#btob ff

Thursday, 5 October 2017

"Believe in me and wait. I promise... I'll come back to you..."

I can barely hold back from rolling my eyes at the cliché dialogue. Sometimes, I really question my editor's intentions. For the nth time today, I wonder how she expects me to gain inspiration from a coming-of-age novel but then again, she knows best when it comes to melodrama. Sighing, I return to the passage, fervently hoping that something interesting will come up to distract me from the cold. It is now the middle of autumn now and I did not expect it to be chilly this afternoon in the park, especially after the weather forecast earlier.

"Hi, sorry is this seat taken?"

A low voice interrupts my thoughts. Without looking up from my book, I shake my head while gesturing to the stranger to take a seat. With a murmur of thanks, he sits slowly and softly as if he is afraid of interrupting me again. Cute, my mind whispers before I lose myself to the story, the ambient noise as a wonderful soundtrack to accompany me.

It is only moments later when I notice that the sun is setting. I barely registered the stranger leaving but then again, he had been very quiet. I keep my book in my bag before bringing my hands up to my lips to blow on them. As I am about to leave, I notice a pack of new hand warmer by my side. Did he leave it behind by chance? Or did he notice that my fingers are freezing? Smiling to myself, I thank the stranger in my heart while I take the pack.

I guess my questions will remain unanswered, I think as I walk away from the bench.

It takes one Thursday to cross paths.

Thursday, 12 October 2017

I find myself at the park again, sitting on the same bench while writing out a brief plot for my new idea. It is not much but definitely better than last week. I smile to myself as I recall the act of kindness last week. I guess chivalry is not really dead, I think wryly.

As I write, I hear the crunching of leaves which make me look up to see a person approaching the bench.

"Hi again. Is the seat taken?"

A familiar voice breaks the silence around me. Finally, I am able to put a face to the kind stranger from last week. He is pretty tall, his black coat accentuating his silhouette. His messy black hair almost covers his eyes which light up as he smiles.

"No, it isn't," I answered, still reeling from the surprise that I am seeing him for the second time in the two Thursdays I am here.

With a muttered thanks, he sits and relaxes against the bench. Crossing his legs, he takes out a notepad before plugging in his earphones. A look of concentration crosses his face as he writes. Soon, he looks as if he had lost himself to the music as he remains engrossed in his work. I catch myself studying him, mentally berating myself for staring. All of a sudden, I remember that I have to thank him for the hand warmer. However, I hold back for I did not want to disturb him. Maybe later, I think and I turn to write.

Later finds me nearing sunset. I hear him moving as he starts to pack his things. Gathering up the courage, I clear my throat before turning to him.

"Hey, umm... thanks for the hand warmer last Thursday," I croak out, my throat dry from not talking for an hour.

He looks up, as if my voice had jolted him from his task.

"No worries, I have a lot on me," he answers.

He breaks into a smile and the corner of his eyes crinkle along with his smile lines, making his smile contagious to those around him. I can only nod, unsure of how to respond. As he stands, he suddenly turns to me and hands out a new pack of hand warmer.

"It's going to get cold tonight. Keep warm yeah?"

With a parting wave, he turns around and leaves.

It takes two Thursdays to smile.

Thursday, 19 October 2017

Perhaps my continued fascination with the park is that it is a good place to observe humanity's interesting antics. It is one of the few moments where their uninhibited emotions are clear on their faces as they enjoy themselves.

"Maybe I can use that little boy for a character model," I mumble to myself while scribbling in my notebook.

Satisfied with what I had written, I look up only to see Mr. Stranger approaching my vicinity. He is certainly a good model, my thoughts creep up before I dismiss them.

"Hello again," he greets as he stands before the bench.

"Hey, and no this seat isn't taken," I respond while moving my things away to make room for him. I close my notebook and place it by my side.

Chuckling, he takes off his bag before sitting carefully at his usual space.

"I've come prepared today," I remark, indicating to the hand warmer on my lap.

He gives a small laugh in his low voice and I grin along with him. There is really something about this stranger that lights up the atmosphere around him. He leans back and breathes in deeply as if he is soaking up the atmosphere around him.

"You're not reading today?" he suddenly asks, breaking the momentary silence.

"Yeah, not today. I'm collecting materials instead."

"Materials?" His eyes narrow, clearly confused about the term.

I grin while gesturing to the people around us.

