“Hey.”

You turn around from your dazed stare at the blurred lights in front of you. You smile and raise a brow at the familiar face of the male steadily walking toward you.

“Yah,” you joke, “are you following me or something?”

He pouts mockingly when he reaches you. He leans down a little so you’re face to face, exaggerating his use of aegyo.

“Trying to get rid of me?”

You grin cheekily, “We hung out already, oppa. I’ve seen you enough.”

“Aye,” He huffs and he turns to join you to stare at the calm waters of the Han River, glistening with lights reflecting from the night of the city and stars.

Silence falls around you comfortably and without a word, you both begin walking, slow and small steps. He notices you shiver and sighs. Even after all these years, you were still careless. He takes off the jacket he put on over his sweater and shifts it over your shoulders.

“Yah,” he scolds, “how can you be so forgetful? Going out without a jacket…” He sighs again, “Why are you out here so late anyway? By yourself even.”

You shrug and smile up at him. You stop walking and choose instead to sit at a bench facing the waters. You’re pressed close, side by side so you could steal his warmth.

“There’s no special reason. I just like it, plus its very relaxing so I lose stress just walking here at this time,” you hum and turn to him. “What about you, why are you walking by yourself, here, at this time?”

“It isn’t often,” he shrugs, “but I come here to think.”

“And what were you thinking of earlier?”

“You.”

You don’t know how to react. Your heart jumps in surprise and your breathing hitches but you aren’t sure whether to take it as one of his jokes or not. But then, he is staring at you so intensely, you almost thinks he’s just going to lean down and kiss you. Instead he looks down and holds your hand—it’s nothing intimate, just something he uses as a distraction, playing with your fingers. Just like he used to all those years back.

“I was thinking,” he starts before you could find your voice, “what it’d be like if we never broke up. If we kept our relationship during trainee days. Would we still be together or end up how we are now? If I hadn’t let you go back then,” he looks at you, “would you still love me?”

For a moment, you’re speechless; you even panic slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you see that he’s genuinely curious. There’s no sadness or regret in his voice or the way he’s staring at you, just an open innocence of him really, only wondering the what ifs and possibilities of your past. The nostalgia floods over you heavily.

You squeezes his hand, saying, “You’ll always be my first love, oppa,” and cringing for sounding so greasy, but you know it’s true because there will always be a small part of you that loves him.

The once shaky atmosphere smoothes down into a low, steady hum and you lean against his side. You sit in silence for a while before you straighten up, letting go of his hand and lightly smacking his shoulder with a pout.

“I heard you were coming back soon.”

“Oh?” he laughs. “Yeah, we are.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It’s supposed to be a secret.”

You huff, “But you wanted me to come to a performance.”

“Yeah. And you are, right?” he waggles his eyebrows and grins. You simply roll your eyes, standing quickly so he couldn’t see the smile dancing along your lips.

“Yah, walk me to my dorm.”

OMG, guys. I’m still alive, okay? I’m surprised I still have followers but omg, I’m still here. I don’t have excuse other than I just haven’t been writing, but, guh, I’m not dead.

On a side note, have you guys listened to Sunggyu’s/Yoseob’s solos? kkqlsnwkdoow, I feel like Christmas came early for me because those two are my biases. Everything is beautiful and just ;A;

Because - Sunggyu

you wake to the sound of his calm, even breaths in your ear and the faint touches of his finger tips along your skin. you still and strain to listen to the disappearing exhales, re-memorize the fading warmth. when you turn over, you’re blinded by the sun’s light steaming through the opened curtain. the space beside you lays cold and empty.

his voice follows your every move, sowed on to the shell of your ear as you pad across the smooth, wooden flooring. it echoes around pearly tiles when you step into the bathroom, growing louder over the rain of water drops as you try to wash away the traces his ghost left on your arms, face, lips. heart.

pictures of a boy, handsome and unforgotten, are placed faced down on surfaces thinly layered in dust.

his presence is everywhere, his smiles, his eyes, singing along the walls and brushing over the palms of your hands.

you wonder how he is, what he’s doing and if the girl he’s with loves and cares for him the same way you did—and still do.

trying to forget him is like trying to remove a shadow. during the day, he follows close behind you, lingering inside your head. while at night you’re surrounded by him, creeping and haunting around the corners. memories are hard to erase and he refuses to leave that large space in your heart.

