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Hyemi in Wonderland

Jump

There are those days where you don’t want to meet anyone and you’re dressed in your most comfortable clothes and by comfort, I really mean comfort. You see, I have zero makeup on and I’m not even sure if I remembered to wash my face properly. I certainly have not combed my hair. I’m in my baggy navy sweat pants with a plain oversized T-shirt that was gifted to me after I participated in a forced marathon run in high school. Honey, I’m definitely not in high school anymore. Take the standard age for high school graduation and add . . . twelve more years. You’ve got it. I’ve hit the big 3-0, but I can say my soul is forever young . . . which is bull shit. I’ve always been an old soul; my mother even complains often that I’m like a grandma. Why?

I don’t like socializing much. In fact, I’d rather spend the weekend watching some Korean murder mystery drama or some action films. I’d choose to lie in bed than go party with my friends. At this age, my friends and I don’t go binge drinking. At most, it’s just drinking at some lounge where we gossip and guess who will give birth next or complain when someone gets married.

So now it’s a fine Saturday evening, and I’ve been too lazy to cook that I finally get my sorry ass out. I’m far too tired to even change into decent clothing and put on some makeup. After all, I’m just heading to the local convenience store to get some sandwich or instant noodles. I’ll worry about carbs later. You see, everything goes fine until I walk out of the convenient store and hear a familiar voice shout, “Oh!”

I turn around and notice that annoying face which belongs to none other than Kim Taehyung. Even though I haven’t seen him in ages, I will always remember that darn face of his. Let’s back track a tiny bit. Kim Taehyung. Who in the world is this guy? He’s my middle school classmate that wasn’t even in my class. I was in the accelerated class. He was the typical popular guy who everyone knows for some odd reason. I swear it’s because of his loud voice and probably his weird personality. Every time there was break, he’d be the one screaming that it’s recess and that it’s time to play. He’s the first one out of the door for lunch to get the best cafeteria food. He’s the eager one at sports day even when he isn’t extremely good at whatever sport he participates in. He’s the one that has all of the girls’ attention. All my high school girlfriends found him very cute and perfect, while I never took an interest in him.
I just had the unfortunate luck of crossing paths with him because we were in the same band club. He played the saxophone, while I was busy practicing my flute. Honestly, it wasn’t because we were in the same club that he and I even talked. It was all because of another incident which led me to really dislike him. And I’m not going to talk about it because that’s going to make me pissed again.

For now, let’s go back to where I left off. Ah yes, I decide to ignore Taehyung and pretend that we are strangers. Unfortunately, he grabs my shoulder and forces me to face him.
“Cho Hyemi? You’re Hyemi right?” he barks so fiercely that he manages to spit in my eye.
As I wipe my eye, I grumble, “Yes. What do you want?”

“Hey!” He nudges me. “Don’t be so grumpy! It’s such a coincidence to see you here.” I look at him with an unimpressed stare, leading him to add, “You’re still the same old Hyemi like Grumpy from Snow White. Did you not sleep enough last night? You look like you probably—“

“What do you want?” I interrupt him and fold my arms.

“Oh.” He points to the instant noodles in my bag and utters, “So you haven’t eaten yet? I haven’t eaten yet either. You shouldn’t eat ramen nowadays when our metabolism isn’t as good as before.”

“Says the person that always stole my noodles,” I grunt.

“Jesus,” he mumbles. “That was when we were like what? Twelve? You hold grudges huh?”

“Yes,” I retort. “When someone steals my noodles every god damn time I have them then of course I’d hold grudges.”

Taehyung closes his eyes and bobs his head like those little bobble figurines people put in their cars. “Okay. Okay,” he repeats. “I’ll treat you for dinner. How about that?” I still give him an unconvinced look, so he continues to say, “It’ll be meat and not the cheap quality stuff.”

“Since when were you so generous?” I snicker.

He winks as if he were still an idol. “Since when was I not?”

