//Jongdae//

"Jongdae, get off your phone."
I sigh irritably at the familiar sentence. My mum is always nagging me. Jongdae, get off your phone. Jongdae, socialise. Jongdae, do the dishes.
Muttering obscenities under my breath, I heave my lazy body out of the fold up chair and drag my feet over to where my parents are standing.
"What have I been summoned for this time?" I ask, rolling my eyes. Mum in an exasperated breath, but puts on a smile nonetheless.
"Help your father unpack the car, please." She instructs me, before grabbing a bag of utensils herself and disappearing into the tent.
"Right, Jongdae." My father's deep voice calls me from where he has his head in the boot of the car. He stands up, hair a mess. He sends me a wonky smile and drags a large suitcase from the car. He throws it gently at me, and I manage to catch it without falling over. 
I stumble into the pre-assembled tent, turning my head from left to right to inspect the layout of the tent. Mum looks up for a second to see who came into the tent, and she frowns when she sees me. 
"Yah, careful with that." She huffs. "Put it over there, in that compartment." She says, before going back to the kitchen and ignoring me.
I assure you, my mum is not always like this. She just gets a little stressed out at the beginning of a holiday - she's usually a really nice and loving person, expect when she's yelling at me. She sounds like that waiter, Kyungsoo, when Jongin flirts with him. 
I chuckle lightly at the thought and Mum shoots me a weird look over her shoulder. Ignoring her, I throw the case down in my parent's sleeping compartment before heading back out into the warm Mediterranean sun. 
My father is setting up the outdoor things, like the barbecue and the fold up chairs. I spy the surfboards leaning against the car and grin as I grab them, already looking forward to hitting the waves. I'm no professional, but can surf really well if I catch a good wave.
After a lot of suitcases and annoyed instructions from my mum later, we've finally unpacked fully and flop down in the chairs outside whilst my father lights the barbecue.
My parents crack open a beer each, and I try to sneak one as well, but before I can grab one, my hand gets slapped away from the cool box.
"Yah, Jongdae! No alcohol until you're sixteen, remember? You've still got a while yet." Mum scolds. I pout.
"Aw, come on mum. We're on holiday." I whine, but to no avail. Mum sits firmly by her word, and eventually I give up and settle for apple juice in a pint glass instead. Mum laughs at my pouting face, and lovingly ruffles my hair as she passes to help Dad with the food. "Only a couple of weeks, right?" She grins. I only snort in response. 
I can't wait till I can legally drink. Then me, Baek and Kris hyungs can go out drinking. Just have to wait for Chanyeol and Jongin then and then we call all go out on the town together. 
"Jongdae!" Mum's sharp voice knocks me from my thoughts, before I get too lost in them. 
I hum in response, turning to look at her. She waves a large plastic bottle container thing at me. "Go and fill this with water, please. Hurry up." It gets thrown in my direction and I wander towards the nearest tap area whilst trying to unscrew the lid. 
"Aish." I curse under my breath as I struggle to twist the cap. "Why the is it so stuck?" I hit it in my frustration, resulting in pain shooting through my hand. 
I start to swear in my second language, Korean, so as not to offend anyone. Not that they would understand very well anyway - they are French, after all. 
A chuckle sounds behind me. I turn in annoyance to see who would dare laugh at me, and overbalance as the sun blinds me. 
"!" I exclaim as my hits the hard ground. My hand gets grazed against the rough, dusty floor and it's stings. A gasp comes from the stranger, and a pale hand with slim fingers extends in an offer to pull me up. I accept, gripping it firmly, and yanking myself up.
"Kamsahamnida" I mutter, still in automatic Korean mode. I may speak English as my first language, but sometimes I just blurt out random phrases in my parents' native language.
", sorry." I say, realising my mistake. Thinking again, I assume this person must be actually French - therefore probably not understanding anything at all. "I mean, uh, merci?" I offer, blushing slightly at my broken pronunciation. 
The stranger chuckles. "Ah, de rien." He says. I nod awkwardly, assuming he said it's okay. I start to turn around again, embarrassed by my lack of knowledge of the French language - the language of love, as it were. But I'm stopped immediately by a nervous hand gripping my arm.
"I'm joking." He stranger chuckles. I blink, surprised by the sudden English.
"How many damned languages do you know?" I blurt. 
"Uh, let me see... Three? No, maybe four. I don't know." He ponders. My mouth gapes open. 
"W-what?" I stutter. "How?" My surprise elicits another tinkling laugh from the man. 
"My mother says knowing many languages is a very attractive trait." He says. 
"I must be ugly as hell then." I deadpan, and the boy snorts.
"I can assure you, stranger, you most certainly are not." He compliments.
"Um, thanks?" I raise an eyebrow. "Anyway, can you move out of the sun? I wanna know what you look like." 
The boy obligingly moves into the shade of a tree so I can finally get a glimpse of his face. He blinks big eyes at me, a nervous grin playing on his lips.
"Wow." I breathe, luckily not loud enough for him to hear. Stranger boy is oddly beautiful - no, scratch that, he is downright gorgeous. He's also... Asian? Like me! He has adorable almond shaped eyes, and his cheeks are cutely round and chubby. He also has dark hair with a fringe that I expect would go down to his eyebrows normally, but today it's pushed up messily off his forehead. I watch as he purses his lips before blowing gently upwards to blow spare strands of hair out of his eyes. 
It draws my attention to his lips, and I am happily met with a bright grin. It's slightly mesmerising - I have to blink a few times before Stranger boy gets creeped out by my staring.
"Ah, well you're not so bad yourself, Stranger." I smile back cheekily. His cheeks go red and I bite my lip at the adorable gesture.
"Aish, man, I'm not good looking." He scoffs. 
"Yes you are." I see he's going to deny it again. "Don't even contradict me. Now, as much as I like calling you Stranger, I think I should know your name. Care to tell me?" 
The boy chuckles. "Well, my friends call me Xiumin because they can't pronounce my real name, but I'm Minseok." 
"Nice to meet you, Xiu-Minseok." I offer my hand for him to shake it, and he does. "I'm Jongdae, but my friends call me Chen."
"The pleasure's all yours, Chen-Dae." Minseok giggles, gripping my hand firmly.
"So." I say, turning my attention back to the damned water container. "Do I detect a hint of American accent?" I ask, tugging at the lid again.
Minseok laughs. He laughs a lot. It's refreshing. "Yeah. I'm Korean-American