I tap my fingers across the table’s surface, my eyes staring down at the paper as I read the Romanization of our Japanese lyrics for one of the new songs; [She Said (He’s Bad)]. It sounds great and the lyrics are great too, like the other songs we have been recording. For the past two-three weeks we have been going back and forth between Korea and Japan in preparations for the Japanese album; yesterday we did the jacket shoot for the album and we have been both in the recording studio and practice-room for the preparations which are feeling still far from complete but since we are working so hard on it, it feels close. The room has the smell of coffee and donuts, and I hear the producer munching on his side while nodding to the song we are listening to and Maria is reaching out to take one as well. “These are delicious,” Maria comments in Japanese and looks over at the staff member who brought the donuts. I have not tried the donuts though they look delicious, and they are warm, which is hard to avoid but I do my best. The past few weeks I have been going to the gym a bit more frequently (with Manager Lee), and the reason for me was to get in shape for a photoshoot I did for a sports brand and since that passed I kept going to the gym to not just stop when I just started. And I motivate my manager to keep going to the gym as well. “We’ll have Hannah start with this part,” the producer says and points at a line they have given to me. I nod. We don’t really talk much about opinions and decisions in Japan; our producers talk, but for 5 Pieces we just nod and do as we’re told, though we converse a lot; practicing Japanese, going through lines and melodies and chat. I get in the booth to do my part, a bottle of water in one hand and the lyrics in the other. We do a try first with me singing the line without the music and the producers correct a few things and tell me what to focus on before we do the recording. The song contains mostly the chorus, we don’t have many verses to sing but counting the lines (which Julia did), Emelia has the most lines (because she raps and such), I have the second most lines, third is Maria, fourth is Carolina and fifth is Julia. Julia wants more lines, though she was happy in some songs when seeing she has more lines than Carolina. It takes a few hours before we are done for the day and head to the apartment we live in. The agency has prepared an apartment for the few months we are working here. It’s not much, not much space either. I share room with Maria, a bunk bed, and Emelia has the mattress next too (we played a game and she won, choosing the mattress) while Julia and Carolina has another room with a double bed they share. Our managers are a floor below; the first night here they would bang on our door saying we were too noisy. The room I share with Maria and Emelia is messy. We all have our own corner but Maria’s stuff is all over the room, I keep repacking my bag whenever I have worn my clothes or taken anything out from the bag and Emelia’s corner is the only neat one. In other words; our room is a lot like a hotel room. “Should we put something up on the walls?” Maria suggests when crawling up on the second floor bunk bed, her laptop is stationed there already like always and I already know what she is going to do; play games or read fan fiction. She said yesterday that she is reading a very interesting fan fiction about Derek and Stiles from Teen Wolf, there is a possibility she will read that. “Mm…” I nod. I don’t really care about decorating this room, or this apartment. For the past weeks I have worked on my own room, a week ago I even went through my wardrobe, cleaning it out as I got a new wardrobe and Emelia kept me company, we even had a deep talk while she messed up my bed and played with Tiger and Ace. I pout as I sit down on my bed, my head low as the bed above won’t let me sit straight. “Carolina has put up posters in their room,” Maria says while turning on her laptop. “I don’t want posters in here unless it’s half- and y.” “I want half- and y too,” Emelia comments as she comes inside the room, throwing her bag on the mattress, smiling at me, “I think I got something suited at home I can bring.” “Maybe I chose to be in the wrong room,” I point out. “Oh please,” Maria laughs above me. “You want something half- and y too, who doesn’t?” I laugh and kick up my feet on the bed above me, kicking it lightly so Maria laughs at the ruckus my feet create in her bed. I only do it a few times before I stop; instead I turn to the side to pick up my phone. “I want a clock on the wall,” Emelia mentions, “One that shows Japanese time.” “Didn’t you ask for one last week?” “It’s not on the wall though,” Emelia sighs, “I haven’t heard anything of it.” “Who cares what the time on the wall says? We got phones for a reason,” Maria mentions