“Sunny! Can you go to the front, there are customers!”

I sighed, groaning inwardly at my mom’s “cute” American version of my name. My family was the owners of a small tteokbokki and other snacks shop in downtown Seoul, and I was lucky enough to be the only one home to man the shop other than my apparently-occupied mother. My father, a former Olympian for China, a fencer in the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles, was out of the house as usual. My elder brother Jinwoo was still at university while my younger brother Jinyoung was probably at the library studying (we’re all three years apart). Today - Tuesday - was my only day without classes, and I was ecstatic to have a day away from my studies at Seoul National University but alas, homework and the duties of the shop followed me home.

“Sunny!!!”

I muttered expletives under my breath and trudged down the stairs to our shop. Our entire family pitched in on the shop, but it seemed like I always ended up with the grunt work. Maybe it was because I was a girl, maybe because I was the best hostess, maybe it was just fate, who knows. 

Like I really cared.

Go ahead, call me cynical, call me sarcastic, call me sassy, whatever you wish. It’s probably true. That’s the one way I differ from my family - I am not of the same pure, innocent stock they are. You’d think that, as the only daughter, I would be gentle and docile and whatnot, but my life experiences have rendered me harder of heart. It’s not that I’m completely coldhearted or that I’m uncaring, I’m just brutally honest and a dead-set realist. I tell it like it is and don’t sugar coat things, and from what I can see, it’s best that way to live. Honesty is the best policy after all.

I entered the shop through the hanging curtain to quite a surprise. Cameras and crew people surrounded our shop. I stood in confusion…what in God’s name was -

“Ooooh Jackson oppa! Here, eat this!”

A dark-haired guy with a backwards baseball cap opened his mouth for the peppy, preppy girl. He gagged at the hotness of the food (in both meanings of the word). The girl giggled and picked up another stick.

“Here, say ‘ah’!”

I shuddered. Going along with my non-girly image was my issue with cutesy things and aegyo - two of things I despised most, the first being K-pop. And something that often fell under all three umbrellas?

Couples.

I shuddered again at their cutesy couple-y act. I still hadn’t figured out why the cameras were there. Were they shooting a movie? No, they wouldn’t do that in our shop. Our shop is too…it’s too…well it’s too homey. There’s nothing special about it. All we do is sell tteokbokki and other munchies. We’re not even like traditional stalls that do (blame my parents for wanting to be different). Maybe that’s why they came, because they wanted -

“Excuse me miss, how much will that be?”

I was snapped back to reality by the sound of the man’s voice. I closed my eyes and answered with the first thing that came to mind.

Which happened to be in Chinese.

I opened my eyes in shock and began to apologise and repeat what I said in Korean (you can't blame me! Sometimes my brain gets confused and things misfire. That's why I'm majoring in dance...it requires a different kind of thinking. More on that later). The man’s eyes brightened, a sparkle in his eyes that was actually quite attractive.

“You speak Chinese? Really?!”

He could hardly contain his excitement as he started speaking in rapid Mandarin. The rapidity of his speech made it difficult to follow, that and it was a slightly different dialect than mine. But I still understood him and responded in accord. By his fluency I guessed it must’ve been his first language. There’s no way you can speak like that having learned it later on in life.

I noticed his girlfriend cross her arms and give a “hmph” to get his attention. The camera crew seemed just as tense. The man turned to her and put a hand up to her face, switching back to Korean.

“Yah Youngji will you just chill a minute? I’m talking with a sister from the motherland.”

I covered my mouth to hide my laugh.

“Doesn’t seem like she’s doing much talking.”

Youngji looked the other way and entertained herself with her phone as the man turned to continue, only to have one of the staff tap him on the shoulder and tell him to wrap it up because they had to go. That and something about how I was going to be bad PR for them. I just rolled my eyes. Cynic switch - on.

The man took out some cash and paid silently, picking up a pen and scribbling something on his napkin before leaving. The man - Jackson was his name apparently - looked back several times over his shoulder at our shop as the crew left. The girl - Youngji was her name - had her arm linked in his and skipped at his side. Right before they turned the corner Jackson stole one last glance. I waved half-heartedly, eager to get back to my work. I cleared the mess and noticed writings on their napkins. I didn’t think much of it until I got to the back when I saw what was actually written.

Jackson Wang, GOT7

010 5225 5667

Lady Sun - rescue me (aka call. or text. please?)

I dropped the napkin. Jackson Wang? GOT7? Youngji? All the pieces were falling together. They were just here filming for the show “Roommates,” and the “couple” that was in here was no other than the nationally-loved “Tuesday” couple. I smacked my forehead. Way to live up to your name and your “sunny” disposition. I shrugged. Nothing I could do now, not that I really cared anyway.

I was on my way out of the room when the napkin caught my eye again. Lady Sun - rescue me. He must know his Chinese history and folklore if he referenced that, because he definitely didn’t know my name. And I had to admit, as a history minor (dance major), it was quite impressive. I picked up the napkin and tucked it in my pocket. Call me a hypocrite, but he was a fine specimen, and he did leave his number after all…

…so what harm would there be in playing along and following up on it?

 

DISCLAIMER

I do not own Luna of f(x), Youngji or any Kara members, Jackson or any GOT7 members, or any other members from "Roommates." This is entirely a work of fiction, and any similarities to other stories are purely coincidental. I do own this plot and the OC. This is my first "fluffy" work, so please forgive me if it seems that I have no idea what I'm doing, because I don't. I just had an idea planted in my head and it spawned into this, so if you're willing to join me on this roller coaster ride, I welcome you. :) Also, I have never seen an episode of  "Roommates," so I apologise in advance for any confusion because of my ignorance. Now with all that said, please feel free to comment, upvote, subscribe, and most of all enjoy!