"Yeah, materials. Everyone here is a potential subject."

He nods, finally understanding what I am referring to. He crosses his arms behind his head as he observes his surroundings.

"You're a writer."

It is not a question and I just incline my head in return. With a heavy sigh, he tilts his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. I glance at his calm face, a question lingering at the tip of my tongue.

"Are you a writer too?" I blurt.

With his eyes still close, he smirks and mumbles, "Somewhat, I guess."

All of a sudden, his phone rings. He sits up, excuses himself as he leaves to take the call. I take the moment to register our conversation, rolling my eyes at his last cryptic response. He comes back soon, an apologetic look on his face.

"I have to go now," he starts as he takes the bag that he had left on the bench.

I nod in response as I wave him off. As he adjusts the bag on his shoulders, he appears to remember something and starts to dig in his coat pocket. He takes a pair of gloves out before turning to me.

"See you around," he says clearly as he offers the gloves to me. "Take care of yourself, yeah?"

I accept them hesitantly, confusion and questions clear on my face.

"Don't catch a cold. Thursdays will be boring without you," he answers, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes before walking away.

Leaving me sitting on the bench holding the pair of gloves in my hand and a million questions running through my head.

It takes three Thursdays to talk.

Thursday, 26 October 2017

On Thursday, I find myself staring at a familiar handsome stranger writing on the bench. This marks our fourth meeting and I still don't know anything about him, I think dryly. As if he senses my approach, he looks up from his work and his face break into the warmest of smiles as he notices me. He shifts his bag to make space. Wordlessly, I walk up and take my place next to him. Somehow, this is beginning to feel like a routine.

"Thanks for the gloves last week," I start as I hand them to him.

"No worries, I'm glad you look well," he responds before returning back to his writing.

Despite it being our fourth meeting, there is something comfortable about meeting him here to the extent that I have started to look forward to Thursdays. A calm silence settles between us as we each turn to our own individual task. Once in a while, I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He does not write much but he plays with his pen a lot by tapping it against the armrest in a constant rhythm. Sometimes he murmurs under his breath and gets ready to write, only to shake his head and continues tapping. I smile to myself, acknowledging that I do enjoy this weird company that we share.

"So, I tried to look you up..." he remarks all of a sudden, pulling me away from my reverie.

I frown at his revelation as I try to recall the instance that we introduce ourselves.

"I didn't tell you my name," I counter.

He laughs softly as he points to the notebook on my lap. On the notebook, my name is spelt out clearly in cursive, a grim reminder of that one attempt where I had considered calligraphy as a job switch.

"That's a little sneaky and creepy actually," I respond.

Like a defence mechanism, I turn the notebook face down. He laughs louder now and apologises.

"I wanted to ask you last week, but work pulled me away. I'm sorry," he supplements, the ghost of a grin flittered across his face.

I tried to maintain my frown but I crack a smile at his embarrassed expression.

"Good thing I'm in a good mood today," I smirk, turning away from him to focus on the people before me.

"Oh, why so?"

Someone is chatty today. I keep my notebook in my bag before replying to his question.

"My editor gave me the green light to start on a new novel."

His smile widens as he offers his hand to me. "Congratulations! So what is it going to be about? Another thriller?"

"Nope, I choose to experiment on melodrama instead, with a mix of science fiction," I reply, secretly amazed that he knows my recent works, even if it had been an online name search.

He considers my response, nodding as if in agreement with my choice of direction.

"So who and what are you? You already know who I am and I think your introduction is way overdue," I ask, turning to face him fully.

He turns as well, placing his arm on the headrest, a serious look on his face as he contemplates my question.

"Well, I'm a composer and lyricist. But I'm not as big as you."

I raise an eyebrow at the obvious downplay of his abilities.

"So what have you composed?" I ask, a weak attempt at making him reveal himself.

"Few things here and there," he replies in a tone that implies he does not want to continue.

Shrugging, I look away from him. Secretive fellow.

Silence blankets us for a moment as I catch a scene in front of me. With a burst of inspiration, I am about to take my notebook when he interrupts me.

"You're not curious about my name?"

I cock my head at the question, my eyes glued to the family that I picked out.

"I'm just assuming you don't want me to know," I state, ignoring his chuckle at that answer.

"So what are you writing now?"

"Hmm... character profiles. The park is a good resource for that," I answer distractedly as I fix my gaze on the way a mother picks her child up after falling.

