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Confession of a Desperate Fan

Confession of a Desperate Fan

Author                        : Faciikan

Main Cast       : Minho centric

Support Cast   : -OC-

Length                        : vignette

Genre                           : random? Comedy ; HHJJFF

Rating            : General

Summary        : One day, Choi Minho was bored. Like, he was so bored until he could hear the rustling sound of the heater or even the sound of the rotating electric door from the entrance of his apartment building.

A.N                             : Pernah nggak sih, kepikiran buat nulis ke bias? Kalo pernah, apa yang bakal kamu tulis?
Read More…

One day, Choi Minho was bored. Like, he was so bored until he could hear the rustling sound of the heater or even the sound of the rotating electric door from the entrance of his apartment building. The point is he was severely bored. He cursed for being severely injured, but what he could do, what happened, just happened.

So instead of hearing things, he dragged himself to his much beloved shelves of books. He looked at them carefully until he decided that there was nothing there he could read, he had finished them all and he hadn’t updated his collection since forever. The worst was he being restrained from getting out of the apartment by all of his managers and colleagues. Great day! He thought.

Because Minho was such in a bad mood—just like a girl in her period—the only thing that could boost up his mood was food. So he opened the fridge and decided he could finish all of the things there. But, in the end, like a teenager, he only pulled out a box of red grapes. He sat by the dining table. After five or six grapes later, something caught his eyes. It was a box, filled by papers, he thought.

He got the box on the table. He opened the plastic box and found hundreds—if not thousands—of envelopes, in every color for the five of them. Minho picked up a random letter and opened it.

Dear Minho.

I really like you because you are just so hands-

“Boring,” he hissed and tossed the papers back to the box. He opened one after another. They were all bland, just a bunch of worthless admiration. Just as he felt like he was content, his eyes fixed into an envelope. None like the wonderfully decorated envelopes, it was actually really plain. White and long, like the one used for formal invitation. He chuckled, maybe it was sent to the wrong address. But as he picked it up, it wasn’t. It was addressed to Choi Minho. He opened it, and the inside was plain white paper, much to his dismay also, it was printed.

Dear Minho,

            I will go straight to the point.

            First thing, I wasn’t really into you, my first bias in the list was Key, because he is just so beautiful, and as a girl I am thoroughly jealous of his looks. If only Key had boobs, I would totally go gay.

            Second thing, because I just don’t know what to write to Key, I’ll just write something to you.

            Why, because you are kind of my type for a best friend. See this way, I am none like you. You’re cool, like with everything, and you’re freaking good at sport, when I am well, thoroughly sucks at sport. If you attend high school normally, you will be the jock, not the mean homophobic jock, but rather like a crisp-nice-and-kind jock. Do you get that? Or I’m being too confusing?

In fact, yes, Minho totally got that. If only he attended high school like he a normal kid, he would be a jock yes. Not soccer, maybe, basketball or baseball, or swimming most probably. Minho laughed at the part that said, “Not the mean homophobic jock, but rather like crisp-nice-and-kind jock.” So, that writer to his opinion was interesting, amusing, and even.

He continued reading.

I am asocial, since you wouldn’t care who am I and what am I exactly—hell, would you even read my letter—I am going to pour out my heart contain to this. I am still in a high school, or most probably, struggling with high school. Which in detail would be, I try every single day to keep my glasses on; I walk stealthily on the corridor, hoping that no one would notice that girl with washed jeans and worn out sweater.

            Lucky you, you don’t have to go thru high school.

            This is getting more random.

            I happen to like you guys—Key, most likely—because you seemed alright with all of the edginess—if not insanity. Take Onew, he and his exceptional condition of falling—gee, I thought he had some wrong neural configuration something—but he managed to survive. Jonghyun and his rambling that would never come to an end. Key and his oddness, edginess, remarked clothes in the name of fashion; and his blatant attitude, really, he would be some sort of high school Perez Hilton something. Taemin the kid trying to look like he is matured but five mentally. And you, you seemed pretty normal.

            Just, what did I just write?

            The point is,

            No, actually, there’s no point in this.

 

The Girl who is stealthier than the mighty stealth bomber,

 

Jung Ye-rim

            By the time Minho finished reading that letter, rather than amused by the comedic use of words, he was sad. This Jung Ye-rim kid must have been really lonely. Despite she introduced herself as an asocial, but to his point of view, everybody needs a friend. So he looked again at the envelope and he found none address except the town, Seoul—to hell with it, there is millions of Jung Ye-rim, he thought. He looked again to the letter and he found no address too.

He finally sat up opening a can of soda. Whilst he winced to the popping sensation, he saw a little clue.

            There was a very small and slightly visible watermark; an e-mail address to be precise. Then he ran a bit to retrieve his laptop, he sat there at the dining chair and wrote an e-mail to her.

A few days later, when the group had their comeback and stuffs, Minho was bored. He was so bored until he took out his smart phone out of his coat pocket and see if he had something entertaining there. He found an e-mail he hadn’t read yet. It was from her, the asocial Jung Ye-rim.

Minho smiled as he typed back to the girl. Maybe, just maybe, he could be her friend, although it sounded a little like a pedophiliac.

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About faciikan

five feet two inches girl who longs a universe semarang-tanjung puting-svalbard

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This entry was posted on January 14, 2014 by in therandomgirl.

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