His name was Seung Bo and he was thirty one years old. He wasn't married, but he and his girlfriend had been together for five years. His job title was a digital imaging technician, or DIT, which more or less meant that if a camera broke or needed internal adjustments, he was the man to turn to. He’d enlisted in the army straight after high school and gone on to film school once his active duty had been completed. He enjoyed his job but found it unfulfilling at points, which was why he didn’t mind being left behind in the store with me while the rest of his crew went on to continue following Teen Top.

I learned a lot about Seung Bo in the time I was huddled on the floor behind the counter. It was the combined effort of Seung Bo's casual narrations and a customer walking in that eventually coaxed me out of hiding just about an hour after my initial breakdown. I wasn’t fully recovered by that point (I was still hyper aware of the stinging in my eyes and clogged nose, which meant that they were both red and swollen, probably making me look like a drug addict) but I pulled myself together enough to serve the elderly man who wanted to buy a scratch ticket. The customer left quickly, and Seung Bo was even quicker to suggest closing the store early and going home. I wasn't overly concerned about my parents getting angry about losing profits. I just thought that going home early would be the best thing that was going to happen to me that day.

Seung Bo escorted me home, and I didn’t particularly care that he did so. I was too wrapped up in myself to pay attention to Seung Bo. I didn’t think I would ever survive another shift in the store; if my parents ever asked me to fill in behind the counter, I would refuse. They could punish me however they wanted, but I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't re-live the agony. I would run to my bedroom and spend the rest of the day under my blankets in bed if I had to.

Spending the rest of the day under my blankets in bed was exactly what I imagined doing while Seung Bo walked me through the streets. I barely noticed my choppy gait or the story that Seung Bo was telling me. There was a haven waiting for me in my bedroom and it was only a few steps further. The store was only a couple of blocks from my house, so the temptation to run the whole way was hard to contain. I knew it was silly to say that I would never leave my bedroom again, but the idea helped me to relax, and I kept telling it to myself to maintain my fragile calm.

In some distant part of my mind I knew how rude it was to leave Seung Bo behind when I finally gave in and sprinted up to my front door. I knew it was rude to ignore my mother, who was feeling well enough to be in the kitchen making tea, in favor of rushing up to my bedroom and slamming the door shut behind me. I tossed a mental apology behind me to both of them to try to compensate for it, but not even courtesy was going to get in the way of me and my seclusion from the world.

I was thankful that I had a sort or irrational fear of posters. If my walls had been decorated with famous idols, I probably would have cried all over again and thrown a fit tearing them down. Luckily, I was able to fall directly into bed and try to forget that celebrities existed for a while.

I, of course, didn't actually stay in my bedroom for the rest of my life. I hadn't even lasted the rest of the day, actually. By prime time I had recovered enough to emerge from my room and eat something. My father was still in bed, but my mother was up and sympathetic (or just sick) enough not to question or scold me about my day. The only reference she made to my encounter with fame was mentioning that Seung Bo had come in to explain the situation and leave his phone number in case I wanted to contact him for any reason. My manners had returned by then and I felt mildly ashamed about how I had treated him, so I resolved that I would call him as soon as I had the emotional stamina to handle it.

By the time classes resumed on Monday I was functioning and ready to face society. My mood hadn't completely returned to its full potential but it had lifted to the point where I could brush anything abnormal about it off as left-over stress and fatigue from exam week. My friends would probably notice my gloomy attitude, but under no circumstances was I going to tell them the true cause of it. What would they think if I told them I'd met and rejected Teen Top? If they even believed me, which I doubted they would, then they wouldn't understand. I didn't even understand. That was the worst part of it. There was no reason for me to humiliate myself and ruin the opportunity of a lifetime, but I'd done it anyway. Because of that, I was taking my secret with me to the grave.

While I'd decided not to share the events of my weekend with my friends, I hadn't thought ahead to how uncomfortable their questions would make me.

"Sol Mi," one of my closest friends, Semmi, said during morning break, "are you sure you're feeling alright? You should go home if you're sick. You seem really out of it."

I couldn't look her in the eye. I hadn't even lied to her yet and I was already feeling guilt creeping up my gut.

"I'm fine," I insisted, picking at the bag of dried fruit I had brought as a snack. "Just tired from exams," I finished, reciting the excuse I had planned ahead of time.

"Still?"

I was surprised by the new, sharp voice and turned to face the boy it had come from. Ju Il wasn't exactly my friend; when I actually thought about it, our relationship was an odd one. We'd been in the same class since primary school but had never had a real conversation. There were times when he would spontaneously into one of my personal discussions or keep me silent company on the bus, but as unusual as he was, I didn't feel intimidated or repulsed by him. He was a little off, but not so much so that I felt threatened by him in any way.

Ignoring Semmi's pointed glare, Ju Il probed me. "Didn't you get any rest over the weekend?"

I froze for a moment, figuratively, feeling Ju Il's eyes pierce right through me, before shifting and clearing my throat.