"So am I a part of that resource too?"

Pause.

I stop writing, my hand lingering in the air as I consider the implication behind his question. Deciding not to think too much on it, I turn to him to meet his eye and shrug.

"Maybe."

A moment of uncomfortable silence stretches between us as we both hold each other's gaze. I remain transfixed, not daring myself to look away from him. At the same time, there is a weird and indescribable look on his face, as if he is holding back from saying something. Fortunately, his alarm beeps and shatters the awkwardness that had settled between us. He looks away first and reaches for his phone. Sighing, he keeps his phone away and starts gathering his things.

"See you," I say weakly, still uneasy with what had transpired. He nods in reply and turns to walk away. However, he stops and faces me.

"I'm Im Hyunsik by the way, to answer your other question."

It takes four Thursdays to get to know one another.

Thursday, 3 November 2017

"So... you're the genius composer."

Hyunsik widens his eyes before grinning, remembering that he had told me his name last week.

"Guess we're even now since you looked me up. I'm actually surprised you didn't know me beforehand," he admits shyly while sipping his coffee.

He had arrived a bit later than me today, with two cups of hot coffee in his hands. He gave the excuse that the barista had given him an additional one as a mistake but even that lie sounded weak to my ear. I am thankful for his sweet gesture though, it really is getting colder with autumn ending so soon.

"Sorry, I don't really listen to music much," I apologise, a little embarrassed at my ignorance.

I remembered feeling extremely shocked when I had looked him up after last week. I did not expect him to be that famous as he did not even give any indication of it. He shakes his head, saying that it is nice for a change to not be famous to someone.

"How's your writing going?" Hyunsik asks after a while.

I look up from my notebook and smile happily as I recall my progress.

"It's going great! I'm thinking of exploring the idea of interconnectedness, like I want to experiment writing multiple perspectives and linking them up to a singular major event. I think it's really interesting to show how coincidence brings people together sometime later in the future."

He meets my eye from the corner of his, the sides of his lips pulling into a smirk as if he finds something humorous in my ramble. However, he holds his gaze a little longer than necessary. Slightly uncomfortable, I look away and ask about his group's comeback.

"Soon... that is provided I get the song ready on time," he sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair as a gesture of exasperation.

"Is it something like a writer's block?" I asked, uncertain about the differences between our professions.

"Something like that, yeah. The song is actually ready but I think I should modify the bridge a little," Hyunsik admits before releasing a heavy sigh again.

In a moment of craziness, my hand reach out to pat the hand on his lap as a sign of comfort. He stiffens at the contact and I am about to pull away when he actually holds it in place with his other hand.

"Your hands are cold," he murmurs while giving my hand a squeeze.

I freeze, my stare burning on our contact. A million thoughts run through my mind yet I am unable to decipher any of them. Instead, my senses are heightened on our touch, on the feeling of his warm palm against my skin... on the heat that we share. I am at lost, torn between what I am supposed to do and what I really wanted. Do I pull away even though a part of me is relishing this? How do I...

Before I can even make sense of my internal conundrum, Hyunsik returns my hand to my lap but not before giving it a lingering pat.

"When will your book be published?"

His voice fills the silence between us. It takes me a moment to find my voice to respond.

"In six months, if everything goes alright," I whisper shakily, still reeling from what had happened.

"That means we have at least six months to continue meeting like this."

I look at him in askance, my eyes widening at his statement. When he offers no inclination of continuing, I ask, "Why so?"

"Because you said I may be a resource for your book," he grins as he recalls our last conversation.

I break into an awkward smile, still unsure of the hidden implications that surround this enigmatic man.

"Why do you come here every Thursday?" he asks, curiosity lacing his tone.

Leaning against the bench, I take a moment to consider my reply.

"I think it's because Thursday is a random day of the week. It's a day before the weekends and it's also the last day of the weekdays. I don't know honestly, maybe it's a good day to wind down. What about you? Why are you here on Thursdays?"

Still smiling, he mimics my position. "Same here I guess."

"What a coincidence," I say softly, a ghost of a smile teasing on my lips.

"Or maybe it's because I just want to keep sharing conversations with you."

Startling, I turn to him, searching on his face, and in his eyes, for his intentions behind the loaded statement. He stares back, confidently meeting my gaze. My breath hitches up in my throat as he drops his guard for a moment, revealing a glimmer of the truth. All too soon, he hides his emotions and fixes me a small smile.

