“We’re going to die,” Hweji declares dramatically, flinging her suitcase onto the ground, the contents of it exploding out onto the smooth marble floor.

You’re unfazed (okay, maybe you are, a little bit) by her over-exaggerated outburst, because you’ve seen it all too many times.

First comes the drama queen, then comes the anger, and then comes the tears.

The tears were the worst.

“Hweji, calm down. We’re in the middle of a train station.” You scold, bending down to pick her lingerie off the floor.

“I can’t! Where is he, Sohee? He’s supposed to be here! Why isn’t he here?” Hweji drops her handbag on the floor in another fit of childish rage.

“Chill, okay? We’ll be fine.” You reassure her.

People are starting to stare.

It’s no surprise, because Hweji’s really pretty—or at least, she’s really pretty when she’s not throwing fits in the middle of bustling train stations.

Hweji’s about to open her big mouth and embarrass herself (and you) even further when, thankfully, your phone chooses that moment to start blaring some terrible pop song that Hweji chose for your ringtone.

Fishing your phone out of your handbag, you answer it.

“Hello?”

“Sohee?” a familiar male voice asks.

“Uh, yeah. Jiho?” Upon hearing your twin’s voice, you dart a cautious glance towards Hweji. Luckily, she’s immersed herself in picking the contents of her luggage off the ground and doesn’t seem to have heard you. You deem it safe to continue talking, so you ask “Where the hell are you? You’re supposed to be picking us up!” and for good measure, you add “get your here now”.

Jiho coughs.

It sounds awfully suspicious.

“I can’t.” he coughs again.

“Why not?” you’re confused.

“My is, uh, stuck.”

“Your what?” you kind of can’t believe your ears.

“My is stuck.” Jiho repeats patiently and you hear a roar of laughter in the background.

You’re at a loss of words for a while.

When you regain the ability to speak again, you clear your throat.

“How?” you ask carefully, not sure of whether you really want to hear the answer or not.

“My friends decided to superglue my to my chair—” another roar of laughter.

“Your…friends?” you ask tentatively.

“Yeah, my friends.”

You gulp a little. You had forgotten that living with your brother meant dealing with his friends, too.

“So uh, I can’t come and pick you up, but uh it’s Victory Apartments, and the pin for the main doors is 14623. The pin for my door is 77590 and uh, yeah, just let yourself in.” the background noise on his end is really loud.

“Uh, ok…” you falter, trying desperately to commit everything to memory.

“Right, I have to—” Jiho is interrupted by extremely loud cheering and whooping.  “I have to go now, see you tonight!” Jiho yells over the racket and then, abruptly, the call ends and you’re standing in the middle of the train station listening to a dial tone.

You’ve forgotten the pin for the main doors already.

“Victory Apartments, 77590, Victory, 77590, Victory, 77590…” you mumble to yourself, picking up your handbag from the ground and dropping your phone into it.

When you lift your head to look for Hweji, the girl’s nowhere in sight.

insert swearword here

While you’re wondering whether you should go to the help desk to ask them to broadcast her name over the loudspeaker, you spot Hweji and her little entourage of security guards all charging towards you like a horde of elephants.

Plus Hweji’s waving her hands around in a motion that says run for your little life

So you do what any sane person that values their life would do in this situation—you run for your little life.

You’re not really built for speed, and you were never the best at sprints in High School, but fear gives you adrenaline just like red bull gives you wings.

Having flown out of the train station at speeds you never thought you could reach, you dive into a taxi—not literally—and sit there panting.

Then Hweji dives into the taxi—literally—and yellsgo go at the taxi driver and the poor guy gets such a shock that he floors the pedal and the taxi leaps forward like a startled horse.

“Uh—do you know Victory Apartments?” you say awkwardly after the taxi manages to drive onto the main road.

The middle-aged guy nods his head and you sigh, relieved.

Then you turn to Hweji.

“What the hell was that?”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh, well. The guards decided to chase me.” She says pathetically.

“I noticed.” You control the urge to roll your eyes.

“It wasn’t my fault! Okay, so there was this guard standing in front of me, and his little shoulder plate things were so shiny, I was like oh my gosh I should check up on my makeup and so I using them as a mirror and putting on my mascara when the guy decided to turn around and stab himself in the eye with my wand and—” you wave a hand and she stops talking, looking like a kicked puppy.

Okay, you really need new friends.

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If you guys read this then you obviously don't value your sanity.

LOL I did warn you.

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