You have permission to murder me. I know, I didn't update in weeks. I'm such a terrible author. I had writer's block for the longest time. Then, I read this book called Beastly, and for some reason I came up with the maid thing. And so I updated! If you guys still love me. PLEASE TAKE ME BACK D;

[spit take]; Seventeen subscribers!? I know, I know, still not a lot compared to other fics with hundreds of subbers, but still. I'm happy! Seventeen subscribers or seventeen hundred, I'm still feeling like a boss. Comment, neh? Give your eonnie/dongsaeng some love. Me gusta mucho. And now, on with the chappie!

 

 

Taemin

 

 

Oh, I'm so tired. I scratched my belly, yawning and stretching. Ah. Much better.

Wait a minute. I never wake up before Key. A surge of panic pulled my eyes open, and I was suddenly very wide awake. The clock on the wall read nine-thirty. I cocked my head at the wall in wonder before the meaning actually registered in my tiny, pabo brain.

Nine-thirty. . .

Nine-thiry. . .

Nine. . .thirtyyy?

HOLY FUHH, SCHOOL STARTS AT EIGHT.

I scrambled out of bed, distubing Seobie, growled in annoyance and slinked back into the covers like an old man while I threw open my bedroom door. I tripped several time running, running, running, sprinting, sprinting, sprinting down to the kitchen. Where is everyone!? I grabbed a piece of bread, untoasted, and proceeded to scurry around like a madman. I almost made it out the door when I tripped over my school bag and fell on my face.

Oh. . .my school bag. Duh.

My hand had barely touched the doorknob when. . .

"Lee Taemin! What the hell!?" A stern voice stopped me, and a different kind of panic overtook me and froze me into place. I looked over my shoulder, shaking, to find my concerned eomma holding a spatula and pointing it at me accusingly.

"G-Going to school. . ." I said guiltily.

"First of all, it's saturday. Second of all, you're only wearing boxers. Third, even if you were late, you still could have gotten ready, because you're going it be late anyway!" Kibum rolled her, I mean his, eyes in frustration before walking back to the stove in a very feminine fashion.

I bowed my head. "Sorry, eomma."

"It's alright, Minnie. Put on some clothes. By the way, your father and I are going to be out for the next few weeks." 

"Bwoh!?" I can't function without them! Who else is going to nag at me to do my homework, wash my clothes, take a shower, dress me, and monitor the amount of sugar I eat so I don't get diabetes? "Where?"

"On our second honeymoon," he said dreamily, but looked at me sharply. "We've been talking about it for weeks."

I might have remembered that. . .

"Yeobo!" Key chirped at my other dad over dinner. "Do you have enough money for the plane tickets?" I supressed a gag and ate my bulgogi obediently, while my dork of a father replied just as disgustingly.

"Of course, yeobo! You can always count on me." He grinned in a very dinosaur-like way.

"Oh, yeobo. . ."

I shuddered at the sudden flashback. "Oh, yeah. But how am I going to survive!?"

"Taemin." I knew that tone. "You're eighteen, you don't own a car, let alone know how to drive one, you can't dress yourself without looking ridiculous, you only know how to cook bacon and eggs, and you still burn it, and you eat so much candy that I wonder why you're still alive sometimes. Maybe you should man up."

"Man up?" I said confusedly. I've always told myself that I'm already a man. Kind of. But never had I heard the very phrase from my own parent. I mean, they've always babied me from the second I've been adopted.

"Yep."

"But how am I going to get food while you're gone? Instant ramen? You know I hate that stuff."

"I'm not going to let you starve, Taemin. I have a supply of food in the fridge. But it's not going to last forever. You're going to have to get a job."

"A job?" I repeated, horrified.

Kibum snorted loudly as he flipped over the eggs. Oh, god, that smelled delicious. "Yes, a job. It's not that bad. I used to be a fashion designer, and I used to work at the mall. Now, I'm the manager of a hair salon. You should learn how to deal with people."

"But I'm not good with people!" I cried.

"Oh, shush, child, stop panicking. I've already filled out several forms for you. All you have to do is go to the interviews. You can use your father's suits. But not the blue one. Ick. Use the black one, and god forbid a striped tie. Those things are so generic. Just use a plain one. It means you're classy, and you don't care for complicated designs-"

"Wait, eomma. Exactly what did you sign me up for?" 

"Oh, they're decent jobs."

"What does decent mean?"

Kibum flapped a hand at me flippantly. "Don't worry about it. Now, go upstairs and get dressed! No one with a right mind stands in their kitchen arguing with their mothers in their boxers."

"Yes, eomma."

 

---

 

On the way to my room, I passed by a mirror and admired myself in it. I know I'm not that hot, but my face is beautiful.

Oh, god, I sound like Key now. 

I struck a pose and giggled like a little girl as I tried out more y poses. Too busy entertaining myself, I failed to notice the second face also looking at me. I spun around and found an old woman looking at me as if I were crazy, but then started vaccuuming the carpet as if I weren't there.

Uh.

I tried as hard as I could not to scramble downstairs pathetically, but once I was out of her line of sight, I ran back to eomma hysterically.

"EOMMMMMMMMMAAAA! There was this- mirror- old lady-"

"Taemin?" Key pinned my flailing arms to my sides. "What happened, dear?"

"Mirror!" I sputtered. "Old woman-"

"Calm down, Minnie. What woman?"

Speechless, I pointed to the stairs, where the old woman was staring at us nervously. Kibum laughed, and I felt a little stupid.

"What?" I demanded.

"Oh, Taemin, this is our helper, Suncheol. I hired her for when we leave tomorrow." 

"Erm. . .annyeong." I waved awkwardly, still in my boxers. She merely stared at me, not saying a word.

"She speaks a different dialect. Actually, she was originally from North Korea, but she moved here. She never learned standard korean."

Never learned standard korean? Talk about awkward. How are we going to communicate? "So she's going to be our maid?"

Kibum glanced at me in a disapproving glance. "Not maid, Taemin. Maids are for snooty, rich people who can't, forgive the term, do for themselves. She's only going to be supervising you. You know, in case you burn the house down. Plus, don't you think she'll be good company?"

I looked at her wrinkled, squashed-in old lady face, and didn't think so. No. "Yep."

Kibum gave me a motherly, one-armed hug. "I'm sure you'll do fantastic, Taemin. Is there any other questions you have before something else sidetracks you from putting on some decent clothing?"

I shook my head while saying, "Anni."

"Good. Off you go, now."

Going up the stairs, Suncheol and I made brief eye contact, which I broke off. Three and a half weeks alone? No, even worse, with an old lady who doesn't even speak standard korean?

I'm doomed.