[Listen to: 웃어 줄 수가 없어서 미안하다 (I'm Sorry I Can't Laugh For You) by 2AM]

Author's Note: Pretty boring and long for a first chapter, but hey, every story has to start somewhere! Of course, this is only the beginning, introductions and all. No idols yet, sorry! I made an effort to put in a bit of French. Epic failure. Well, anyway. Tell me what you think(:

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Bang. Bang. Two gun shots rang out like thunder within the empty train station.

“Dad? Dad? .. D-daddy? Please wake up, daddy!” The little girl cried hysterically as she tried to shake the limp body that was her father. There were splotches of red dotting her dress and staining her once white tights.  Blood—a puddle of blood kept growing by her feet. Growing… the puddle kept growing…

“Unnie! (Older sister) Wakey-wakey!”

Something poked my cheek and the familiar sounds of New York City beyond my window filled my ears. I was suddenly aware of the tear streaks that ran down my face. God, I must look like hell. I buried my face under the pillows, flopping on the other side of my bed.

“Kirra-yah, go finish eating lunch. Umma (Mom) needs to talk with Sonny alone.”

Weight shifted on the bed and I heard the sound of little feet retreat from the room.

“Sonny…?”

I grunted.

“Sonny-honey,” Mom, I’m not twelve anymore. “We heard you crying again. I mean, I know you miss your father and all, but it’s been, what? Ten years? Maybe it’s time to, you know, let go?”

I sat up, smacking my head against the headboard. Did you seriously just say that to me? , please.

“Ouch. What now? Jesus freakin’ christ, Umma, it’s not like I want to wake up crying. Well, I’m sorry. I can’t quite replace Dad like how you did with Jun, and oh, you know, pop out a baby.”

Silence. Oops. Word vomit. Why did I just say that? My beautiful mother looked at me. There was this pained expression etched on her round face and her small eyes turned into slits. I whole-heartedly expected her to slap me, but instead she slowly got up from the edge of my bed, leaving something shiny by the foot of the mattress, and walked towards the door.

Without turning around, she said “Your brother called. He said to wish you a happy birthday and a safe trip.” Click. The door closed.

I glanced at the little gift sitting on top of my blanket. Sigh. It’s not like I want to be mean to my mother, it just comes out. She expects me to forget my father and replace him with that man downstairs I call my step-dad. I’d sooner strip down to my birthday suit and run down by 5^th avenue. It’s not like I don’t like Fujioka Jun or anything. He’s a good guy. And he makes some killer tamagoyaki. Figures, he’s Japanese. Well, good cook or not, he’s still pretty cool. I mean, he’s raising Kirra, my four year old half-sister, and she’s an angel. It’s just that I can’t stand to call him “dad” and I’m pretty sure it breaks my little sister’s heart every time I refer to her father by his first name. But… she’s too young to understand…

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t see Kirra enter my room and clamber onto my bed. It wasn’t until I noticed her rip open my gift that I realized she was in my room.

“Unnie! What does.. ‘pah-g boo-tee-han moo’ mean?” Kirra looked at me, eyes alight with curiosity. In her hand she held a ring attached to thin chain—a necklace? I gave her a funny look as she crawled over to me with my gift.

“Yah! Fix your face!” She cutely stuck her tongue out.

“Don’t ‘Yah!’ me, I’m older than you!” I flicked her forehead and put her on my lap, examining the ring on the necklace. There was something engraved in it: pag butihan mo. Try your best. Dad always said that. I smiled.

“Yes,” Kirra exploded into fits of laughter, breaking my train of thought. “Much older! Unnie’s 17 now! You’re ancient! Halmeoni! (Granny!)” She giggled against my neck.

I growled, trying to scare her, but I only succeeded in making her laugh harder. Giving up, I started blowing raspberries on her cheeks.

She gasped for air in between giggles… the gasps quickly turned into wheezing. I looked down at her, worried. . Where’s her cartridge?! But by the time I was getting ready to sprint to the bathroom to find her asthma pump, her coughing fit had subsided.

“Kirra-chan?” I forced her to look up at me. “Daijoubu? (Are you okay?) ”

She blinked, processing the change of language.

“Hai, Nee-chan (Yes, [Older] Sister).” She said, smiling lightly. “But don’t tell Otou-san (Dad).” She clung to my neck as I lifted her up and walked over to my bathroom. “Unnie?”

“Mhm?”

“I don’t want you to go.” Her arms around my neck tightened.

“Go? Go where? Korea?”

“Yeah.” She sniffled.

“Wae? (Why?) You’ll miss me too much?”

“Anni! (No!) I just won’t have anyone to play with anymore!”

I failed to suppress a snort as I set her on the sink counter. Tch. Kids.

“What about your friends?” She questioned.

“I’ve already said my good-byes.”

“Oh.. well, but why KyungHee University in Seoul? Can’t you study music here? Even Umma doesn’t want you to go.” Kirra puffed her cheeks out. Oh, silly girl.

“That’s exactly why I want to go,” I said quietly. “I’d love to stay here, and you know, study at Julliard, but I can’t.” I started to strip down, getting ready to shower.

“Why not?”

“Kuya (Brother) Zayn has some sort of connections in Korea, and it’d be a shame if we don’t use them to our advantage, am I right?” I looked at her small face and pinched her squishable cheeks. “Now, shoo-shoo so I can shower in peace.”

By the time I got downstairs, Jun had just finished baking a chocolate cake—my cake. Squee!

“Ohayo! (Morning!)” He said brightly.

