Near the curb of a grimy, littered street stood Kris Wu, staring at his flawless reflection on the side mirror of his equally flawless car. The mere sight of him smoothing out his eyebrows with the tips of his fingers could cause more than half of the female population to drop at his feet, yet here he was attempting to court the same girl he has been trying to impress for the last few months. 

With a final swipe of the brow, Kris swiftly turned his feet towards the building, the edges of his coat flying in the breeze. He strutted to the door like the ground below him was a runway, the sole of his shoes thumping in a rhythmic manner. His confidence was soaring today, especially after the pricey facial he had recently paid for. Today, he will have her swooning at his feet. Today, he will finally ask her out on a date and she will jump into his arms in joy, planting gleeful kisses all over his newly exfoliated skin. Today, he will—

Thud.

Run into that stupid glass door. Like always. 

He groaned as he pulled on the steel handle, cursing at himself for ruining his epic entrance. Once inside, the familiar sound of metal clangs rang in his ear, his sharp eyes immediately falling upon a head of dark, tousled hair near the back of the garage. No matter how many times Kris saw her, she never failed to completely captivate him. He had memorized every nook and crevice of her face—from the angle of her nose to the small freckles dotting her smooth skin. He could practically paint every detail of her with his eyes closed.

Kris continued to stare as her chest rose in a deep sigh, his ears perking up at the sound of her voice. 

"Park Chanyeol, " she paused for a moment, giving the disheveled boy standing in front of her a tinge of hope. His breath hitched, his heart raced, and his toes curled as he twiddled his oiled-smeared thumbs in anticipation. "For the hundredth freaking time, no. Even if me and you were on a deserted island all alone with Benjamin Franklin, I would rather date him and every chimpanzee on the island before I would even consider you as a likely candidate. Please, stop being a nuisance in my life before I screw your balls off with my ing wrench."

Welp, there goes Kris' confidence down the drain. This wasn't the first time he witnessed that fiesty midget lashing out at the poor guy, and as much as he would like to deny it, if a handsome, charming guy like Chanyeol failed to capture the heart of Yoon Bomi, it was predetermined that he would fail as well. 

Before he could take a step farther, an obnoxious cackle erupted from across the room—a chuckle that obviously belonged to the oh-so-lovely Kim Jongdae. 

"Yah, Yoon Bomi! Instead of using a wrench, I think he would prefer it if you used your hands instead," Jongdae remarked, convulsing in laughter over his own joke. 

Bomi wrinkled her nose in disgust, while a blushing Chanyeol made his way back to his nearby workstation with his head hung low. He would need more than his hands and feet to count the number of times that he was ruthlessly shot down by Bomi. Although his hopes and dreams felt like they were shattered every afternoon, he somehow always managed to recover within a 24-hour time frame and willingly start the cycle all over again, much to Bomi's dismay.

Kris gulped as his shaky hand reached towards the fingerprint-smudged bell on the front counter. At the sound of the muffled clang, a small head peeked out from behind a dusty tool rack and recognized him right away. It was quite obvious that he was less than happy to see him here. Again. 

"Bbom, your stalker's here for his weekly visit!" chimed the small-framed boy after flashing an annoyed eye roll directly at Kris.

Slightly embarrassed by the candid announcement, his eyes drifted down at his polished oxfords and he unconsciously reached back to scratch the base of his hairline. When he finally looked back up, Bomi was standing right in front of him. Blood flowed to his face, and he could feel himself starting to perspire. 

When watching her from a distance, he always felt like he could confess to her right then and there, but once Yoon Bomi was within a 5 feet radius, Kris Wu was paralyzed. 

"What is it now? Flat tire? Broken steering wheel?" she asked teasingly with a knowing look on her face. 

"N-no. Uh, well, there's this weird bacon smell coming from my A/C..." Kris couldn't help but cringe at his own words as Bomi raised an eyebrow in response.

"Huh, well that's a new one." 

• • •

"So, Jongin is it? Let me welcome you to our kitchen, pretty much the most—nah, scratch that—the only decent looking room in our house," said Baekhyun, spreading his arms wide to introduce the cramped area to his new potential housemate. "Everything functions alright, but watch out for the cupboards because some of the screws are loose. Basic rules are to wash your dishes and to take out the trash if you see that it's full. Everyone is okay with you eating their food as long as you share yours. Just stay away from Bomi's juice boxes and you'll be fine."

