m not sure about that.”

            “I just need to drop something off; it needs to be now.”

            Her mother thought about it. “What if some drunk guy comes out of nowhere-“

            “I’ll take her.” Minwoo chimed. Both women turned to look at him. Sumi hesitantly asked if he was okay with it, and he was absolutely okay with the idea. Eunhae had a little concern that it would be awkward, but agreed anyway.

            Eomma waved them goodbye as both Minwoo and Eunhae walked to his car, just around the corner.

            “You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?” Minwoo laughed, hearty and deep.

            “Unfortunately, you won’t have the honor tonight.” Eunhae grinned a bit. Now she understood why Eomma liked him so much. Upon looking at his car, her eyes widened a bit. It was a fancy car, the one you see in exhibitions.

            Minwoo opened the door casually, asking if she was going to get in or not with a raised eyebrow. Eunhae was shaken out of her stupor before riding shotgun.

            “Where are we going?” He started the car, and the engines rumbled to life.

            She started to read the address from her phone. “Starship Ent. Seoul-si, Seocho-gu, Banpo-dong, 577-92, Seonho Building 3F, level 5, room 523.” (I don’t actually know their dorms, so I just put the address for Starship; the rooms I made up hehe).

            His eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing in Starship?”

            Without hesitation, she told Minwoo the events that had happened that afternoon. They chatted easily, music flowing from the radio in front of them. There was no tension, no awkwardness. They got along easily, and time passed. Soon, they arrived in front of Starship.

            “Do you want me to go inside or wait here?”

            “Nah, I can handle. I’ll be quick, I promise.” Eunhae opened the door and closed it, walking in her sport shoes because her everyday one needed drying. The black sneakers matched her outfit, at least.

            Opening the door, she didn’t expect how big or fancy it all was. Suddenly she felt nervous, butterflies in her stomach (and not the good kind either). She was just going to put it in front of their door and leave. Yeah, that’s it. She was greeted by the sight of a sleeping receptionist, strands of brown hair poking out from her supposedly neat bun, her head cradled on top of her forearms. Was she supposed to wake her or not? Shrugging, she wandered around until she found a lift and pressed level 5. Elevator music played until she reached her destination.

            The lift opened with a ding, and Eunhae tried to follow the numbers. This must be the dorms, she realized. All kinds of voices wafted through the walls. Soft, melodic, deep, husky. She loved the sound of it. Regaining focus, she counted the rooms. 515, 516, 517, 518, 519, 523. She skipped the last 4, because Eunhae is lazy like that. The brown package she had in her grip tightened before she bent down and put it neatly in front of the door. It was a dull cream color, the plates a bit yellowing. Standing up, she dusted her thighs and knocked on the door. It was 1 in the morning, and she doubted anyone would answer. Knowing they were idols, though, they would probably practice until 3 (who knows!).

            The moment Eunhae heard a deep voice call out and footsteps coming toward the door, she ran. Hell no, she wasn’t going to make contact. The plan was simple. Put it down on their front door and leave. Luckily for Eunhae, she was a fast runner. Seconds after she bended the corner, she could hear a door opening in the distance. Not daring to peek, she went down on the elevator and exited the building.