A/N: Sometimes inspiration avoids me like the plague.

Prompt/Request: Falling in love with his touch.

you fall in love with him through his touches. it’s nothing intimate, just simple innocent brushes, brief barely there contact of skin on skin.

that’s actually all it takes.

it starts with bumping shoulders during rides on the bus, the brushing of ankles against cool grass and the sun warm against your cheeks. you don’t need to hear him voice it, but listening to his laughter is something you’d never refuse along with just the mere presence of him beside you, caring and protective.

his guiding hands on your waist and small of your back leave you feeling light, as if you’d be able to jump off the ground and soar. the feel of his hand gently nudging against yours, pinkies curling and the featherlike ghost of his lips against your ears are enough to set you burning and overwhelmed with his whispers of affection.

sometimes you’ll return the favor, dancing fingers along his skin. behind curtains of black, you’ll map out the contours of his face and commit them to memory, a handsome picture your mind has created. you’ll trace the low arch of his brow, the circles of his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the slight swell of his cheeks, and the line of his jaw. the curve of his lips will be the last thing you seek, touching them with your own, pressing your smile against his.

his love for you is shown through soft, lingering touches; you don’t have to see to know that he sincerely does.

A/N: To the requester, I hope it’s okay that this is short. >

you glance up from the soft ruffles of your skirt. your heart palpitates harshly against your ribcage, quickening your breaths and setting the flutter of butterfly wings off in your stomach. struck frozen, you stare into his unreadable gaze with wide, surprised eyes.

“what?” your mouth is dry, voice jumping at your throat in a breathy hitch. “did… did you just say you loved me?”

his brow arches, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. he chuckles, eyes flashing with brief amusement. you’re once again frozen by how strikingly handsome he is.

“above you,” he enunciates in his low, smooth voice. the tantalizing sound carries down to your ears, even over the music and lively talk of the people around you.

that pleasant feeling running through your veins doesn’t disappear, but something embarassing drops low in your stomach, tasting almost like subtle rejection. you feel your cheeks flush red and follow his gaze upward, over your head.

and there, hanging innocently on the ceiling right above the both of you, is the reason your face heats up impossibly. it was ridiculous for you to mishear him, that part of your heart that had been wanting, hoping for the end of this unrequited love. all of the embarassment and disappointed feelings are thrown in the blame
of the mistletoe above your heads.

you hear your name fall easily off his tongue, passed his lips. your eyes meet his once more and he’s drawing closer, closer, closer, until he’s mere centimeters from you. the party dissolves in the background with the sound of your echoing gasp. his breath is warm, smelling like peppermint and gingerbread against your cheeks. your eyes flutter closed, awaiting for that soft press of his lips against yours.

careful and guarded, your heart clenches when it’s over all too soon.

wishful thinking, that’s all it is.

Prompt/Request: Stuck alone on a subway with him because of a snow hold up.

you hate winter, absolutely despise the biting cold, freezing winds and annoying sniffles. you hate the limits layers upon heavy layers of clothing put on your limbs. you hate having to trudge through thick snow, tiny shaves of ice sticking to your cheeks and seeping ever so slowly into your clothes.

you loved summer, enjoyed clear blue skies, bright suns and fresh breaths of air. you loved pure white clouds, thin with the heat, sandals, skirts and dresses that move freely with the soft breeze. you loved running barefoot in cool grass with radiating warmth and sun-kissed cheeks.

stupid winter, you think as you grumble incoherently to yourself. your breaths come in visible little puffs and you pull your coat tighter around yourself in an attempt to keep warm.

you skip down the stairs and hop onto the last train out of the city. you’re parents had asked for a visit after the holidays, but it’s been a long while since you’ve seen them so you wanted to surprise them and visit the day of.

the train was surprisingly full despite how late it was, but as every stop came by, it emptied out until you were more than halfway toward the other side of town.

you’re hunched over yourself in the seat when suddenly the train comes to a complete halt. it’s nearly pitch black outside the window, the glass almost opaque and frozen over with ice. it’s hours passed midnight by now.

“please excuse the inconvenience,” a female voice says over the intercom, “but we will be stopping until the storm passes over. once again, we are sincerely sorry.”

