“He told me his name was Kris Wu.”


“Kris who?”


“Kris. Wu.”


I said slowly so that my best friend since childhood, Jeong Hana, would hear me clearly. However, she stared at me so placidly that I don’t think she understood me at all.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, chuckling lightly as I began to scratch the back of my neck. Was it odd of me to let a total stranger in my car today?

I mean, he could have been a , or a murderer, or a carnapper and I should have given him the boot but instead I gave him a ride to Gangnam and he took my number and—

Okay, so I suppose it was strange to let a total stranger in my car.


I was surprised when Hana suddenly asked, “Are you living on a cave?!” She suddenly screamed, pulling me suspended from my thoughts. I shrieked when she began to raise her voice, inching towards the edge of the chair. The other customers at La Eskimo, the local coffee shop we always went to, were staring at us but Hana didn’t care. Lee Minho could have walked in on the shop hand in hand with Kim Woobin, wearing skirts together and rambling on about flowers and butterflies and she wouldn’t even probably notice it (okay maybe she would). “You don’t know who Kris in’ Wu is? Don’t you listen to the radio when you’re driving?”


“Maybe I heard his name wrong.” I tapped my fingers together, completely clueless how she knew a guy with the same name as car guy. “I mean he did mention a Chinese name.” I tried to recall what it was. “Wu… fan. Electric fan? Plastic fan? Frying pan?”


I laughed at my own jokes but Hana didn’t find it funny. Instead, she gaped at me while she asked, “Is his name Wu Yifan?”


This was amazing. Hana was so good at guessing. I bet if she joined those television contests, she’d take home first place and that brand new set of living room whatsit with a 72” flat screen television. “You have the power to read one’s mind, don’t you?” I graveled at her greatness.


“Dear Jesus.” She whispered under her breath.


My eyebrows furrowed, obviously not getting why she was reacting like this. So I kind of lost my sanity for a moment and trusted myself and my car to a stranger. But hello world, I’m still here. I don’t see why anyone should hold it against me, I’m still alive and kicking and all of my limbs remained intact and connected to whatever ligament and tissue and capsule they should be connected to.


Suddenly, Hana pulled out her precious iPad from her handbag and began to stab it with panicked fingers, in a rush for an application to load.


“It’s not a big deal Hana.” I rolled my eyes and began my bargain attempt to avoid a scolding. “I mean, all he asked for was a ride to Myeongdong and I—“


“Where did you drop him off?”


Where did I drop him off? “Oh!” I suddenly clasped my hands together. “I dropped him off at the back of SM Entertainment. Lucky kid, must goes star sighting every now and then since his house is located at the back of the main building.”


A muffled groan escaped her lips as she shoved the gadget onto my hands. I gave her a funny look but took the iPad anyways, bringing the screen close to my eyes. I must have stopped breathing because I was stunned to see a look-a-like of the same guy who rode the back of my car earlier in dozens of photographs and articles on the web. I hesitantly pressed on an image and zoomed it in. “Strange.” I breathed heavily and stared at Hana. “This is just so bizarre, this guy looks exactly like Electric Fan Wu.”


“Because that is Electric Fan Wu.” She emphasized. “Remember when we were in middle school and you tripped over a rock and hit your head hard on pavement?” I shuddered. Not my best memory of embarrassing trips to the convenient marts. “Yeah, I’m pretty convinced you’ve suffered some sort of mental injury since then.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Do you seriously not know who this guy is? That’s Kris Wu of EXO, famous boy band in Korea and China? Hello? Sold 12 million copies of CD’s? EXO Showtime? Naega wolf, awoo?” When I didn’t respond, she added in a low whisper, “This is the guy who hitched a ride with you? Like seriously?”


I felt like laughing. There must have been some sort of mistake because how in the world was Electric Fan Wu and this EXO Kris Wu (who happened to have the same English name as Electric Fan Wu) be the same person?


It was impossibl—


“Wait.” She held out a hand and raised her eyebrow, halting my thoughts on a limbo. “Didn’t EXO have a shopping mall—“


XO? Since when did alcohol had stylist noonas?


“Wait a second.” I interrupted, suddenly remembering something the man calling me a “stylist noona”. I picked up her tablet again and pointed at the screen. A couple of young high school students who were facing us gushed at the sudden sight of his picture and I had to lower my voice so they wouldn’t be able to heat me. “So you’re telling me that this guy,” I stared at the picture. Strange, odd fluttering feelings suddenly began to erupt in the pits of my stomach. “and Electric Fan Wu who hitched a ride with me, is the same person?”


