PI Records: Jasper
I stretched my arms over my head, my cats crying outside the bedroom door for breakfast. I tossed my ratty blankets to the side, rubbing my shoulder from the ache of sleeping on it, the mattress, regrettably, many years old. I got up and opened the door, Amelia and Jennifer reaching up with their paws. I picked Jennifer under her furry arms and let her perch on my shoulders. She was pure white, eyes milky from birth. She didn’t need to see me to know I was her kitty father; she could smell me plenty fine. Amelia, a cat I’d brought back from an alley, was pure black, a notch on her ear and a scar across the bridge of her nose.
I yawned, walking into the kitchen. I cleaned out their food bowls, washed, then dried them. I let Jennifer down to pour a little bit of dry food in. Going to the pantry, I picked out two cans of semi-wet food and opened them, the sharp scent of meat and thick broth making me wince. I dished them out into the bowls, the two cats purring and lapping at the mixed food. I smiled, then headed to the bathroom to get ready. I knocked on the door.
“Rose?” I asked. The light was off but sometimes my sister used the bathroom with the lights off. Nothing. I opened the door- the bathroom was free. I winced at the lights, then took a three minute cold shower. My stomach was churning, anxiety racing through my veins like a poison. It made me tremble, equal parts nervous as I was excited. I rushed into my bedroom, got dressed, then returned to the bathroom. I slicked back my pearly blond hair, fussing to make it perfect. I rummaged through the first drawer of the counter and pulled out the light brown brow pencil and mascara. I’d been using it since high school, taking the edge off of the unnerving sight of having such light hair. Even more bizarre were my irises, a near black sort of brown. I added a bit of lotion to my somewhat sunken face, neck, and arms. I wanted to look perfect for my first day at PI Records.
Waving at Amelia and Jennifer goodbye, I texted my sleeping sister that I had left for work and ran to my rusted red Corolla. I rubbed my hands together for warmth, turned my car on, and buckled in. I turned on the rattling speakers as I pulled out of the crumbling parking lot of my apartment. I loudly sang along to it, awful as I was at singing. This was Seojun Yook. I rarely listened to any other artist.
I pulled into the employee parking lot, grateful I’d skipped breakfast. I feared I would have lost it on the sidewalk. Rubbing my arms, I raced to the front of the building and tried opening the door. Had I come too early? The desk clerk got up and walked over, opening the door.
“Jasper, I assume?” she asked.
“Yes, that is me,” I replied, fixing my shirt. The sudden indoor heating made my skin itchy.
She gestured to the lobby, saying, “feel free to make yourself some coffee while you wait.”
“You have my gratitude,” I told her. Her eyes lingered on me for an extra second before returning to her desk. I winced, sitting down. In my nervousness I’d reverted to my tendency for overly formal speech. I looked at the wall showing various artist’s awards. I lingered on the awards for Seojun Yook. He’d just been given his sixth award for best musician topping the charts once more. He was unrivaled by anyone in his genre, setting trends for both music and fashion. I was proud of Seojun, who’d come so far from the chatty, lanky teenager I’d found on YouTube over ten years ago. Where had the time gone?
“Jasper?”
“Yes, I am he,” I said, standing up straight from my seat. The young woman seemed startled by my abrupt, mechanical movement. I’d long given up berating myself for never fitting in. She recovered quickly.
“Mike will be here in about an hour to show you the ropes,” she said. “In the meantime, feel free to get familiar with the layout of the facility.” Her demeanor changed, seeming more serious. I mirrored her actions, focused on her. “As was mentioned in the contract, you must not stalk or harass any of the artists we employ. You are to never enter their dressing rooms without management’s explicit written permission. If we get any formal complaints about your behavior you may face immediate employment termination.”
“Yes ma’am, understood,” I replied, very seriously. I could only guess the amount of people they’d employed that had become the reason the rule had been made. I vowed to move my Seojun merch out of my car as soon as I got home. Or perhaps I could hide it during lunch? I hoped it wouldn’t raise any red flags. She walked away with her phone to her ear and I began walking through the hallways with my hands in my pockets, taking note of how the building looked. It was relatively well maintained, but several things could use some deep cleaning and polishing.
I found myself drawn to the dressing rooms of the artists, walking as casually as possible. Some of the greatest artists worked here. I could easily treat them as anyone else in the building. They were people too.
And then I read the nameplate of one of the doors. It read:
SEOJUN YOOK
The nameplate was golden and polished. A faint, earthy scent came from it, confusing me. Did he, perhaps, have a coffee machine in his room? How strange. I looked forward, but didn’t move, biting my lip. Something stirred in my chest and belly, keeping me frozen in place. Something like desire, like need, like home. I clenched my fists in my pockets, forcing one foot in front of the other, tearing myself from standing there. A shiver went down my spine, the pull to the scent of my favorite artist haunting me.
I was in the middle of a random hallway when I realized I was completely lost. I managed to find my way back to the lobby, right as a fatherly looking man walked in. He had a rusty dark plaid shirt and light blue jeans, his conplexion reminding me of a white peach?
“Ah, you must be Jasper,” he said.
