f o u r .

There’s something about sunny days that really pisses Krystal off--maybe it’s the screeching of children as they play outside, or the sunlight that blinds her eyes. Either way, she despises them, and today is no different. After giving Krystal a particularly expansive list of things to do, Mrs. Kim left to tend to her socialite activities. That being said, Krystal has been cleaning for the past couple of hours.

“Must ,” Jongin muses as he pads downstairs, a smirk on his face. “Having to clean up after others.”

Krystal doesn’t bother to glance up as she continues to clean. “Can you just leave me alone?” she requests, still not looking at him. He shrugs an sidles into the kitchen, his lips as if to secure that idiotic smirk. He sure does think highly of himself, Krystal thinks savagely. Casting a short glance towards the entrance of the kitchen. Like sunny days, there’s something about Kim Jongin that doesn’t sit right with her.

Something.

He trudges back out of the kitchen, his eyes glancing over the girl hunched on the floor, scrubbing with all of her might. She doesn’t look like the kind of person that cleans on a regular basis. She looks like the kind of person that has people clean for her. But he shrugs the thought off and proceeds to watch her, a smug look on his face. “Make me something to eat,” he orders after watching for a few minutes.

Krystal looks up at him, brushing a piece of hair out of her way. “What do you want?” she asks as she places the sponge back in the bucket and stands up. Jongin seems indecisive, so she decides for him. “A sandwich,” she suggests, “I’m not very good at cooking fancy things, sorry.” Krystal doesn’t sound apologetic though, in fact, she sounds matter-of-factly. Jongin nods at this and trails after her as she carries the bucket into the kitchen.

“Isn’t that heavy?”

She looks back at him. “Yes,” she confesses, “why do you care?” Jongin shrugs and slides into a bar stool. He places his elbows on the counter and lies his head on his palms, watching as she pours the water out of the bucket and proceeds to wash her hands. “Do you have to watch my every move, it’s kind of unnerving.” she snaps, casting him a look of disdain.

“I do,” he says. “I have to make sure you don’t mess my sandwich up.”

Krystal rolls her eyes and draws the ingredients out of the fridge. “Let me guess,” she drawls, “you want ham, turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise.” Jongin blinks and nods, confused as to how she would know that. He watches as she assembles the sandwich, her eyes glazing over as she completes the task robotically. As if she’s done it a thousand times. She pulls a knife out and begins cutting the tomato into thin slices. At some point, she loses her concentration and the knife slips, cutting the tip of her finger.

Drawing her hand back, she stares wide eyed at the cut, hissing all the while. Jongin springs to life; he materializes by her side and grabs her hand, examining the cut with half-lidded eyes. “You’ll live,” he jokes, causing Krystal to growl at him. Pulling her hand closer, he pulls a tiny first aid kit from a nearby drawer, and quickly cleanses the wound before bandaging it, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he does so. He looks at it once more before leaning and kissing the bandage, full lips enveloping the wound in a prickly kind of warmth. With that, he walks off, but he pauses before he exits the kitchen. “I’m not hungry anymore. You can have that sandwich.”

Krystal looks down at her bandaged cut, eyebrows furrowed. He’s a bit strange, she thinks, wondering how a person can be so rude and then suddenly so caring. Is he bipolar or crazy? Shaking her head, she puts the final dish in the dishwasher. Krystal moves to sit down but pauses after hearing the doorbell. She slides towards the door, opening it quickly and staring lamely at the girl standing there. She’s young, no older than 16, most likely.

The girl looks surprised to see Krystal but quickly regains her senses and s a box forward. “Can you please give this to Kai,” she requests. The box is a light shade of pink with a mint colored bow wrapped around it. Attached to the top by a small bear sticker is a mint green letter with the name Kai written across the envelope. Kai, is that his alter ego or something? And he has fans? Isn’t that a bit much...

The girl bows quickly as Krystal takes the box, holding it carefully in her hands. Then, she skips off, smiling widely. Krystal raises her eyebrows and shakes the box, paying no heed to whatever “delicate” things might be in it. Shrugging she shuts the door and bounces up the steps to the second floor. Padding down the hallway, she soon arrives in front of his door.

Without bothering to knocking, she enters the spacious room and looks around. “Hey! Do you not know how to knock? What if I was changing or...” he trails off, raising his eyebrows as he pads towards the intruder. Krystal grabs her stomach as she laughs, shaking her head all the while.

“What? Masterbating? That’s sad, man.”

He rolls his eyes and sneers at her before looking to the box in her hands. “What’s that? Your confession?” he asks, smirking. Krystal snorts at this and shoves the box into his gut before flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“No, but it’s someone elses.” she announces, looking haughty as he thin eyebrows raise questioningly. Jongin sighs and tosses it to the side, not bothering to even look at the letter. He strides away and returns seconds later, holding something behind his back as he smirks. Krystal scowls at the sight of the item--a skimpy “maid” outfit. She backs away from him, towards the door, but before she can exit, Jongin slams the door, leaning towards Krystal as he smiles sickly.

