The First Quarter of the First Day of The First Month in My First Time in Korea

I have to admit; I am…entranced. I mean, there he is—this beautiful God that I’d been oogling over the computer since I was in like—what, grade eleven? He is far too old for me, and I’m pretty sure he is into small, skinny, gorgeous, chic girls like the ones that are native to his country. But, here I am, in all my average height, curvy figure, curly hair, freckled glory. My chances of meaning anything to this guy are not looking good.

He gives me a small bow, glancing at me and giving me a polite smile. The others greet me a little more warmly, with bows, wide smiles, and assessing eyes. We are in a recording studio, and Rain-oppa (I have to keep adding the last part in my mind, as it isn’t my custom) has just introduced me.

“This is Lucy,” he says in English, making it obvious that English is what needs be spoken around me. I sort of resent that; I feel belittled for being the only one not able to communicate. And it is not that I cannot communicate in their language—I understand their culture and a little of the language--but I can only receive (at a very slow pace, at that), not send back anything in Korean. And, what I do know, I doubt would be appropriate; KPOP songs only teach you so much.

I bow slightly.

“Where are you from?” Cheondung asks, smiling with the kind grin I’m achingly familiar with. Oh Lord, do they know I’m a complete MBLAQ freak? What if someone paid like bogus amounts of money to play some kind of vicious trick? They wouldn’t do that to me…right?

It takes me a moment to realize I should probably answer him. And is it just me, or did Joon just give me a small look of exasperation. Weirdo…

“Southern US,” I say with a smile. And then, “Which means I say things that y’all might not be familiar with, so if I’m confusing you, let me know.”

I get a sort of blank look and realize I said “y’all,” but Cheondung simply smiles and says, “You’ll have to slow your talking down and try not to run words together.”

God, I love him. I have got to bake him brownies in thanks.

Mir, the one I know is the most difficult to understand in English, turns to Rain-oppa and begins talking in their native tongue—quite quickly, might I add. I can only pick up a few words, but I’ve got a good idea of what he is asking. I stop Rain-oppa before he can answer, with a touch of his shoulder. I relay what I think the question is, and when he nods in confirmation, I ask, “May I?”

He looks at me for a second, reading my face, before smiling lightly and stepping back. I can tell the boys are a bit taken aback by the way Rain-oppa treats me. But I’m a different project than they are, and when I do not meet his qualifications—well, I will be scolded worse than they ever were.

“I am here to…Uhm. Well, let me put it to you like this. I’m an American girl, trying to make it in the Korean music industry. Make sense?”Cheondung relays it just to be sure everyone understands.

"Ne," G.O mutters, as expressionless as he’s notorious for.

Now Joon speaks up, slouching his shoulders in the back of the group. But it is in Korean, and I can tell he does it just to test me and my ability.

His pronunciation is quick and even more smudged than anyone else’s, and that makes it almost impossible for me to pick up words. But what I do pick up isn’t helpful. Rain-oppa relays the question to me. Am I a new assistant or something? A fan that they’ll be having on a show?

“Aniyo,” I say. “I will be shadowing you, sort of, while Sunbae looks for more idols. I'm part of the new project. Trainees will train under Idol groups. That will be our training instead of what you all went through when you were trainees.” I bite my lip, and I can see in their faces (too much Idol Army has made them too anxious, I think) that they know that’s not all. “And…I will be living in your dorms with you.”

In my mind, Mir did one of those “Waaah!” things he does—and any real fan would know exactly what I’m talking about. When Cheondung relays this message as well, he really does do the strange warrior sound. And I couldn’t help it, I start laughing. This is really freaking weird! Mir smiles at me, embarrassed, and I explain myself I quickly. “I also thought that was just an act for TV. Are you always that spastic?”

A pause. And then, I change it up. “You’re really crazy?”

Laughter pitters about, trying to make things a little less weird. But I can see in Joon’s face—he understood from the beginning, and just thinks I’m stupid. Jesus! Why does this guy hate me…?

Mir nods, embarrassed. I look to Rain-oppa, who begins speaking quickly in Korean. And though I can’t understand him fully, I get the gist. He’s giving them the abridged version of my story. He was visiting (aka escaping stress) in the United States when he met me and became aware of my talents. He decided that he would ruin Korea’s pop music (in a good way, of course) with an American girl more aware of Korean culture than her own. He left out the part where my parents disowned me and I was begging for a promotion when he arrived at the hotel he was staying at. A batch of brownies for him, too.

“Will you show us?” Seungho asks, smiling at me. Jeez, they all smile a lot…

I pause for a second--show them what? And then I realize, he's asking me to sing, show him my talent. Well. I nod, not even bothering to notice Rain-oppa’s reaction. Because, really, they have to think I’m an idiot savant—the least I could do is make them aware that I’m talented. “What would you like to hear?”

“KPOP.”Joon says, his eyes daring me to deny the prince his wish. What the hell…

Seungho gives a quick glance at Joon. His statement could’ve been taken with a laugh, but it’s obvious that he really is being…mean. This is not the same guy I thought I would eat dirt to meet…right? “Do what you want,”Seungho says.

