sandeul’s scandal- scriptless

You took one last look at your makeup in the window, did one last adjustment of your shirt and your hair, tested one last smile for its authenticity.
 

You didn’t know why you were nervous. Maybe because this was your first date? No way. It wasn’t even real, and, besides, you were never one for romance anyway. You wanted to make a good impression on the director, that was without a doubt. Could that really be the only reason for the fluttering in your stomach? Unable to rid yourself of your nerves, you took another “last” look at yourself.
 

You’d chosen a pink polka dotted mid-length skirt, one that met your shirt at your waist and ended just a couple of inches above your knees. Your white blouse wasn’t particularly tight, but once it was tucked beneath the band of your skirt, it showed off your thin figure. Your short hair was wildly scrunched just enough to make it look neat, and it was held out of your face by a headband decorated with a small bow. The last piece of your outfit made you uncomfortable. Your ankle boots were shiny and scuff-free, their color matching your shirt. They gave you little to no boost in height, so no worries there, but they weren’t as conservative as the rest of your clothing. You hoped they matched well. According to the director, they did.
 

As soon as you stepped through the small opening of the shop, you were hastily greeted by a plump man wearing glasses. He asked you your name and, once he received a stuttering answer, ushered you over to a table. He complimented you on your fashion, stating that you would surely be picked by one of the boys they were bringing in. He said that he especially liked your shoes, informing you that they were “darling.”
 

Too shocked to respond as the little man quickly murmured sentence after sentence to you, it wasn’t until after he’d begun to walk away that you got your first words in.
 

“Excuse me, but what?” You knew you looked dumb, but you hadn’t grasped a single thing he’d said. He looked at your bewildered face with a smile that was almost so kind that it was intimidating.
 

“We’re changing the format. There was a change of things,” he gestured to himself, speaking slower than before out of courtesy. “Me. I’m the new director, and I want everything to be as real as possible, so I’m letting the star choose for himself. We called multiple applicants here. You may or may not get chosen, so don’t fret, sit back, relax, and enjoy. We’re providing the meal, so just eat comfortably.”
 

The director had leaned in to tell you all of this, and as he stood upright, once again you gained the courage to ask something, “So.. there are no scripts?” You blinked up at him, your eyes wide. No scripting meant that, if you were chosen, you’d actually have to deal with all the little whims of whoever picked you. You wouldn’t be expecting what he did, so you wouldn’t have time to react. It would be like an actual real reality show. You tried to wrap your mind around the concept. Everyone in the entertainment industry knew that that simply couldn’t be done.
 

The director smiled at you, pleased that you caught on, “Yes, miss Mieun. No scripts. We are, after all, bringing you guys here based off of your word. Most of you probably can’t act. For you girls to be believable, we need you to be natural.” He laughed lightly at your horrified expression, “Just think of it as preparation for variety and comedy. You’re expected to think of jokes on the spot during recording, especially live performances.” The short little man winked knowingly. “Same concept, right?”
 

You nodded warily, eyes still wide and brow still furrowed, displaying an expression that was nearly as puzzled, if not more so, than before. After confirming your response, the director scurried off to another girl that had just walked through the door. She was equally as if not prettier than you, and obviously had a more charming smile. You scoffed at the director’s comment about you being chosen. Surely you wouldn’t.
 

You found yourself yawning and leaning back in your seat, already giving up on the cause. You hadn’t wanted a reality show anyway. The director knew that, as he’d just shown you with his little speech, so why did he bother calling an average girl like you here? You especially hadn’t wanted anything that would be scriptless. Still, he was right, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it. This would be great training for your future- if you had one in this business.
 

Casting the last and final thought away, you resolved to try your best and sat straight up in your chair. The first step to reacting acceptably and properly was to know your surroundings. You glanced around, taking in the shop. It was small but well lit. The atmosphere was welcoming and the scent of the meat cooking in the back wafted throughout the entire eating place, making your mouth water. It was surprisingly charming, and you wondered how you had missed the appeal of its quaintness earlier. Before you knew it, you found yourself lost in your surroundings. You slumped to a more comfortable, less rigid position unconsciously. Without even realizing that it had happened, you’d slipped out of your girly act and had become yourself.
 

