When Jae-Wook stepped into the open space of the general terminal, his crowd of fans initiated an unwavering scream. The sound reverberated off the expanse of white tile flooring, and Jae-Wook pressed a pair of head phones into his ears, not to listen to music, but to dampen the painful roar.

Eun-Mi had found her place near the front. Haenyeo stood just behind, clutching Eun-Mi’s hand and flinching as arms reached around and bodies buffeted her from behind.

“Jae-Wook oppaaaaaa,” Eun-Mi wailed.

The young idol strutted forward with the confident ease of a runway model. His long, slender frame was fashionable in white skinny jeans and a red leather jacket, but Eun-Mi knew the cut of every muscle and the outline of every tattoo on his milky skin beneath – all thanks to her extensive online collection of magazine scans, personal selcas and candid photos uploaded by rabid, but diligent, stalker fans. When Jae-Wook reached to push his reflective aviators up and over his platinum blond hair, the girls gasped in excitement at the glint of the familiar silver rings on his right hand.

“He’s wearing the one the fan club bought him for his birthday,” Eun-Mi cheered, and the scream volume increased a decibel. The girls surged forward for a better view, and suddenly Eun-Mi lost the grip she’d had on Haenyeo’s hand.

“Oh?” Eun-Mi turned and reached out over the shoulders that had moved in between them, but she was only able to catch the end of the blue and beige scarf. It unraveled as Haenyeo was pushed back deeper into the crowd.

“Wait for me by the wall!” Eun-Mi waved the scarf like a flag, watching helplessly as Haenyeo was pushed farther and farther until she was at the back of the crowd, her bright blue eyes blinking in distress over the sea of glossy black bangs and pony tails.

Eun-Mi turned back to her source of joy.

Jae-Wook had stopped to pose and wave at the crowd, and Eun-Mi waved back with such vigor that the scarf she’d been holding sailed out of her hands. It caught on a draft of air rushing from the automatic doors that led outside where more excited fans continued pouring in, and it drifted, fluttering with the wispy weight of a feather, until it collided with Jae-Wook’s face.

The pop star froze.

Holding the scarf to his nose, he glided towards the crowd and came to a halt directly in front of Eun-Mi. He was close enough for her to see the pores of his skin beneath his layer of BB cream, and Eun-Mi gulped. The girls around her fell silent and held their breaths.

“Is this yours?” he asked. He sniffed the scarf again, as if not wanting to let it go.

“Jae-Wook oppa,” Eun-Mi simpered and clutched her trembling fists to her cheeks. “I … I am your biggest fan.”

 “Is that so? Aren’t you adorable.” Jae-Wook reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Eun-Mi’s ear. The crowd gasped in disbelief.

A large, muscular man with a stern, round face appeared behind the pop star. “What kind of fan service is this?” he hissed into Jae-Wook’s ear. “Are you trying to start a riot?” The man pulled the scarf from his charge’s grasp and it into Eun-Mi’s hand. Then he grabbed Jae-Wook’s arm and, like a parent hustling a naughty child out of sight, pulled the young star toward the exit.

Eun-Mi swayed where she stood. Her face flushed, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Slowly, she wilted to the floor.

The crowd resumed its screaming, posters flapped and love letters waved, and the girls, as one, chased after their idol with wild, tumbling abandon, oblivious to the figure lying at their feet. Outside at the curb, they surrounded the black van and pressed their eager faces and fingertips to the tinted windows, all while wailing their teary-eyed devotion. The driver laid on the horn and inched forward in warning lunges, and when the path was clear the van speed off and disappeared.

Eun-Mi blinked up at the terminal ceiling and smiled.

“I’m in heaven,” she giggled.

Haenyeo leaned over her.

“Did you see? Did you see that? He touched me. Did you see?”

Haenyeo gently lifted the teenager by her shoulders until she was sitting.

Eun-Mi held the scarf to her cheek and nuzzled it. “And this … his face touched this. Did you see? His lips touched this.”

Haenyeo helped her to her feet, and Eun-Mi stumbled. Her ankle had been crushed under the fan-girl onslaught and was slowly beginning to swell.

“Oh? It hurts. I don’t think I can walk.”

Haenyeo wrapped Eun-Mi’s arms around her neck and, lifting the teenager onto her back, tucked her hands under Eun-Mi’s knees. She began to walk toward the building’s exit.

Eun-Mi laid her chin on Haenyeo’s shoulder.

“I’m going to keep this forever. I’ll never wash it.”

She pressed the scarf to her lips, then quickly held it away and examined it with a sour expression.

“Ugh, it smells like your hair. Eonni …” Her cheeks slackened as a thought occurred. “Your hair … why does it smell like this?”

Haenyeo stopped. Her grip tightened around Eun-Mi’s thighs. She turned her head to the side, and Eun-Mi could see that her face looked astonished.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Haenyeo’s lips moved, voicelessly mouthing the word Eun-Mi had just spoken.

“Eonni?” Eun-Mi repeated. “It’s ok if I call you “older sister,” right?” She wrapped her arms around Haenyeo’s neck and pressed her lips to the red-head’s cheek. “I don’t care if you smell bad, eonni,” she gushed merrily. “Thank you for coming with me. You’re the best and I love you and tonight I am the luckiest girl in the world!”