tiredly from her bed, “I’m going to read fan fiction now, so shut up.” “I’ll go ask where my clock is,” Emelia sighs anew and leave the room. For me, I pout at my phone. Weeks and weeks have passed since I spoke to Jonghyun, though we saw each other recently when we visited SHINee’s concert, but I didn’t really talk to him there. Every day I think of him yet every day I pretend I’m not. That deep talk I had with Emelia was mostly about Jonghyun, I can’t help it. I miss him. It’s like this large part of me is lost and I keep waiting to find it while I know he don’t care for me anymore. With a sigh I roll around t face the wall, pouting at it as I look at the time on my phone. He is probably going from one schedule to another, and then he will go to his radio. SHINee is making their comeback with [View] this weekend; I have watched the music video too many times, just to look at him. I texted Taemin when the album and music video was released, but none of the other members. This week I can’t stop thinking about him; on Saturday I will meet him at Dream Concert – three days from now. I will see him in three days. I head out the room to get some water. The apartment has a middle room, a tiny room where cleaning things are put, with a corridor around it leading to the other rooms. From my room it is the other room on the right and following that way around the corridor we reach the open living-room at the front and going around the wall to the right it is the long and slim kitchen. If we follow the corridor to the left it is the big bathroom, a small wardrobe and the hall is in the corner between the wardrobe and my room. “Where did Emelia go?” Julia asks when coming inside the kitchen. “I don’t know,” I shrug my shoulder without even thinking of where Emelia could’ve gone. I remember what she said in the bedroom. “She went to look for a clock or something.” The confused look Julia gives me makes me smile and I shrug my shoulder anew, saying I don’t know where she went. I pour some water in a glass and lean against the kitchen worktop while Julia is scanning the contents of the fridge. “I miss my tea,” Julia pouts, “I’m not allowed to bring it here and Japan have the brand, but not the taste I like. There are some delicious teas here too; of course, do you think I can ask the maid to buy it? The brand she buys doesn’t taste that good…” Somewhere in her sentences there is a question, but she doesn’t seem to expect an answer from me as she continues to talk. After all these years and she is still talking about tea with me even when knowing I do not drink tea, like tea or know anything about it. In the end I just nod, letting her talk even if she knows I don’t know what different there is between the brands of tea she mentions. By the time I leave the kitchen I have to refill the glass of water as I almost had finished it when listening to Julia, and heading back to my room it seems like Maria is deep in her reading. Emelia hasn’t come back; she went downstairs to our managers to ask about the clock on the wall. It’s still early. I sit down in my bed with my laptop, not reading like Maria but instead trying to write for my next book. It’s completely dry. My brain isn’t working anymore. I have looked through the same page for a few months, unable to write more than a few sentences in total and it is honestly eating me up from the inside. According to my members there is a specific reason why I can’t write while for me, I am just travelling a lot so my mind can’t settle. I know they are right. I just want to scream when I try to write now, as if all feelings are broken inside me that I can’t get a word out correctly. “Oh gosh! Please stop moving already!” Maria annoyingly says above me, making me jump at the sudden outburst. “What?” I quietly ask. “Don’t ask me what, what: You’re moving the whole bed!” she answers, that annoying tone not leaving her voice and I pout as I guess I have been too restless. Every movement in this bed will be felt to the one on top or below. “Stop thinking so much, Hannah, and just write already.” I don’t say against her because my eyes are back on the laptop screen, staring at the almost blank chapter. “Alright?!” Maria shouts. “Yes, yes, alright!” I groan at her loud tone to have me answer her. She sighs and it gets quiet between us, her focusing on reading and for me, staring at my fingers on the keys of my laptop. I want to write… Unable to write I get restless, and since Maria feels each movement I make it is better to get out of bed; I bring the laptop with me to the living-room, where no one is. Our living-room is simple but crowded. I don’t even know what the boxes lining up by the wall contains, and when I have asked I haven’t really gotten good answers (I could look, but I haven’t), and what interests me is more the TV and the sofa we