Prompt: This is inspired by a real story. Except it was my friend ordering twice albums (her neighbor was not twice, sadly) and her neighbor loves her anyway so she’s fine. But that was hilarious.

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Hyejin is not having the best morning. Usually, upon waking up at— 2:24PM, she’d eat a quick meal on the floor and have a good time.

She’s simple like that.

Food. Floor. A blast.

But her alter— artist— ego, is not simple. Hwasa and simple are incompatible.

Hwasa, a commander of the audience, the main singer of her well known band, the voice of immortal songs, the storyteller with a killer figure— and a fatal stage presence.

Yeah, not at all similar with Hyejin— the girl that forgets her microwaved meal (sometimes), the sleepy head that may or may not have switched up the soap and shampoo that one time, the floor-connoisseur, and a graduate of perfectionistic procrastination.

But this morning floor breakfast at 3:12PM was disrupted by a doorbell.

She didn’t order anything. She didn’t even invite any of her bandmates— Byul, Solar, and the other guy with the cool bald head— unless… Unless this is fanmail—

Hyejin gets up, not wanting to be ungrateful for whatever, whoever, whic—

Wait. How would someone know her address?

Wait— is this a—

“For Jung Wheein?” She hears the man on the door was impatient.

Who wouldn’t be? Hyejin’s literally just standing there in-between looking for a weapon and looking cool in case it’s a fan.

Wait. What name did the mailman say?

Hyejin finally walks to the door, checks the peephole.

It wasn’t an axemurderer. Good.

Not a fan either. Looks like a confused man. He looks lost, like he feels out of place.

It makes Hyejin open the door out of instinct.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Hyejin acts like she just woke up— not the best card to show as a rapidly rising celebrity but hey, cut her some slack. It's 3:23 PM in the morning Ahn Hyejin Time.

“I have the albums—” The mailman got even more confused at the sight of THEE Hwasa. Who is apparently receiving Hwasa albums and Merch. “A-E— I think, I got the wrong address. Do you know wh— where Jung Wheein lives?”

“No. Maybe there was a typo on the address.” Hyejin offered a soft smile. Because she isn’t hwasa right now. Hwasa doesn’t lay down on the floor and stares at the ceiling. “Do you have her number?”

“Yes but it keeps going to voicemail.” The man sighs and runs a hand through his sweaty forehead.

“I can hold them for her, you must have other deliveries.” Hyejin offers, making the man almost jump in fear at her suggestion. “What were they?”

“Ma’am it’s cash on delivery—”

“Okay I’ll get my wallet.” Hyejin closes the door for a wallet. This was a confusing day— she should be concerned that someone knows her address but… the name Jung Wheein doesn’t exactly… sound that threatening. Probably a small girl— a kid maybe— I mean, no adult would put the wrong address, right?

Right…

“Okay—” Hyejin’s smile falters, words die in .

The mailman, mr. delivery guy, has put down the packages. Packages. Packages of Hwasa’s merch. Not their band— no, the merch line for Hwasa.

“Please sign here, and that’d be,” Mr. motorcycle delivery man didn’t spare her any glance nor explanation. Not that he can. Not that it’ll save the awkwardness. “490 thousand won”

“Wh—”

-

Wheein doesn’t feel right today. Something happened. Something malicious. Something wrong is not right with today.

Or whatever.