Hana began to laugh mischievously. “Oh God, Gyoeul. You met an idol and you didn’t even know it.” She threw her head back as I stared at her, taking all the time in the world to digest everything she just said. “Pity, you could have asked for the shirt he was wearing and you’d earn millions by selling it on e-bay.” She reached for her hot chai tea latte on the table top and began to sip from it. “You know my younger sister is obsessed with EXO’s maknae Oh Sehun and—“


I was still on a trance. “Uuuuh-huuuuh.” I said slowly. This was all madness. When I was younger, I was obsessed with DBSK’s Jaejoong and went on and on about how how pretty his eyes were or how much he looked like a girl. But after a couple of years, my nonsense love for him vanished and so did my love for Korean pop music. After that, I rarely listened to new songs, except for the rare occasions when I would actually turn on the radio. “Electric Fan Wu wasn’t talking about alcohol then, was he.” Explains the creases that formed on the top of his forehead after I asked him.


“Alcohol? You’re hopeless!” She looked at the top of her cup and before drinking again she added, “Oh, this is so good.”


“We exchanged numbers though.”


Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to blurt that one out because the next thing I felt were splatters of warm almost swallowed tea all over the front of my white shirt (of all the days, I chose white today. The heavens must hate me). She quickly turned her head towards my directions and cried, “You have Kris Wu’s phone number?!”


The same high school girls suddenly turned their heads as quick as light traveling through space and I feigned a laugh, until they turned their heads away suspiciously. “Oh, you silly girl how could—“ I gave her a glare and whispered, “you didn’t have to shout it out!”


With one quick and almost fluid like movement, she managed to grasp my phone from my lap, quickly scrolling down on my contact list before she finally found the name she was looking for. “Oh. Kreasus Christ.”
 

♦ ♦ ♦

“What if it’s his manager’s phone number or something?” I couldn’t help but do this to Hana, who was beyond ecstastic with the idea of her best friend having an idol’s phone number. However, I did have to agree with the fact that having an idol’s mobile number scribbled on my phonebook, a normal citizen of my beloved Korea, would probably give anyone a sense of excitement. It felt like a shining moment of a fan girl’s dream, which only came true in 99.9% fan fiction.


Too bad I wasn’t a fan fiction fan girl.


“Jesus wouldn’t have given you that phone number for no reason.” Hana sternly argued. “But why would a popular male idol give his phone number carelessly to a girl like you, who doesn’t even take the time to brush her hair in the morning.”


I scowled at her. “Exactly why— hey, that’s not fair play. I do brush my hair in the morning; I just don’t take as long as you do, who have so many brushes for so many hair types. What’s the difference between a coarse hair brush and a thinning hairbrush anyways?”


She rolled her eyes and pushed my bag towards my way. “Just get your phone and dial his number already.”


“No, I’m sure the number is his manager’s. Besides, you’re right. I don’t brush my hair in the morning so why in the world would he give me his real cellphone number.”


She folded both her legs prettily. I was starting to think that maybe fate was playing a really low trick on me. If it was Hana who had been in my shoes, she might have already gone to the poor guy’s place, tracked down his phone and IP address, and held him hostage until he agreed to let her sell his things online. Grabbing my bad forcefully away from me, she tore the zipper open and rummaged through my things, with a big frown marked on her face. “Where’s your phone?”


I rolled my eyes. There was no point in stopping her, was there? “It’s in the small pockets at the back.”


She practically threw my satchel upside down and shook it. “Nothing’s here.”


“It is there you just—“ I froze when I felt nothing upon snatching it. I looked up at her and said, “Why is my phone not here?”


She threw her arms in a shrug. “Why are you asking me, maybe you left it in your car.”


“.” I suddenly breathed. “Did you not take it with you when we left Eskimo?”


“Why the hell would I take it, it’s your phone not mine.”


I gawked at her, my jaw dropping. I had such a supportive friend, didn’t I? “But you took it from me!”

♦ ♦ ♦
 

We had turned the whole coffee place upside down, moving around furniture and checking the edges and corners of the couch we were sitting on earlier but not much ado or sign of life coming from my phone. I guess whoever found it already switched it off or switched it with their own SIM too because every time I tried dialing it with Hana’s phone, it would just go straight to ‘The number you have reached is unavailable. Please try your call later’. Hana gave up after an hour of recklessly searching around the café and even I did too.


So this is what I get for meeting a star. You win some, and then you lose some. It made me feel as if it was some sort of reverse karma, where I get something good and I lose something equally good too. Kicking a rock towards the wheels of my Hyundai (technically it was named after my mom although she claims it’s mine after we finish paying for it), I contemplated with myself whether or not it was too late to stop by my phone company but seeing how La Eskimo was already preparing for closing, I decided against it.


Instead, I hopped on my car and decided a quick run to the convenient store would probably ease my loss.


Ice cream, strawberry milk, strawberry yogurt.


RIP iPhone 4G. I took care of you well even if your hoobae phones were doing better than you were. I’ll forever miss you. Yes, I think a twin popsicle and strawberry yogurt milk would help subside the death of my iPhone. As I took a detour around Cheongdam-dong to go to a good convenient store that sold my favorite and not to mention limited strawberry milk, I couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that not only was my phone lost, I had lost Electric Fan Wu’s number as well.


You win some, you lose some.