Summary: I'm young, with a full life ahead of me... And seven famed idols as roommates. And a baby. BOI WHAT DID I SAY. CHAPTER THREE, HERE YA GO, BOOM. Genre: Comedy, Friendship Rating: 16+ (some language and adult themes)
~Chapter Three~ Have I ever told you about the time I actually met the weirdos of Bangtan? No, I don’t believe I have. Would you like to know the story? Yes, you certainly would. It was a cruelly cold winter, my first experienced one after running away to Seoul. I actually came from Japan. Yes, a Japanese- American, Caucasian-Asian, salvaged a one way flight to Seoul, South Korea. I’m more Caucasian than anything, however, the very slight almond shape of my eyes being the only link I have to appearing as a descendent of my Japanese mother. After my parents split when I was a wee one, my father moved back to Ohio, U.S. I stayed with my mother, lucky to be bilingual at the age of eight. Speaking English came in handy, I’ll tell you. My mother raised me as any good single parent should, though she was head of a very large trading industry that dealt with regions across all of Asia. So common travel was necessary. We stayed a few years in China, where I picked up some Mandarin, then spent a summer in Thailand, the quietest I remained during my travels, and finally, my first trip to South Korea happened around the age of fifteen. I didn’t get what the big deal was about the place until I stepped foot onto its soil; or, rather, collapsed under the weight of my baggage onto a beautiful teenage boy. In that moment, staring into the beady eyes of a mystical creature, I realized I was, not only in a miraculous country, but severely out of place with my ordinary looks. And after that teenage boy politely helped me to my feet and collected my items for me, I knew that stay would be the best. Sure, I haven’t run into the leader of Seventeen, S Coups, again after that, but still, someday I’ll have to thank him for showing me true beauty, even if it was before his big debut. I didn’t learn a whole lot of Korean during my stay, which wasn’t wholly necessary at my international school. I made the best friends I’ve ever met in all my years there. Tragic it was only a year until I had to pack up and fly back to Tokyo. But my love for the place didn’t end there; I taught myself Korean up until the end of schooling in Japan. I was nineteen when I finally decided to leave, something my mother wasn’t entirely fond of, though I wasn’t planning to roll in the capital her wealthy empire would provide me with. Growing up and being responsible was something I needed to do alone, I thought. Fat lot of good that did. I stayed with an old school friend in her apartment until I managed to find a job that would provide housing, which was a lucky scavenge for me. But I was so excited. “I’m doing this right!” I would always think. No, you weren’t. You weren’t doing it right. I spent six months working as a glorious mascot dancing outside of a famed home-styled kimchi joint. I wasn’t complaining a whole lot, but the boss was awfully demanding. Of course, I always made slip ups and mistakes, as I am possibly the clumsiest soul to walk the earth. Also, my uniform was horrifying. My dancing skills were limited in the giant costume, but I was known as Peebo the Pig, in honor of the restaurant’s famed Buta kimchi (pork) stir fry, and I was also known as having the most enthusiastic dance moves. Damn it was hard to breath in there, but hearing the jeers of my audience not only made me feel better, but raked up the cash flow for the boss. Anyways, the story sidetracked, but this is how I met BTS. An evening like all others, and I do believe I already mentioned that it was a cruel winter, I was suited up in my usual bulky pig costume, the one where one eye was just slightly larger than the other, and I was dancing away as per usual. At one point, I heard commotion beyond the doors, because, shit, I guess I hadn’t realized the internationally famed Bangtan Boys had dined in at my workplace. I heard the word from some fans who were on-looking from outside the place, and of course I had heard of them and few of their songs, but I needed to focus on maintaining my job. I carried on my dancing and advertising until the awes and ooes from the onlookers led me to believe it was the idol group exiting from the doors behind. I gulped. I wasn’t a fan as much as these lassies around, but still… to be in the presence of people so famed and recognized. The mascot uniform kept me warm from the cold, but not once that winter had I actually managed to break into sweat like I had then. I heard them laughing, their footsteps growing closer as they greeted the modest fans. “Ignore them, you need to dance for your money.” I thought, as though I were an exotic performer of sorts. So I carried on, my molded pig feet stamping the ground in correspondence to the casual rhythm beating within the restaurant. “Hey, it’s Peebo!” Oh dear lord sweet baby Jesus have mercy on my mother. The voice made me falter in my stepping, but I carried on. Soon enough, the joined voices of seven young, very attractive men were surrounding me. “Peebo, is it alright if I get a photo?” One of them asked. I couldn’t see who it was, but it wasn’t the first time I’d been asked such. After slight hesitation... —goodgodit’sanidolgoodgodit’sanidol—I nodded my pig head, without words. Only the boss knew what I looked and sounded like. The arm around my pot belly didn’t feel like any I was accustomed to, and I felt another drop of sweat bead down my cheek as I bit my lip. I tried looking away from the cameraman, but with one glance through the little holes, I was met by a stunning carrot-headed fellow. I blushed, and thanked the pig for concealing it. I heard the first shot being captured, and relaxed. But nooooooooOOO, another arm wrapped around the mascot’s waist from my other side, and when I realized I was being embraced by celebrities, that, folks, is when shit hit the fan. And it hit hard. My knees suddenly buckled, and I fell back, right into a puddle of freezing water. And that isn’t even remotely the worst of it; I took those two down with me. Immediately, I heard gasps, laughter, my incomprehensive apologies— that must’ve come out in English, and my boss’ angry footsteps. I rose at an inhuman speed, helped the idols to their feet, and turned in time for my scolding. It was brutal. I could hear the idols trying to ease the dispute, saying “It’s really not a big deal”, and in turn, my boss replied, “This is a damned huge big deal!”