(So, I've had this idea for a while now but after starting to watch some K-Dramas for the first time, I thought it would be fun to give this specific version a shot. "Italic speaking is Korean after the first part of the chapter" :3 )

"Hey kid. What exactly are you doing here? You circled none of the options on the sheet that you've been trained on, yet you're at this audition. Why should we even listen to you?" 

He didn't know. He'd seen the sign outside. Seen the posters and ads up on billboards promoting the audition for over a month. Promoting the fame. The Fashion. The money. He needed that money, so his feet took him there the night they were to take place. They took him to the stage he stood upon at that very moment. 

His worn shoes, torn jeans, and unkempt hair made him feel inadequate in the giant auditorium in front of so many handsome, well-dressed people, but he didn't hesitate when he took a deep breath and offered a worried smile. 

"I think I sing along to the radio really well... do you have a song that you'd like to hear me sing?" 

The judges all looked at each other. The six people clearly unimpressed with his response to the question posed to him. "I'll choose one, then." He said with a slight hitch to his words. 

Swallowing down his fears, Teller straightened his shoulders and took one more deep breath before closing his eyes and running the song's lyrics through his head quickly. When he opened them again, he began to sing Taylor Swift's Blank Space. 

It was a very popular song and the lyrics and tune were known by just about everyone. The judges didn't seem impressed, at first. He was just another boy singing a song by an overly-popular artist. 

When one of their hands began to reach for a red button that Teller could only assume was a dismissal, he forced himself to focus harder. As the chorus returned, Teller shifted his voice from that of an eighteen year old boy, to that of Taylor Swift. 

The man's hand settled on top of the button, but as his mind registered the change, it halted from pressing down. The group of people stared at each other for a long minute as Teller continued to sing, then one of them signaled for him to stop. 

"Do you know Prince's Purple Rain?" The man asked. 

Teller nodded, running the song, which he'd only heard a few times, through his head before beginning to sing it. He managed to switch his voice to Prince's completely by the time the first chorus came around. Another hand rose before the second chorus, silencing him. 

"Can you do that with just about any song, kid?" A different judge asked. This one, a woman. 

Nodding slowly, Teller licked his lips and fought to keep his eyes on the group instead of dropping them to the polished floor beneath his feet. 

"I believe, with a lot of hard work and practice, that we might just have a place for you." The man, whom Teller would later learn was to be his guardian in the industry, said with a grin on his pale lips. 

With wide eyes, Teller stuttered a thank you to the judges, then hurriedly ran off stage before his legs stopped supporting him. 

"Wake up, kid. We're going to land soon." Mr. Canzoni said as he shook Teller awake hard enough to jar his head against the window pain. 

The bump brought Teller out of his memory as he pushed himself back upright in his airplane seat. It was coach, even though the rest of the group he'd come with had gotten first class tickets. Thankfully, no one was sitting beside him.

"Don't forget to keep absolutely silent when you get off of the plane. I don't want to see you in anymore pictures with them, either, got it? You stay with me." He asked, the strong cigarette smoke on his breath making Teller  nearly gag. 

He was smoking in the bathroom stall. 

Keeping his mouth shut, Teller just nodded. He was wearing a plain pair of blue jeans, a dark red jacket, and a black shirt that had absolutely nothing on it. He didn't think that he could be more inconspicuous if he tried, besides the sunglasses and black hat.  

His manager got up to leave, but then leaned down again and quickly whispered. "Remember, you know no Korean. I don't care how much you studied to be able to visit here one day. This trip is not going to be fun for you, got it? Just do your job and grandma's bills get paid." 

Clenching his teeth, Teller nodded again, nudging his dark sunglasses further up his nose to hide his bruised left eye, then tugged down the black hat that settled over his light brown hair. 

"Put your hairpin in, too." Mr. Canzoni said as he reached into Teller's shirt pocket and pulled out the small gold flower pin and dropped it into Teller's hands. 

At first, Teller hadn't understood why he had to hide that he was a boy. Well, he didn't really hide it, but he didn't announce it, either. After a strategic haircut and a bit of make up, he could easily pass as a tomboy, and the company had gladly used that to their advantage. Everyone loved a mystery. That was him. The random, mute, girl and or boy that followed the group MiMiC around like a puppy, but seemed to have no specific duty within the company besides being somewhat cute.

He had more rumors about him online than he could count, so he'd stopped trying. It didn't matter what people said about him as long as he could pay for his grandmother to get the treatment she needed. He was a nobody in high school, too, so he had no reputation to care about, either.

Smiling to himself, Teller slipped the pin into his shoulder length, wavy hair and looked out the window at Incheon airport sprawled before him in the afternoon sunlight. At least I finally am getting a chance to visit. It wasn't going to be a vacation, by any means, but he knew that this was his only chance. With the medical bills he'd have to keep paying, there would be no spare money for such a trip in his future. 

The intercom came on overhead, alerting the passengers in English to buckle their seatbelts and prepare to land. Teller leaned back in his chair but kept his head tilted so that he could watch the descent as he listened to the woman speak the same notice in Korean. He understood her easily, but he had to hide his smile. He didn't want to give his manager any reason to make him accidentally trip again. 

