npt:: @wintrynightz @heart-of-alex @pittsick @rogersgal @kismetsfawn @amourflores @userhotd @im-miss-worldblog @prettysouled @severedlamb @dontlistentodaisy @deadbeatpup @fawnrott @gilmrres @gengarwebs @heapingfern @lilahthedoll @carmysdoll @cup1dssorrow @cumkissed @vlarrtrgryn @beafond @nuitts @meiyokstarr

you visit busan alone during summer vacation.

there isn’t any particular reason behind the trip. with school out and a few weeks of freedom stretching ahead of you, you decide to spend two days away from seoul. busan seemed like a good choice, a train away from seoul yet a place different enough to feel like an adventure. what you forget to account for, however, is the blazing heat. the summer sun is mercilessa and by noon, the sidewalks practically radiate warmth, and even the sea breeze offers little relief.

after spending the morning wandering through the city, you find yourself searching for somewhere, anywhere, with air conditioning. that search eventually leads you to the aquarium. the building stands out against the bright afternoon sky, promising cool temperatures and shelter from the sweltering weather outside. honestly, at this point the marine life is just a bonus.

after buying a ticket, you step through the entrance and are immediately greeted by a rush of cold air. the difference is so dramatic that you sigh in relief. for the first time all day, you feel comfortable. with no schedule to follow and nowhere else you need to be, you begin making your way through the exhibits at your own pace, stopping whenever something catches your attention and lingering wherever you please. the soft blue glow of the tanks reflects across the floor, conversations blend into the distant hums of the filtration systems, and for a while, the outside world seems to disappear entirely.

somewhere between the angelfish exhibit and the tunnel aquarium, you find yourself stopping in front of a lionfish tank. the fish drifts lazily through the water, their striped body and venomous spines illuminated by the soft blue lights of the exhibit. you watch them for a moment before noticing someone else is already standing there.

a guy.

at first, you don’t pay much attention to him. plenty of people stop to admire the displays like you were. then you realize, he’s talking. not on the phone nor to a friend. just.. talking? “and people always think that lionfish are aggressive. like seriously? you’re super chill most of the time.” he says, eyes fixed on the tank. “like, look at yourself. do you look like you’re planning mass destruction?”

you glance around, nobody else seems to be with him. the guy continues without missing a beat, “actually, maybe don’t answer that.. you do look suspicious.” a pause. then he nods thoughtfully, as if the lionfish has offered a valid counterargument. you stare. because surely there is no way this guy is having a full conversation with a lionfish in the middle of an aquarium.

and yet, “okay that’s fair. sorry i judged you so quickly.” the lionfish swims past the glass, blissfully unaware of the accusations being thrown its way. the guy, however, seems completely invested in the discussion.

maybe you’re staring a little too obviously because the moment the guy glances away from the tank, his eyes land directly on you. and he freezes. you freeze too. for a few painful silent seconds, neither of you say anything. then his gaze flickers between you and the lionfish.

“oh.” a pause. “oh this isn’t what it looks like..” you raise an eyebrow, and unfortunately for him, that only seems to make him panic even more. 

“i mean– not that it looks bad. not that talking to fish is bad. i wasn’t talking to the fish exactly..” he winces, “okay i was talking to the fish.” your eyebrow rises higher, “i just really like marine life.”

for some reason, it sounds less like an explanation and more like a confession. the guy lets out a defeated sigh and drags a hand down his face, “wow. this is embarrassing..” despite yourself, you laugh. a faint shade of pink immediately appears on his cheeks. “judge me all you want..” the guy mutters, sulking away.

“no,” you say, still smiling “i’m just trying to figure out what kind of conversation you were having with a lionfish. his expression brightens up almost instantly, “a very important one, actually.” “oh?” “he’s being unfairly stereotyped.” you glance at the fish. the fish glances at neither of you. 

“i.. see..” “thank you. finally someone understands.” leehan speaks. “i didn’t say that.” “close enough.” A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. the guy grins. for someone who was moments away from disappearing into the aquarium floor from embarrassment, he recovers surprisingly quickly. 