"Not really," I said, forcing my tone to be lackadaisical. I was surprised when it worked. "My parents had food poisoning, so I had to take care of them and the store."

I opened up my bag of fruit and began eating while Semmi made a noise of acknowledgment.

"You poor thing," the other girl sympathized, reaching out to pat my arm. "You should have come to my house and trolled SM's website with me. They released another EXO teaser, you know."

I hummed but kept my lips shut. Semmi was a good person but her lack of tact could get on my nerves. Her parents both worked and earned a steady income, so she hadn't and probably wouldn't ever need to get a job until she finished school and went on into her future career. I wished my life could have been that simple, or that Semmi could have at least recognized how lucky she was to have so much freedom.

Ju Il wasn't quiet as discrete as me when he scoffed, earning him another glare from Semmi that fazed him just as much as the first one had. Before either could escalate the situation, though, the bell went off, signalling the end of break period. Semmi slid off of the desk in front of me, where she had been perched, and waved as she made her way back to her seat. I nodded in return before returning to my fruit snack, letting myself fall into my own thoughts.

I didn't get too far before I was distracted by the feeling of being watched. Out of instinct I turned around, immediately setting my sights on Ju Il. He was watching me unabashed, his elbows on his desk and chin in his hands. I furrowed my brow and sent him a questioning look, but the teacher calling for our attention interrupted any response Ju Il might have (but most likely wouldn't have) given.

Despite me previous resolve to never step foot in my family's store again, I found myself there that Monday after school. I wasn't working behind the counter, granted, but I was there. Strangely, I had almost managed to convince myself that the entire encounter with Teen Top had been a terrible dream, and being there wasn't as unbearable as I'd thought it would be.

If there was one good thing that had come out of the whole horrifying ordeal it was that it had given me a new determination to improve the atmosphere of the store. I may not have had the time, money, or skills to give it a complete make-over, but I did have the energy and will power to give it a cleaning like it had never before received. I was too lazy to pick up my room sometimes, so it was only natural that I shirked some of my cleaning duties in the store on occasion as well. In hind sight that was one of the worst things I could have done, since it might have contributed to the small number of people who entered and lingered in the store, but I would make up for it and never let it happen again. If some other important persons were to come through those doors in the future, I was going to make sure that the number of factors that could ruin my image were as limited as possible.

It took me a good part of two hours just to wash the shelves, since I had to un-stock, wash, and then restock them. The shelves themselves weren't in the best condition, marred with some yellowing and tar-like glue left over from price stickers, but I polished them to the best of my ability and had to be happy with that. I went on to sweep and mop the floors, and then wipe down the Plexi-glass doors that held the refrigerated goods. By the end it was near closing time, my arms and feet were numb, my clothes and skin soaked with the scent of cleaning product, and I was only barely content with the results of my spree. I'd wanted the room to sparkle, but reality rarely matched up with my ideals.

"We should have celebrities come in and traumatize you more often," my mother commented while I was waiting for her to lock up the register before we left. "Apparently you're more motivated by those sorts of things than your parents' lectures."

I gave my mother a dry scowl that she probably didn't notice at all. I tried not to take it too hard because I knew she was joking -- or at least half joking -- but I couldn't help but be so offended that I teared up for just a little, for just a second. Didn't my parents consider how much stress I was under with school, work, and personal drama? Did they even know how legitimately I was traumatized by the experience with Teen Top? Life wasn't as easy for me as they apparently judged it to be.

The walk home was silent, probably since both me and my mother were irritable and tired. It was common ground in our relationship, so the tension didn't bother me much. I got lost in my own daydreaming like I usually did, but once our house came into view my mother snapped me out of it.

"Have you called that man yet?" she questioned, looking straight ahead. "Seung Bo-ssi, was it?"

My mind stopped working for a moment, and my stomach twisted as if I'd missed a step going down stairs. I pursed my lips and fiddled with one of the bracelets I was wearing once I recovered. "No, not yet."

"Well, you need to," my mother said, although not harshly. "He seemed genuinely concerned for you and went out of his way to make sure you were looked after. You should thank him and let him know you're all right now."

I resisted the urge to sigh and roll my eyes. "I know."

And I did know. It wasn't like I didn't want to thank Seung Bo for all he had done for me, but the phone call was sure to be awkward. For one, I hated talking on the phone in general. For another, what exactly was I supposed to say? "Thank you for listening to me choke on my own saliva and for making sure I didn't throw myself into traffic walking home?"

"Do it soon, Sol Mi," my mother pressed as the pair of us made it to the front floor. "Don't keep putting it off. No one ever got anywhere by slacking."

"It's too late now," I said, putting effort into not grumbling. "I'll do it tomorrow."

My mother nodded in approval and entered the house. I followed, dreading the next day.

"Yobosayo?"

I didn't answer right away. It was a female speaking, which I hadn't expected, so it threw me off. I was already nervous enough about having to call Seung Bo in the first place, so any wrenches that were thrown into the process were catastrophic in my head.