“ah, why?” you whine out, squirming in your seat uncomfortably.

huffing, you fall back heavily against the seat, listening the song of some boy group playing over the speakers. it’s then that you notice the presence of another sitting across the aisle from you.

at first glance, you already think he’s handsome. his eyes are closed, most likely asleep, with his head resting against the top of the backrest. his hair is obviously dyed a light brown, lips set in a straight line. he looks comfortable and warm in the clothes he’s wearing.

“it’s rude to stare,” he suddenly says, voice slightly raspy, yet still sounding attractive and low.

you jump in surprise, quickly turning your attention toward the front of the train, “s-sorry! i thought you were sleeping.”

he merely hums and you’re really just too embarrassed to even look in his direction.

“do you often stare at people while they sleep?”

“n-no! i just… i didn’t notice you before. so i was surprised.”

he hums again. when you finally build up enough courage to look at him, you’re greeted with sleepy thin eyes, dark brown orbs you find yourself drowning in. he introduces himself with a name that slips easily off your tongue. you return the favor, mumbling out the syllables clumsily.

“where are you going?”

“visiting family.”

“me too.”

as conversation starts off awkwardly, you find that you’re only a year apart from the other, him being the older. he’s in love with music and his passion lies in singing—and his eyes are actually that narrow, immediately disappearing into slits when ever he smiles or laughs. when you ask him to sing, he refuses to do so.

“i don’t sing for strangers,” he says with a minimal quirk of his lips.

you scoff, already comfortable in his presence, “singing for an audience is basically the same thing.”

“if that’s the case then you have to show me something.”

“i don’t have any talents to show.”

he doesn’t look convinced after the words had left your slightly chapped lips—another reason why you hate winter—but all you knew how to do was play guitar, which you didn’t have at the moment. it wasn’t a complete lie.

“it doesn’t matter,” you shrug, suddenly bitter. you have no idea why you’re still speaking to this guy. “once we get off this train we’ll still part as strangers.”

“what if i don’t want to?”

you stare with wide eyes at how intensely he’s looking at you. the little spark of hope you’ve been trying to ignore jumps to your throat and you choke out.

“w-what?”

“do you know what’s so beautiful about winter?”

the sudden change in topic has your head whirling, struck speechless and unable to speak. you barely manage to shake your head.

“after winter ends, it brings life to spring, the birth of some thing new. a brand new beginning. when we part this train, we’ll still be strangers—”

dully, you note the announcement being made and the train once again coming to life. a slow, cheesy ballad playing softly and you want to laugh at how melodramatic this feels.

“but, i want to leave with the knowledge that we’ll see each other again.”

the bell signaling arrival rings and he stands. you’re two stops away from your destination. he presses something—a blue ipod with his name and number engraved in the back—into your hand before stepping away and off the train. over the horizon the sun is beginning to rise, the start of a new day.

as the train slowly starts to move, you’re left with his parting gaze and the promise to meet a friend in the near future.

when you first fall, no one is there to see it.

no one notices you trip, but it’s small and short. it doesn’t even hurt—you recover from it easily and (naively) keep going.

the second is much like the first, except it has you stumbling a couple steps. it had hurt a little because it was an abrupt bump, a harsh little jerk, but you forget about it quickly.

it’s nothing too bad. the apology is hurried and stuttered, your cheeks burning red.

the third time it happens has you brushing at your knees. this one hurts a lot more because you catch yourself, falling hard on your hands, palms aching.

tears sting your eyes, hanging onto your lashes—you refuse to let them fall.

there isn’t an apology, just cold eyes and a rough shove.

no help, just rejection.

your fourth fall leaves you sprained and hesitant. it was an unexpected end. you had thought that nothing could go wrong, but the sudden turn had you twisting, hurting yourself for believing—trusting—that he was going to be there and hold you up.

your eyes betray you just as he did, tears cascading slowly down your cheeks.

there’s no sincerity or guilt in the way his mouth form the words, “i’m sorry. goodbye.”

by your fifth fall, you don’t think you could go on. you’re just about ready to give up and stay at a standstill. this one leaves you broken and battered, helplessly picking up the pieces of your crash off the ground. it’s hard—the pain is too much for you to handle. you can’t take it.

you cry freely, sobs echoing in your ears while you hold yourself together.