Idol. Taehyung was part of his popular Kpop group called BTS. I’m not sure if they’re still together because I don’t follow celebrities and their lives. I’m pretty sure that they’re not very active as a group anymore because Song Naeun, my closest friend from middle school that had the hugest crush on Taehyung, has told me that Taehyung does more solo work now. What exactly he does now . . . I have no idea and don’t care much to be honest because I never expected him to ever show up in my life again. The last time I saw him was . . . during some high school reunion and that must have been when I was in second or third year university. Everyone made this huge fuss that Taehyung from BTS was going to come and surely when he did arrive, all the girls flocked to him and kept hounding him. They wanted to know everything about him, his band members, other celebrities he worked with, and the industry. I was probably the only girl who just sat there and drank her soju. More soju and more meat for a glutton like me. Yay! I was so happy in my mind until he and I nearly bumped into each other when I was heading out of the washroom.

“Oh hi, Hyemi,” he greeted me.


“Hello,” I murmured and quickly proceeded to walk by him.


“Are you still mad?” he asked. As I was about to take another step, he uttered, “I apologized before and I didn’t have any bad intentions.”


I knew I couldn’t snap at him because he had his fan girls waiting for him. If I attacked him, I’d be known as the crazy anti-fan girl and I might have been sued. Instead I kept quiet and thought to myself, that’s why you’re even more annoying. You keep justifying that you never had bad intentions.


Thinking back, I was probably immature, but I wasn’t wrong. Taehyung always messed up my life somehow and he seemed to take pride in that. Naeun said that he just liked to be playful and loved teasing people. I thought and still think he was slightly sadistic and more of a bully. Naeun still believed that I was too sensitive; just because he was laughing with other people laughing along didn’t mean that they were laughing at me. But she wasn’t the one being teased, being pranked on, or being used as a joke, so she wouldn’t understand how I felt. I don’t like calling myself a pushover because I think I was stronger than that, but I definitely was weak back then.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks in a concerned tone.

We’re at this Korean barbeque restaurant and Taehyung has just finished ordering for us. All this time I have zoned out and been doing all that recalling, but am I going to tell him that?
No.

“I’m dressed like a homeless person,” I lie about my concern.

“It’s okay! We can be homeless together,” he responds.

Indeed, he is wearing something very casual too: black wide pants, black sandals, and an oversized grey t-shirt. He even has round glasses. Somehow though he still looks trendy. It’s probably because his body is like a clothing rack. The unfair god granted him a good body while I have an okay-sized chest, a wider shoulder, and a flat butt. My only advantage is my legs.

“Everything always seems to be so positive with you,” I sigh and take a sip of my glass that’s filled with cold water.

“Ah, it’s not that positive,” he answers with a sheepish grin. “My career is flopping. My girlfriend who I thought I’d marry left me for my best friend. My dad isn’t feeling very well. Uh . . . what else? Oh, I lost my favourite keychain.”

As I’m chugging down my water, I can’t help but wonder why he is even telling me all these personal details. Is he out of his mind? We barely interacted out of all these years. Is he trying to sell me that pity act so that I’ll forgive him?

“Flopping career, huh,” I accidentally blurt.

“Yeah, after all the members went and did their thing, I tried to do some acting,” he explains.
“At first it was great, but after a few years, I was stuck in this flower boy role. Then I decided to try singing, but the album didn’t sell very well. No one really thought I’d be good as a variety show host, so that didn’t work. What else? I had a few modelling gigs here and there, but now that I’m older, it’s harder to get those positions."

“Sounds like an early mid-life crisis to me,” I mutter.

“Haha.”

“You’re not supposed to laugh,” I correct him.

He ignores me and asks, “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“My life is boring,” I explain. “I have a steady job with the government. I’m doing some policy work.”

“Do you like your work?”

“Not really,” I confess. “There isn’t really a chance to advance unless some boss of mine dies of a heart attack. That’s not happening any time when he is born in a family where all his family members live till 90 plus.”

“Wow. Ninety plus . . . I’d have bingo parties and throw on some flower headsets.”

“I’d probably just shoot myself in the head.”

“Haha.”

“Again,” I point out. “You’re not supposed to laugh.”

“But you’re funny!” He claps his hands like a giddy little child. “You’ve always been funny!”

“I think you’re the only one that’s ever said that about me,” I comment. “All my ex-boyfriends thought I was boring.”

“Well then they’re boring,” he casually mentions.