"You should pick up your phone, it's been ringing for a while," he states, inclining his head at a particular buzzing source.

Before I can respond, he stands up and brushes the lint off his coat.

"Take care. I'll see you around."

It takes five Thursdays to be honest.

Thursday, 10 November 2017

For the first time in six weeks, I am late.

Not that we ever set a time or even promise to meet every week, I think sardonically. There is nothing certain between us, yet a weird routine had settled which makes our meetups work. However, deep down I acknowledge that one of the reasons why I am late is because of the lingering fear that had developed along with the anticipation of meeting him. And following last Thursday's 'incident', I know that our meetups are not coincidences. Coincidence works best in the first three weeks, but not for six weeks. Besides, after last week, I know for sure that the term 'coincidence' does not begin to describe us.

Us.

I shake my head as I try to stop myself from going down that slippery slope. I remember vividly how I had walked home after last Thursday, pondering over our exchange. Over his words and over...

I stop short when I notice that he is not there on the bench. I nibble my lower lip, wondering why he is not there when I am already two hours late. Shrugging it off, I make my way to the bench with the very intention of waiting for him so that I am able to demand some answers out of him. And perhaps, just maybe, get myself out of this limbo that we have subconsciously put ourselves in. I shiver slightly, wrapping my arms around myself in a half-ass effort to keep warm. Slowly, I start to recall how it all started with a pack of hand warmers.

It is interesting, to say the least, that we know almost next to nothing about one another except from the things online. Nevertheless, his little quirks have started to make their way under my skin. I find myself thinking of the way the corner of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, or his deep chuckles as he laughs at our conversations. I recollect how he taps his pen, or how he bites the end as he thinks. I remember how his lips move wordlessly as he voices out his thoughts. I remember the light scent of his cologne that envelopes us and I definitely remember the feel of his hand against mine.

I bite back a sigh when I realise that deep down, he will not be here today. There is nothing to keep him coming and our time is up. As I am about to stand up, I hear someone running up towards me.

"Miss! Miss writer!"

I ignore the disappointment in my heart when I realise the voice is not his. A little boy, barely eight years of age, approaches me from afar. As he gasps for breath, he hands me a folded paper enthusiastically.

"He... He said this is for you!" he greets, smiling with a toothy grin.

"Who?"

"A tall mister!"

With that, the little boy runs off. My eyes follow him as he reaches his group of friends who are playing in the park's open space. Curious, I open up the letter, sentiment telling me exactly who the tall mister was.

Hey,

I'm sorry that I am not able to stay for too long today. We've started preparing for our comeback. It will be on the 16th so I hope you will look forward to it. Hope your book is going smoothly. I'll see you soon. Take care.

Hyunsik

Attached is a pack of hand warmer. I take it in my hand, allowing a sad smile to cross my features momentarily. And now I know another thing about Im Hyunsik: his neat and clear handwriting. A clear reflection of the man that he is.

It takes six Thursdays to be confused

Thursday, 17 November 2017

On the seventh Thursday, I find myself sitting on the bench. My notebook lays untouched by my side. On my lap is my phone, playing a recent ballad. Playing his ballad. My wrist is slowly feeling a little numb from having supported my head since earlier. As I listen to his mellow and baritone voice, I note that he really lives up to his name as the 'genius composer'. The song is nothing short of amazing and yet... it makes me even more confused than our last meeting. Putting the song on repeat since yesterday did nothing to clear my mind. Instead, it only creates more questions as the implications of the lyrics sink in.

His lyrics which tells a story of two strangers.

About love found in coincidences.

I frown as the song reach the bridge, the part that he had admitted having problems with and the part that makes me question the man even more.

So when I next see you

I hope you'll wait for me

For this song is never enough

Not for the words that I want to share with you

A shiver runs down my back, not from the cold but from the raw emotions in his voice as he sings the bridge. Even though there is a slight drizzle, I barely register the raindrops. It is as if his song is keeping me warm.

Suddenly, I notice that the raindrops have subsided, not because the rain has stopped, but because there is a navy umbrella above me. I blink the water droplets away from my eyelashes to finally notice the black boots in front of mine.

"You're here early."

I look up and sure enough, Hyunsik stands before me, his hand outstretched as he shares his umbrella with me.