. He glared at me. “That was the final straw. You’ve shredded important paper documents,” I did, on accident. “You’ve scrubbed the paint off my car,” Also an accident. “You’ve contaminated half the pork rind in the freezer! How does someone even do that?!” No idea, but it was an accident. “And now, you’ve embarrassed probably the most famous celebrities to step foot in my restaurant in all of my years! What a catastrophic FOOL!” Ouch, that one hurt. I remained silent until he ordered me to bow and apologize another three times to the men. Some were awkwardly rubbing the back of their necks, the others with their hands out in reassurance, the rest, sympathy in their eyes. Wow, I felt like a piece of shit. “You will pack your belongings and leave the guest room, and I will never see your face here or in my suit again.” I nodded sheepishly, and he turned away. It took me a few moments to actually move, or to realize the idols were still standing there. “We’re really sorry… Maybe if we talk to him—” “It’s okay,” I cut him off, my voice raised enough so they could properly hear me. “I shouldn’t have been so surprised. Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I jeopardized myself on this job, as you heard.” They seemed shocked by my words, and I finally registered they were still talking to a pig. The mascot head came off, falling to the crook of my elbow. I could now see them fully, but their appearance didn’t weigh so much on my mind as my firing did. I smiled wryly, look, a white girl has protruded from the pig! They were definitely surprised by that, but I could only muster a small nod of the head before turning back for the restaurant doors. “Wait—!” A deep voice called. I did. I stopped on my porky heel, peering over my shoulder as more of my chestnut wavy locks pulled free from the confines of the costume and drifted in the breeze. Ah, the leader. I looked past him, where the two who had fallen with me were brushing off their wet pants. That made me frown. “You don’t have a place to stay?” Oh shit, he’s right. My frown deepened. “I can book a small hotel for the night, I think I have enough for that.” I turned again, padding forward and then was grabbed by the arm. Dammit, I just wanted to get out of the sight of all who saw that entire confrontation. “But you were just fired! There’s no way you can keep getting hotels every night!” Oh, it was a different voice. I turned again, and there was a lanky one pinching the pink fuzz of my arm. His face was long, but something in his eyes caught my attention—desperation? I should be the desperate one. The stupid, guilty, desperate one. When I looked between them all, they all had the same look in their eyes. Oh. It was pity. “I’ll figure that out myself.” I gently shook him off, carrying on, then halting one last time when an unfamiliar voice, deep and nearly cold in tone, spoke. “We’re offering you a place to stay.” Oh. That’s what they were doing. My eyes went wide, and I heard some surprised responses to the shorter one’s statement. They were questioning each other, but I couldn’t pay attention to what was being said. Wow. What do I even say? Holy shitarooni. I bit my lip, and got a good look at them all. I didn’t know them by name. Some were indifferent to the idea, some opposed it… I opposed it myself, as tempting as it would be. What a scandal it would be for Bangtan to accept a female into their housing. But looking around, I realized it was something that could be done in secret; the fans had already dispersed a while ago, and it was just I and the boys out before the street that cold evening. I sighed. “Thank you, but I would only be burdening you all. Plus, there’s no room for someone like me by all of you. Still, it’s thoughtful of you to offer but—” “But what? We feel responsible for this!” This one bounded up to me, a daring proximity that made my eyes widen and a blush creep onto my cheeks. “I’m Kim Taehyung, or V, and I don’t care if my butt is wet and it’s freezing out here. So stop talking, and accept the offer!” His deep, raspy voice went against the childish charisma he carried as he took my pig hand and shook it unceremoniously. I went tight-lipped. Why did I feel I was making a deal with someone stupidly genius? I stole my hand back, backing away slightly. The others looked on, they had quieted down, as though they were awaiting my response. At this point I was painfully conflicted—idolboysidolboysidolboys—and I felt my heart beat quicken tenfold. Their gazes were both soft and sharp; my eyes were watering from the cold. The debate in my head felt like it lasted hours though it had only been seconds, and with my final decision, my fists were clenched, and my head was nodding. It felt like something I would later on regret, but so far, all has been well, and I only wonder what would’ve happened had I not agreed to live with BTS.