Baekhyun casually walked over to a hallway, waving for Jongin to follow in behind him. 

"To the right is Suho's and Chorong's room. They're pretty quiet and peaceful most of the time, but can get really rowdy in their bedroom at night. Don't let their looks deceive you. They're really into and crap, so you might want to invest in a pair of noise-blocking headphones or something unless you like to that . I'm not kidding you. They'd put Christian Grey and his to shame," Baekhyun then gestured to the room on the left. "And this is Bomi's room. She's ing hot, but is a total . Don't even think of trying to get lucky with her, because it's not going to happen. Trust me, I've been there. Nothing works on her."

"And this," he sighed, pushing open the door in front of them. "is the hellhole where you, me, and Sehun get to rot in."

"Hellhole" was a perfect description of the place. A quite forgiving one, actually. Jongin scanned over the room in front of him. Dirty clothes were piled throughout the room, bright-colored buckets were scattered about to catch leaks from the ceiling, and strips of faded wallpaper were peeling off the wall. Was that a sushi roll inside of the fishbowl? He wouldn't be surprised. 

"You don't have to try keep it clean since it's a pig sty anyways. Just don't hog the fan and we won't beat your face in. You get to sleep in the middle since Sehun turns into a homo when he's drunk. He's a nut-grabbing monster when he has too much to drink and always wants to participate in what he likes to call ' jousting.' Oh, and don't mind little Sushi over there. I talk to him when I'm feeling suicidal."

Baekhyun gently pushed past Jongin and led him back down the same hallway to another entrance. Jongin poked at the paint-chipped door to slowly reveal the contents it concealed. Like the rest of the house, everything was run-down and dated. The remarkably low price had him clawing at his phone before he could even consider why the hell it was so dirt cheap, but now, he could clearly see why. How five other people could tolerate living in such a state—he couldn't even comprehend it. 

"There's only one bathroom in the house, so we worked out a schedule. Me and Sehun have to take morning showers, Suho and Chorong get the afternoon hours, and you and Bomi get the night hours. We have a small water heater, so if you take hot showers, be sure not to use all of it. Put the toilet seat down or else the girls will freak, and only flush when you take a dump. If the idea of someone else's pee splashing up your grosses you out, then you have pay up on the water bills."

At this point in time, he was at loss for words. Not only did he have to share this horror house with what sounded like a bunch of crazy people (two kinks, a drunk homo, a juice-box hoarding , and a pet sushi owner who had suicidal tendencies), Kim Jong In wasn't even allowed to flush his piss. 

"The light bulbs aren't broken, just so you know," Baekhyun continued, addressing the dim lighting. "We just unscrewed most of them to cut down on the electric bills. Hope you don't mind." 

Oh yes, he minds.

He minds a lot actually; just not enough to ignore the fact that his bank account was dying.

"Nope, not at all," Jongin grinned. "I'll take it." 

• • •

Bomi leaned back on Kris' leather seat and plopped her feet onto the dashboard, her old sneakers releasing a small trail of dirt into the air. She's worn the same pair every time he has seen her, and though Kris didn't particularly despise them, he found it strange that a girl could only own one pair of shoes. It wasn't like Bomi needed nice shoes anyways. The girl could smear dinosaur turd all over her feet and still manage to look like a million bucks to him.

"Well? Aren't you going to turn on your swine-possessed A/C?" Bomi yawned, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. That. Yep. I mean, of course. Yeah. Sure. Yeah." 

Kris mentally face-palmed himself as Bomi stifled back a laugh, her small teeth grasping at her bottom lip. She had to admit, even though it was quite annoying to see him show up every week, he was a little cute. Just a little. Especially when he sputters nonsensical words out of nervousness. 

A small gust of cold air crescendoed towards their faces, and the gentle purr emitting from the engine created a relaxing atmosphere. Kris' nerves began to settle down, his muscles no longer tense. Bomi then tilted her head upwards, aiming her nostrils directly at the source of this alleged bacon aroma. 

Kris studied her profile, the sun gleaming through the window making her more enticing than she already was. It was odd because although she wasn't necessarily of inordinate beauty, she was still somehow deathly attractive. He knew it wasn't just him that was unreasonably infatuated with Bomi, because every guy that she has interacted with can't help but feel drawn towards her. She was in no doubt very pretty, but considering the amount of admirers she had, one would expect her to be more than just a cute car mechanic in scruffy attire.

