Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

4

I open the door to my dad's apartment.
I expect him to sit in his arm chair by the tv or stir a pan with vegetables.
But the apartment is still empty.
I walk into the kitchen.
Where I left my sticky note is now another, equally as sticky, note.
"Got called in for emergency. Take what you want from the fridge or order pizza. Will be back late. Love, Dad," the note reads.
I sigh.
I should have known. I try not to be disappointed but it's hard. It's not his fault, the job is hard. Everybody knows that. It's brutal, it's time-consuming. But I miss him. I barely see him.

I go to the fridge, open it, and take out a few plastic containers, before I close everything back up and order a pizza from the store down the street.
Then I take a seat on the couch and put on the TV. It's some drama about a girl in university, falling in love with the TA, who is of course a total bad boy. I watch for a few minutes, before my attention drifts away.
I grab my phone to track the delivery.
20 minutes until arrival.

I open my contact list and stare at Chan's number. My finger hovers over the message button.
I could text him. Ask him what he's up to.
No, how lame would that sound?
I could thank him for the ice cream again. But that would just sound like a lame excuse I used to talk to him. Which it totally would be.
I sigh and close my phone, the screen turns black.
It's no use.
I'm not a bad flirt in person, but texting is a whole other story. Everything just sounds too clean, too fake.

Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrives at the door and I settle with the box onto the sofa.
Just when I'm about to put on a movie on Netflix, my phone dings.
For a moment, I think it might be Chan. But it can't be, of course.
It's Byeol, one of the only friends I retained from school. We've been kind of close, but not really best friends. I don't really have a best friend.
Byeol and I don't really talk anymore. We text from time to time, but she's half way across the planet doing an internship at a company that produces car radios. She's a busy girl. I can't really keep up with that, so there isn't much that we can talk about for hours.

When I see the nature of her text, I sit up and push the pizza away from me.

Why the fuck didn't you tell me you know Stray Kids? I've been a fan of theirs for years!!

Then she sent two pictures showing me, eating ice cream, sitting in a circle of boys. Chan to my right, Felix in front of me. Changbin and Hyunjin from the back. Jeongin, Seungmin, and Minho from the sides. I can even see Jisung, though his face is partially hidden behind me.

I text back.

What are you talking about? I just met them today?

Her response arrives not more than seven seconds later.

Please tell me you know who they are? They're literally my favorite band!! How do you hang out with them and don't even know them but I've been a fan since day one and couldn't even go to the last concert?! The world is so unfair Istg

I put my phone down.
Of course I know what kpop is. But I've never been a fan of the nature of the industry and all the standards the idols have to keep up. I've never been invested in the artists, never really had much interest in the bands.
Still, I do recognize that band name.
When I open my spotify I realize that I even have one of their songs saved on my playlist. I just never bothered to look them up.
Maybe I should have.
Then I wouldn't have gotten myself into this situation.
God, they must think I'm so stupid.

But then I realize that they could have told me.
And that they didn't.
They chose to tell me that they're students at university.
They chose to lie to me.
Chan chose to lie to me.
Sudden anger boils up in me and I have to get up from my seat.
How dare they make a fool out of me like this? They're probably laughing their ass off right now, about how stupid I was, how naive, to believe them just like that.

The truth was right there in front of my eyes.
Chan handles all their money.
They're all dancers.
The way they kept sharing looks with each other.

I grab my phone and open a chat with Chan.
All my rage and anger lets me become petty. My text reads a lot more dramatic than I intended but I don't care. He should know I'm angry.

Did you have fun making an idiot out of me? You lied to me, Chan. University my ass.

I even take a screenshot of the chat with Byeol and send it, too.
When I read my text again, I realize I don't sound angry.
I sound hurt.
I am hurt, though. Why wasn't he just honest with me?
With a beating heart, I wait for his answer. I ponder whether or not I should have signed my name. But I am literally in the picture. No, he knows whose number this is.

I can see him type, but it takes ages for him to answer.

I am so sorry. I had hoped you wouldn't find out.