“Miss, may I take your order?” You were brought out of your thoughts suddenly by a strong, but, aside from the slight dip that you recognized as a light Busan accent, overall honestly very average voice. You clamped your mouth shut and met the eyes of the speaker shyly. His eyes were narrowed in a genuine, light-hearted eye smile that had traveled up from his bright, perfectly straight toothy grin. His hair was dyed and styled messily to the side, nothing too fancy. Overall, he gave off a sort of bubbly, innocent feeling. You weren’t sure whether you were annoyed or drawn to him by this.
 

“Ummm... I-I’d like to start with some, umm, b-bean sprout soup,” you stuttered the first thing that came to mind, mentally facepalming yourself afterward for not looking at the menu beforehand. You smiled back at him, trying to cover up your embarrassment. Bean sprout soup? In a duck meat restaurant? Though you hadn’t thought it possible before, the young man’s smile broadened even more. His shoulders dropped and he looked more at ease once you had beamed friendlily at him. Until that point, you hadn’t realized how nervous he had been. Was he a new server? Without even questioning your strange order, he bowed and scurried out of sight. You watched him go, subconsciously noticing as he walked away that his uniform did not do his slender body credit. He was pretty handsome for a waiter.

A couple of squeals from the other girls in the restaurant sent your eyes searching the seats for the reason. There were high-pitched whispers carrying through the air, just loud enough for you to make out words that sounded like, “He’s so pretty,” and “Omo! He has a bouquet!” You leaned over your table, trying to get a glimpse around the banner that hung low from the ceiling beside you. When you first caught sight of him, his back was turned, but you could still tell he was uncomfortable. He was obviously flustered, glancing around at all the girls that were staring at him like he was a piece of meat. You were unable to understand what all the fuss was about until he turned your way. All of your thoughts of the waiter being handsome were immediately forgotten. This young man was dressed more fashionably adorned with torn jeans and a graphic tee. Well, of course, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, but still. Even so, what you were truly blown away by was his finely sculptured face. His eyes weren’t large, but they fit the small frame of his cheekbones and matched his somehow elegant lips. In short, he was pretty- and very strangely handsome way.

You were sure your eyes met for a moment and immediately you felt blood rush up to your cheeks. His eyes were searching for something, so it felt as if he was looking into your soul when he simply looked in your general direction. You’d never been so completely infatuated with a man by purely his appearance before. Was this why girls were so madly in love with their idols? You looked him over thoroughly again, trying to find some sort of flaw. You found none. No wonder people like him were followed by thousands of fans.
 

After a while of scanning the area, he finally began to take action. He placed one hand behind his back, hiding the bouquet, and then progressed slowly towards the back of the restaurant- which just so happened to be where you sat. Instantly upon seeing him take a step in your direction, your heart raced and the butterflies from before began fluttering once again. Every female in the shop followed him with hopeful eyes. When he was only a few steps away from you, you had enough sense to stop staring and sat back in your seat. By now he surely would have seen you and would have no trouble finding you if he wanted to speak to you. You put on your best smile, waiting for him to appear. Without even meaning to, you’d set your heart on this guy choosing you.
 

You took deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves. In just the few seconds longer that it took for him to come into sight, your heart rate sped up so much that you were sure that if you had to wait any longer, it would have burst. Fortunately, he didn’t keep you waiting- nor did he even cast you a glance. The excitement that had been building up in your body went crashing down as he briskly walked by. Practically stupefied by the defeat, you stared dumbly after him, watching with a vacant expression as he approached the girl who had arrived just after you. If you hadn’t been so shell-shocked, you would have definitely elaborated on how deep his voice was compared to what you initially thought would go with his delicate face.
 

“Hello, I’m Jinyoung of B1A4. Would you be my girlfriend for a week?”
 

At Jinyoung’s words, a few girls stood to their feet and fled the building, the wail-like noises they made throwing you out of your disappointment. You’d never been one of those exaggerating girls, and it wasn’t time to become one. You put your elbows comfortably on the table, an act of visibly showing that you didn't care and would enjoy the meal like any intelligent person would. You blocked out the hurried, awkward conversation that went on a few tables away from you between Jinyoung and his “girlfriend”- she’d said yes- and waited patiently for your food to come out.
 

The girls that were devoted followers of the show, unlike you, waited for a second guest to appear. After all, it had happened before. After about a half an hour and no one else remotely celebrity-like appeared, the girls ate their food and began to file out of the restaurant. You were beginning to get a little bit irritated. You had ordered your soup- something that was extremely easy to prepare- ages before most of the other girls had even arrived. Now, they were finishing up their gourmet meals and leaving.
 

