Spring is a joyous season. The sun is beating down on us with its constant heat rays, as if it were screaming I’M HERE! I’M A SUN! DID Y’ALL DRESS TY TODAY?

I look around at the hustle around me and sigh contently. An alarm clock rests at the back of my mind, ringing every time I think of this:

SHINee. Lee Jinki. Kim Jonghyun. Kim Kibum. Choi Minho. Lee Taemin. HERE.

*squeal*

SHINee is at Fujiyama High school! I walk around aimlessly, utter joy clouding all senses. I want to tap someone’s shoulder and say “SHINee is here!” or just scream into the heavens.

There is a skip in my step. It is as if the Earth is rotating in reverse.

BRRRRIIIIIIIIIING!

Japanese! I take my usual route, when something stops me.

I crane my neck, praying it’s not real, yet still hoping it is.

My heart beats no longer. The blood has evaporated from my veins. What is air?

Lee Taemin. Choi Minho.

I don’t think at the moment, just act. Quickly, I scramble past the feverish students getting back to class, running into a few people in my haste. I stealthily crouch behind a bush. Peek, just a peek, I decide.

It definitely is. There is no doubt about it. A small cluster of girls stand a few feet away from the two Korean boys, giggling and pointing out their handsome features.

Their backs are turned, but damn, I’ve seen enough pictures and footage to know what THAT looks like.

They’re whispering to each other, their heads huddled inwardly together. As fast as they appeared, they were gone behind the library door.

It’s not like I’m even getting paid for this . Japanese will have to live a day without me, I decide, as I take a huge leap and slip in through the still closing door.

A perfume of musty books greets me as I walk in. Superb gathering for some idols, I think.

Before anyone could spot me, I quickly crouch behind the welcome desk and open my bag, retrieving a note pad and pen.

I purse my lips, wondering how I could be any more morally wrong today, and sloppily forge a teacher’s note. I finish it with a hasty signature by my Japanese teacher and rip the note pad in a flourish.  

Either the heavens were on my side today or tomorrow I would face a day full of karma. The library assistance glanced at the note then at me, and I gave her a charming smile. She nodded her head, and I hurriedly went through.

I scanned the room; a few seniors sat at the tables, leafing through books. Other than that, it was completely empty.

I gulped. Had I witnessed wrong? I approach a big senior wearing a sloppy beanie. He looked resignedly at his Algebra homework.

“E-Excuse me?”  He looked up at me, happy for a distraction. I’ve never seen a face so...ugly.  “Did you happen to see…two men…”

“What do I look like to you? A lost and found?” Oh. Ugly inside AND out.

I my heel, trying to leave in an annoyed and angered fashion, but ended up tripping over myself. I was so close to splitting my head in half on the nearby table. I prayed a thank you to Buddah.

“Get productive or get lost!” A librarian shouted at me.

This is lovely, I scowl.

This couldn’t be karma. It just couldn’t. The good part didn’t even happen yet.  I HAD TO FIND MY IDOLS!

“Just searching for a book,” I say as I pick myself up.  I make my way to the historical fiction section, my mind churning frantically. Pretending to be browsing, I deliberate my next move. I half run half walk to the welcome desk.

“Bathroom, please.”

“Pardon?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“No, you may most certainly not! You are a fool who does not understand the distinction between the words Can and May.”

“That is irrelevant to giving permission to go to the restroom!” (You 70-year-old sack of botox!) “IS THERE A SPELLING BEE THAT GOES ALONG WITH THIS? There are people dying of bladder infections and diarrhea. JUST LET ME GO TO THE DAMN BATHROOM.”

This seemed to catch her off guard. She looked puzzled before handing me a loop of keys.

The heavens were definitely on my side because the cocky librarian had handed me TWO keys! The girls AND the boys!  

I wasted no time. But which door first? The library bathrooms had to be accessed by key; there were a series of stalls inside. This was to avoid graffiti tagging and gambling. I did not approve of this system.

Anyway. It was a dumb question. Taemin and Minho who most definitely boys.

I looked back at the welcome desk to see I wasn’t being watched. I gingerly unlocked the door… praying the door wouldn’t squeak as I pushed it…and…Yes! I was in! I closed the door behind me, not making a sound.

It was empty.

But no! There was one stall locked firmly, making it look as obvious as a moustache on a bald man in comparison to the other exposed and open stalls. I didn’t even want to know what was going on in there.

….Or did I…

If curiosity killed the cat, then arrange my funeral ASAP.

