A few weeks later

"You'll need to be in the recording studio tomorrow and then there will be a small fan meeting......." 

Jonghyun sat there in his usual seat in the minivan. His manager was reading his schedule out loud to him which was both amusing and annoying at the same time while a lady-he couldn't quite remember what she was there for- was typing relentlessly on her Blackberry. He tried to ignore the sound effects from her keypad as she typed but the sound seemed to amplify every time it hits his eardrums.

Click. Click. Click. 

He turned towards the window and he saw his own face reflected temporarily on it; sharp and handsome. As he should be, what with the one and half hour long hair and makeup session and everything. It wasn't him though, it was merely LEE JONGHYUN, a product for the masses. Him, tweaked and perfected to the version of him that is suitable to be projected to the public. 

"Are you listening?" His manager gave him a light push on the shoulder. 

He was a flour dough, stretched to the limits that other people had set for him; an expandable rubber band. Yet careless as humans usually are, they've stupidly forgotten one simple but crucial detail: the further and harder they stretched the product, the thinner the material. One small indent made either incidentally or not made no difference- he would crumble to the grounds. Voluntarily too. 

"Hey, I'm talking to you, are you-" 

"No. Not really." He felt something combust inside of him. He was, in that instant, a mixture of sodium and petroleum; a concoction made for disaster and everything was the lighted matchstick. He could rule the world, as just as easily, burned it to the grounds. 

He slammed the sliding door open and instantly the hot, polluted air invaded the cool air inside their safe cocoon of cushions and frustrations. He grinned for no reason at all while he pulled himself out- just because getting out of the car normally wasn't enough anymore-and swung his feet onto the pavement. The cold, hard slap of the soles of his Converse against the cement felt ceremonious- he was free!

"What in the world are you doing?" His manager still thought he had a chance of stopping him. 

He threw his leather jacket over his shoulder as the sunlight beat down on his back, putting as much distance between himself and the minivan without outrightly running on the sidewalk. The thought of his inevitable return to the black minivan was niggling at the back of his mind as he looked out into the vehicle-packed highway a few steps away-the cars were barely moving. Pulling out his iPod, he scrolled through down through his list of faceless artists' songs, not really knowing what he really wanted until he saw it. Breaking Benjamin. 

The song was put on replay before he slipped it into the back pockets of his jeans. The Diary of Jane was on its third round when he felt something vibrate in his side pockets. He checked his inbox to see an unopened message from his manager and another from Women :).  The corner of his lips curved upwards as he remembered a memory of her keying in the name for his contact on her Samsung Galaxy; his name was  moody guitar man. No smiley face included.

He reluctantly clicked open their thread. Yoona's message said : X) 

Shaking his head in amusement, he decided to call her. Just like how she likes to use emoticons as conversion starters when texting, he like to  texting and go straight to calling. Relief and comfort flooded him as she picked up on the second ring. 

"Tell me something about-" 

"Myself?"

"No, about me. And stop interrupting." 

"How do you want me to answer if you ask me to stop?"

She had a point.

He decided to divert the conversation before she can make a comment about his intelligence. "What are you doing?"

"I took a bath and then I napped for a while, well more like half an hour but then-" 

"I mean right now." 

A pause. Then,"talking to you. Duh." 

This was going no where. "Well, guess what I'm doing." 

The line crackled as she sighed. He could hear her breathing, uneven and pausing in between odd intervals. He heard a door slammed from her side and then a thud. "Well, what in the world would the amazing Lee Jonghyun be doing right now?" She spoke with a faux post accent.

He didn't realized the smirk that had slipped onto his face, "Just promenading casually down the highway.....you?" He purposely worded his reply that way just to hear her smartass comment. 

"Sure, sure." She breathe in. "I use the word 'promenade' casually too in my oh so fancy life." Posh accent still on.

He leaned back on the road boarder with his back bent and one foot on the concrete barrier. In his direct line of sight was Seoul's jammed pack highway in all it's evening rush hour glory. "I'm serious." 

"What?" 

He decided to show her, he pulled his phone away from himself and turned it around. He walked a few steps closer to the vehicles parading down the highway, albeit in snail pace, and stretched out his arm with his handphone's audio receiver facing the whole commotion. 

He pulled back his arm after a few seconds, satisfied; the smirk growing. 

There was a prolonged silence and for a minute there, he thought she had cut him off. He was just about to say something-

"Are you crazy?" 

"You wish this was crazy. But there's a whole lot more of-" 

She cut him off. "Do you have any schedules?" 

"That I do." 

"Are you truanting?" 

"Define trua- wait, what now?

The line crackled as her laughter invaded some dead parts of his brain, resurrecting it.

"Just go back."

"Why?" 

"Because." 

"Nope," he popped the 'p', "not a reason."

"Well t-then", she stuttered, "because I asked." 

"Hmm.....convince me." 

The conversation ended half and hour later with a promise that they would both go to a casual dinner later that night. He looked up, completely unawared of the grin on his face, and saw that he had reached a bus stop. Huh, how did that happen? He took a seat and quickly searched through his inbox to get back in contact with his manager, the phone call with Yoona having lasted longer than he expected. His legs twitched-an uncurable bad habit- as a variety of bad scenarios flashed through his mind. The best one being his manager skinning him alive while the worst was him being fired by the company. Amidst his worrying, he felt someone staring at him. 

Not a crazy fan-thank god!-but an old lady. 

"Are you alright, son?" 

He nodded warily. 

"You seemed happy just now, your girlfriend?" 

Just now? Oh, the phone call. "Um, yeah. That was my....girlfriend." He nodded dumbly, clutching his phone tightly in his grasp. How long had she been staring? His feet had stopped it constants movement as he tried to stay patient with the old lady, waiting for her to either continue or end the conversation. All the while that was happening, a paranoiac scenario of his-his contract with the company being thrown in the trash-was being privately played out in his mind. 

"She must make you very happy then," a knowing smile spread across her time-worned face, "your girlfriend." 

He nodded respectfully and their conversation ended. Yet, what the old lady had last said unintentionally kickstart a chain of complicated thoughts in his brain. 

They had been hanging out more lately-no kissing though- but really they never acknowledged it themselves, their relationship. His conversation with the old lady was probably the first time he had ever even allowed himself to speak out the sensitive labelling of their relationship; he was her boyfriend and her, his girlfriend. But really the label didn't held any significance anyway, cause' they weren't even in love. Yet, he can't denied that he likes talking to her, more and more so he wished she thought the same. And her looks doesn't hurt either. God, he couldn't get the sound of her laugh out of his ear, just constantly playing...

His grasp on the phone loosened as he unconsciously lowered his arm, letting it swing lifelessly beside his legs.

"...."

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