“why?” you want to know.

the trust, the honesty and promised happiness, protection, had vanished. you could do nothing as it all slips from between your fingers.

he leaves without a word.

you’re startled when you’re falling for the sixth time. it scares you because it’s been a while since you’ve fallen. you had been so careful, taking tentative steps, avoiding and walking around every possibility, every chance, of tripping. the sixth time catches you completely off guard, and you’re vulnerable and terrified of landing by yourself, broken once more.

you’re confused, unsure of what to do so you flail, hoping to latch onto someone. but that’s stupid and ridiculous—you’ll just hurt even more.

your eyes shut tight while you wait for the impact. and you’re praying that it won’t be as painful, hope that you’ll be able to fix yourself up in the aftermath.

it never comes.

you never hit the ground and you aren’t left shattered all alone. instead, you’re held closely, in the arms that had caught you—full of warmth, comfort, love, protection. you’re shy, wanting to push away, but the look of promise in his eyes and his own shy smile has you pulling closer.

“i’ve got you,” he says. his voice is hushed, a smooth and silky timbre in your ear. his smile is wider when he gazes at you, more confident.

“i’ve got you,” he says again and never lets go.

A/N: To my few followers whom I love and have kind of sort of neglected. Lately, it’s been hard finding inspiration to write, and I don’t want to leave this blog unattended ;A; I’m just asking for some help—drop by the ask and give me a prompt to write. Please! It’d be greatly appreciated.

“hey.”

“hm?”

you pause from your cleaning, biting your lip hesitantly because you could practically feel his eyes on your back. you’re tidying up your mess in the living room, picking up canvases and water color paints to put them away (because even though you were a baker, you could never maintain the constant stream of creativity flowing through your veins). your best friend’s question has been silently nicking at the corners of your mind.

“have you,” you pause again, absentmindedly straightening the blank canvases against one wall. “have you ever thought of marriage?”

you don’t turn to look at him, but you know with how the volume of the tv goes down that he’s suddenly aware of the situation. he doesn’t move from his place on the couch, watching you move about—you can never just stay in one place.

“marriage?” he asks.

you nod, “yeah. i mean, it’s been five years, right?”

you know it shouldn’t bother you this much; you were in no rush in your relationship. you’ve sailed smoothly and without many problems, save for the tiny disagreements here and there. you try to ignore the pang in your heart at his next reply.

“why?”

“i don’t know. i just,” you turns around and face him, unsure of how to answer. “we…”

he stares, face blank and serious, “i don’t need a ring to know how much i love you.”

you nearly turn red at the answer, cheeks burning. “i… it was just a curiosity.”

sighing, he leans forward enough to tug you to the couch and onto his lap. his arms circle your waist and pull your small frame close to his own lean one.

“a ring’s is just a ring without the commitment.” he presses a firm kiss to the corner of your mouth and causes you to blush at the random gesture.

“i’m not saying that you’re not,” you defend quickly. he quirks a brow at your stutter. “and i love you too. so much. it’s just. my friend asked me a few days ago. it didn’t bother me then. but then i kept thinking about it and. i don’t know. i had been the one who wanted to go slow, and i guess i got insecure. maybe it’s because there’s not much else i could give you.”

he laughs when you continue rambling, kissing you into silence and pulling you closer to murmur softly in your hair, “aye, you’ve given me everything and more. seriously, you’re so cute for acting like this. i haven’t repaid you enough, things i still want to give you.”

“eh?” you question against the collar of his shirt.

he grins even though you can’t see it, “like my last name.”

you pulls away from him then, eyes wide and bewildered. “w-wha—are you—?”

“ah, i was going to ask you later during your brother’s party,” he sighs, adjusting a bit so he could remove a black, velvet box from his pocket. “but you just had to ask about it…”

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

je presses his lips against yours briefly, “you’ve really given me more than i could ask for and return. you still continue to do so and everyday, i love you even more.” your name falls from his lips, laced with love and adoration, “will you marry me?”

by now, you’re more than speechless, unable to move and control the overflow of happiness.