The meat comes and my mind gets distracted. I mean, who doesn’t love meat? Sure I’ll
probably have to gulp down tons of tea to digest all the fat and run an extra kilometre today. I’ll probably skip dinner if I get really full. Let’s just forget about dieting for now and devour this heavenly gift called meat.

The only problem is that I’ve always been terrible with Korean barbecue. I’ve been known to burn meat until they are more than half charred. Naeun even nicknamed me Charizard because she said I’m constantly throwing flamethrowers out to the meat. Usually I’m eating Korean barbecue with a lot of other people, so I just pour soju into other people’s cups or make sure people have enough lettuce. Since I don’t want to owe Taehyung any favours, I just try my best and throw the meat onto the grill.

After several consecutive overcooked slices of meat, Taehyung announces, “You’re really bad at this huh? I’ll just cook them and you just focus on eating.”

“Since when were you so . . . gentleman-like?” I ponder.

“I was always a gentleman.”

He flashes another smile that bears all of his teeth before proceeding to sing Frank Sinatra’s version of White Christmas. It’s definitely not Christmas. Heck it’s the end of July, but hey it’s Taehyung. Anything can happen with this guy.

“Your singing is not bad,” I admit.

“Thank you very much,” he says in English. “I practiced a lot, but it’s still not that good compared to others.”

“Hence the unemployment?”

“Exactly!” he answers.

He pretends to shoot some guns at me and even blows the end of the gun as if there’s smoke. This guy is out of his mind, I think. How can someone be so optimistic when he is unemployed? Does he think money grows on trees?

“I’m not sure what exactly I’d do though,” he adds. “Hobie says that I can probably consider becoming a manager for some new trainees.”

Hobie? I wonder who that is. I’m not going to ask or else I get this feeling this meal will last forever.

“You a manager?” I snicker before stuffing some meat into my mouth. “Aren’t you the one that always forgot to bring his homework and I always had to ask you to hand over your work and then you’d make up some stupid lie like a cat ate it?”

“I’ve been better, but . . . I’m not sure I’m really cut out to be a manager,” he responds with his head hanging low. I guess his optimism was just a cover up. He actually is suffering from a mid-life crisis. I kind of feel bad for him now, just . . . like 0.01% guilt towards him.

“Composer?” I suggest.

He hands me another piece of meat while answering, “Tried that but Yoongi and Namjoon are better at that than me.”

Yoongi and Namjoon, again these are names that I don’t know and don’t really want to find out about. “Vocal trainer?” I continue down the list of occupations I know that are related to the entertainment industry.

“I suppose that could work . . .”

There’s some odd silence between us where Taehyung and I are attacking the meat. He keeps hogging the meat, so I have to do my best to snatch what he places on this plate. I’m chugging down pork so quickly that I don’t even have much time to breathe. The stupid me ends up choking and I’m patting my own chest to get the food down.

The genius Taehyung is so giddy that he comes over and proclaims, “I know! I’ll do the Heimlich!”

Before I can even refute, he forces me to stand up and proceeds to do what he probably saw on TV. He presses really hard around my diaphragm and I do cough up the half-digested meat which lands splat on the floor.

“Ew,” he groans and lets my feet settle on the ground. “That’s gross. Though . . .” Taehyung signals me to sit down and then he backs away, takes out his phone that was in his pocket, and snaps a photo of me. He shows me his art work, exclaiming, “That’s you and your masterpiece! I’m going to share it with my friends that I did the Heimlich!”

“No,” I groan. “Can you not?”

“My friends don’t even know you,” he argues, “and it’s not like on my Facebook page. It’s just between my closest friends.”

“Who will end up sharing this with other people,” I sigh. “Delete it,” I order.

Taehyung goes back to his seat and refuses, “No. I’m not deleting it, and you look okay. Maybe a bit stern, but that thing you threw up makes it up.”

I’m honestly speechless towards this guy. I don’t know what grudge he has always held towards me, but it looks like it isn’t going away. I’m so glad that I still haven’t forgiven him.
As he works his phone, he all of a sudden comments, “Oh yeah. I just realized that I forgot my wallet at home and . . . yup, I forgot my key too!”

Once more, Taehyung reveals a delighted smile. I sincerely don’t get how he can still be so optimistic. I would have been freaking out if I lost my key or forgot my wallet. Wait . . . he forgot his wallet, so that means I’m paying for all this? What in the . . .