“Ohayooooo!” Kirra repeated giddily, playing with the icing.

I glanced at the woman who gave birth to me. Tch. Well, lookie here. Trying to be thoroughly engrossed with your coffee, eh? I snorted, sliding on the island stool farthest from her highness.

“Ara! (Oh!) Sonny-chan,” Jun started. “Your friends left a bag of gifts for you on the porch.” He pointed at a fat H&M bag evidently stuffed with wrapping tissue and other knick-knacks.

D’aw, guys you really shouldn’t have. I chugged a glass of OJ before skipping out to the balcony with my cell phone.

“Hello?” My bestest best-friend’s deep voice answered on the first ring.

“Oh, Chris! Thanks for the gifts!”

“Hey, don’t give him all the credit, Sonny.” A familiar voice said in the background. I heard a couple of Yeah’s and Uh-huh’s behind that. Wait, what? Why are they all at Chris’s house?

“Tch. Thank you, Chris, Vy, Alex, Jaydee, Jass!” I said counting off names with my fingers. “Oh, am I missing someone?” I teased.

“Me, you -hat,” Mike yelled.

“You’re not that special,” I sing-songed into the receiver.

“So, we should totally hang out before you leave.” Vy piped in.

“Can’t, buddy. Flight’s at 7.”

“Sonny-dear, it’s only 3.” said Jaydee.

“Guys,” I sighed. “You took me out last night and you tried to get into a club, but tha— ”

“Hold up,” Alex cut me off. “We tried to get into a club, and we did. But you were stupid enough to even attempt to get a drink, and you look like a twelve year old.  So we all got escorted out.”

“Whoa, whoa, wai—”

“Hey, it’s not her fault she looks like 7^th grader,” Chris said loudly. “Don’t rip on her cute shortness.”

“I believe the word you meant to say was fun-sized­.” I yelled before anyone could cut me off again.

“Mais oui, ma chère. Maintenant, pourquoi est-ce que tu as vraiment me téléphoner ? (Of course, my dear. Now, why did you really call me?)” Chris asked.

Silence dominated the other line. The language change wasn’t exactly subtle so everyone probably knew that something happened. Being such a gentleman about my privacy and all, he asked in French. Good going, buddy-boy.

“Oh.. uh.. Chris, j’ai dit quelque chose de stupide and maintenant ma mère est très fâche avec moi. (I said something stupid and now my mom’s very angry with me.)” I said quickly as though worried someone other than Chris can hear and understand, even though among our circle of friends, we’re the only ones that spoke French.

“Tais-toi la prochain fois. (Shut up next time.)” He simply suggested. “C’mon, Sonny, I know there’s more.”

Hah. And this is why Chris’s my bestest best-friend. The boy knows me better than I know myself. Man, am I gonna miss him.

“Et prenez soin de ma sœur pour moi. (And take care of my sister for me.)” I said in almost a whisper.

“Of course,” he said in this no--I-will kind of tone.

Sensing the end of our private little conversation, Jass butted in. “Damn you, Sonny. You’re such a mutt—French, English, Filipino, Japanese, Korean? My God, if you learn any more languages I foresee brain-turns-to-mush syndrome.” She said sarcastically.

“You should kno—” I heard a scream come from inside the house. “Uh... guys, I’ll call you later when I land in Seoul.” I said as I hung up and rushed inside.

It took me a while to understand what happened. Kirra had… a mass of chocolate cake heaped on her head with icing all over her face. A ripped up icing dispenser flopped listlessly in her right hand. Jun was holding a rather large, but empty platter. My mother… well, she had a really weird expression plastered on her face, her finger pointing at her youngest child.

“I know of the expression ‘cute enough to eat,’ but trying to make a dessert out of Kirra is just beyond ridiculous!” I keeled over in laughter.

Mom snatched the giggling munchkin and stole away into the bathroom. I stayed to help Jun clean up, although there really wasn’t a mess, thanks to Kirra’s head. Hahahah! Poor girl!

“Sorry about your cake, kiddo,” Jun said. “Your mom’s scream about the icing exploding in Kirra-chan’s face really startled me. And it just kind of just slipped off the plate when I turned around.”

“It’s okay!” I managed to say through peals of laughter. I grabbed the overstuffed H&M bag and bounded up the stairs to my room.

I stuffed it into my already-packed luggage. I’ll open it when I get to the apartment. A clean Kirra strolled into my room as I stuffed my laptop into my carry-on.

“Unnie! Taxi’s here!”

Taxi? I thought mom was driving me to the airport.

“Sorry, Sonny-chan,” Jun called up the stairs. “Your mother got called to the hospital, and she took the car.”

Damn doctors and their damn on-calls. She probably just left in a -fit rush. I dragged my luggage down the stairs and Jun helped me load them into the cab.

“Stay safe, Sonny-chan,” Jun said, giving me a hug. “Call us when you get there.”

Kirra gazed at me with wide eyes. “Unnie, study hard and come back soon! Hwaiting! (Fighting!)” She pumped her little fist into the air.

“I’ll miss you guys. Jun, take care of Kirra, or shi—stuff,” I coughed, “will go down.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And Kirra, behave well or you’ll be spanked ten times as hard when I get back!” I scooped her up into a big bear hug.

“WAHHH,” she sniffled into my hair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call and text you everyday!” I promised her.

“I don’t wanna get spanked harder!” She wailed into my ear.

Jun snorted. Tch. I handed her over to him and slid into the taxi.

“Bye guys! Wish me luck!” I yelled through the open window as I rolled away.