“w-what?”

he smiles, kisses you once more, “marry me.”

you sigh heavily. you’re feet are aching from having to walk for so long. you don’t even know why you’re still dragging your bike around; it was useless to you now—it had a flat tire. but it made it easier for you to carry your heavy luggage along the never-ending road.

it was slightly windy, blowing dirt into your eyes and face. the sun is slowly starting to set and you’re just really tired.

without much care, you push your bike to the ground and sit on your large luggage, pulling out a worn map from the satchel hung on your shoulder.

the roads are criss-crossing and you don’t see any signs nearby. you have no idea where you are so you give up and stand to hopefully hitch a ride from someone.

it takes a while and you’re about to give up yet again, ready to pick up your stupid bike and start walking when a bright red jeep pulls over. there’s a unique-looking trailer thing attached to the back and you stare sort of dumbfounded at the driver.

he’s wearing a faded grey shirt with the sleeves cut off, one hand thrown casually over the wheel. he turns, aviators covering his gaze.

his voice is low and smooth when he speaks, “where are you headed?”

“anywhere,” you say. all you wanted was to get away from your old life; you don’t really care. you needed a muse, inspiration. “where are you going?”

he gives a short chuckle and smirks (you try not to blush), “anywhere.”

it’s only been a few hours since you’ve hopped onto the care with this stranger, but it feels like you’ve known him for a few years now. though it’s a bit awkward at first, words unable to form sentence unless it’s formally, it surprises you how comfortable you feel around him.

his name is something that rolls off your tongue easily. his voice sounds nothing but pleasant to your ears and his handsome face is an unforgettable image that appears in your mind every time you close your eyes.

you swear it’s love at first sight.

“here,” he says, patting the duvet of his bed with a kind smile. you stand awkwardly in the small space of his trailer.

“you can take the bed. i’ll just sleep on the—”

almost immediately, you shake your head, “no, this is your bed, i can’t—”

“of course, you can,” he smiles wider and your stomach does multiple flips, “i’m sure you’re tired from walking all day.”

you bite your lip, looking at the floor in hesitance. he chuckles and you glance back up at him. his eyebrows are raised suggestively, smile turned into a sly smirk.

“unless, you prefer that we sleep in the same bed?”

flustered, you throw the extra pillow at his laughing face. he makes his way to the small couch in the corner and you burrow under the sheets. it smells of his scent, something unique and fresh. you fall asleep instantly.

when you wake, it’s still dark out and he’s singing. he’s moved to the small table across from the bed, sitting so close, you can reach out a hand to touch his knee. he strums an acoustic guitar with calloused, long fingers, the moonlight illuminating his face through the window as he sings a song about reckless and foolish love.

“that’s beautiful,” you say softly when his gentle voice comes to a slow halt.

his gaze is intense and sincere, full of meaning; it’s difficult for you to look away and ignore the fluttering of your heart.

“it’s not finished…”

“you wrote it?”

“yes.”

there’s a tense pause, quiet breathing only filling the silence.

in a whisper, you request, “will you sing more?”

he smiles and nods, strumming a familiar tune and you fall asleep to the sound of his lullaby.

you find your inspiration during the break you both decide on taking from following the road to enjoy the warm sunset. the glowing ball of fire is disappearing behind a wide field of wild grass and colorful flowers, painting the sky with soft hues of yellow, pink and orange slowly blending into dark, dark purple.

sketch pad open, colored pencils out, you’re already attempting to imitate the beautiful image as you both lounge outside his parked trailer. halfway through your drawing, you discover your muse.

just like in your picture, he’s sitting on a little tower of his small trunks, head bowed toward his guitar, strumming, with eyes full of concentration.

his eyes glance up, dancing with the last few rays of the sun’s light, and smiles, “what?”

you jump slightly, jostling your pencils, face heating in embarrassment at being caught.

“nothing,” you say with a laugh and stare back down at the male in your drawing—strikingly similar.

“i’m just a fool.”

he laughs with you. the whole situation is ridiculous and makes no sense, but it’s weightless and comfortable, light with the company of another.

with eyes gentle and uncertain, he replies, “i think i am too.”

“dance with me.”

you glance at him in confusion. it’s another day at just enjoying simple beauty, stars scattered over a black canvas—and you swear you see the lights of a city behind where he’s currently standing.

“what?”

the quick, uneven ba-badump of your heart is hard to ignore with the way he grins and disappears into the trailer. your notebook is filled with drawing and sketches of him—your inspiration, your muse—and your fingers itch to add more when he returns.