have. The living-room table is used as dining room too, as the kitchen is too slim for a table. “Magnae, have you seen my charger?” Carolina asks when coming inside the living-room. I have barely sat down in the sofa when those words reach me and I just sigh, glancing around. “No.” “Ehh, where could it be…?” Carolina asks herself, searching through the living-room. “It’s probably in the hall,” I point out. She leaves quickly in her search and I sigh down at the laptop in my lap. What could I write? “It’s not there.” I have barely been able to focus when Carolina comes rushing inside the kitchen to start look through drawers and make a lot of noise. She continues for a long time, coming inside the living-room again to look between the cushions too. “Is it under you?” Carolina asks, sitting down on one knee next to me and it is scaring how she is leaning over me, staring at me. “I’m not sitting on your charger,” I tell her, leaning away from that intense look. “Are you sure? It’s not that big. The cushion maybe makes it-” She stops talking when I lightly push her away, to keep some distance between us because Carolina is too close and I don’t like it. She is wearing her glasses, looking young and smart in them, but up close she is still scaring. “Magnae, just lift your bottom a little bit.” Carolina starts whining towards me and she glides down on the floor in a cute action, leaning against the sofa. “Is it there, hum-hum?” “That’s not cute,” I giggle. It’s funny, not cute. She pushes my leg, continuing that act. “Stop it!” “You could be sitting on it, magnae,” Carolina cutely tilts her head. It’s still not cute: she has watched too many idols acting cute on TV. “Stop it, please,” I whine and hit her hand lightly. It is not comfortable having her act like this, wanting me to stand up so she can look under the cushion I am sitting on. “YA!” Carolina pouts at the roar and we both look over at the source; Emelia is back. She stomps inside the living-room and throws a white charger in front of us. “You let Manager Song borrow it, dumb head,” Emelia mutters and walks to the bathroom. Carolina throws herself down on the floor to get the charger, acting like an animal, before she laughs and randomly laughs. I just look at her back when she leaves the living-room like Gollum from The Hobbit after finding her precious treasure. My friends are weird, all of them. I sit there for a long time, not really writing anything at all until Emelia comes out of the bathroom – she has showered – and sits down with me. I have the TV, watching a Japanese drama I haven’t seen before and I can’t say I am following this episode either. Emelia sits quietly next to me, her phone in hand but I think she keeps up with the episode on TV better than me. Quietly we watch the episode together; I hear Julia and Carolina talk and laugh in their room while the Japanese voices are talking on the TV, but once commercials starts, I turn my focus on the laptop that looks the same as before. “Emelia…” I whisper her name, glancing on my right at her sitting there with her long blonde hair wet and eyes on her phone. “Mm?” “Do you think he has gotten over me completely?” I quietly ask, pouting down at my fingers on the laptop. I don’t know why I am wasting the battery; I’m just holding the laptop without actually using it. I know she understands my question because Emelia leans her head back and looks at me, her legs falls to the side to face me. “That’s what you’re thinking about?” With a simple nod, I answer her question. Emelia sighs. “In my opinion, he hasn’t gotten over you a single bit,” she tells me. “But that’s just my opinion. You are both stubborn and childish and I am not getting involved because I told you that from the beginning.” I turn towards my friend with an upset pout, which she imitates. “Don’t look at me like that,” she says and waves her hand at me, sitting up straight. “You got yourself into this, and if you’re not satisfied with it, do something about it.” “You sound like Maria,” I mutter. “AH!” The pain in my arm from the phone she threw at me hurts and I gape at Emelia in shock, rubbing my painful arm. “That hurts!!” I cry out in the pain and Emelia grabs her phone angrily. “Not as much as your words comparing me to that squid,” she mumbles angrily. I grimace at her because she looks and sounds like it was a serious insult that I said she sounds like Maria. I put away my laptop on the table before I lean over to hit her lightly on the arm, and I think I do it too lightly because Emelia starts laughing at me. “You’re evil,” I tell her. “If I’m evil, then you’re soft,” she teases and imitates the way I hit her arm – she barely touches me – and I start laughing too. We lean towards each other in the sofa, laughing until the commercials ends, and we start laughing right at the same sentence an