As the wheels touched down, Teller pursed his lips, reminding himself repeatedly that he couldn't talk to anyone or show that he understood anything they said if it wasn't in English. He waited silently as the plane emptied, then grabbed his small carry on and made his way to the exit. 

He knew that the band wouldn't get too far before the paparazzi found them, and sure enough, when he disembarked, they were already surrounded about twenty yards away.

Teller managed to catch Mr. Canzoni's eyes for a brief moment as the man glanced around, no doubt looking for him without trying to draw attention. Nodding an acknowledgement, Teller found himself waiting near a large support pillar a few yards away from the band, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched people come and go. A good portion of them caused the commotion around the band to grow as they realized what was going on. 

They finally got to do their tour... they're definitely eating up the attention. Too bad they don't deserve it. At least, Ike, the main lip-syncer, doesn't. 

One thing that Teller was glad about with his position in the band, or really, not in it, was that he didn't have to do all of the publicity things they did. He wasn't expected to meet people. He wasn't one of the faces of the band. He was an enigma. A silent shadow that the paparazzi sometimes got a bad photo of to refuel the questions about who he was.

Sighing out a tired breath, Teller leaned his head back against the pillar and tried to relax. His eye was starting to throb pretty badly and the jet lag wasn't helping calm the headache it was creating. After a few minutes of the flashes from the cameras and the rising volume in the area, Teller took out his cell phone and texted Mr. Canzoni. 

Bathroom. Be back in a few minutes. 

He didn't receive a reply after he saw his manager check his phone, so he hurried down the walkway to the restrooms. He waited until the family restroom was vacant, which was a single room allowing both male and females, before stepping inside and locking the door. 

Walking over to the sink, he tucked his sunglasses up onto the brim of his hat, then leaned over and washed his face with cold water. It didn't help much, but it did wake him up a little. Fishing through his pocket, Teller frowned when he came away with nothing. 

I didn't take them before I left... did I? 

Groaning, he washed his face again, then looked up into the mirror after turning off the water. Tired, moss green eyes stared back at him. Dark purple surrounded one, reminding him that he had a time limit. 

Need to get back. 

After wiping his face, Teller tugged his sunglasses back down and offered the tired young man in the mirror a reassuring smile before turning and unlocking the door. He didn't get a chance to open it, though. 

The heavy metal door flew back so fast that Teller had no time to react. It slammed into his face, making him stumble back into the tile wall, then slide to the floor. His hands jerked up to clutch his nose. Wincing, he looked up to see who had come in so suddenly as blood dripped down onto his shirt.

Two young men stood staring down at him. A third appeared behind them a moment later, after locking the door. They looked familiar, but Teller's head hurt too much to think straight at that moment. It was a wonder that he was still able to bite his tongue and not speak. 

"Sorry, we didn't mean to hurt you." One of them said, a boy with silver hair styled into a messy bowl cut that was mostly covered by a hat. Several earrings adorned his left ear. He was wearing sunglasses, though, so his eye color was lost to Teller. 

"Does he not know Korean?" The man asked as he looked over at his friend, drawing Teller's eyes in that direction. 

The man beside him appeared to be a little younger, yet taller, but not by much. His hair was black and styled up. He, too, was wearing sunglasses and a hat. "Doesn't seem so." The man replied before looking down near Teller's feet. When he began to reach toward him, Teller scrambled back into the corner. 

"You're going to make him piss himself." The third person said from where he stood close to the door. Teller could feel his glare even through his sunglasses. His hair was styled well and the color actually was quite similar to his own light brown, though it held a few soft blond highlights here and there where it peaked out from beneath a dark brown fedora."Give this to him and let's go. We should have slipped the reporters following us by now." He said, offering a wad of paper towels he'd taken from the dispenser on the wall to the black haired boy who was now kneeling in front of Teller.

Taking the paper towels, the young man offered them to him with a cautious smile. "Sorry." He said with accented English. 

Teller's eyes widened at the change in language, drawing a grin from the other man who was now squatting beside his friend. "So he's a foreigner, looks American. That explains why he doesn't know what we're saying. He's probably here on vacation or something."

Swiping the paper towels, Teller hurried to wipe his hands, then pressed them against his nose. It hurt, but thankfully he could tell that it wasn't broken. Something did feel a bit odd, though.

"The left side of his sunglasses snapped off. I don't think he realizes that they're crooked on his nose." The silver haired boy said as he picked up the item his friend was likely going to retrieve before scaring Teller. 

He held up the piece of plastic that used to be attached to his sunglasses, making Teller realize that they were tilted on his nose and would likely fall off if he moved much. As if his situation wasn't bad enough already, his phone vibrated with a text message at that moment, the tone of the chime telling him that it was Mr. Canzoni. 

With shaky, blood-stained fingers, he tugged his phone from his pocket, silently thankful that it hadn't gotten damaged. 

We are leaving, get back here!

Jumping to his feet, Teller felt the ground shift abruptly and lost his balance. Several sets of hands grabbed him, keeping him from dropping right back down to the dirty tile floor. 