“dance with me,” he says again, offering his hand as music softly pours out of the vehicle behind you. he tugs you up and pulls you close, swaying to the song.

his smile and laughter fill your dreams that night.

“so, when do our adventures come to a stop?”

a short hum and amused eyes, “once we find what we’re looking for.”

“and you’re sure we’ll find it driving around aimlessly?”

“it’s the reason you’re on the road too, isn’t it?”

you wake to sunlight streaming though the window, the strumming of a guitar, a voice singing way off key and the sight of his smile. it all makes your heart flutter against your ribcage and you through a pillow at his grinning face to hide how red your cheeks are getting.

the town you’re in is small and filled with old-style buildings. there’s an air of ancient tradition in it that makes the whole place all the more interesting.

there’s a shop he drags you into filled with trinkets and nick-knacks, accessories and other things.

he compliments you on every headband, bracelet and necklace you try on and you fall deeper and deeper in love at every word and smile.

when you walk, his hand brushes against yours.

you’re in the heart of south korea when it happens, standing in the middle of seoul as some sort of celebration goes on in the streets, fireworks exploding and joining the stars fleetingly.

“hey,” he says, and you glance up at him in question. “let’s be fools together.”

the statement only confuses you more, but he boldly grabs your hand, pulling you close as the cheers grow louder at the beginning of a new year. his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss and you both pull away with matching smiles and you finally understand.

you share a second kiss before he leans in close, singing in your ear about reckless and foolish love.

fool - juniel ft. yonghwa

you step into large patio with light, graceful steps. tall walls lined with ivy circle the area, encasing the many guests inside the beautiful display of the outside setting.

under the soft glow of lanterns and twinkling stars, you smile in greeting at many faces hidden behind masks. you’re gaze is inviting, yet and the same time careful and calculating as you search for a certain stare, perfect lips and defined jawline.

it’s become a game between you two now, who could find the other first in masquerades as big as this. who could finally reveal the other, bare their faces from the masks and steal the others breath away.

with one last glance around the many strangers, you sigh and make your way across the patio.

“looking for me?”

the husky tenor doesn’t come to a surprise to you now. his voice is a familiar whisper against the shell of your ear, anticipation crawling along your spine just from the sound of it. you turn to face him when you feel his fingers grazing the edge of your mask.

you have no idea what he looks like under his own mask and vise versa, but the way his lips tilt in a smirk has you guessing that he’s the epitome of perfection.

coyly, you smile, “should i be?”

“well,” he chuckles and steps forward. you step back in response and you both start an unintentional dance, circling around each other but never once touching.

“not anymore, i suppose, since i’ve already found you.”

“i knew you couldn’t resist me.”

it’s meant as a joke, but the way his gleaming eyes intensify and how his smirk melts away has you almost halting in your steps, caught in his gaze.

his fingers curl invitingly around yours and you gasp at his seriousness, “you’re just so enchanting; i cannot keep away.”

you shake away from his stare and, after smiling shyly, slip away from his hold. you hope the music is enough to hide how loudly your heart is beating. he seems to notice your hesitation and laughs.

“c’mon, juliet, you can’t be giving in now.”

the nickname causes you to roll your eyes, all signs of timidness gone and replaced with a taunting stare. easily, you mold into the crowd, flashing him a teasing smile before you disappear.

“the game’s not over yet, romeo.”

your small game of cat and mice starts as the music picks up in rhythm, people dancing at the center in a collage of swirling skirts, intricate fabric, and masked faces. you’re the mouse in the game, but you watch with sharp eyes at the confused predator.

avoiding him is easy as you slip passed the table of refreshments and delicious food and into the small maze of ivory. the soft lights lead you to an illuminated fountain and pearly white gazebo, surrounded by roses of every shade and hue. it looks like a cliche of some fairytale and you smile to yourself at it’s simple beauty.

“it’s five minutes ‘til midnight,” a voice behind you says just as you step into the gazebo. you turn and his hand is placed gently upon your cheek, thumb grazing along the bottom of your mask.

“would you like to dance?”

“and then?” you challenge playfully, already poised and following his lead. slowly, you both circle around, securely holding on to each other.

“the curse put upon our faces will fall away and we’ll fall in love with a single kiss.”

