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𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐋'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄
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My name is Jessica Brooks. I'm 28 years old, a med student at UCLA, single as a Pringle, and...
...quite possibly the biggest fan of South Korea's hottest male soloist, Byun Baekhyun.
"Seriously—God took an unfairly long amount of time on you!" I swooned as I thirsted over a poster of one of his many magazine shoots. This one in particular pictured him in a silk maroon robe that covered up pretty much nothing as his rock hard abs glistened and outshone the scores of exotic flowers surrounding him.
"...Wait. Keep yourself in check, Jess!"
Oh, but don't get me wrong. Sure, I may have my thirsty fangirling moments here and there, but I'm not, in any way, a sasaeng nor delulu.
"Repeat after me: 'He's unreachably famous and way out of your league, he's unreachably famous and way out of your league...'"
In fact, I absolutely hate those kinds of fans. They make the idol miserable, and in general just cause lots of unnecessary drama.
*DING DONG!*
"Hm?" I perked up, turning away from my wall of Baekhyun posters and thumbtacked merch shirts. "That must be the delivery guy..."
Being that I'm older than your average K-Pop fan and hammered up to the brim with adult logic and experience from many grueling years in college, I know where my boundaries are, as well as not to expect anything crazy.
*DING DONG! DING DONG!*
"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" I grumbled, vexedly thrusting a hand through my brunette lob as I hurried down the stairs of my flat. Much to my annoyance, the uber thin walls allowed me to get an earful of my neighbors fucking.
Grrr! One of these days, I'll be able to move out...!
"Keep it down, will you?!" I yelled and pounded on the wall as I approached the door.
*DING DONG!*
This guy... If he does that one more time...!
Taking a deep breath to try and regain my sanity before I commit a murder, I swung open the door.
"HeLLo!" I uttered with a forced smile.
The impatient delivery guy, who, surprisingly enough, was actually attractive (but not as good-looking as Baekhyun of course) mutely raised an eyebrow before hefting a large box towards me.
"Because of the package's size and some of its contents, I'm going to need your signature." he uttered automatically, whipping out a tablet and a stylus. His dark brown hair was partially covered by the delivery company's cap, and I figured he would be more charming with that deep voice and almond-shaped eyes of his if he could just smile.
"Right. Thank you." I nodded, taking the things from him. His height kind of alarmed me.
I thought Korean guys are a bit on the short side? ...No no, Jessica. Tall Asians exist too!
Finishing off my signature with a curl, I handed everything back to the delivery guy.
Surprisingly enough, he smiled.
Oh...!
"Whew! Thank you, ma'am!" he bowed gratefully, much to my surprise and confusion. "I was told to be formal and serious for my first job to give off a 'professional vibe', and, haha, but you looked like you were annoyed, so I was scared..."