But I was making good on my vow and doing the right thing, so I closed my eyes and swallowed. "May I speak to Seung Bo, please?"

There wasn't any hesitation on the other end of the line. "Sure. Hold on one second."

I mentally victory danced while I waited, gearing myself up for the real battle.

"Yobosayo?"

It was a man, his voice only vaguely familiar. I felt a lump in my throat, but I spoke without clearing it.

"Ahjussi, this is--"

"Call me 'Oppa', please."

I startled. Oppa? Already? He didn't even know who he was talking to!

"O-Oppa," I said, stuttering over the title, "this is Sol Mi. I'm the girl from the convenience store last weekend..."

My teeth latched onto my bottom lip, and I began pacing the room, not knowing what to do with myself. Why was such a simple thing so difficult?

"Ah," the man's voice breathed into my ear in recognition, "so it's Sol Mi-ssi? How are you?"

"I'm fine," I quipped quickly, seizing the chance to turn the attention away from myself. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Seung Bo said with a chuckle. There was a pause as if he expected me to start talking, only I didn't. "What can I help you with?"

My lips parted, and I in some air, letting the wind rush over and tickle my tongue. "I wanted to apologize for the trouble I caused and thank you for taking care of me on Saturday."

There could have been a more eloquent way to say it, but that also would have taken more time. As grateful as I honestly was for Seung Bo's kindness, I still wanted the call to end as soon as possible. I only wanted to get it over with and move on.

"You didn't cause any trouble," Seung Bo assured me. Falsely, of course. "Don't blame yourself for anything. Everyone just wanted to make sure you would be all right. We were all worried about you, you know, especially the boys."

I winced, knowing who Seung Bo was referring to when he said "the boys". I began walking in tight circles around one of the larger designs woven into the carpet. "Well, thank you anyway. You didn't have to go so far for my sake."

"It was no problem at all."

I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the task was done and the worst was over. Only a few parting lines were left before I could leave it all behind me and never think about my run-in with the entertainment industry again. It had been a formidable run, but I'd survived.

"Actually," Seung Bo went on, "I'm sure we would all like to see you for ourselves to make up for the trouble we cause you. I haven't asked permission, but I don't think it would be a problem for you to go to a recording or something one of these days, just for a little while. Would you like that?"

Again, I didn't answer right away. That was another wrench in my plans. No, not a wrench -- a bulldozer, or a crane. And it hadn't just been thrown into the process, it'd slammed me right upside the head. I couldn't see straight for a second or two.

"No thank you, Oppa," I said once I recuperated from the blow, each of my words pronounced carefully to both show and hide my disdain for the idea. "You've already done too much for me."

"I told you it's not a problem," Seung Bo insisted. "I could arrange a meeting somewhere, or maybe send over a pass for you to come see the boys some time. I've got connections!"

"Really, it's fine." My panic was seeping into my tone, and I struggled to control it. "I don't want to."

"Don't be so shy, Sol Mi-ssi," Seung Bo pressed. "Take advantage of my offer. How many people can say they've met an idol group one-on-one?"
 

Before I could lose my cool and refuse more violently there was some scuffling on the other end of the line. Seung Bo and his girlfriend were apparently disagreeing about something, but I had no curiosity what-so-ever about what it was.

I debated hanging up. I could just pretend the call was dropped. I didn't want to talk to Seung Bo anymore. I'd done what you set out to do. Why couldn't Seung Bo have done the same and just accepted my thanks without adding extra baggage? What kind of game was he playing?

"Fine, fine, Sol Mi-ssi," Seung Bo said, returning to the phone once his other business was taken care of. "My girlfriend is on your side for the moment, but I'll convince her to see things my way. I know where you live, you know, and now I have your phone number, so I'll contact you once everything's settled, okay?"

I wasn't sure if things had ever been less okay. There was a tingling in my lower stomach that wasn't quite enjoyable. Was there any more dangerous statement than "I know where you live" coming from a man who, with good intentions, was trying to shatter your sanity? Were Seung Bo's intentions even good? I wasn't so positive anymore.

"Okay," Seung Bo said, agreeing with himself in my place. "I'll see you soon, Sol Mi-ssi."

He stole my thunder by hanging up first. I was left standing in my family room, stunned by it all. My fingers were quivering as they gripped my cell phone, bringing it away from my ear and holding it before me. I stared down at the screen, watching as the call information flashed a few times before the display returned to my wallpaper. I stared blankly at the wallpaper for what had to be a full minute.

Strangely, I wasn't entirely overcome by anxiety or fear. I was somewhat numb, as if it hadn't really hit me.

It hadn't hit me that I wasn't out of the line of fire. There would only be more trouble to come. The lethal, Teen Top kind of trouble.

I suddenly felt the need to wipe my hands, so I put my phone down on the end table and rubbed my sweaty palms against my thighs. I took deep, steady breaths, and made my way to my bedroom.

Spending the rest of the day in bed was becoming the temporary cure to all of my problems.

If only it could provide a more permanent solution.