“i’m donghyun by the way, you can call me leehan too.” he offers his hand. you accept his hand and tell him your name which somehow becomes the beginning of a conversation. one topic leads to another. the lionfish turns into marine animals, marine animals turn into favourite exhibits and before either of you realizes it, the two of you have wandered away from the tank entirely, continuing your conversation as though you’ve known each other for much longer than five minutes. 

for most people, the conversation would have ended at the lionfish tank and similarly, that’s what you expect too. it usually goes something like this: a few awkward minutes. polite smiles. then both people go their separate ways and never think about each other ever again. yet somehow, neither of you leave. instead you find yourself walking beside leehan as the two of you more towards the next exhibit, still talking about fish.

or rather, listening to him talk about fish. a lot.

you quickly learn that leehan knows an alarming amount about marine life. every tank becomes another opportunity for another fact. every species has its own lore. every creature seems to hold some kind of personal significance to him. at first, you think he’s a little strange. not in a bad way. just.. strange. 

the kind of person who speaks whatever enters his mind without filtering it first. the kind of person who gets genuinely excited over things more people would walk past without a second glance. you watch him crouch slightly in front of a tank of sea horses, pointing enthusiastically through the glass as he explains something you’ve already forgotten halfway through. 

the words blur together. what catches your attention instead is the way his face lights up. the way his eyes seem brighter when he’s talking about something he loves. the way he keeps glancing at you after every explanation, almost as if checking whether you’re still listening. and every time he does, you are. because despite yourself, you’re beginning to enjoy this. you don’t know exactly when it happens. maybe it’s somewhere between the neon tetras and corydoras exhibit. maybe it’s when he spends five minutes passionately defending the flowerhorn cichlid that most people find ugly. maybe it’s when he accidentally walks into a sign because he was too busy explaining something to notice where he was going.

whatever the reason, you eventually stop thinking of him as strange. instead, you start thinking he’s funny. endearing. easy to be around. the hours pass far more quickly than it should. the aquarium feels smaller somehow. each exhibit blends into the next as conversations branch into topics completely unrelated to marine life. school, family, favourite foods, places you’ve always wanted to visit, stories from childhood. 

the more you talk, the easier it becomes. the silence stops feeling awkward. the laughter comes naturally. and without realising it, you’re beginning to look for him whenever you stop in front of a display, instinctively wanting to know what he thinks before forming your own opinion. 

leehan notices this. he notices a lot of things. like how you always pause a little longer at the bigger tanks. how you tilt your head when you’re curious about something. how you laugh before trying to hide it horribly. but more than anything else, he notices that you listen. not the polite kind or listening nor the kind where someone’s simply waiting for their turn to speak. 

you actually listen. when he rambles, you ask questions. when he points out something, you look. and maybe that’s why it happens so quickly. because leehan doesn’t realize he’s falling for you until he’s already there. it sneaks up on him quietly. in the way he catches himself search for your reaction first. in he way every joke suddenly feels more rewarding if it makes you laugh. 

he doesn’t know much about love. but he knows this feeling. the feeling of wanting to keep talking to someone forever. the feeling of finding someone after years of searching and somehow feeling as you you’ve known them all along. the feeling of looking at a person and thinking, i hope this day doesn’t end. 

one of the last exhibits you visit is the touch pool. the moment you realize that leehan is dragging you to touch starfish, you freeze several feet away from the tank. “no.” leehan looks over, “no?” “no.” “they’re starfish.” “i know what they are..” “then what’s the problem?”

you stare suspiciously at the shallow pool. the starfish stare back. or at least you assume they do. “they look weird.” leehan lets out a laugh, “that’s ridiculous.” you cross your arms, “what’s ridiculous is how they look!” unfortunately for you, this only encourages him. a few minutes later, you’re standing at the edge of the torch pool while Leehan repeatedly insists that the starfish are harmless. 

“just one touch.” “no.” leehan chuckles, “you’ve survived talking to me, i promise the starfish are less dangerous.” eventually, through a combination of persistence, teasing, and your own curiosity, he manages to convince you. barely. you crouch beside the pool, staring at the nearest starfish as though it might suddenly spring to life and attack 

leehan snorts as he sees your finger trembling. you finger hovers above the starfish, then you immediately pull back. “nope. nuh uh.” leehan laughs, “come on.” you glare at him. he grins back. the worst part is that he’s clearly enjoying this. after a moment of hesitation, you finally force yourself to touch the starfish. the second your finger makes contact, your entire body tenses. the texture surprises you. it’s neither slimy nor hard, just strange. you quickly pull your hand away, “oh.” “oh?” “it wasn’t terrible.” “see?” 

you poke it again, then anther one. soon enough, your fear begins fading into curiosity. meanwhile, leehan has somehow acquired your digicam. you don’t notice until a camera shutter sounds and your head snaps up. “did you just take a picture of me?” another shutter. leehan beams, “you looked cute.” “delete it.” “no.” “leehan!–” click. another photo. 