Your bottom lip puckered out in a pout as you now brooded over the situation. Perhaps it was just because you were distracted, but you were almost positive that you hadn’t seen your waiter since he’d taken your order. Was it possible that he forgot what it was? Did he go on break before telling the chef? What if he got fired because of your ridiculous request? Worry gnawed at your stomach as you considered all the possibilities. Unable to handle both the guilt and the boredom, you resorted to drawing invisible animals on the table with your finger. First came an octopus, next a squid, and then finally an amoeba- if one could see them, they would’ve all looked the same. You were not artistically inclined at all.

The table suddenly shook, and you looked up. The young server from before stood before you, a concerned expression written all over his face. He looked tired and a little out of breath- just what had he been doing? Rather than the average uniform from before, he was sporting chefwear, his noticeably even messier hair hidden beneath a poofing hat. He looked completely different when he wasn’t smiling- not better or worse, just different. Before you could properly analyze his face, he smiled hesitantly at you and then gestured to the large bowl of soup sitting on the table, sliding it closer to you as if to make sure you could see it.
 

You were ready to inform him just how displeased you were at how long it had taken to receive your meal, but involuntarily your gaze followed his guidance. Sitting before you was an ungodly humongous bowl of bean sprout soup- you were sure it could last you a week of lunches and suppers- and a sort of miniature bouquet held together by two rings. Your jaw dropped for what seemed the umpteenth time that day, and you pointed to the flowers questioningly, speechless.
 

He looked at you shyly, his cheeks visibly rosing. With the same smile that he’d held since you’d met him, he asked in a clearly unstable Soul accent, “Will you be my girlfriend?” You blinked up at him with wide eyes, trying to recover from the shock. Was this some sort of joke, or was he really from MNET SCANDAL? He hadn’t even introduced himself like Jinyoung had- and he’d left off the signature “for a week” line. After a moment of weighing your options, you figured it’d be best to just say yes. You could always back out later if he wasn’t from the show, and you were sure the cameras were rolling if your waiter really was an idol.
 

You nodded slightly, evoking a relieved laugh from the young man. It was loud and forceful- something that could characterize either a playful child or a confident man. Upon another evaluation of him, you decided it was the first choice. He stood there awkwardly looking at you with that same grin for a moment or two until finally he bowed slightly and signaled to the table, “May I join you?”
 

“Yes, please do!” You laughed, trying to cover up how embarrassed you were at how you had overlooked something so simple during your over thinking. Here you were judging every action he made as if that was your job, meanwhile failing to comply with what the director had specifically asked you to do- act natural. You cursed yourself inwardly. Just relax, Mieun, you soothed yourself, he seems like he’s pretty serious about this, just go along and everything will come with time.
 

Your server, or rather boyfriend, chose the seat across from you. As soon as he’d sat down, he fidgeted nervously. When you made no obvious attempts at initiating conversation, he bowed again, the worry from before settling on his face, “I’m sorry for taking so long. You’re not upset are you? I’m really bad at this sort of thing. I was so nervous when I asked to take your order that I said I would get you bean sprout soup without thinking..." He took in a deep breath, "And then I had to go get the ingredients because I honestly didn’t want to come out here and ask you for a different order, and then I couldn’t find everything at the market at first so it took me forever and by the time I came back almost everyone was gone but you were still here so I had to cook it quickly and I didn’t want to figure out how to divide the ingredients for a smaller portion, I hate division and multiplication, so I cooked the whole thing but that ended up taking even longer and I was so afraid you’d be gone before I came back because you were who I wanted to ask and I’m really sorry." He let out some extra air before continuing with one last line, "You’re not angry are you?”
 

You stared at him with both disgust and awe. How could one just continue speaking like that without even pausing? You had noticed that as he had continued, he'd spoken faster and his Busan accent had quickly taken over. You furrowed your brow in confusion, trying to take in all that he had said. You were, truthfully, not the sort of person that could understand someone when they talk quickly. Still, from what you gathered, he seemed to be a bit of an airhead and kind of an idiot. You were sure you’d have your work cut out for you- he was the kind of person you definitely couldn’t get along with. You ultimately decided that his bubbly aura irritated you rather than soothed you.