"Hey you," I greet, smiling weakly at him.

"You're listening to our song."

I look down at my lap and see that his group's album is clear on the screen.

"Yeah, I just remembered today." A lie.

He shifts his weight on his feet as he brings the umbrella closer to me. I did not make any move to stand. Nor did I give any indication of moving away.

"So what do you think about it?" A slight apprehension laces his voice as he nervously waits for my response.

I look up and meet his eyes, eyes that are filled with worry and expectations.

"It's a loaded song," I mutter, breaking our eye contact when I notice the way his eyes shift to read me.

A stretched silence comes between us, each of us wanting to say something but holding back out of fear.

"What does the song mean?" I manage after the prolonged stillness, still looking down on my lap.

He takes a deep breath as he considers my question. Clearing his throat, he tries to find the proper words to answer.

"I... I want us to end our Thursdays."

My head shoots up as I eye him suspiciously over his unexpected statement. He sees the look on my face and laughs under his breath before continuing.

"That's not what I mean. I want us to stop meeting on Thursdays in exchange for the rest of our days. I want us to stop meeting at the park so that I can take you out for dinner after this. I want to meet you on any days and time that we can. I want to stop looking forward to Thursdays and instead, I just want to look forward to all the other days that I can share with you."

I blink slowly as comprehension sinks in. Finally, I am able to register the unexplained tension that had settled between us since a few Thursdays ago.

"Where are we right now, Hyunsik?" I ask softly, my voice barely a whisper but he hears it nonetheless.

"A crossroads of sort. I've stepped on my path and I think it's your turn now to make the choice."

"And what if I choose something else entirely?"

"Then I'll be happy with the seven Thursdays that I was able to spend with you."

A sad smile crosses his face as he considers the possibility of that happening. I nibble my lower lip, unsure of the words that I want to say.

"This is not supposed to happen. Everything is supposed to be a coincidence," I whisper as I hold his gaze.

With his usual eye-smile, he responds, "And some coincidences are made after the first one."

When I can only see determination staring back at me, I take a deep breath and make a move to stand up. Noticing this, Hyunsik offers his hand but I do not take it. Instead, I plant my feet closer to the bench to create a small distance between us. I ignore the flash of hurt on his face and take a step closer.

"There are a lot of things that we don't know about each other," I state clearly, proud that my voice is stable enough to not betray my decision.

"And that's the beauty of this. Of us. So will you take the chance with me?"

Appearing as if I am considering his question, I take a step closer to him until we are only a breath away from each other. And for the first time, I am able to see his face up close. He really is handsome, and the pictures are nothing in comparison. Hesitatingly, I reach a hand up to cup his cheek, my thumb barely stroking his smooth skin. He stands utterly still, as if afraid that by moving, I may run away. I lean my head closer, until our foreheads touch and I can feel him shiver from the cold and our close proximity. Slowly, I bring my lips closer to his, stopping an inch away so that we share the same breath. He did not move and I silently thank fate that he is giving me his trust along with so much more. I press my lips lightly against his, a ghost of a kiss before pulling back. With our foreheads still against each other, I whisper the answer that I had chosen since his confession.

"Ok."

The alarm clock made its way into my unconsciousness, effectively ruining whatever good dream I had. Groaning, I slammed it off and tried to sit up. However, my movements were halted when I realised that there was an arm wrapped tightly around my waist; unmoving and unwilling to let me go. Tracing the arm to its owner, I turned my body and saw that my boyfriend was still sound asleep, snoring slightly next to me. Since the comeback period was over, he would often spend his free time lazing around or going out with his friends when I was at work.

I tried to free myself from him again but that movement caused him to subconsciously flex and tighten his grip. I sighed and leaned over him. Stretching a finger, I jabbed him none too lightly in his arm to wake him up.

“Babe,” I whispered. 

No response. I poked him again and continued to do so until I heard his groan. Instead of stirring awake, he kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. Giggling, I rolled my eyes and studied his handsome face that was clearly feigning sleep. While waiting for him to release me, I traced my finger along his nose bridge and flicked his nostrils lightly. He wrinkled his nose, yet the arm remained where it was. Brushing my hair to the side of my neck, I lowered my head and gave a peck on his cheek. Still no reaction. I trailed soft kisses down his jaw and all over his face. When my lips touched the corner of his, I felt his smile before seeing it. 