“your imagination is completely out of sorts.”

he spins you once, twice, then gently dips you and brings you back up to him. by then, you’ve noticed that both your masks are off and your breath hitches at the sight of his handsome face, those eyes that had you drowning in them at first sight.

his smirk is even more enticing when his face isn’t hidden, “how so?”

the kiss you share is careful, almost breakable but laced with certainty and full of promise. it leaves you breathless.

“i had fallen since the beginning.”

one, two, my heart

the bell chimes and you look up from your sketch expectantly. a welcoming smile automatically graces your lips when he walks in at exactly 3:05, always. his intense gaze does their normal sweep of the cafe and he sits himself down in his usual seat—to the left of the register, right by the window.

you take a moment to admire him, face turned so dark, mysterious eyes can look out the large window. his perfect lips are set in a small, contemplative scowl, hands clasped under his chin. you watch the sun kiss his cheeks a golden tint and finally, weakly step forward.

“hi,” you say, quiet, hesitant and careful, “how may i help you?”

his eyes don’t stray away from the window. he’s never looked at you once, you’re sure, hasn’t even taken the time to read the name of the tag tacked onto your shirt. but the smooth, low timbre of his voice is enough to have you shakily hold your pen over the pad, already scribbling down the order you know by heart.

“iced coffee and a croissant, thanks.”

“okay,” you smile once more, lingering in hopes that he would spare you a glance at least once. but, like all the other times, it doesn’t happen and your smile falters slightly. you ignore the sympathetic look of your co-worker and begin preparing his order.

making your way back to his table, you place the cup and cookie down in front of him, saying brightly, “here you are. enjoy.”

“thank you,” he replies gently.

your heart skips and flutters, jumps to up to your throat when he hands you the money and your fingers brush fleetingly.

he leaves without a glance and his usual “keep the change.”

three, four, my breath

he comes in again, routinely five minutes after three. he’ll stop at the door and you’ll watch him scan the room again. you take in those few seconds to re-memorize his handsome facial features.

like always, you smile warmly, “welcome!”

and for the first time, something happens differently—it could be that the cafe is unusually empty, or maybe, just maybe, fate had decided she’s be nice to you. for the first time, his gaze meets yours, holding it and stealing away your breath. he does nothing but nod and walk to his regular spot.

it isn’t much, but a sudden burst of hope—small and wavering—ignites in your heart.

you approach him with new-found confidence, yet still trembling with uncertainty. with your pen poised over the pad, you ask shakily for his order.

to your surprise, he turns and you’re once again breathless, awed by his sheer perfection. those dark brown pools of his eyes look up at you endlessly, and his unreadable expression remains a mystery.

“iced coffee,” he answers, so smooth and alluring, “and a croissant, thanks.”

you nod and shuffle away quickly, heart palpitating and breaths hitching. you give him his order and he murmurs his thanks, as per usual.

by the end of the day, your pad is filled with sketches of him and you’re embarrassed to find that you’ve drawn on his copy of the receipt. with flustered cheeks, you hand him the tiny slip of paper with your messy scrawl and drawing of his usual stance of gazing out the window.

you refuse to think that his fingers press a little longer, a little more firm against your palm when he leaves with a “goodbye, see you tomorrow.”

five, six, my entire body walks,

only seeing you

today is the start, you think—still cautious and scared, but still so sure.

the cafe is filled and busy with workers serving those at the tables and those queued in line. the smell of fresh brewed coffee is strong and warm, and fresh air filters in through the door with each and every chime of the bell. the music is upbeat, the sound of conversation lively and warm.

“welcome!”

your grin is brighter and you’re pleased to see his handsome face turn toward you, stare focused on yours over all of the people. he’s seated immediately—you’ve reserved it just for him—but you aren’t the one to take his order this time, too busy catering to other costumers. but you still prepare his order and readily bring it to him, steps light and nearly trembling.

today, he isn’t staring out the window for once, watching as you approach.

today, his eyes are shining with emotion, inviting and illuminated by the beams of sunlight through the window.

shyly, you smile and place his order on the table in front of him.

“thank you,” he says, eyes never once looking away, and all you hear is your thundering heartbeat.

today is the start, you think, when he smiles and says your name like he’s known it all along.

baby steps - taetiseo