Whatever.

I smile at Joon sweetly and begin at the first chorus of Taeyang (from BigBang)’s “Wedding Dress”—the song that opened my world to KPOP. I closed my eyes, ignored “the village idiots” and my pseudo-appa. I saw the video that played a million times over in my mind, singing with as much as pain as I can muster, as the song calls for it.

“…nega ibeun wedingdeureseu.” I end it with a small smile as I come back to Earth (though this place feels pretty damn foreign to me). There is loud noise when I finished, and I think for a moment they thought I fluently knew Korean. Ha, I wish.

When I look at Joon, his eyes are wide in a cutely dazed expression, obviously impressed.

Rain-oppa spits something out to them, to which there is a simultaneous, “Ye.”

Well, I guess that’s settled. I’ll be living with MBLAQ. The only music group to ever somehow motivate me to be better than who I was. I look at Rain-oppa. He gives me a small smile, “They’ve started bringing your bags to the dorm. It will be a tight fit—but it should be okay. The Blaqies have practice with me in a few hours—you should be there. We’ll record a little today with you, and then you can go home.”

Home. Right…this was my home now.

I look at the boys, “Are you all staying?”

Seungho looks over at Joon, whose expression has lightened a bit, and says, “Cheondung will.”

Well—somebody’s exerting their leadership title. But Cheondung doesn’t seem that bothered, and gives me a small nod before walking to the table in the back and beginning to make himself comfortable. I walk over towards him after small smiles and bows towards everybody self, and collapse with a small grown in the chair. He laughs.

I look over at him, “Is it obvious I’m a total fangirl?”

He smirks. “Joon’s your favorite.”

I face-palm. Because, really, it’s not cool that within ten minutes of meeting the five hottest guys to ever walk the planet, the hottest of all knows that I’d love him chained to my bed and covered in whipped cream.“Oy,” I moan, “how am I supposed to excel at anything when I’m too busy falling over y Asians!”

Cheondung laughs again. I look over at him. “You have almost no accent. That’s really impressive. You’ll probably be the only one I won’t feel like an idiot conversing with.”

“Joon’s English is okay.” He says, and right as I think it, he continues with, “Hollywood actor.” Damn, I really shouldn’t know that. “And you will be able to have small conversations with Seungho and G.O. Mir will be difficult to understand and you will be to him.”

I duck my head. “I know.” He quirks an eyebrow, to which I roll my eyes. “I’ve been creepin’on MBLAQ since I was like, seventeen. I know quite a bit about you guys.”

“Can I test you?”

I snort, glancing out the doorway to where we just were to see that room is empty. But I can hear things being moved around in another room: probably Rain. “Yeah, sure.”

He thinks for a moment. “Youngest member.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll do you one better. From youngest to oldest: Mir, you, Joon, G.O, Seungho.” He grins, but I find myself talking even more. “You were, in the beginning, commonly mistaken for the maknae, but now it’s known that Mir is.”

He sits back. “What has changed that you don’t like in MBLAQ? I like the fans that criticize.”

I grin, “In each member?” He nods. “Okay, you people need to stop changing your hair! I liked Mir’s in “Oh Yeah” which is how it should’ve stayed. Yours is fine as long as it’s not like it was in “Oh Yeah” – I’m partial to you in Y, so I guess I’d like that hairstyle back. Seungho should keep his up, and particularly black—but it’s okay as long as it’s not down. Joon’s is y as long as it’s not curly—though I am still trying to adjust to the blonde hair, despite the fact that it’s gone. G.O doesn’t really change his, but there was something about his hair in Y that was just…wrong.”

He’s laughing, and I hear Rain-oppa call my name. I nod shyly at Cheondung before getting up, and walking over towards the room. He is sitting in the chair, relaxed. “Do we need to get you a coach or someone to warm up with you?”

I shake my head, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I would hate to be disrespectful. This place is like another universe.

He nods, “Okay. Let’s go. One song for today.”

Well. I find myself walking to the recording room, the air a little cold. But it’s a good cold—not an empty cold. The kind of cold that is begging to be warm.

“What do you want me to sing?” I ask into the mic, adjusting my headphones. Absently, I note that Cheondung is standing in the archway leading to the place we were just sitting, tilting his head and being very observant. Which, might I add, is very unlike him. Or, maybe it is like him. Maybe I don’t know these guys at all…

“Can you do MBLAQ?” Rain-oppa’s smiling, like it would be funny if I did an MBLAQ song. But, honestly, I know most, if not all, of them by heart.

“Y?” I inquire. He gives me a moment to take the request back, before the track begins playing in my ear. And I do every part—raps, intro, outro, and some of the dance moves. That’s right, es, I’m slightly obsessed, talented, and this is my favorite MBLAQ song. Don’t underestimate me.

When I finish, both men are staring at me with strange expressions. Cheondung has a strange look of…victory on his face. While Rain-oppa has seemingly had a revelation.

“Good,” he said solidly. “Let’s go.”

Well.