Clearly he was awake. “This wasn’t what I had in mind…” I muttered under my breath. I heard his chuckle as he gripped my wrist tighter and pulled me closer to his side. 

“Minhyuk, babe, love… I’m going to be late,” I whined, even as I reluctantly glanced at the digital clock on the side table. 

“Mmm… five more minutes?” he bargained, his voice deep and hoarse with sleep. Even though we were entering our fifth year together, I could never resist the way his voice sent warm tingles down my spine. As if he knew the effect that he had on me, he buried his head closer to the back of my neck and simply… breathed. Then, he closed the small space and pressed a light kiss. 

“Mmm… don’t,” I warned him half-heartedly. Aware that my words would not have any effect on him, I twisted around to face him. His eyelids were half-lowered and his cute front teeth peeped out from his half-opened lips. With his messy hair that fell over his eyes, it gave an overall innocent and peaceful look on him.

And he knew it. 

Slowly, as if he felt my gaze on him, his eyelids fluttered open and his face brightened up. Stretching his lips into a lazy smile, he asked, “Did I manage to persuade you to stay home with me?”

“Unfortunately, no. I can’t be late, Minhyuk.” I tapped his nose teasingly. With a small groan, he pushed himself nearer and buried his face into my chest. 

He sighed. “Can’t you call in sick?”

I chuckled when I heard the pout in his voice. Resting my chin on the top of his head, I tried to pacify him. 

“I’ll be back real soon, okay? I really have to go. There’s a very important meeting today,” I explained slowly and gently. At the same time, I lifted my hand up and brushed his hair. 

He pulled back to look at me in the face. “No more working late?”

“Not tonight. Tonight’s especially for you.” I chuckled when his smile deepened, clearly satisfied with my response. 

Slowly, he pulled his arms away and set me free. Hurriedly, I spent whatever little time that I had to wash up and get ready for work. Realising that I barely had time for my morning coffee, I made my way to the kitchen while tying my hair up in a ponytail. Surprisingly, Minhyuk was standing by the coffee maker. Grinning, he slid me a cup of freshly made coffee. I pecked his cheek as thanks and downed it slowly. While I drank my coffee, I peered over the rim of the cup and admired my boyfriend’s bare chest. On any other days, I would have hugged him and kept my hands on the waistband of his pyjama pants. Pity, today was not such a day. 

I turned around to see him packing a box of egg-mayo sandwich into a lunch bag. “Is that for me?” I asked as I took another sip of the coffee. 

“You think?” he countered playfully as he zipped the bag up. 

Once he was done, he picked the bag up and placed it by my arm. Then he hugged me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder. “Of course it’s for you, dummy. It’s filled with my love so you will think of me when you have your lunch.” To punctuate his point, he kissed the top of my head and patted it twice. 

“Love you too,” I replied, grinning. However, our sweet moment would have to wait. I gulped the rest of the coffee down and placed the cup on the table. “Okay, I really got to go now,” I said, turning around to hug him goodbye. 

His arms remained by his side as he pouted, silently protesting my actions. With a laugh, I kissed his pursed lips. “Cheer up, you’ll see me soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

Nevertheless, he took the empty cup and placed it in the sink. At the same time, I collected the lunch bag and my handbag. As I slipped into my heels at the doorway, he played around and tried to keep my car keys out of my reach. After giving him another kiss, he placed them reluctantly in my hand. 

“Be good, then I’ll come back early,” I teased. Just as I was about to unlock the front door, he tapped on his cheek. With a dramatic sigh, I stepped closer to give him his goodbye kiss but he turned his head and caught my lips with his instead. 

I tsked. “Sneaky”

“I’m missing you already.”

"Ah, I'm out of bread," I mumbled to myself absentmindedly as I checked the kitchen.

I rummaged for other alternative breakfast choices but I discovered that I had run out of practically everything available. I did not even have any milk or eggs to cook a decent omelette. When was the last time I did a grocery run? Judging from the state of my kitchen, it could have been at least a month ago. Sighing, I decided to take a quick run to the store nearby. Glancing up at the sky, I noticed that dark clouds were starting to cover the sun. Before leaving, I hurriedly went to grab an umbrella, in any case of rain.