“leehan!” “what?” he asks innocently, already taking another. you reach for your digicam but he lifts in higher, “you’ll thank me later.” “i absolutely will not!” yet despite your complaints, you can’t stop smiling and leehan notices. he notices the way your eyes brighten when you forget to be embarrassed. he notices the way your earlier fear completely disappeared. he notices how pretty your smile is.

so he keeps taking pictures. not because he thinks they’re particularly good. because honestly, most of them are burry and some are horribly timed. but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to stop. because every photo feels like proof that today actually happened. proof that he met you. proof that this isn’t some strange, perfect dream he’d wake up from tomorrow.

By the time the aquarium closes, they sky outside has begun turning shades of orange and pink, the transition feels unfair. one moment the two of you are wandering beneath blue-lit tanks and watching fish drift through the water. the next, an announcement echoes through the building, reminding visitors that the aquarium is closing for the day.

neither of you says much as the crowd slowly funnels towards the exit. it’s not because there’s nothing left to talk about. if anything, there is too much. too many unfinished conversations and too many stories left untold. and yet, for the first time all day, words seem inadequate.

the automatic doors slide open. warm summer air rushes forward and reality returns. you and leehan stop just outside the aquarium entrance, neither quite sure how to continue. the day is over– “are you hungry?” the question comes suddenly and you blink. “what?” leehan rubs the back of his neck, “i mean, we’ve been here for hours.” he gestures vaguely towards the aquarium, “people usually eat dinner at some point.” a small smile tugs your lips, “are you asking me out for a meal?”

leehan glances away for a second, palm rubbing the back of his neck, “yea.. i mean only if you want to..” you know he means it casually, at least that’s how he’s trying to make it sound. but there’s a hopeful edge to his voice that makes your chest feel strangely warm. you find yourself smiling before you’ve even decided on an answer. “okay.” the relief that flashes across his face is immediate, “really?” “yea.”

his eyes immediately turn into crescents, a grin spreading across his face so contagiously you had to look away. dinner ends up being simpler than you imagined, just a small restaurant tucked between larger buildings, chosen mostly because neither of you could agree on where to eat and both of you were too hungry to keep debating. 

the food is good. nothing extraordinary. years later, neither of you will remember exactly what you ordered. what you will remember is the conversation. the way one short story somehow led to ten long stories. the way laughter and snorts kept interrupting meals halfway through. at one point, leehan laughs so hard he chokes on his drink. you laugh even harder watching him. a few tables over, someone shoots the two of you an annoyed glare.

neither of you notices. or perhaps neither of you cares. hours earlier, he has been a complete weirdo of a stranger. now the idea feels impossible. not because you know everything about him, because you don’t, there are countless things left to learn. but somewhere throughout the day, familiarity has settles between you. comfort.  

eventually, however, the restaurant empties and the sky darkens. reality begins catching up once again. your hotel isn’t far and actually it is close enough to walk, so that’s what the two of you do. the city feels different at night, cooler and quieter. streetlights casts pools of golden light across the pavement while distant sounds from the beach drifts through the air. 

the two of you continue talking. about anything, everything and nothing at the same time. whatever allows the walk to last a little longer. then, far too soon, your hotel comes int view. beside you, leehan grows noticeably sulkier. the conversation slows, not because you’ve run out of things to say but because suddenly every world feels like a countdown. you stop near the entrance. neither of you moves and the bright hotel sign glows overhead. people pass behind him and the city continues on as though nothing important is happening. yet somehow, this feels important an neither of you can explain why. 

the silence continues to stretch, not in an awkward way but just reluctant. as though both of you are waiting for the other person to find a reason not to leave. you glance up at him and he meets your gaze. for a second, neither of you looks away. it’s a strange feeling. standing in front of someone you’ve known for less than a day yet already feeling as though saying goodbye matters far more than it should.

you don’t have a name for it. leehan doesn’t either. maybe because some feelings arrive before the words for them do. all either of you know is that when the moment finally comes to part ways, neither of you is quite ready. and neither of you wants to be the first person to leave.

eventually however, leehan glances toward the hotel entrance before looking back at you, “so, how long are you staying in Busan?” the question is innocent enough yet something about it makes your smile falter. “actually…” you hesitate, “i’m not..”

his brows furrow, “what do you mean? you shift your weight slightly, “i’m only here for summer vacation..” a small laugh escapes you, “i’m going back to seoul tomorrow morning.” the words settle heavily between you and for the first time all day, leehan doesn’t respond immediately. “oh.” just one word. 

