Quit Smoking Hotline (Min Yoongi x OC FF)

Two

In the next few days, Mr. Baby Face would swing by during my shifts in the night. We would both try to quit, but almost all of our conversations ended in us sitting in the outdoor area of the store, smoking a fag or two. He stuck to his Marlboro Reds, while I stayed loyal to my hand-rolled Marlboro Gold Fine Cut.

I did teach him how to roll once, in which he failed, but surprisingly not as bad as I expected from a first-timer.

"I'm a pianist," he explained, "I guess my fingers are more agile than most," he bragged slightly, causing us to erupt in a fit of chuckles.

I'm not going to pretend I had no clue of who he was. With his popularity and success, it's a surprise how anyone wouldn't recognise him, as part of the boyband BTS. I never brought it up though, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. It was a comfortable distance that we kept between us. Half stranger, half confidant.

I talked to him about my day job, my studies. I told him how I decided to come to Seoul for a working holiday, how I took an interest in hair colouring and styling, how I applied for beauty school here and got an interning job at a hair salon during the days off from college. In turn, he told me about his work in the studio, mostly sharing about his day, superficial things, not getting as deep as I did, for obvious reasons.

As I mentioned before, a comfortable distance.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Still, we never made much progress in terms of quitting. I suppose over time, the starting objective of this little union had left our minds completely.

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The clock struck 5 thirty. It was now morning. Yoongi-ssi, as he told me to call him by, had dropped by sometime last night, getting his fix of iced black americano and nicotine, as he usually does. I clocked out of my post, stifling a yawn while handing over to my colleague, Jeong-ho-ssi. I made my way back home as fast as my tired feet would carry me, and plopped into bed for a hour or two of shut-eye before I had to make my way to the salon.

As I arrived at my second workplace bright and early at 9:30, I was greeted by a confused look from none other than my favourite boss, Hyein Unnie.

"I-ji-ah!" she called me, eyes wide. "What are you doing here? Did you forget I gave you a day off?" she asked, chuckling.

Oh. I must've forgotten. I had been so busy lately, and the conversation I had with Yoongi-ssi had plagued my mind so much that I'd forgotten it was my day off.

"Oh," I replied, laughing awkwardly, "it slipped my mind. I was so used to my usual schedule- the lack of sleep must've gotten to me."

"Aigoo, my hardworking child. Run along now, get some more sleep and go outside for the rest of the day. You look like you haven't seen the sun in months, I-ji-ah."

I bowed, exchanging more apologies and pleasantries (apologies from my part), and left the salon. Taking Hyein unnie's advice, I made a beeline back to my shoebox apartment and collapsed on my comfortable bed. Sleep, however, evaded me. My mind was running back to the conversation I had with a certain loyal customer last night.

FLASHBACK

Once again we found ourselves sitting at the usual spot, smoking and chatting about our day, skimming the surface, never going too deep. A comfortable dynamic.

Yoongi-ssi was nursing a beer along with his cigarette. I refrained as I was on shift. Somehow, the topic shifted to my studies, and unfortunately, my past.

"I-ji-ah," Yoongi began, "I never thought to ask this, but where are you from? I've noticed that you speak with a slight accent, but it's not one that I can place," he inquired, mildly curious.

Ah. Clearing my throat, I said "I travelled here from London."

With raised brows, he continued asking, "London! I would have never guessed. It's such a big city, so many opportunities. So why come to Seoul?"

"Umm, I liked the idea of hair styling and colouring. When I was in uni, I wanted to bleach and dye my hair, but it was far too expensive to go to a salon with my budget, and if I were to get a good job done I would have to go to an Asian specialist salon, which is even more expensive," I was on a tangent. "I watched many youtube tutorials, and found the process extremely captivating. I bleached my own hair, and I got so many compliments from people. It made me feel proud, it was very rewarding. One comment that stayed in my mind the most was 'art students do got the coolest hair, no arguing about that'," I giggled. "Because we were still relatively new immigrants at that time, I found that many people in my immediate circle- people like my parents, extended family and whatnot- had found it difficult to find a hairdresser that knew how to style our hair type. Therefore from then on I was pretty adamant on getting training from Asia- maybe Korea or Japan.

I was also pretty into Korean dramas at that time, so I was a bit more familiar with the Korean language than Japanese. I also thought it would be cool to live in the city where many of my favourite dramas were set in, that and of course the influx of K-beauty trends and the avant-garde styling of many K-pop idols also prompted me to choose Seoul." I finished with a soft smile.

Yoongi-ssi stared at me after my long monologue. Feeling shy, I looked away to take another drag of my cigarette, exhaling away from him even though I knew he wouldn't mind.

I just couldn't bring myself to face him right now, I'd said too much.

"Well," he began slowly, "that was quite a lot of information. I think that's the first time you've ever talked so much about yourself- your true self. There are quite a few things from that speech that I would like to know more about, if you're comfortable with that. So university? You were an art student?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah. I started taking an interest in hair during my BA. I was studying fine art at the time."

"Your BA? Does that mean you did more courses after that?"

"Yes. I also completed my MA in Sculptural Fashion Design."

"And how old are you?"

"I'm 21, international age. Why?"

"You seem terribly young for someone who has done a BA, Masters and continuing on a working-holiday/hairstyling course in a foreign country. And how did your Korean get so good? Are you Korean?"

"Oh, um, I skipped a year when I was in middle school, and I was born quite late in the year, so... I made it a goal to come here to learn right after my masters during my first year in uni so I had four years to catch up on Korean... Also I'm not from Korea." I replied awkwardly, not wanting to seem like I was bragging.

"So where are you from? You said your family are immigrants in London."

"I'm from Hong Kong..."

"A city girl, through and through. Impressive." he remarked.

"Ahjussi~ please stop I'm embarrassed"

"Yah, 인마 [ inma, meaning hey you, informal] How am I an ahjussi?"

"Ahjussi, you are a 93-liner! I was born in 2004. There's like 10 years difference between us!"

"Huh," he scoffed, "don't think I forgot you said K-pop was a reason you chose to come to Seoul. I'm pretty sure it's Oppa to you~ I'm sure you're familiar with how I can send you back to Hong Kong, hmm?" He smirked, got up and walked away, but not before stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray.

I must've sat there with my mouth open for 20 minutes.

FLASHBACK OVER

I rolled over violently on my bed, kicking and screaming into my pillow. I can't believe I got too comfortable, and nearly spilled out my entire life story to him. Not to mention, he completely ratted me out as ARMY. I never meant for him to find out about that.