After deciding things on your own, you began to make assumptions about him- judging him, though you would never admit it, unfairly. Quickly, you grew annoyed and found much difficulty in forcing a smile. Remembering that you were being filmed, you comforted him half-heartedly, “It’s fine. I’m not upset.” You laughed, inwardly wincing at how fake you had sounded. You tried to talk more naturally, “It’d be nice if you introduced yourself, though. You know.. name, idol group and stuff.” While speaking, you averted his eyes and stared at the table. It irritated you how innocent and unsuspecting he was while you were sitting there lying through your teeth and pretending to be friendly. You looked back at him, and surprisingly he wasn’t wearing that dumb grin of his. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were wide as if he was completely awestruck. Without thinking, you waved your hand in front of his face, “Hello?”
 

He blinked and returned to reality, apologizing immediately, “Oh, um, sorry, I suppose I forgot to introduce myself.” He laughed weakly, adjusting the hat on his head. “I’m Sandeul from B1A4.” His mouth curved into his familiar expression, “Nice to meet you.” He bowed in his chair, exuding complete and total genuinity. You began to feel guilty for harboring negative feelings for him. Quickly you brushed the feeling away, comforting yourself with the fact that you evaluation of people had never been wrong. While you were thinking, he reached over and grabbed the bouquet, taking the couple rings off the stems of the flowers with shaking hands. Another blush graced his cheeks as he set the smaller one before you. “I kind of guestimated on the size, I hope it fits.” You dipped your head gratefully, somehow touched by the sentiment. The ring slid on perfectly, giving you another pleasant surprise. Once he’d likewise put his ring on he asked, “How about you? What’s your name?”

“Song Mieun. I’m 19 years old,” you found yourself repeating the words that you’d said so many times that year, trying to get the attention of agencies. “My dream is to become a gagwoman.” Sandeul loudly gasped, emitting something that resembled ‘uwwah!’ For the first time since you’d met him, you smiled naturally, shy at receiving his obvious kind interest rather than the usual mocking laughter.
 

He beamed at you, “I’m 20 years old, so I’m your oppa?” He laughed lightly at his own bold words and then took it even further, “Should I speak comfortably?” You fidgeted in your seat, shocked that he was older than you. At the very most you’d expected him to be your age. Reluctantly, you nodded. Sandeul gave a giddy little hop in his chair before shyly saying informally, “Is there anything you’d like to know, Mieun-ah?”
 

You’d been half looking forward to half dreading hearing him say your name in a Busan dialect. You were honestly surprised at how disappointed you were when you realized he had no intention of leaving his Seoul accent again. This was, after all, being filmed to air on TV and idols were trained to speak in the more easily understandable way. Almost pouting, you pointed it out, “When you took my order, you were using a Busan accent- now you aren't. If you weren't going to use it all the time, why did you start with it?”
 

“I did?” he looked up at the ceiling in thought, as if he was unable to remember what had happened only two hours ago. After a moment, he gave you a crooked smile, catching your eye, “You're right! Hmmm, I did it to keep myself more hidden. No one really pays attention to someone with a Busan accent in Busan.” As he locked his gaze with yours, you felt something fuzzy stir in your stomach, but you ignored it. You found yourself nodding, accepting his answer without questioning its validity.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, so you didn’t even bother trying. Things grew quiet and awkward quickly. Sandeul kept looking around, occasionally stealing a glance at you, an obviously content childish smile slabbed onto his face. When he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, he decided that he’d better take the initiative. “Would you-” he swallowed heavily and then took a swig from his handy-dandy water bottle out of nervousness, “-like to take a walk? I’m from around here, so I know my way around. I promise the market was definitely a one-time thing.” He noticed that his handiwork, the bean sprout soup, still sat in front of you untouched. “That is, unless you want to eat.”
 

You hated eating in front of other people, that’s was honestly why you hadn't eaten the soup already. You figured that while he was here, you wouldn’t have an appetite anyway, so there was no point in having him sit here while you tried unsuccessfully to down the soup. You quickly agreed to go on a stroll with him, watching passively as he hurried to go change. As soon as he’d gone out of sight and you were no longer distracted, the delicious scent of the soup filled your senses. Sure that you would have enough time to get outside of the shop before Sandeul returned, you surrendered and took a sip of the broth.
 

The unusual herbs danced in your mouth, leaving you with a cool sensation that you were unused to. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but it was, surprisingly, very good- delicious even. Sandeul had said he’d cooked this himself? He’d either gotten extremely lucky or could definitely cook. Whichever it was, you regretted not eating more of it while you’d had the chance. With a sigh, you made your way to the exit of the shop, waiting for your annoying, perhaps more talented than you'd initially thought, “boyfriend’s” return.

** Credits to Tumblr for the gifs&pictures