Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

8

I turn to face him.
Of course he'd know I was here. It's where we met exactly a week ago.
"Hi," I finally say. Just the sight of him makes me forget that I wanted to be mad at him.
He wears a basecap and the hood of his sweatshirt, a black jacket and a dark jeans. He's shouldering a backpack.
"You haven't answered my texts," he says carefully, "We were really worried about you when you left this morning."
"I'm fine."
I realize right away how harsh and cold my words sound and I sigh, before I rub my face with both my hands.
I sit down in the back of my car and tap the place next to me, to show Chan he can sit next to me. He does.
"I'm sorry," I say then and look away from him, "I had a really bad day today and everything just-... I was late for work, almost got fired because of that. Everything's just... a bit shitty. I didn't want to talk to you this morning because I was mad that your life is so much better than mine. I guess, I was a bit jealous and angry. It's not your fault though, and I should have texted you back. You were nothing but kind to me. I'm sorry, Chan."
He's quiet for a moment, before he says, "I never wanted to make you feel like your life had to measure up to mine. I just wanted to spend time with you. I'm glad you're okay."
"It was all me," I say, "You didn't give me a reason to be mad, it's all me. It wasn't fair of me to blame you. I just couldn't really understand why you guys wanted to spend time with me. Our lives are so completely different. We are so different."

Chan looks at me and stands, before saying, "Are you free right now?"
I nod and close my car.
"Good. You're coming with me. I have something to show you."
He fiddled with the bands of his backpack, takes my hand and pulls me across the street. Then he drops it.
Suddenly, I am very conscious of our surroundings.
What do these people see when they look at us? Do they know how different our lives are? Are they waiting for Chan to do something worthy of reporting, of gossiping about, of broadcasting to the world?

I watch people passing us by as Chan leads me through the streets.
Then we stop in front of a huge building with a space for cars in front. Blue glass, the letters JYP towards the top.
"Okay, what were about to do is a bit risky," Chan says and turns towards me.
He pulls me out of sight of the front doors, puts the backpack down, and opens it.
Then he pulls out a huge black sweatshirt and hands it to me.
"What is this?"
"There are always photographers and journalists in front of the building," he explains, "If we go inside, they'll try to take pictures of you. They'll try to figure out everything there is to know about you. So we need to disguise you."
I look at the sweatshirt. I think it's his, but I could be wrong. It's black and huge and smells of a perfume that I think I recognize.
"Chan, what in the world are we about to do?"
I pull the sweatshirt on, and then Chan hands me a beanie and a pair of black sunglasses.
"Don't tell Jisung I took his beanie," he says and smiles sheepishly. "The glasses are Felix's, so that is between you and me, as well."
He chuckles and I notice just now that he switched to English somewhere a few sentences ago.

"Whose shirt am I wearing?"
I drive my fingers over the thick, soft fabric. The sleeves are too long for my arms and so I scrunch the fabric together in my hands.
Chan follows my movements attentively.
"It's mine, actually," he says.
I hug my arms around my body, as Chan bends down and reaches into the backpack again. He hands me a fresh medical mask that many people wear here all the time.
Chan steps closer to help me put on the beanie and stuff my hair into it until it can't be seen anymore. It's not very difficult as my blonde curls only reach an inch below my ears. Then I put on the glasses and pull the mask over my face.
"How do I look?"
Chan can barely contain his laughter as he pulls out his phone to take a picture of me. I look like an idiot, but I don't care.
I am so nervous. For some reason, this all feels incredibly illegal.

"Okay, so here's the plan," Chan says and pulls the hood of my sweatshirt over my head in order to hide even more of my complexion. "We go right in, straight through the door. I would take you into the building through the back door, but I don't know where it is. We do not stop, we do not pay attention to any of those people."
"How many can you see?" I ask and glance over the street towards the entrance of the JYP building.
"Like around six," Chan says and straightens his own basecap.
I nod and take a few deep, steadying breaths.
"Alright, lets do it."

We cross the street and head towards the entrance.
As soon as we're not more than a few feet away, a man steps into our way. His camera is set right in my face, but it doesn't matter. I know he can't see it. A few other people come closer and snap pictures of Chan who dutifully ignores them and simply struts forward.
His fans are right, he really does walk as if he's six feet tall.
He doesn't cover me so it looks like we're just colleagues. Like there is no further personal connection between us. But he does stay by my side until we reach the glass doors and they swing open.

"Well done," he says, "You we're very brave."
I shrug and grin. "It wasn't all that difficult, actually."
"Good," Chan looks around and pulls me into a hallway by my sleeve. "the hard part comes now. When I say run, we run. Okay?"
"What do you-..."
"Run!"
He starts sprinting down the corridor, pulling me with him.
As we run, I dare to look around and understand why we're sneaking around like this.
Security guards everywhere. Personnel. People, who, no doubt, would kick me out without a second thought.
We reach the elevators, and Chan presses a button.
We step inside, the doors close, and he presses the button with the number 6.
When the doors open, he pulls me to the right until we stand in front of another glass door.
He opens it.