Untitled, 2018

Chapter 23: Heighten

I grabbed my dress/present bag that Saturday from the University and headed out to the mall, which wasn't too far away. There had to be dry-cleaning near a mall, right?

I found one on the street and parked myself in there while waiting for the dress to get done cleaning. As I put in the order and sat down in the tiny dingy waiting area set aside, unfortunately I noticed another man sitting there, covered in a stylish face mask and cap. Fool me twice, okay shame on me. But fool me THRICE? I don't think so, betches. I contemplated whether or not to reveal my presence to him; his head was drooping to his lap and he seemed to be napping.
What's a good way to get attention? I coughed once. Twice.

Cleared my throat. Coughed harder. He seemed unfazed.

I tried coughing again but ended up choking on dust or saliva or something and actually breaking into a coughing fit, slowly curling up and hacking like a 70 year old lady, one chair away from him.
I mean, of course, at that point he looked up. I got over the bout of coughing and took in a deep breath, and finally made eye contact over his face mask.

That was some really elaborate frickin eye makeup, done more skillfully than I could have managed on myself in 30 minutes, and it looked really good on his piercing, calculating eyes. But the real problem was, those eyes did not belong to Jimin. I almost choked again and looked away awkwardly.

But unfortunately for me, he spoke. "You..."
I stuffed my earphones in as fast as I could, pretending that I was engaged with something else, even humming nervously to play the part. "...Are you following me?"
I glanced over at him and made a big show of taking an earbud out. "Sorry?" I said in English.
He lifted his face a little and repeated himself in English with a different accent.
I frowned a little but gave a forced smile. "I'm not following you... I just got in here."
He blinked a couple times and then sat straight up. I mentally bashed myself for not noticing that he was definitely taller than Jimin. Upon closer inspection, his hair, which was brushed tightly into the cap, definitely wasn't Jimin's color either. I have an IQ of 12.

"Do you know me?" He asked suddenly.
I pressed my lips into a tight line and shook my head.
"Are you sure?"
I was a little annoyed by this guy's insistence of pinning me as a stalker. "Dude, I don't know you."

He raised his eyebrows and took off his face mask and cap. He was a good-looking guy. I took the chance to take in his face, and I couldn't lie. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put a name to it. Or maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. I wasn't the best at people-recognition, if you couldn't tell by now. He looked at me expectantly, but I had nothing to offer. "...Am I supposed to know you?"
His eyes glinted. "Aren't you a reporter? Tabloid or something?"

"Why do people keep saying that? I'm not. And who are you?"
"You've ever heard of 'Heighten'?"
I shook my head. "You mean like, the word?"
"...I saw you at the music show studio two days ago."
I opened my mouth in a small 'o' and laughed. I thought I remembered walking past him in a hallway vaguely.
"Wait, you're right! I saw you at the building, I think. Who are you?"
He frowned at me, "I'm a singer."
"Really? Which group?"
He took out a business card with a famous entertainment company's logo from his phone case on it and showed me. Next to it was another stylized logo: HighTen.
"It's my manager's card."

I shrunk a little. "Wait, I've heard of them. You guys debuted early this year... Are you really in this group?"
He looked at me a little disgustedly, "Yeah I am."
"Whoa! Can I get a selfie?"
"No."
"Oh, okay." I took out my phone and started drafting a message to Hanna; it was something along the lines of 'Hey have you ever heard of HighTen?'
I heard a little scoff and looked up. The guy was glaring at me. I looked behind me, not understanding. "What?"
"That's it?"
"What's it?"
"You won't ask me for my autograph or something?"
"Oh," I patted my pockets down for a pen. "Could I... get an autograph?" Finally found one along with a notebook in my handbag.
He looked at me incredulously, "No."
"What? Well then why'd you ask?"
He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped when he looked behind me, and stood up. I craned my neck to look and saw another pretty boy looking between us curiously. He was taller than the one in front of me, and had bright yellow-orange hair. Another vaguely familiar face. I guess he was a bandmate?