Eunhae.

            Eunhae heard the bell ding from her room. Must be Minwoo-ssi, she thought. She didn’t hear the usual chatter of Eomma and the man, though. Another ding later did she hear his voice. The voice was muffled, but the usual sounds of her world was a comfort to her. She fetched her purple bag from the corner of the room and brought it to her desk, ping it and grabbing her English homework. Easy. Spending a lot of time on the internet will make you fluent on any language, no hassle. She did have understand what her international followers were saying. It took her about 10 minutes to finish the damned essay, but it was done. 

            Her homework piled on her like stacks of gold to a billionare. Finding that she couldn’t focus, Eunhae decided to go for a jog. They helped clear her mind. Putting on an oversized shirt (because she simply couldn’t go outside with a sports bra like they do in America, right?), shorts and her running shoes, she went to find a hair tie.

            Hair ties don’t take this long to find, right? She racked her room for a single hair tie. Not even one was present. Must’ve left it at school, she mussed her hair up in frustration. Then she went on to searching her mom’s room.

            Every single time she had been there, her mother’s room never failed to amaze her. She had the same things Eunhae had; a desk, a bed and a closet. Somehow, she had managed to add a few womanly touches to it.  A pattern of stripes on the sheets, paintings that Eunhae did, a picture of her mother and father on the desk. Makeup and hair products littered the desks, foundation, eyeliner, mascara, curlers, whatever you could name. As much as she wanted to, Eunhae couldn’t understand makeup and hair. Every time she tried to apply mascara, she poked it to her eyeballs. Foundation three shades too light on her skin, eyebrows like slugs and her scalp burned.

 pretty as she was, she’d wear green pants and flower tops only popular in the stone ages (or even later than that. Eunhae couldn’t decide). Honestly, Eunhae didn’t know what she wore before she was birthed. She didn’t want to know, really. She’d pick out her mother’s outfit for the day every morning before school in the stake of having a dignified mother. Her mother would do her hair and makeup for special events, like her birthday and invitations to parties.

            After racking the desk for that goddamned hair tie, she attempted to put her hair into a neat ponytail. She stopped when she heard an unfamiliar voice. She knew the voice, but it was unfamiliar at the same time. Nobody ever came to her mother’s laundry but Minwoo and an old lady from the corner shop who could barely walk on her own. Nobody.

            Creeping to the stairs (such a contrast to the ruckus she made trying to find the hair tie), she squatted in a weird position to peer down the small opening between the stair railings and the second level flooring. Eunhae surveyed the area. Everything looked different from this angle. Eomma, Minwoo and a man in a black mouth cover. He had a (cursedly) SOPA uniform, the mustard yellow blazer familiar to her. She prayed to the gods that he wouldn’t recognize her. Upon closer inspection, she realized that he dressed a lot like Minwoo. She tried to put the pieces together. The man had stopped talking, listening to Sumi and Minwoo conversing together. Long nose, brown straight-ish eyebrows, a short haircut, weirdly shaped eyes with black pupils and a jaw that could kill a lam (from hat she could see). He didn’t look like a normal SOPA student. He looked gorgeous. He was an idol.

            Eunhae cursed excessantly (very, very quietly). Certainly not an idol in a girl group, but an idol nevertheless.  Who the hell was this guy?

            It was when he spoke did Eunhae freeze, tense.

            “Minwoo-sunbaenim, what are you promoting right now?” His voice was deep and earthy, but most of all, familiar.

            Eunhae wanted to cry at the moment. Im Changkyun was in her mother’s poor laundry, and he was talking to Eomma’s boyfriend (well not yet, anyway. She was sure he was going to ask her out someday). She observed them chatting for a moment (creepy?). Eomma was smiling, Minwoo and Changkyun laughing. The aura was warm. This was not the rude Im Changkyun she bumped into 3 days ago. He looked like a demon in an angel disguise. She groaned. Lady Luck must really hate her.

            She tiptoed back to her room, shutting the room door behind her. The voices were muted now, and she slumped against the door. If he saw her here, she would never live it down. Everyone in school would hate her. Imagine what would happen if those rich, talented kids found out that her family owned this sad, slouching Laundromat that Shinhwa’s Minwoo frequented. At this point, she was panicking. Maybe the jog was for another day.

            Getting up and bringing her homework down on the cold floor, she started to do her English essay. Homework was better than going downstairs. Halfway done, footsteps started to sound. Her mother opened the door abruptly, tripping a bit. Eunhae raised her eyebrows in question.

            “One of your friends are here! He’s from your school, too!” She exclaimed excitedly. Her daughter reached up to cover .

            “Ssh, Eomma!” She muttered, risking a glance down the stairs. “He’s not my friend!”

            Her mother nodded vigorously, and Eunhae sighed before taking her hand away and pinching the bridge of her nose.

