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“Kings Cross Road!”

Dozens of people flooded off of the bus. One by one, people jumped off the bus, finally reaching their destination. And I, being the unknowing tourist, followed. I had no idea where I was going, but I followed anyway. My mother had always thought that the fun part of traveling was not knowing where the heck you were heading, but going anyway. I hopped of the bus and onto the sidewalk.

I closed my eyes to breathe the London air, when something brushed agaisnt my shoulder. “Excuse me!” barked a man as he pushed by me. In his hands were boxes upon boxes that pressed on his purple shirt, stacked high over his head, “Please move!”

Confused, I made way for him. “Do you need help?” I asked. The man ignored me and carried his things down the street.

I glared at him as he made his way down the road, but I found myself sighing afterwards. “Not everyone you meet is going to be an angel,” I told myself, “There are going to be some mean people; there’ll be grouches like him!”

I shrugged my shoulders and held up the camera that was hanging around my next. Aiming it at the man, I pressed the button and had picture number two. “I’ll title this one, Mr. Grouch,” I said with a smile as I looked at the picture through the digital screen.

“Oh,” I said. I took a closer look at the screen. On the back of the man’s shirt had the words ‘78Clink’.

My eyes shot up. There, far in the distance, the man with the boxes turned the corner. He’s going the same way I am!

“Sir!” I yelled, trying to catch up to him. "Slow down!"

“Mom!” I cried, “Slow down!”

Several feet away, my mother was running through the streets of Tokyo. The streetlights flashed brightly over her, making her figure hard to see. The only way my father and I could keep up was by looking for my mother's sequined sweater in the crowd. The sweater was absolutely atrocious, but it did the job when trying to find her. 

Her head would pop up every now and then, stopping at street vendors and looking into store windows. Everything seemed to put my mother into a trance. The strong, alluring, smell of fried street food must have caught her nose, because after a few minutes of chasing we finally found her seated in a small table outside a local restaurant. Below her seat, bags and bags of souvenirs pilled themselves next to my mother's flats. 

"You are absolutely crazy," my father laughed. He took the seat beside her and began to look into my mother's purchases. He always made sure that she didn't go overboard. 

I tiredly took a seat and waited for my mother to order for us. "Hana, is there anything special that you'd like?" asked my mother. 

"Anything. Order anything so I can rest a little bit. After chasing after Mom, I'm extremely tired," I answered. 

My parents laughed, but they didn't understand the extent of my exhaustion. Instead my father choked and said, "At least you've got practice for chasing after someone who steals your stuff in the future!"

I looked up angrily at him, "WHEN AM I EVER GOING TO NEED THAT?!"

My feet stomped down the London sidewalk, chasing after the man in the purple shirt. My father was right; I did receive practice. All those times chasing my mother were finally put to good use!

I turned the corner and saw the familiar purple shirt and the stack of boxes enter a building. The building was at the end of the street and was a perfect model of historic English architecture. It was three stories high with orange bricks. White wood, white windows, and a white roof accented the orange building. This was 78 Clink. 

I slowed down my pace till I completely came to a stop so that I could admire the building. I pulled out my camera and took a few snapshots. Memory after memory of the building was put into my camera.

"You know, the inside is just as nice as the outside looks," said a voice. 

Behind me, a man, wearing a similar shirt purple shirt to the man I bumped into, stood in front of me. He was a few inches taller than me, probably around 5'8. What stood out was his hair. It was completely fascinating. His jet-black hair was styled in a way that the bangs reached his thick eyebrows, and the top of his hair slightly angled into a fohawk. I've seen kpop stars with similar hairstyles, and I've seen many imitations, but his hair was different. He had a pair of broad shoulders and a smile that could kill. And his eyes, were a color of brown that made them seem like a deep-black. He was entrancing. 

I mean, he looked like a very kind, pleasant, and appealing, young man.

"You must be staying here?" he asked, "My name is Hoya, and welcome to 78 Clink." 

introducing Lee Howon!

I know, I introduced him a little late, but this is my fanfiction, so it's going this way! lol and I didn't exactly know how I wanted to introduce him either. I wasn't sure if I wanted to make him a total grouche, or if I wanted to make him nice with internal conflicts LOL. oh well. second one was easier. 

well, Hana met a mean man, but in the end she meets a kinder man, HOYA!

oh jesus, what am I writing here >< 

oh well, subscribe, comment, and enjoy? (: