Chapter 9: The Idol Encounter

The low hum of Stefan's morning meditation chant vibrated through the floorboards, a familiar Saturday morning soundtrack to my life. It always amazed me how he could be so zen. Me? I was already scrolling through K-Pop news, my brain buzzing with a caffeine jolt and the latest idol gossip.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" Dad's voice boomed from downstairs, jolting me out of my K-Pop hole. I quickly tossed my phone on the bed, not wanting to face the usual teasing about my "boy band obsession."

Downstairs, the aroma of Mom's freshly baked croissants filled the air, a heavenly scent that could lure even the sleepiest creature out of bed. Stefan, fresh from his meditation and already dressed in a simple white tee and his favorite faded jeans, sat at the table. He looked less like a former monk and more like a model for a minimalist clothing brand. It was kind of annoying how effortlessly cool he always looked.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

I, on the other hand, had already showered, styled my blonde hair, and thrown on a designer t-shirt and ripped jeans. A quick glance in the hallway mirror confirmed I was rocking the effortlessly chic look I was going for.

As I joined them at the table, the TV blared news about another blurry UFO sighting. Dad, never one to miss an opportunity for a good-natured rant, chuckled, "If those aliens had any taste, they'd land right here for your mother's croissants!"

Mom, ever elegant in a chic pantsuit - even on a Saturday - merely rolled her eyes, placing a plate of fruit and pastries before me.

Stefan, already munching on a croissant, lazily shared between bites. "If there are aliens, I wish they just land and giveaway alien chocos."

I couldn't help but snort. "You'd trade intergalactic contact for chocolate? Seriously?"

Stefan, never one to let a thought simmer in silence, continued with his alien musings. "Well, that too. Why not? I wish they'd share their anti-gravity technologies so we could all use floater cars like in The Jetsons and beat the traffic," he mused loudly, taking another bite of his croissant. Honestly! Sometimes I wonder where he gets these ideas. Then I remember he spent four years in a Tibetan monastery, probably contemplating the universe and eating yak butter tea. It was kind of endearing, though. He was like a big, loveable goofball sometimes.

I glanced at Mom and Dad, expecting an eye roll, but they were both smiling. They adored Stefan, even when he was being completely outlandish. Mom, always the voice of reason, chimed in, "I think I'd settle for them sharing the secret to their eternal youth. Just imagine, no more wrinkles!" She patted her perfectly moisturized cheek with a laugh. Even with her laugh lines, Mom looked incredible for her age. She could easily pass for someone ten years younger. Dad, on the other hand, had embraced his salt-and-pepper hair and the crinkles around his eyes. He always said they were badges of honor from a life well-lived.

Our breakfast conversation continued, a familiar blend of lighthearted banter and gentle teasing. It was moments like these, surrounded by the warmth of my family, even with their eccentricities, that made me feel truly grateful.

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The air crackled with anticipation as I joined the throng of other K-Pop fans, their faces alight with excitement. Scoring a ticket to this fan meet had been a stroke of luck. Sure, I'd had to splurge on some extra merch – a fluffy bathrobe for Mom, a sleek sports cap for Dad, and a graphic tee for Stefan (though knowing him, he'd probably just wear it to bed) – but seeing 4EVER live and in person? Totally worth it.

My heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. The queue shuffled forward, and I practiced my greeting in my head, hoping I wouldn't make a total fool of myself when I finally came face to face with the four dazzling members of 4EVER.

Then there's this usual predicament. Navigating the queue felt like walking a tightrope of awkward stares and hushed whispers. I mean, I get it. A guy at a 4EVER fan meet? As rare as a unicorn wearing a beret. But seriously, the double takes were reaching epic levels. Girls were practically doing a triple axel with their necks trying to figure me out. Some just stared, mouths agape, like they'd spotted a rogue croissant escaping the patisserie.

"Dude, you're like a walking K-Drama scene stealer," a voice whispered from behind me. I turned to see a girl with bright pink hair and enough merch to open her own 4EVER kiosk.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Tell me about it. I'm starting to think I should've worn a sign: 'Yes, I'm a guy. Yes, I love 4EVER.'"

The girl burst out laughing. "Right? But seriously, your skin is flawless. Spill the skincare routine!" I swear, sometimes I felt more like a beauty influencer than a chef with my skincare knowledge.

Then came the squeals. Not the ear-piercing kind, but those high-pitched gasps of delight that sounded suspiciously like a litter of puppies discovering a box full of squeaky toys. Apparently, my gender reveal had sent shockwaves through the fandom.

"Oh my god, he's even cuter up close!"
"He's like a real-life anime prince!"
"Quick, take a picture, but make it look candid!"

I'd be lying if I said all the attention wasn't a little flattering. I mean, who doesn't love a little ego boost? But I was here for 4EVER, not to be the unofficial mascot of the "Guys Who Love Boy Bands" club.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the front of the line. My heart hammered in my chest, a K-Pop drum solo threatening to break free. The four members of 4EVER stood before me, radiating charisma and enough hair gel to build a small skyscraper. My mind went blank. All those rehearsed greetings vanished. I think I managed a shaky, "Hi."

Standing in front of the members of 4EVER, I felt like a deer caught in headlights. Their eyes were glued to me, a mix of curiosity and surprise dancing across their faces. I could feel the weight of the entire room's gaze on me, a sea of eyes filled with excitement and anticipation. The staff hovered nearby, curious to see how this rare occurrence—a male fan of a male K-Pop group—would unfold.

I took a moment to collect myself and let my gaze drift across the members. Each of them exuded an aura that was almost palpable, their bright smiles illuminating the space. It was then that I became acutely aware of my own appearance, and oh boy, was it an ensemble!

Dressed in a fitted black designer jacket that hugged my shoulders just right, I felt like I had stepped out of a fashion magazine. The gold accents on the jacket caught the light, adding just a hint of glamour to the otherwise sleek look. Underneath, a crisp white shirt peeked out, the collar sharply defined and framing my face like a perfectly placed spotlight. My tailored black skinny jeans clung to my legs, a fashion choice that always drew compliments (or at least envious glances). My outfit was polished but effortlessly chic, a representation of my personal style.

But it wasn’t just the clothes—it was everything. My short blonde hair was styled into a trendy cut with side-swept bangs, a look that seemed to defy gravity. Each strand was perfectly placed, glimmering under the fluorescent lights of the venue, contributing to that rich elegance I always aimed for. And then there were my aquamarine eyes, large and expressive, framed by long, wispy lashes that seemed to invite glances. I could practically hear the collective sighs of admiration from nearby fans, which only heightened the butterflies in my stomach.

As I stood there, I couldn’t help but notice that the girls around me were exchanging looks that ranged from amazement to incredulity. I overheard snippets of their conversations, some whispering to each other, "Is he a boy or a girl?" and others declaring, "He's definitely too pretty to be real!" It was both flattering and a bit daunting—being seen as an object of beauty in a space filled with young, enthusiastic fans was surreal.

Finally, the leader of 4EVER, a tall guy with striking features and a confident smile, broke the silence. "Wow, you’re really rocking that look! Are you a model or something?" he asked, genuinely curious. The room erupted in laughter, and I could feel my cheeks heat up.

"Uh, no," I stammered, my voice a combination of excitement and nervousness. "I’m, um, just a fan." I wanted to tell them I was also a chef, but that seemed so mundane in this glamorous setting.