“Yes, hello, that is me,” I confirmed awkwardly. He took it in tow and offered a hand.
“My name is Mike Ford,” he said. I took his hand and shook it, mimicking timing and pressure. I forced myself to stand straight- first impressions were everything. Was I looking him in the eye too long? I didn’t know. “Let’s start with the maintenance office and go from there.”
“Yes sir,” I replied, following him. He chuckled.
“Just Mike,” he assured me. “Sir makes me feel old.”
“Okay,” I told him. He smelled of ocean cologne. I rubbed my neck and winced. I’d forgotten to apply my suppressants. I’d have to put a backup in my car. “If I am not mistaken, it seems as though everyone I’ve encountered knows my name already,” I started. “Can you help me understand? Perhaps it is my odd appearance?”
“Well I wouldn’t say you look odd,” he began. “Word simply travels fast. A young, attractive new alpha has just been hired on the maintenance team. They wonder why you aren’t modeling.” I covered my mouth with one hand, then forced it to my side.
“I’d hardly consider myself particularly attractive,” I told him, baffled. “But I appreciate the flattery.” He chuckled as we arrived at a door labeled MAINTENANCE. He unlocked the door and I internally cringed at the mess the shop was in. Tools, supplies, and half finished projects were in disarray on the work bench and counters. He gestured to the desk and had me sit down in the chair. He then showed me around the company portal, teaching me how to use it. Next, he showed me around the building, teaching me how to make, fill, and complete work orders with his iPad. I held one of my own, company lended, that most likely cost more than my car was worth.
“One last thing,” Mike said. “When the janitor is out for her heat you’ll need to pick up her responsibilities too. Let me know when your rut is due. You’ll be paid that week at your regular rate: half as compensation for Mei’s work and half for the standard heat or rut leave allotted to alphas and omegas.”
“Thank you,” I replied. ”Shall I begin with the sound checks and daily equipment cleanings?”
“You can start that after you have your first break,” he said. I checked the time, shocked at how much had passed.
“I understand,” I told him. “I will begin doing so after my break.”
“Let me know if you have questions,” he told me.
“Understood.” I began wandering the halls again, greeting people as they passed me by. I thought a few women had giggled after passing me. My heart sank, stomach churning. Were they, perhaps, making fun of me? I took a deep breath. My responsibility was to work and behave professionally. Anything else was out of my hands.
Feeling antsy, I skipped the rest of my break and began maintaining the mixing and recording rooms. My nerves died down as I tended to the machines with deft fingers. The door opened and a somewhat familiar earthy scent caught my attention. I looked over and my breath caught, heart missing a beat. Piercing, icy pale irises was the first thing I spotted. Golden beige complexion, soft yet striking features, styled black hair, casually leaning against the doorway. A fitted black tee, dark navy skinny jeans, white vans, none could hide lithe muscles of a dancer underneath.
Seojun Yook, in the flesh, far more beautiful and captivating than I’d ever imagined, was observing me with scrutiny. All of my excitement vanished. What had I done to earn such a look? The earthy scent… changed? Seojun smiled at me, the sort of smile worn at fan meets. I gulped, then turned back to the equipment, embarrassed. But wasnt it rude to skip an introduction? I turned back to him and offered a hand.
“Hello, my name is Jasper Warner,” I told him. “I presume your name is Seojun?” He took my hand and shook it, saying nothing. I expected him to let go, but he leaned forward, holding my hand, staring at me as if gazing into my soul.
After a tense moment he let me go and rocked back on his heels. “Hi Jas,” he greeted me, his voice deep and impossibly silky. “Like the nickname?” I blinked, unsure of what to think of this strange interaction. Hostility was in the air, yet he looked confident and playful.
”I cannot say one way or another,” I told him honestly. Something like frustration crossed Seojun’s face. Had I looked away for any amount of time I would have missed it. I began berating myself for staring like a fool. I was supposed to be working! I could not simply stand and stare. “Forgive my intrusion,” I said stupidly. “I believe I have completed the necessary checks and maintenance. Please use the portal for anything that needs my attention.” I walked, brushing past him, and he grabbed my elbow, sending shivers down my spine. What was he staring at? I looked away, wiping my mouth. My face and belly were ablaze, heart racing. “Have I erred?”
“Say my name,” he demanded, unprompted.
“Seojun Yook,” I frowned, baffled. He let me go with an eerie smile.
“At least some strangers know how to pronounce my name right,” he told me. “I like you. Let’s be friends.” I turned away and pinched myself.
“Pardon me I am late and must be off please you’re- to, you have a good day.” Horrified with myself I rushed off, ignoring the other mixing and recording rooms. What on earth had possessed me?! I rushed to the maintenance office and began panic cleaning.
This was it. I was a full on idiot and would soon be fired for it. There was no way that Seojun would let me get away with that sort of behavior. Friends? Obviously he was messing around with me, Seojun Yook would never be my friend.