"Damn, should we call the airport medic for him?" The silver haired boy asked as Teller's head lolled forward and his glasses slid from his face to clatter to the floor. 

"We can't be here if we do, the headlines would be horrible." The brown haired boy said as he reached over to grab Teller's chin, then tilt his head up. 

"Wait. Why is his eye like that?" The black haired boy asked, his hand starting to reach up to possibly touch the black mark around Teller's eye. 

I need to get out of here. 

Jerking back, Teller managed to stay on his feet and give a slight bow of his head. The motion brought his broken sunglasses into view by his feet. He started to reach down and grab them, needing to hide his eye before he could leave, but a strong hand grabbed his arm and forced him to stand back up. When he looked to see who had done it, there was suddenly a pair of sunglasses being pushed onto the bridge of his sore nose. 

A moment later, he was pulled over to the sink and his face was hurriedly wiped with wet paper towels until the blood was gone, or faded enough to not be seen easily. When his jacket was pulled off, however, Teller tried to jerk away. Thankfully, his phone was clutched tightly in his hand and his passport and wallet were both in his pants pockets.

"Just hold the idiot." The brown haired boy said. 

His two friends hesitated, but then grabbed each of his arms as the brown haired boy slipped off his own expensive-looking coat. When he leaned closer, Teller squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to gain another black eye to match his current one. When he just felt the heavy leather jacket settle over his shoulders before the two guys behind him removed their hold, he blinked open his confused eyes. 

The brown haired boy was still leaning over him, his hands now at the base of the jacket, zipping it up over the blood that stained his own clothing. When he had finished, he straightened back up, their eyes meeting as he did so. 

Ice blue. His eyes are beautiful, just like winter. 

Looking down at the jacket that now hugged his body, Teller frowned, then glanced back up at the group that had returned to his front. 

Wait. He's not wearing sunglasses anymore.

The brown haired boy was missing his pair... which had to be what Teller had on. 

"Come on. He'll be okay. I'm sure he's got someone waiting for him. He doesn't look like he's even out of high school yet. They'll take care of him." 

Pursing his lips, Teller gave another awkward bow of his head. He expected the group to leave at that point, as they had begun to crowd around the door, but when the brown haired boy turned back to face him, he fidgeted. It took physical effort to not step back when he stepped up to him and tapped his chest with his finger. 

"Return them." He said in English before grabbing Teller's arm and pulling back the sleeve on his jacket, then pulling out a marker from a pocket in the jacket. 

Pulling the cap off with his teeth, the young man leaned forward. His eyes caught on the pin settled into Teller's hair and his eyebrows rose, then narrowed, but he seemed to shrug off his confusion because he gave his head a slight shake and hurried to scribble down an address, then phone number, before recapping the marker and putting it in his own pants pocket. "Return them." He stated again, earning a quick nod from Teller. The address was in Korean, of course, but he could always pretend that he had shown it to someone who told him where to go to return the items, so he didn't have to give away that he understood the language. 

When he looked back up, the group was just disappearing out the door. He moved to follow, but when a roar of screams echoed toward him, he ducked back against the wall. He couldn't make out what was being said well, but he had a feeling that it was his group causing the comotion. After a moment, he peaked around the corner, only to see the three people who he'd just met darting toward the exit of the airport. A horde of mainly women followed after them, screaming loudly. 

Hesitantly stepping out of the bathroom, Teller spotted his boss stomping in his direction with the band close behind him. They still had an entourage, but it looked like a good half of the people from before were now following after the three boys who'd just left. When Mr. Canzoni finally stopped before him, Teller could feel anger radiating off of him. He'd have to be careful later that night. 

"I can't believe Ello was going to be here at the same time!" He ground out, grabbing Teller's arm as he hurried him toward the exit with the band and reporters in tow. "They totally messed up our big arrival." 

Wait. Ello? The band? 

His mind struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together. He was a fan of the band, of course. They were extremely popular, and for a good reason. They were all extremely talented musicians and their main vocalist was incredible. Their images flashes before his eyes as he was pulled. Immediately, his tired mind replaced the photos he'd seen on the internet concerts he'd watched to the three people he'd met in the bathroom. 

Oh my god. I just met them in person! 

He was dragged out to a limousine that was parked at the curb and shoved inside once the band got in. Normally, he'd cower on a corner to try and keep any attention away from him, but he was having trouble focusing on anything besides what had just actually happened. Dazedly, he pulled back the sleeve of the jacket he'd been lent and scanned over the address and phone number written on his right arm. 

Wait. I have their number... and address.

Looking down at himself, Teller felt his face heat with embarrassment. 

I'm wearing Tay-Yun's jacket! 

He hadn't expected anything good to happen on this trip besides getting paid, yet he could already go home happy having met one of his idol groups. 

Eyeing the writing, he read through the address and number one more time, committing them to memory, before tugging the sleeve back into place carefully and turning his attention outside the window while his manager, the band, and their translator all slipped into a loud discussion that he wanted no part in. 

(Not sure where this is going yet, but hey, that's my writing for ya :3)