"You're not Bengali you daft fool!" 

It happened ever-so suddenly.

One moment Yifan was ready to thank Yixing and the heavens above for helping him, and the next he was unable to subdue the major urge to defecate right then and there. He squinted his eyes and discreetly pushed his legs together, but it was of no use. He shat his pants.

Now the smell was obviously there, and it disgusted him far more than anyone else. But how was he supposed to call for a potty break in the middle of a press conference? He didn’t know, but he did it anyway. “Excuse me, I’ll be back soon,” he quickly spoke into the microphone before dashing out of the press room.

As Yifan ran out, Luhan's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Out of nowhere, he was hit with an asthma attack. Tripping on the wires cluttered around the bottom of the stage, his inhaler flew out of the -pocket of his vest and ended up on the other end of the room—right at Sunil Sengupta’s feet.

At this point Luhan was wiggling around all the floor, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Huang Zitao, a junior Secret Service Agent crouched down next to the former and screeched “Where is his inhaler?!”

Sunil, a short fellow with the face of an Eastern Asian native, despite his status as a citizen of West Bengal Province, gingerly picked up the inhaler. Examining it, he looked directly into Zitao’s frantic eyes, mouthing “Is this it?” With that, Officer Huang was off in a sprint towards Sunil.

While Zitao snatched the inhaler out of Sunil’s hands, the latter chased after him, quite frankly confused. “What’s going on,” he asked softly, switching back to his mother tongue of Bengali.

In a moment of surprise, Zitao turned around to face Sunil. “You speak Bangla,” he asked out of genuine curiosity?

Sunil’s confusion only grew. “Of course I speak Bangla. I’m Bengali!”

“But you look you’re from the eastern provinces,” Zitao exclaimed as he attempted to gently push the inhaler into Luhan’s mouth.

Sunil shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no. I was born in West Bengal Province to parents of Bengali heritage on—“

Zitao rolled his eyes and held his left palm two inches from Sunil’s face. “Okay, I don’t want to hear your entire life story, just... were you—perhaps—adopted?”

Sunil groaned out a long “No.”

“Did your parents ever show you pictures of yourself when you were a wee lad?”

“No. All of them burned up in a—“

“Fire, gotcha. Kid, you’re not Bengali.”

“I’m not a kid I’m 32-years-old!”

Zitao diverted his attention from Luhan to Sunil and did a double take of the latter. He opened his mouth to say something but his train of thought was broken when Luhan slowly rose from his position on the ground and burst out the doors of the room. Too shocked to comprehend what had just happened before him, Zitao absentmindedly sat still.

“Aren’t you going to go after him,” Sunil asked in a soft voice. When Zitao wouldn’t move, Sunil crouched down next to him and whispered in his ear “I’m Bengali by birth.”

And with that, Zitao rudely shoved Sunil away from him while yelling “You’re not Bengali you daft fool!”

this is legit only 500 words and that's short as but at this point, i can't elongate this chapter anymore cause i got the message thru. i mean i wanted to put some chanbaek/chansoo in there but it just wasn't working out. anyways i just got through with the first quarter of the semester and im like semi-sick cause i've been getting rained on nonstop all throughout october. and sorry for not updating, i royally ed up my grades last quarter so i had to try and stop them from drowning. i'll try and update more often now. 

hmu on twitter @yvessaintbaek

--mahi