“Wear it,” he demands, “you are a maid after all.”

Grabbing his jaw, she leans forwards. “I don’t think you can handle it, Kai,” she teases before pushing him back and quickly slipping through the door. Jongin growls and throws the outfit across the room, sending it hurtling into wall as he throws a tantrum. Krystal strides away from the room, a distasteful look on her face as she remembers the tiny outfit. Pig, she curses.

Once again, she finds it strange how he can go from courteous to pig-like in a seconds time.

“Soo Jung, has anyone ever told you that you’re really pretty?” Mrs. Kim asks as she stares at the young girl doing her nails. Krystal looks up, flicking her hair to side as she goes, and smiles. Mrs. Kim admires the red color on her nails before looking back to Krystal for an answer.

“No,” she confesses, “because someone is always prettier than me.”

Mrs. Kim sighs and nods, knowing the feeling. No one understood why Mr. Kim liked her and wanted to marry her--there were much prettier and richer candidates out there. And yet, he still picked her. But Krystal just forces another smile as she continues to do a job she really hates. Mrs. Kim watches her work, amazed by her beauty. A small, pale face gives way to wide brown eyes, slim pink lips and a slender nose. Soft, brown hair frames said features and long eyelashes make her seem like some kind of China doll.

She looks familiar, though.

“Done,” Krystal announces, leaning back to admire her handiwork. Mrs. Kim’s nails are painted a bright red color and they gleam in the artificially lit room. “Do you like it, m’am?” Krystal asks, although she doesn’t really care what her employer thinks. She should be happy that Krystal even bothered to do it. Very happy.

“Nice,” she comments. “Thank you, Soo Jung.” She smiles and blows lightly on her nails to dry them. Jongin skips down the stairs, barely paying any heed to the two woman as he moves towards the front door in silence. There’s a grace to his stride, a fluidness to the way he seems to glide above the ground. “Jongin, wait!” Mrs. Kim calls. The boy curses and turns around, casting a soft smile towards his mother before glaring at Krystal, who wrinkles her nose at him. “Take Soo Jung with you, please, she isn’t familiar with this area.”

“Umma!”

Mrs. Kim sends her son a sharp glance before smiling at the maid and beckoning for her to follow Jongin. She smiles at the older woman and nods, quickly stepping towards Jongin, who shrugs away from her with a scowl. “Deal with it,” she hisses quietly at him as she slips on her converse and follows him out the door. Pulling her tousled hair into a ponytail, she quickly adjusts her clothes--a pair of ripped shorts and a simple graphic tee

Krystal jogs to catch up with Jongin, the thin rag sticking out of her back pocket swaying slightly. “Hey,” she calls as she approaches. “I’m just doing what your mom asked, don’t be all moody with me.” Krystal says, defending herself, not that she feels the need to in front of him.

“I’m not Jongin here,” he snaps, “I’m Kai.”

Krystal scoffs. “An alter ego? That’s kind of...” she trails off as he scowls at her. Shrugging, she smirks as she sticks her hands in her back pockets and follows lamely behind him. Neither of them speak as they walk along. It’s hard not to notice the attention he gets. Every passing girl seems to know who he is, but in this day and age, who doesn’t? He’s Kim Jongin, the attractive and rich bachelor. But the drooling seems excessive to her, and she can't help but detest the looks they give her.

Puh-lease.

The two of them approach a basketball court where some ten boys wait for Jongin. “Oh, hello,” she mutters as her eyes glance over each one of them. They all shout greetings at Jongin--Kai--before turning to Krystal and smiling sheepishly. “Wow, there are a lot of you and you are gorgeous. Have I died? Is this heaven? Are you angels?” she whispers under her breath, training her gaze on a few of them.

A boy with ruffled blonde hair steps forward, smiling squarely as he bows his head. “You must be that maid that Kai hates so much!” he announces, unphased. Krystal frowns and casts a short glance over at Kai before turning back to the boy and nodding. “I’m Baekhyun,” he introduces, his cheeks looking squeezable.

“Krystal,” she responds, extending her hand and shaking his. Each of the boys take turns introducing themselves and Krystal surprises herself as she doesn’t squeal at all. Not even once. Being that she has never had much experience with boys, she expected herself to freak out. And yet, she didn’t, which seems to be a success in her mind.

The last boy steps forward, his hair so blonde it appears white. Krystal blinks at this, entranced by his features--a sharp jawline and high cheekbones fade into thin, scowling lips and dark, brooding, inset eyes. She bows, as if on instinct, obviously intimidated by the icy and handsome young man. His eyes narrow as he looks at her and then he sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Oh Sehun.”