Rouge

It had been taken way too far.

Two nights after discovering his unfortunate neighbor, Seungho watched the news. And he was appalled. All five boys were reduced to silence, not knowing what to say. They knew fans were capable of crazy things, being victims of the mentally obsessed (and less than healthy) girls that attended their fan meetings. But this was taking it too far. This was too insane- even for the most stalkers of fans.

“Her body was found behind a grocery alleyway and immediately transferred to the nearest hospital. The only details we have is that the girl was a western and is a redhead. The incident has been linked to the fan-obsessed hunt that has been taken place all around the district; mainly targeting redheaded western girls. Authority is hoping to arrest this group of crazed fans, before any more victims can be found.” This wasn’t part of the gossip news. This was now national news, plenty of concerned anchormen and women commenting and debating on just how far fans went with their ‘idol love.’

Seungho stood up. Joon glanced at him. “I feel bad for Junhyung. He must be going through a lot of crap right now.” The rest of the boys nodded, throwing in their two cents. Seungho wasn’t listening.

“I need to go get something.” He licked his lips and flexed his fingers. A redhead. Very near this district. He walked out of the living room and headed straight for the second room down the hallway. He could still hear the voice of the reporter behind him, telling the public how scribbles of the word ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ had been found on the girl’s beaten body.

He felt ill.

Bursting into the room, he rushed to the window. His pants condensed on the window, but it didn’t matter. He could still see the color paper cranes and half-finished canvases. But he couldn’t see her. He stood there for a long time, hoping and hoping for her to walk towards the desk and look for something. Anything. But she didn’t show up. The lights were turned off. She wasn’t there.

He couldn’t see the redhead.

Something inside of him told him he shouldn’t feel like this. He wasn’t guilty of anything, heck, he didn’t even know her name. But he couldn’t stop the heavy feeling on his chest grow heavier and heavier, a sense of grief overcoming him. It was so out of character, that he was confused. He didn’t know her name; nothing at all. Just that she had beautiful red hair. And somehow, he also ached over that. He did want to know more.

He sighed. It was a real shame.

“We’re leaving, Seungho-hyung.”

He licked his lips again, somehow expecting her to walk into his view if he stared hard enough. But she didn’t. “I’m going.” He tapped the wall besides the window twice before softly pushing himself away. His heart sank. It felt terribly odd to know someone –even by sight- and then knowing that said person could be somewhere in a hospital room. It didn’t sit well in his stomach.

He grabbed his cell phone, checking if he had any messages. He didn’t. Something inside of him was too elsewhere to really be bothered by it. Instead of thinking it over, he grabbed his sunglasses and scarf, but stopped short. It was red; red like her hair.

He grabbed a black scarf instead.

“I thought you didn’t like that scarf,” G.O teased with a smile, opening the front door. “Isn’t red your lucky color?” Seungho glared at him before putting on his glasses. He didn’t even bother answering. G.O tsk’ed at him. “Someone’s moody.”

Dusk was settling around him, the chilly air stinging his lungs. Much to his disdain, the van wasn’t there and thus they were forced to wait. To be precise, he had to wait. The other boys were huddling inside the building, staring through the glass. Seungho’s pride left him standing where he was, even if his jeans were starting to feel like ice against his leg.

Thunder opened the door, “Seungho-hyung, don’t you want to come in?” His voice was bordering on mocking, but at the same time, there was genuine concern somewhere. Another voice pitched in. It was Joon.

“Aniyo, close it.” Sengho turned around. “Quick!” Before he could reach the door, which could only be opened if you had the key (the same key he forgot), it closed. To be more accurate, Thunder and Joon closed it.

“Funny,” Seungho grumbled, feeling the cold rush of air sting his whole body. “Open up.”

Joon looked nervous and a bit startled, he licked his lips and looked Seungho up and down. “An-aniyo! You ate my meat.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not opening until you apologize.” Mir and G.O weren’t even paying attention. Thunder, however, was having a terrible giggle fit. And with very good reason. The wind had picked up, and trash was being blown across the road, buffeting right against Seungho’s stiff body.

“Joon, open.”

“No.”

Seungho was about to reply again when a gust of wind hit him hard. Startled, he stepped sideways, only to be hit by something square in the face. He stumbled and held onto the wall, looking down at the offending object. From the looks of it, it was a plastic bag filled with some small boxes.

“Ah, mianhae (sorry).” He licked his dry lips and looked up.

Red. Red like his scarf.

She was staring at him with big round baby eyes, her lips pulled back into a pleasant smile. He couldn’t smile back. He blinked once, then twice, before bending down and grabbing the plastic bag. He stared at it a good moment before handing it to her. He wanted to say something –anything- to the enigmatic redhead, but it all stuck to the back of his tongue. She was much more tanned than expected, much more soft spoken, much taller, much more everything. And it left him wondering.

“You should be careful.”

He said the words with no discernable emotion. But she wasn’t exactly listening to him. She was looking off at the distance with glazed eyes. She looked fragile, but something in her eyes kept him real quiet about it. It was as if she’d be able to rip him apart with one word. She was so much more than from what he’d seen from the window.

“Kamsahamnida (thank you),” her Korean held an accent, but he couldn’t discern from where. “I’ll try to be.” She gave him a quick nod and walked back to her territory; the side of the road Seungho had never ventured and didn’t plan to. Back to her paper cranes and unfinished paintings.

It wasn’t until he and the rest of the boys were on the van did he find the double sense in their conversation.