Mi Yong (2)

When Mi Yong awoke, he was in his scummy apartment, in bed, and unclothed. To his left was a thin, fair skinned, undressed woman with hickeys littering her neck. Mi Yong sat up, slowly, careful not to wake the sleeping beauty. 

His head spun as he processed the room around him. The clothes of last night littering the floor, the left-on kitchen light that would cost an arm and a leg to cover on his electric bills, and the woman's buzzing phone. 

The woman was getting a call. The woman was getting a call from a man labeled 'husband <3'. Mi Yong internally cringed and placed cupped his mouth nose regretfully. < p>

The woman began to shift, groaning at the idea of waking up. Mi Yong pursed his lips, he hadn't done this in a long while and had no idea what to say, do. He just tried to play himself busy, sitting on the side of the bed, with his legs dangling off. He faked texting on his phone. 

"Hmm… Pinky?" The woman groggily asked, the buzzing of her phone still going. 

Mi Yong gulped, "Your phone. Someone's calling you." He informed, not facing the woman as too ashamed. 

–+–

Joon-woo stood at the door of possibly the largest house he'd ever seen. 

It wasn't like the towering skyscrapers of Seoul in which he was used to, but a real actual big house, three stories and all. Joon-woo felt underdressed, underqualified to even be looking at the carefully carved exterior and meticulously cared for garden. Clearly his black sweat pants and shirt were no match for the wealthy eye-candy wealth Reggie's family came from.

Cautiously, he knocked at the door. Did Reggie even live here? Had he gotten the wrong address? Reggie was too– not-stuck-up to be so rich, Joon-woo thought. He thought Reggie was far too nice to be in an old money family. And Joon-woo's thoughts were wrong, as Reggie decked out in knee-length shorts and a band tee opened the door. 

Joon-woo awkwardly waved, "Hi Reggie." He greeted quietly. 

Reggie opened his mouth to reply, but another voice cut him off and he began to grimace and look away. "Reggie-ah, has your friend arrived?" A female voice asked. 

A woman, about 5'10' and in an apron appeared at the door, almost shoving Reggie to the side. The woman wore a short bun and a warm smile, her apron was covered in various sugars and flours, Joon-woo spotted a splotch of egg, too. 

"Yes, Umma." Reggie shyly replied. 

Joon-woo didn't think the woman's eyes could get any softer, but they did when she looked at Joon-woo. "Oh! My dear come in, come in." She beckoned, opening the door further and shooing Reggie out of the doorway to make room. 

Joon-woo abided, walking stiffly into the house. "Hello Ajumoni… My name is Park Joon-woo." He greeted with a small bow and just slightly held out his hand. 

The woman took it, overviewing Joon-woo curiously as she shook his head, "Lovely to meet you, Reggie has actually already told me of you. You've been a great help to his singing." She complemented in reference to Joon-woo and Reggie's advice to each other before the first recordings of Producer10.

Joon-woo scratched at his cheek, "And he's been a great help to my dancing…" He replied, flashing Reggie, who stood behind his mother embarrassed, a small nod. 

The woman was taller than him, he noticed with a frown, as he stood from his bow and walked towards Reggie with an exasperated expression. "Is everyone in your family so tall?" He asked.

Reggie chuckled at the question, "In Korean terms, I guess." He replied honestly, "But in America–"

Joon-woo interrupted, shushing Reggie with his finger, "Nope– I don't even want to know actually." 

Joon-woo began to examine the large house before him. Stairs led three stories up, spiral stairs. The kitchen, in which Reggie's mother appeared to be cooking, was probably the size of Joon-woo's whole apartment. And the living room in which a large TV was broadcasting various ads. 

Joon-woo felt a bit dizzy at the wealth divide between him and Reggie. 

"Joon-woo-ssi? Are you–" Reggie cautiously began to ask. 

Joon-woo shook his head, "No, no– I'm fine. It's just– what do your parents do?" He asked, unsure if it was a breach of privacy or not.

Reggie looked around the house and then to Joon-woo, as if realizing the shock Joon-woo might've been feeling. "Oh–" He began, "My mom used to be a famous model and actor…" He explained, scratching behind his neck. 

"Eh?" Joon-woo asked, "Famous?" 

Reggie gestured to a shelf, in the living room area and began towards it. He gestured for Joon-woo to follow. And Joon-woo's socked feet felt wrong against the cold tile floors, as he followed. Eyeing a glass shelf covered in small plaques and trophies. Various magazines sat upon it, too. A younger, in her 20s, photos of Reggie's mother sat on the covers. Dressed in grand, revealing clothing with a blank model stare. Joon-woo's eyes read her name. Lee Ju Kae. Reggie's mother was Lee Ju Kae. 

He looked to Reggie wide-eyed, "Your mother is Lee Ju Kae?!" He asked. Joon-woo pointed a finger at Reggie's chest, "Your mother is a two-time winner of Actress of The Year? Reggie, why didn't you say anything?" 

Reggie shrugged, as if desensitized to such a reaction. "I didn't think it was important..?" 

Joon-woo sent Reggie a look that read 'Are you kidding me?' "Reggie, your mother is quite literally a legend among all Asian actors, and you don't say anything about it?"

Reggie shooed Joon-woo off, his face was a bit red, "She is a legend. I just don't want to come off as pretentious…" He admitted quietly. 

Joon-woo's mouth went agape, "Oh." He smiled as he processed Reggie's reply. "Well if it makes you feel better, I think you're very humble." He comforted, patting Reggie upon his shoulder.

Reggie's eyes lit up at the compliment, "Thank you…" He muttered in reply, as a familiar theme began to play from the TV. The theme of Producer10. They both turned their heads, making awkward eye contact. "It's starting…" Reggie whispered. 

Reggie nodded towards a large couch as the theme played, his 6'0' figure flopping onto it and still only taking up half of the couch's area. Joon-woo followed, awkwardly taking a seat at the end. With his thighs pressed against each other as if he had no space, he looked up at the large TV as two familiar faces appeared on the screen. Misa and FYP.

–+–

Mi Yong stood at his apartment door as the woman he had hooked up with disappeared down the apartment complex's halls. She had tried to pursue him again, again despite the fact she had a lover. She had tried to pursue him and Mi Yong pushed her away. 

His face was red with embarrassment at the action, his breathing heavy. She had gotten too close. Too close to Mi Yong in his state of shame. And she laughed. She laughed at Mi Yong's disheveled state. She then stood, put on her clothes, and left. 

She left and Mi Yong watched her with a blank face. His face was blank until the apartment door slammed shut and he cried. Mi Yong, ex-leader of Winner, ex-first place contestant of Producer10, ex-idol, the man who had sex with a married woman, cried.