Though, we had been, once. I sorely missed the Seojun from our teen years. I remembered fondly the young boy rambling and singing, watching how Seojun had hit puberty, voice cracking, getting just a bit taller, proud of a tiny mustache that refused to grow into anything noticeable, changing his style, and then-
Gone. One day Seojun had simply deleted everything. And he had ghosted me. For a year I agonized over what I’d possibly done wrong to ward off the one friend I’d ever had. He’d been there for me and then was gone just as quickly. Once he debuted, I figured he wouldn’t want me to find him. Had he tried to reach out at least once I might have tried to do so as well. In the end, he hadn’t wanted me anymore and that was that.
Well, I’d said hello to Seojun at least once. If we never interacted again it would be acceptable. Once was enough. More than, considering how stupid I’d been. I went back to work and decided I didn’t want him to know I was “ghost boy”. That was the nickname I wanted to hear. “Jas” was generic. Anyone could say it. Only Seojun Yook could call me ghost boy and have it mean something. Of course, I’d never told him anything about me aside from looking weird and being a man. We’d talked about a lot of nothing, and that nothing had meant everything.
Never mind all that now. I was hired to do maintenance, not pine over an online friendship that had been dead a good while now. I looked over the portal, then winced. I hadn’t finished the mixing and recording rooms. I ended up slouching in an attempt to minimize myself, useless as it was. I’d last measured at six foot two and a half, had all but colorless hair, black irises, a horrendously skinny frame, and vampire sensitive skin. Reminding myself of my own ugliness and how I couldn’t hide it, I forced my posture upright again.
I was almost finished with the last recording room when I stifled a laugh. Me? A model? Surely Mike had been joking around with me. Normal people said things weird like that sometimes. I wished I could simply know the rules instead of doing a constant analysis on every human interaction I had.
I glanced at the clock. Lunch time. I clocked out, set a timer on my phone, and headed to my car, stuffing Seojun merch in various hiding places. There. I’d take the items into my apartment when I got home. My stomach growled at me as I lounged in my car. I’d heard the food station inside was marked half off. Could I really afford lunch when I’d just gotten a job after scraping by for nearly a year? No, I had to ensure I could keep the job. I glared at the roof of my car. I very well couldn’t do a good job if I was thinking of food. Letting out an exaggerated sigh, I went back inside.
I looked through the options with great scrutiny. My alarm went off- I’d ran out of time. Dejected, I turned my alarm off and started walking away. I caught a strong earthy coffee scent, without a coffee pot, cup, or maker in sight.
“What are you doing?” I nearly jumped out of my skin at Seojun’s sudden appearance.
“Returning to work,” I told him. He gave me a displeased look and shoved a large, wrapped bun into my arms.
“Eat it,” he demanded. “You’ll look prettier with a bit of meat on your bones.” And with that, he walked off, joining a table filled with peers and laughing. I looked down at the bun, baffled. But what was the worst that could happen? Poison? I tentatively unpeeled it and sniffed it. Sweet and mild. I nibbled on it and stifled a moan. It was delicious! I tossed the wrapping away and cheerfully ate the rest of it. It was filled with red bean paste and some pork. I vowed to pay him back for however much it cost. He most likely purchased it from an Asian market. No Walmart I’d been to had ever sold anything this decadent.
I clocked back in, thinking. Had Seojun called me ugly while giving me something to eat? I wasn’t sure. I’d never understand normal people.
-
I helped Jennifer perch on my shoulders at home, having taken a brief shower and readied myself for bed. Rosalie was at our splintering table, cracked laptop open, computer glasses on, some tea nearby, and an intense focus on it.
“How was work?” she asked.
“Splendid!” I replied. Then, on second thought, backtracked. “Well, perhaps less than splendid.” She looked at me over the rims of her glasses, then went back to work.
“What happened?”
“I met Mr. Seojun Yook,” I admitted. “However, with that I made a mad fool of myself, and he later gave me a meat and bean Asian bun to make me look prettier?” She glanced at him again. “I believe he was calling me skinny. I do not understand how people do nice things but it is in reality an insult.” She didn’t say anything yet. “He’s… astoundingly beautiful,” I crooned, remembering the sway of his hips and the smirk on his face. She clicked her tongue.
“Beauty isn’t everything,” she told me. “Try to keep a distance if you can. You’re…” She paused. “You don’t really know how to hide how you feel because all your energy is always spent analyzing how to act in front of people and what to say.” I huffed, annoyed that she was right. My stomach growled, and I held my stomach. Rosalie wordlessly got up, took out some cold take out, and handed it to me. I sighed and she sat down. Six chicken fingers. I wolfed them down, the breading soggy but the chicken meat moist and tender. "Jas, you need to stop starving yourself."
"I am saving money," I frowned.
"It'll cost us a lot more if I need to take you to the hospital for malnourishment." My shoulders lowered and Jennifer licked my neck, gagged, and began purring, rubbing her face against my neck. I got up and began cooking some eggs using butter in lieu of milk to scramble them. I added a few spices, took it off the heat when it was done, and ate them. I let Jennifer down, and cleaned the dishes away. I washed up and went into my room, checking the old account I’d used to talk with Seojun with. I’d looked at it enough times that I all but had it memorized. My eyelids became heavy and I put the memories away, falling fast asleep.