As I glare at him, he has the audacity to even ask, “What? What’s up?”

“You’re the one that’s supposed to treat me to dinner! That is what’s up!” I yell and slam my fists on the table.

“I’ll pay you back,” he calmly suggests. “Don’t worry.”

“How are you going to pay me back? I don’t even have your contact information,” I grumble.

He sticks out his tongue and giggles. “Oh right! That’s a very good point. You can get my number now. I’ll call you now.”

After trading numbers, I still feel like a volcano that’s going to burst. I can totally understand why his ex-girlfriend would want to break up with him. I get why he is unemployed too. This lackadaisical attitude of his . . . really . . . irritates me.

Even when we’re done our meal and I’m paying the cashier money, I feel like crying and shrieking at the same time. I want to punch and kick him in the nuts. This is definitely a bad day, but I’m glad this day is ending. I won’t have to see this fool till I get my money back from him. I seriously don’t . . .

Taehyung tugs the back of my t-shirt and says, “I actually don’t have money to get back home, so . . . can I just crash on your sofa or something tonight?”

“Even if you do stay at my place, how are you going to have enough money to get back home in the morning huh?” I bark. He gives me these puppy eyes, causing me to snap, “No you are not borrowing from me again.”

“Fine,” he huffs and folds his arms. Hey, I’m supposed to be the pissed one! “I was going to give Namjoon a call because he lives around this area.”

“You can just stay at his place then,” I bellow.

“He happens to be in Osaka and won’t be back in Seoul till late tonight,” he explains. Taehyung pouts his lips and twists his shoulders back and forth. “Come on,” he urges. “Just one night? It won’t kill ya right?”

I’m about to open my mouth to reject him, but a few customers walk by and start whispering about us. I hear something about me being cruel and stupid because this guy is so good looking. How can a woman like me even say no to him? I think one of them even asks the other if he’s the Kim Taehyung. Meanwhile, this oblivious guy just sticks one finger and does some dance while singing, “Just one day, if I can be with you. Just one day. Just one day.”

My lord.

“All right. All right,” I roll my eyes and admit defeat. “Just one god damn night and that’s it. You are definitely taking the couch.”

Taehyung kneels to the ground and even shows jazz fingers. “Oh,” he hums. “You are too good to me. La. La. La.”

I gently kick his knee, ordering, “Get up. Get up. People are going to think you’re proposing to me or something.”

“But this is how I’d pray to a God,” he clarifies while standing upright. I walk out of the restaurant, feeling very defeated and unfortunate. Taehyung swings his arm around my shoulder and remarks, “Your Highness, I entrust my life to thee. I shall be your loyal knight and find thy holy grail.”

He’s on crack. He must have smoked something before meeting me.

“You’re supposed to knight me now,” he orders.

Knight him? What the heck?

“Like this,” he explains.

He blocks my way and shows me what he means by tapping each of his shoulders with his hand. Peering at me with over enlarged eyes, he cracks a very forced and creepy smile where his gums are even showing. He stays like that for several seconds, making me realize that he won’t be budging until I pretend to knight him. In the middle of the pedestrian path, I just touch both of his shoulders.

“You forgot your lines,” he reminds me.

“What lines?” I hark.

“I now knight you Sir Blank. You can insert the blank.”

He gives me the same look as before, so I force myself to croak, “I n-n-now knight you Sir . . .T-T-Tae . . . Bitch.”

“Tae . . . beach?” he confirms.

“Taebitch,” I repeat. He blinks at me a few times, so I adjust it, “Taenobitch. It’s like . . . Russian mixed with dinosaur origins.”

Taking another minute or so to process my odd reasoning, he cheers, “I like it! I like that sound! I have a name for you too!”

“Y-Yeah?”

“You’ll be Princess Hye-my-bitch and your kingdom can be called Bitch Land or Land of Bitches.”

At this rate, I don’t think I can even survive a night with him in my apartment. I’m considering mixing him a drink that has a sleeping pill. If he’s dead asleep, he can’t do anything and I’ll get my peace. But . . . what if he sues me? Maybe getting him drunk is easier. Drunkards usually sleep right?

Notes

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