Secret Coach (A BTS Fanfic)

Chapter 25: New Hair

"I need to get my hair done," Nabi skips over to your bedroom after you return from Yoongi's apartment. "Do you want to come?" she looks down at your own hair, slightly judgemental.

"I guess I could use a cut," you admit, running your hands through your hair, slightly knotted since you hadn't showered that morning thanks to Yoongi's surprise arrival. Nabi smiles as she starts to go on her phone and then shows you a picture of a woman with a bob cut.

"Look cute?" she asks, and you assume she is asking about her own hair cut.

"You'll look very cute," you nod in agreement, which makes Nabi laugh.

"No, no," she remarks. "For you!" Nabi was suggesting you cut your hair short! You loved your long wavy locks, but maybe it was time for a chance. You take her suggestion into consideration, but don't know if you're brave enough to go through with such a dramatic change.

An hour later, you arrive at a trendy hair salon, and the receptionist greets you both. Nabi starts to speak to her in Korean, sometimes looking at you, and you assume she is asking if there is an opening for you. A stylist looks at you as she walks by, overhearing the conversation, and directs you over to an empty chair. You follow her as Nabi goes to get her own hair done with another stylist. Hopefully, Nabi didn't tell them about her suggestion, as you would think you would rather keep your hair longer.

"Hair long? Short?" The stylist starts to work your hair, pulling some of it up to try to show you different length suggestions.

"Long," you say, but then Nabi quickly trots over in a black cape to show the stylist something on her phone. You try to indicate that you want to keep your hair long, but the stylist is too busy talking to Nabi.

"Hmm," the stylist thinks out loud. "New color?" she suggests. You have never had your hair dyed before, as it was a very dark shade of brown that would need a lot of bleach. Nabi looks at you with a nod to suggest it would be a good idea, so you shrug your shoulders. Maybe it was time for some change.

After two hours of getting your hair bleached twice, you can't help but laugh at your reflection with your hair a light brown even after all the processing. The hairstylist holds out a book of hair color swatches out to you, and she points to a few that she would suggest for you. In the end, you agree on rich burgundy, and the stylist gets to work. To avoid revealing the end result, she turns your chair away from the mirror once the dye is washed, and she begins to trim your hair. You don't even realize how short she was cutting it until you suddenly felt the side of your head become quite lighter. You try to look at your hair, but the stylist had pushed most of it behind your head. Praying that it didn't look bad, you just sat there and waited for her to be done. When the chair finally spun back around, your reflection had changed from having long dark brown hair to a burgundy bob that sat above your shoulders. Nabi walked over as she was done as well, and she looked shocked by the reveal.

"So pretty!" she exclaimed, the stylist running one last product through your hair. It would take you a while to adjust to having your hair so short, but if anything, it would grow on you. Literally.

"It's new," you say, still unsure about your own feelings.

"How much?" you ask the stylist, unsure about how costly this would affect your budget for the month.

As you walk out of the salon with Nabi, your hair freshly cut, you almost don't recognize your reflection in the window. Nabi notices your bewilderment and compliments that you are very pretty with your new haircut.

"Coffee?" She invites you to go across the street with her to a popular cafe. The cafe is decorated with neutral furniture and paintings that give a more autumnal-feeling in contrast to the hot summer day. You both order iced coffees due to the heat, and you notice people staring at you more than usual. Self-conscious, you ask if you could sit together near the back of the cafe, and Nabi doesn't have a problem with that. Nabi takes out her phone to use a translator app, indicating she has something important to say but doesn't have the language skills to communicate it to you in English just yet.

"Your hair looks very pretty. Don't mind the people staring. It is very attractive to you. I think you look better with it. And looking pretty can have many advantages." she types.

"Maybe this will get you a boyfriend," Nabi says verbally, shrugging her shoulders up and down. Annoyed, you take the phone from her hand to write a whole paragraph about how looks weren't really that important and such, but at the last minute, stop yourself and delete the text. Nabi looks at you slightly confused as you try to think of a less-heated way to respond.

"I don't need a boyfriend," you tell her, knowing that she would be able to understand that. You then type the rest of your thoughts for Nabi.

"Plus, my mother raised me to realize beauty is not skin-deep. A person can be very pretty on the outside but have a very nasty personality. I liked my hair the way it was. Did you plan on having me change it to get a boyfriend?" you return the phone, and Nabi reads the text quietly before rolling her eyes slightly.

"No, I change your hair because you're prettier now," she says, resting her hand on top of yours. "But you are also pretty inside too. A boyfriend would not be too bad too, though, yeah?" she smiles sweetly, thinking that her compliment would make everything better. Your brow furrows slightly with frustration, but attempt to change the subject before you go on a rant about your own opinions.

"What about you, Nabi? Do you have a boyfriend?" you raise an eyebrow, causing Nabi to blush and look away for a moment.

"No, no boyfriend," she sighs sadly. "Lots of pervert," slightly concerned, you ask more about what she means, and the two of you talk about your dating experiences with each other, laughing at how ridiculous people can be.

"But why you don't have a boyfriend in the States now?" Nabi eventually asks.

"I had one, but he was a jerk," you had hoped she would avoid asking about your most recent ex.

You had been going strong with him for quite a while in NY, but Wall Street culture got the best of him. It was all over for you when he started to drink heavily, and pictures from parties made you question his loyalty. You decided to break it off after he got a text from someone asking to hook-up while you were both having dinner. While you didn't always look at his phone when he got a notification, the phone had been right in front of you on the table, and you were pissed. It had been two years since that, and you had low hopes that you would ever be able to trust someone again after that.

You give Nabi a short version of your story about your ex, and she puts her hands over her mouth in disgust when you explain the endpoint.

"Men, they are disgusting," she frowns, and you raise your iced coffee up to that. "We have men like that here, Kdramas are not real. And the good ones are idols,"

"Oh, don't I know it," you say, taking a sip of your drink, and Nabi tilts her head at your comment.

"You like an idol?" she says, seemingly suspicious. "TXT are babies....." she seems slightly concerned.

"No!" you nearly spit out your coffee. Nabi thinks a minute to think of other idols that you may know and like, and suddenly she looks like a lightbulb turned on inside her head.

"Namjoon?" she says, suddenly whispering. When you don't respond as you don't know whether to rebuke or deny, she wiggles her eyebrows and shimmies in her seat for a moment.

"Aw, he is cute," she admits. "My bias is Jungkook though,"

"He's competitive about Mario Kart, be careful," you start to say, but then realize she may question why you know that. You put a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from saying more.

"How do you know that?" she questions.

"Uh, Run BTS?" you think you had seen them play Mario Kart on an episode of the popular web variety show.

"They don't play Mario Kart on Run BTS..." Nabi is starting to get suspicious. In a panic, you look at your phone to pretend to have to be somewhere.

"Oh, I have to leave," you say, standing up to pick up your bag. "I will see you tonight at home," Nabi tries to call out for you, but you speed walk your way out of the cafe and onto the street.

Now you just made yourself look really suspicious. Just great.