Pretty Noona Who Buys Me Foundation

By: TheRealityWeWanted

Mari

Chittaphone: You did WHAT?!

I flopped down on my couch, narrowly avoiding squashing Louis. The brown and white cat meowed at me loudly then scampered off.

“Sorry, Louis!” I squealed. “Don’t tell your dad!”

It had been a week since Foundationgate, and I still felt bad. Turning back to my phone, I thought about how to respond to my best friend’s text before he caught the next flight from Beijing just to get all the tea. He’d done it before. 

Me: I used foundation that matched Haechan’s skin.

Chittaphone: You’re a terrorist.

Me: No, I was just ignorant!

Chittaphone: KEEP YOUR WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION IN YOUR MAKEUP BAG!

Me: Chit! If you keep playin’, I’m gonna tell the dude you sang that Baby Don’t Stop song with you were thinking about him the whole time!

Chittaphone: GASP! You have no proof!

Me: I literally have screenshots.

Me:And stop spelling out “gasp”. Use an emoji like a normal person.

Chittaphone: D-:<

Chittaphone: But okay, okay. I’ll stop. You’re not a terrorist. Just a worry wart.

Me: He seemed really upset.

It took Chit a few seconds to respond to that.

Chittaphone: Tbh, he probably was. I’ve known the kid a while, and he’s pretty sensitive about the color of his skin even though he tries to hide it. He was probably made fun of as a kid.

Still is, I thought. 

My stomach sank remembering how one of the guys in Haechan’s group compared him to poop. It’s not like I didn’t know pale skin was the beauty standard in Korea. My grandma lived in Incheon. It was just taking some time to get used to since I’d grown up in the states.

I’d lived in Seoul for the first six years of my life, but my dad (the half Korean one) moved us to the states after my mom finished her studies at Yonsei University.

If I thought hard enough, I remembered being teased for my dark skin, but the memories were fuzzy.

I sighed and rearranged myself so my legs were hanging over the back of the couch and my head was dangling a few inches off the floor. Maybe a rush of blood to the head would do me some good.

Me: He’s never gonna let me anywhere near his face again.

Chittaphone: Maybe…

Chittaphone: But Dong-hyuck (that’s his real name btw) can be a bit of a wild card. You never know.

Me: Let’s hope so. The other makeup artists already think no one can do makeup on Koreans like other Koreans.

Chittaphone: But you’re Korean too! I mean, a quarter’s probably more than I have. The ancestry test I took screamed I was Chinese. Oooh, and .000000000000001% Sudanese, which means I’m black!

Me: Is it sad I can’t hear you, but know you just made the little Megan thee Stallion noise?

Chittaphone: What, do you have cameras installed in my hotel room or something?

Me: Guess I’ve just known you for too long.

Chittaphone: True <3 So glad I accidentally tripped your grandma outside of that convenience store when I was a trainee and you were visiting.

Me: Chit!

Chittaphone: Tone down the hysterics. She was fiiiiinnnneee.

Me: Anywayyyy, thanks again for getting me the job. I really hope things work out with Haechan or Dong-hyuck or whatever his name is. Some of the other makeup artists know I’m a nepotism hire, so I don’t wanna give you a bad name. 

Chittaphone: Not possible. You’re amazing.

Me: Daaawwww, there’s my sweet friend <3 <3 <3 Finish your promotions and come back soon. Me and Louis miss you.

Speaking of the adorable floof, Louis ambled back over and pressed his nose into the side of my cheek. He meowed at the phone like he was saying bye to his dad, and started playing with my curls.

I giggled, almost missing the last text from Chit.

Chittaphone: Miss you guys too. And thanks again for cat-sitting.

***

The next day, I was back to normal. Smiling, confident of my abilities, beating faces to the gods. It was a good day, but I was looking forward to leaving SM’s headquarters, grabbing some fried chicken and beer, and going home to Louis.

I didn’t have many friends yet, so I was having fun exploring Seoul and trying out different restaurants. The city seemed so different than what I remembered from childhood.

“Hi, choco— I mean, Mari-sshi! Ji-hyun couldn’t make it in because of a family emergency. Do you mind staying late and helping with the next wave of groups coming in?” Min-ji the head makeup artist asked.

I gave her a strained smile. This happened a lot even though I was new. I’d been looking forward to fried chicken and beer, Netflix, and Louis, but I guess they’d have to wait. “Sure,” I chirped.

After she thanked me and left, I collapsed in my own makeup chair. I’d been on my feet all day and my back hurt.

“Mari noona?”

I jumped, causing the tall chair to wobble precariously, but someone stabilized me from behind. On either side of me, masculine hands gripped the aluminum arm rests and squeezed, drawing out a network of veins. My heart hammered in my chest as I tilted my head back.

Haechan’s face hovered over mine upside down.

“Mari noona,” he said again cheerfully. He was imitating an American accent.

I blinked up at him. If he was trying to work on his English, I guess I could help him out. “Yes?”

“Can…you…do me?”