you watch his expression carefully. the surprise is obvious. the disappointment even more so. neither of you had really thought beyond today. the aquarium. dinner. the walk. It had been easy to pretend there would always be another conversation waiting around the corner. another exhibit, another meal, another day. now suddenly, there isn’t. tomorrow has arrived too quickly. 

you look away first, “my train leaves tomorrow morning.” leehan stares at the pavement for a moment. then something seems to occur to him. “what station?” you tell him busan station. he nods once. then, before he can overthink it, the words tumble out, “i’ll bring you.”

you blink, “what?” “to the station..” he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking embarrassed. “i mean..” a nervous laugh escapes him, “if that’s okay.” for some reason, the offer makes your chest ache. not because it’s a grand gesture. it’s not. it’s simple. small. the kind of thing most people wouldn’t think about twice. 

a smile slowly spreads across your face, “i’d really love that.” the answer comes so quickly that Leehan’s eyes widen slightly. then he smiles too. a genuine one. the kind you’ve grown strangely fond of over the course of a single day. 

neither of you says anything. the sadness is still there. tomorrow still exists. the goodbye waiting at the station remains unavoidable. but suddenly, it feels a little farther away. not tonight, tomorrow. tomorrow can wait. for now, there is still one more meeting left between the two of you. and somehow, that makes leaving easier. 

the next day arrives far too quickly. when you step out of the hotel lobby with your suitcase rolling behind you. leehan is already there waiting. he’s standing near the entrance, hands shoved into his pockets, absentmindedly kicking at a crack in the pavement. the moment he notices you, his face brightens and suddenly, the morning doesn't quite feel so heavy.

“you’re early.” you say. “that’s because I didn’t want to be late.” you laugh slightly and leehan grins. he doesn’t mention the fact that he had arrived much earlier than necessary. Instead, he reaches for your suitcase.

The journey to the station feels strangely different from yesterday. the city is awake now, cars pass by, people hurry through the streets, life continues normally around you. yet both of you are painfully aware of where this walk ends. still, neither of you allows the conversation to die. you talk about anything you can think of. favourite songs, places you’ve never visited. childhood stories. future plans. every topic feels like an excuse to learn one more thing about the other person before time runs out.

before long, the station comes into view. and suddenly, there are no more streets left to walk. inside, announcements echo overhead as travelers rush between platforms. the atmosphere feels busy, people arriving and people leaving. you hate it immediately and leehan seems to feel the same. 

the closer the departure time gets, the quieter both of you become. eventually, you’re standing beside the platform with your suitcase between you. neither of you knows what to say. how do you properly say goodbye to someone you’ve only known for a day? how do you explain why it feels so much harder than it should?

the announcement for your train sounds through the station as your train pulls up to the platform. a knot forms in your chest. beside you, leehan looks down at the floor. then back at you, “hey.” you glance up. his smile is small and nervous. “we should stay in touch..”

the suggestion feels obvious. yet somehow neither of you had said it aloud until now. your expression softens immediately, “yea.” “like..” he rubs the back of his neck, “letters?” you blink, “letters?” a laugh escapes your lips, “who still writes letters?” “we can,” the answer comes without any hesitation.

you look at him for a moment, really look at him. the guy who talks to fishes, the guy who spent an entire day making you laugh, the guy standing here now an trying to keep you in his life. and suddenly, the idea doesn’t seem strange at all. instead, it feels perfect. a way to make sure this isn’t the end. a smile slowly spreads across your face. “okay.” leehan visibly relaxes and his grin returns instantly. the same one you’ve became hopelessly attached and fond of.

you exchange addresses. a station announcement echoes overhead. passengers finish boarding. your chest tightens. this is it. the goodbye you’ve both been avoiding since last night. the noise of the station fades into the background, people move around you and announcements continue overhead. yet somehow, all you can focus on is him. the guy you met less than twenty-four hours ago. 

the guy who talks to lionfish. the guy who made an entire day feel far too short. the guy you’re suddenly not ready to leave behind.

