Save My Love (SinRin)

Chapter 1: 7 Seconds

As the exhaustion grew evident in their posture, their manager signaled the leader as if informing her to remind her members to exit the venue gracefully. Fans crowded outside in obvious excited anticipation. It is not uncommon for artists like them to be criticized by both fans and antis for their lack of enthusiasm during parting greetings, if such demeanor ever appeared. Even for those few seconds spent exiting through the event hall doors to reaching their van's door, they are under keen surveillance of the hawk-eyed. Many will understand how energy-draining it is for these humans to be performing event after event, but many will choose to not recognize this vulnerability in the assumption that being ripped off of this human nature is an automatic part of their job.

I was sitting at the middle seat of the farthest row as this has long ago been decided. Not that I had the luxury of choosing a comfortable spot, but this was the only vacant seat that could welcome me. During the first ride with them, the two ladies with the same birth name were polite enough to inquire if I preferred the accommodations of the window-side. I figured that the order in which they are situated in the van is medically strategic rather than age- or preference-related. The Eunbis can tolerate the wiggly end of the vehicle better than the rest of them. This tolerance was showcased countless times during shows that required them to try more extreme activities. It is not unconventional to torture artists like them through physically taxing challenges masked as 'variety shows.' On the other hand, Yerin, the second oldest, tolerated motion the least.

Knowing that they can use the window corners as fortress if and when they fall asleep. Although that's a rather dangerous improvisation. I declined the kind offer so nonchalantly that I was convinced myself that I favored the space at the middle like I already truly belonged there. A total lie. The rear end makes me nauseated to my core. I've always believed nausea was a useless physiologic reaction.

"Yah! Eonnie!" She called out the moment she set foot on the rubber interior as she darted her way towards the end of the van. Calling me eonnie yet preceded by yah, it's classic for this one Eunbi to be politely impolite.

"Call me out with a 'yah' and 'eonnie' a second after?" I said while giving her a look of mixed disappointment and sarcasm. She initially answered with a sly grin.

"Because you're weird! I cannot make myself decide which one fits." She answered in mixed Korean and broken English, obviously unsurprised of my presence in the car. "Why do you always have to go ahead and not walk with us? Fans know by now that you are a staff anyway." She continued with careless curiosity but with more Korean words injected.

"Nae!" The other Eunbi agreed as she sat sloppily on my left before struggling to remove her knee-length jacket. I shook my head slightly, intentionally too discreet for her to notice. You have to remember to take it off first so you don't get to sit on it. But she's obviously too tired to think about that right now. "Do we have to hide that we've been practicing to converse in English?" She continued briskly with correct pronunciation and intonation, and minimal word confusion.

"Ani-yo.." I tried to sound more foreign. "Not necessarily. Nothing was specified pertaining to the secrecy of your English exercise as far as I know." I absent-mindedly responded while looking at Yerin waving at the fans outside while situating herself on her seat until Sowon blocked her view as she pushed the door to a close. I cannot help but notice her personal, but also peculiar, choice to always keep her nails short.

There was no follow-up question. But that's unusual. Until I realized that I spoke in English too fast causing both my seatmates to stare at me with an embarrassed questioning look. Apologizing, I repeated my response in a much slower rate. Yewon, who was looking for her fleece blanket, gave out a faint chuckle while listening to their seemingly directionless interrogation of me.