Inhaling deeply, Bomi tried to detect any peculiar scents. "I don't smell anything. Are you sure it's not just you?"

"I'm sure! I promise you I smelled it very distinctly this morning. It was coming from this one!" he retaliated back quickly, pointing to the air conditioner to his left. "It was reeking the smell of bacon! The smell was so strong that my eyes started watering and my contacts fell out. That's why I had to wear glasses today. I didn't wear them to draw attention to my radiant skin or anything. I just cried my contacts out because the bacon smell was too strong. And my dog ate it too so it's not like I could put it back in. Stupid dog. It's probably because I fed him cat food." 

Before Kris could figure out a way to redeem himself after his sudden wave of illogical sputters, Bomi threw herself over him to sniff at the air conditioner he had pointed at. Her hair dragged across the thin fabric on his crotch, causing his whole body to tingle. 

"Holy . Hair on crotch. Hair. On. Crotch. Must not feel it. Stop it, Kris. Nope. It's just her hair. Dammit it's going to sprout. The beast has been awoken by her luscious locks of hair. ," Kris thought to himself.

"Ohhhh, I smell it now," she said, scrunching her nose up to sniff harder at the bacon-scented air. 

"kkk. Shhhtapp. Shtapppp. Kris, get a hold of yourself. But her s are RIGHT THERE. . Plus HAIR. ON. CROTCH. it. If she stays in this position for 10 more seconds I'm just going to grab her . I'm going to ing do it. And then I'm going to kiss her. I'm going to grab her stupid gorgeous face and just kiss the out of her."

"This is actually so cool. It really does smell like bacon!"

10.

"Wait, I think there's something in there..."

9.

"Umm, Kris? Why is there a piece of bacon shoved into your air conditioner?" 

8.

"Hello? Kris?"

7.

"Kris."

6.

"Why is there bacon in your A/C? Does it manufacture meat products or something?"

5.

"Kris?"

4.

"Kris."

3.

"Customer-nim!!!!!!!!!!" Bomi shouted, propping herself up and slapping him in the face with the small strip of meat in her hand.

She paused a moment, realizing that she had just slapped her best-tipping client in the face with a piece of dehydrated bacon. Bomi gulped as she saw Kris' eyes fill with rage behind his thick-rimmed spectacles. 

" YOU! . YOU. You couldn't hold it for two more seconds? TWO. DAMN. SECONDS?!" Kris screamed suddenly, flailing his arms about. 

"Sorry! I didn't mean to slap you with the bacon. It was just an impulse, you know? You'll still tip me right? I had to really jam my finger in there to get it out. I'll just take 5% tip and even give you this face pack sample thing that a guy in a radish costume just gave me. Just please, please tip me. My hourly wage is a complete joke. I live off of tips."

"I could've done it. I could've freaking done it."

"You wanted to slap yourself with the bacon piece? Here, have it. You can slap me with it too as long as you tip me. Here."

Kris shoved the bacon strip away, continuing to shout in rage. "I DON'T WANT IT!"

"I'm sorry, okay?! I'm sorry."

"LET'S EAT IT TOGETHER!"

"What? You want me to eat this thing? Eww, no. Why are you shouting, by the way? It's hurting my ears."

"NO. LET'S EAT BRUNCH TOGETHER. THIS SATURDAY!"

"If I go to brunch with you will you stop screaming like a banshee?" 

"YESSSSS!"

"Okay then. Saturday sounds good."

"Seriously?" he asked in disbelief, his voice simmering down to a normal volume this time. 

"Saturday. 1 o'clock. Bomsang Park. Be late and I'll shrivel you into bacon myself. Bye, Oinkie," she confirmed, flashing him a quick wink before closing the car door. 

"Oinkie?"

"Remember to tip," she mouthed while waving at him through his window. "Oink oink."

AUTHOR'S NOTE—It has been way too long since I have written (or read a proper novel, for that matter), so excuse my crappy writing. I wanted to publish this before I went to sleep, so the ending was verrrrryyy rushed. I seriously have no idea what the hell I was writing at the end. I'm just tired and need to sleep. I'll probably regret publishing this later. The end is ridiculous. 

Ehhh, I'll fix it tomorrow.