“write to me,” he says. his smile is there, but it looks fragile. like he’s trying very hard not to let his sadness show. you nod, “i will.” “and don’t take three months to reply.” a laugh escapes you as you roll your eyes. then, before you can stop yourself from overthinking it, you step forward. leehan blinks. you rise onto you tippy toes slightly and press a quick kiss against his cheek.

the world seems to stop and for one impossibly long second, neither of you moves. leehan freezes completely, his eyes widen and his brain appears to shut down. the realization hits you immediately afterward. you actually did that. heat rushes to your face. before either of you can say anything, the warning chime sounds. 

the train doors begin closing, your panic wins. you immediately turn and hurry onto the train. “wait–” the doors slide shut before leehan can finish. you barely make it aboard, breathless, embarrassed and suddenly very aware of what just happened. 

through the window, you see him standing on the platform. still somewhat frozen, one hand half-raised and cheeks visibly red as though his mind hasn’t caught up yet. the platform starts drifting away slowly as the train pulls out of the station. leehan finally snaps back to reality, a disbelieving laugh escapes him. he lifts a hand and waves. you wave back. neither of you notices the ridiculous smile spreading across your faces. the distance between you grows as the station disappears. and yet, for the first time since meeting, goodbye didn’t feel that frightening. because with a promise to write letters, it becomes something worth remembering.

the first letter arrives less than a week later. you find it waiting for you when you return home from school, your name written across the envelope. the sight alone makes you smile. for a while, the letters arrive faithfully, allowing your connection and feelings to continue despite the distance.

every envelope feels like a bridge between Busan and Seoul, carrying stories, memories and pieces of each other’s lives. you two write about school, family, dreams for the future and small moments you wish you could share in person.

however as the years pass by, life begins to demand more time from you two. school becomes more challenging, new responsibilities appear, friendships change, opportunities arise and the future gradually pulls you both in different directions. the letters still come but not as often. what was once a week becomes monthly, then every few months. every delayed reply comes with an apology and a promise to write back sooner.

and the gap continues to widen. neither of you meant for it to happen but it was simply life moving forward. eventually, one letter goes unanswered. then another. and before either of you realises it, the letters stop altogether.

years continue to pass. busan remains by the sea. seoul continues to rush forward. the older you grow, the more people you meet, and the faster you build lives separate from the summer that once meant everything.

sometimes, when he visits the aquarium, he’ll pause at the lionfish tank for no reason a moment longer than necessary.

sometimes, the sight of a train pulling away from a platform brings you back with flashes of blurred memories.

both of you remember the feeling of falling in love. not the details, not anymore. time is cruel that way.. it takes the memories apart piece by piece, carrying them away so slowly you never notice what has disappeared until it’s wiped away.

two years become three. then five. the letters are long gone, the paper has yellowed, been misplaced or thrown away during one of many moves. neither of you know what became of the other. neither of you know where life ultimately led the other person you once waited so eagerly to hear from.

yet sometimes, without warning, a familiar ache settles in your chest. you remember walking beside someone who made ordinary moments feel warmer. but time slowly erases the details. faces become a blurry mess, the exact curve of a smile disappears. then the color of their eyes. then the way their hair was styled. voices fade into silence or gibberish. names become harder to remember.

one day you realise you can no longer remember at all. only that there once was a name you repeated to yourself so often that it felt impossible to forget. but somehow, you did.

sometimes you wonder if the other remembers you as badly as you remember them. if somewhere, in another life, another version of the future they never shared, someone occasionally pauses at the sight of an aquarium and feels the same inexplicable ache.

you will never know. and perhaps that’s what makes the memory so achingly beautiful. because for one summer, out of all the summers they would ever experience, two strangers found each other. they fell in love. they promises they would never forget. and in the end, they forgot everything except that they once had. 

somewhere deep within them remains the faint outline of a person whose face they can no longer picture, whose voice they can no longer hear, whose name they can no longer recall. a stranger, and yet somehow, was the person who once meant a lot. 

all that remains is the memory of a summer and the feeling of being loved within it.

another summer, the afternoon rush spills through the seoul subway station, a steady flow of people moving in every direction. shoes tapping against the concrete, conversations blur together and train announcements echo through the station.

you climb the staircase towards the exit, focused only on getting home, halfway up, someone catches your eye. a stranger, a guy, descending the stairs. you don’t know why you look at him and neither does he. for the briefest moment, both of you stop. confusion flickers across his face. and a strange feeling of familiarity settles in your chest. 

you don’t recognize his face, you’ve never seen him before - at least that’s what your mind tells you. yet, his eyes lingers on yours. and suddenly.. blue light, aquarium glass, a lionfish, laughter, starfish, a camera flash, a train station, a promise. memories long buried beneath years of living surge to the surface without warning. it isn’t clear enough to understand but it is enough to make your chest ache. 

the words leave your lips before you can stop them.

“your name?”

divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more | network @berrybittynetwork

like this headcannon oneshot? check for more on my masterlist and maybe even join my taglist!! more interested in moodboards or more regular posts of mine? follow @mxriitaesz