I walked—no—sneaked on the tips of my toes to the grey chrome door. Interesting. Not a single peep! But WAIT, I suddenly think, what if they know I’m here?

I stay planted on the spot; my feet in the most uncomfortable position possible. I wait…a minute… five minutes…

And then a sigh of relief from the stall.

My face contorts into a smile; this scene seems familiar. I feel like a murder, trapping his prey.

What next? I wonder. I need to decide how to approach it. Stand on the toilet and observe from above? No. Too obvious.  

I then decide to crouch on all fours from where I’m standing, just a few feet away from the stall.

Resting my head on the filthy tile, I can see everything from down here. I feel the dirt and other nastiness from the floor cling on to my warm face. The ice-cold tile stings through my cheeks. It’ll be so worth it.

Wait a second. This isn’t right. Those are only one pair of legs. What the hell?

And then it hits me. I am a complete idiot. Of course I saw it wrong. There are plenty of well-dressed guys at this school. But my mind flashes back to when I was crouching behind the bush. If anyone knows those guys better than anyone, it’s me.

They’re definitely in here! Just not in the bathroom. I feel a twinge of disappointment that I should most certainly NOT be feeling.

And here I am, crouching on a dirty floor in the men’s room, watching a stranger take a dump—

Whoops. Wrong again.

I scramble out as fast as I can, not caring if I blow my cover. I hear a distinct “!” as I make it safely out into the warm light of the library.

I shake my head, trying to clear the image. I notice the librarian glaring at me. She was watching me.

“What in the name of—how pesky of me! Wrong bathroom…” I duck my head and slam myself into the door of the girls’ restroom, which was a bad move; the door was locked.

“SWEET MOTHER OF CHEESUZ!!!!”

I whimper and rub my bruising arm. Because of all the bad things I’ve done so far, skipped class, forged a teacher’s signature, sneaked into the boys’ bathroom AND on top of that, become a peeking-tom, I should be welcoming karma and bad luck in open arms. And it was too late, anyway.

Was the thrill of danger enough to set off the karma? So far, although I was unlucky, it was pretty fun. Snooping and sneaking around like that.

Stop it, I tell myself. You didn’t even do what you were supposed to. I quickly turn the key in the rusty lock, aware of the eyes boring into my back, and step inside.

“Shh!” A high voice shrills quietly. A warning not intended for me as I enter the bathroom. A having , I think wearily, and roll my eyes.

Depressed at my failure, I look at my reflection in the mirror. I looked disheveled and unaccomplished; exactly what I was. I scowled at the layer of grime on my right cheek from crouching on the floor and slipped my hands through the running faucet. Too hot!

“!” I ed, reacting on instinct.

A thump from behind the stall.

I sigh, drying my face with a paper towel.

“Sorry to interrupt. You must be ACHING to continue. Carry on!” I call as I leave the unpleasant room.

Sighs of relief mixed with pleasure from behind the stall.

I open the heavy door, hesitating in the doorway.

 Could it…? My eyes widen as I look back at the closed stall. It didn’t seem so disgusting anymore.

I give up, knowing my karma wouldn’t count on it, and quickly leave before the couple (or whoever they were) started to complain.

 I make my way out and slam the keys onto the desk, glaring and setting off an I-really-don’t- give-a- humor.  

“Thank you,” I snarl. The librarian looked nervous and harassed; she adjusted her glasses. She was obviously spying and waiting for me to get out of the bathroom.

“PMS,” The librarian looked sympathetic. The bell rang at that moment, and, sighing again, I left feeling mortified.

The spring sun was there waiting for me as I emerged from my secret mission. I looked up at it, shading my eyes from its glare. I so saw that! It said.

I put a finger to my lips and smiled mischievously.

At that point, I forgot my failed attempt at trying to track down 2MIN. I put my misery behind. SHINee was set to perform in a few minutes, and I, along with others, rushed to the performance hall to get good seats.

I sat—well, bounced --in my seat as the lights dimmed.

The curtains flashed open with finesse.

“Hello, Fujiyama. We, Are, SHINEE!”

~~~

It did not occur to anyone, apparently, that Minho and Taemin were more touchy-feely during this performance than usual. No one noticed how Minho cleverly grazed his soft hand against the length of Taemin’s arm as he shivered and trembled in response, almost missing the next beat. When the choreography required a close interaction, no one had caught Minho as he brushed his full lips against the younger boy’s left ear.  And no one, surprisingly, caught the moment when Taemin violently grabbed his hyung’s arm the moment the curtain drew as he pulled him close and whispered softly that it was almost a purr…