            “He’s quite handsome, too.” Sumi proceeded cautiously. “An idol form Monsta X! You know that group, right?”

            “Im Changkyun, right? Yes, I know that group, Eomma.” Eunhae looked up to her mother, taller than her child. “What did you come here for, anyway?”

            “I wanted you to greet him! I assumed you were friends.”

            “Assumption incorrect. I’m still doing my homework.”

            “That’s a shame. You’re going anyway. Minwoo-ah brought you a present.”

            “Eomma! No!”

            Her mother snorted before grabbing her wrist and dragging her outside of her daughter’s man-hole. Eunhae protested before remembering that he could hear her voice. She stopped her oral protest before focusing her gaze on the floor and letting her head drop. It was a blessing that she had changed out of her uniform right when she arrived home.

            She couldn’t see anything but her feet on the cold floor, but she could feel Minwoo’s face lighting up when he saw her. She was aware that Changkyun was here by the black trousers that entered her peripheral vision. Ugh.

            “Ah! Eunhae, you’re here! I thought you were out with Jihae.” Minwoo exclaimed, mentioning your best friend.

She was also in SOPA, but the difference was she was a singer, and most knowingly, rich. You’d been to her house a couple of times, and her parents were very welcoming (shame they were out of the country most of the time). Her father was Japanese and her mother Korean, causing her to be so beautiful. Not gorgeous, but that sweet beautiful. She’s also a trainee at Shinhwa company, but not many people knew that. Shinhwa company taking in trainees wasn’t a big thing, considering their own company was named after their own. They had a small amount of them, 50 at most. Shinhwa members liked to visit their trainees when they were in training, so they were quite close.

Eunhae shook her head, eyes still planted on the tiling. Minwoo held out a plastic bag, noisy and crinkled.

“Here.” Eunhae took it gratefully, thankful for the present and for Changkyun not uttering a sound. “I heard you like drawing.”

That made Eunhae peek into the white plastic. Inside were dozens of Copic, markers. Expensive markers. Eunhae let out a small squeal, surprised. She raked her hands through the markers, excitement waving off of her. Purple, light pink, dark pink, blue, teal, yellow. Oh my god. She had never bought one of the expensive markers, but Jihae had some in her house. The first time she used a Copic, she had drew a giant portrait of her of her best friend and hung it on the wall above her bed. Jihae had also drew a picture of Eunhae, albeit not so similar to her at all. Her body was a line, her six fingers not matching her 4 toes. Her face was a mangled mess of lines and attempts to color, and she did not want to get started on her hair. Jihae thought it was a gorgeous masterpiece, though. She forced the poor girl to hang it to her wall, too.

"Eunhae! Thank him for the presents!" Her mother scolded, pinching her arm. Eunhae yelped before muttering a barely audible 'thank you'. 

"Look at him in the eye, young lady! I taught you manners!" Eunhae could hear a chuckle from Changkyun. She cried internally, but her eyes never lost the sparkle. Eunhae looked up to Minwoo.

"Thank you." Her voice was sincere and earnest, giddy and laced with joy. "This is expensive! How'd you manage?"

Minwoo waved a hand, dismissing the topic. "It's nothing."

 At the mention of funds, Eomma's head whipped to face Minwoo. "Minwoo! You didn't have to!"

"It's fine, Sumi. Anything for you and Eunhae." He grinned. 

Eomma's face was hesitant and unsure. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

At this point, Eunhae couldn't resist. She was lucky enough that Changkyun and Minwoo (Eomma's future boyfriend) were on opposite sides, but she could feel his gaze burning holes on her head. She shivered a bit at the feeling. She wouldn't look at him. She couldn't look at him. She did anyway.

She wished she could say it was like a movie, with slow motion and love at first sight when their eyes met (honestly, ew). It wasn't, though. Her hair swished back as she looked at Im Changkyun (because saying his actual name felt weird). He got more attractive in the three days she bumped into him, somehow. Maybe it was the lack of rain. She didn't know. 

He had a slight blush covering his cheeks (from what was visible to her, the damned black mask was still there), but that was gone as soon as he recognized her. His eyes were revealing distaste. "Ah. It's you again."

It took all of Eunhae's willpower to ignore the comment and smile forcefully. She grit her teeth. "Pleasure to see you again."

The adults were oblivious to the tense exchange both teens were having. Eomma's eyes widened in surprise. "You've met before? Ah, silly me. You're in the same school! You guys go talk over there. Minwoo-ah and I need to talk over some things."

"No, Eomma! We're good, absolutely fine!" She resisted along with Im Changkyun, albeit his exclamations were more polite. Eomma ushered them away, though. They were shoved to a corner, both teens radiating protest. As Eomma sauntered away, they were left with an awkward silence, the quiet uttering the words for each other.

It was when Changkyun wanted to speak did one of the dryers ding. Without a goodbye or final glance, Eunhae turned away from him and ran up the stairs to her room.