I was not exactly aware of what I shopped for. In my dazed and numbed state, I took what I thought were necessities off the shelves; food that would get me through the next few days. Baby steps, I told myself. At least, I was able to go to the store without any troubles. Paying for the groceries I had grabbed, I headed out with a whole bag of it. As soon as I stepped out of the store, I felt the fresh stream of raindrops dripping onto my face. I raised my head to study the sky. The heavy dark clouds had started pouring, wetting everything on Earth. I opened my umbrella after a few moments of difficulty as I had to carry the groceries with one hand. Finally successfully sheltering myself from the rain, I glanced up to the dark sky.

It was raining that day too.

I started to walk down the street back to my apartment, my heavy steps dragging behind me. It felt like a routine that I had given up on; a part of my life's schedule that I had tossed aside. Passing by the florist, the smell of her favourite flower suddenly surrounded me. I stopped still, standing in front of the store as I drowned myself in this familiar scent. For a moment, I entertained the notion, the feeling that she was here with me again. Was I deluded for thinking so? If this was the only way I could think of her, was it so wrong? Without hesitation, I chose and picked up a bunch of it. Wordlessly, I fished out the correct change to the florist and placed it together with my groceries.

Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself getting into my car at my apartment's parking lot before driving off to see her. The scent filled the small space of the vehicle, just like how it had been when she purchased a bunch of that particular flowers whenever I picked her up from her grocery run. In the pouring rain, I parked my car in a random lot that I found and made my way towards her. With a stalk of flower from the bunch I bought, I stood in front of her. She was just like how she was when she left, as pretty as usual. While I was growing older than her, year by year. Closing my eyes, I started to recall that moment when I was giddy with happiness after she said yes.

"Let's do it," she said. "I'm not going to take the pills anymore."

Those few words had changed my life. I remembered grabbing onto her hands, laughing at the choice she had made with me in mind. I was so drunk on her decision that I never considered the implications behind it. But I should have known that she was risking her life for my happiness. For me. I laughed bitterly at the memory, that was the beginning of our end, the calm before the storm. The noble idiot made her choice, thinking it was the best for her love. But I would give anything to go back to that day and stopped her.

"You like children, we should try to have one of our own."

I scoffed as I recalled her words. I clenched my hand into a fist as the memories came back in torrential waves. Little did I know, there was a lot more behind the smile that she had given. I blinked once, realising that the rain had dripped off from my umbrella and onto my face. However, I could no longer make out if it was the rain or my tears anymore.

"Why did you do that, you fool?"

Distinctively, I remembered how my world crumbled after she was rushed to the emergency ward one night. It had started innocently enough, we had been watching television when all of a sudden, she complained of pains in her abdomen before she lost consciousness and passed out.

"Mr. Yook, have you ever been informed of your girlfriend's condition before? Because of the abnormalities of her uterus, she was actually informed that she had a slim chance of bearing a child for doing so would put her life in danger."

That news stormed my heart and my life. I begged the doctor to save her, pleaded to him to give her another chance, and if possible, to give the unborn child a chance too. But I had to make a choice, and without a second thought, I chose her. She was my life; we shared every breath that we took. Without her, I was nothing. Without her, I would cease to exist because she was so deeply ingrained in me. Who would have expected her to choose the child instead?

"There were several complications after the miscarriage. She's bleeding too much internally, there's nothing more we can do."

The last five words were enough to bring my world to an end. I cried, I broke down, I whined like a kid. But nothing could have helped, not even God. That day when she left with the rain, my soul left along with her. And I did not even manage to say our last goodbye.

She should have been more stubborn to insist on her point of view.

She should not have given in to me, she should have told me.

She should have trusted me enough, she should have continued the pills.

She should not have met me.

But all the could haves and should haves of the world would never bring her back.

"Do you really have to go to Melbourne...?" Minhyuk whines, dragging his last word in a way that he knows irritates her.

True enough, she rolls her eyes at him as she continues packing her final things. He sits on the bed, leaning against the headrest while he observes her making sure that all her items are in order. Once she is satisfied, she zips her duffel bag and places it on her luggage that is waiting outside their bedroom.

"It'll only be for half a year, babe. Stop whining," she chides him playfully from outside.

"But you're like my daily special intake of oxygen! How am I supposed to live without it," he cries out dramatically, earning him a laugh from her.

She comes in as she ties a scarf around her neck, her eyes lighting up in delight over his previous comment. With quick fingers, she styles it fashionably, letting it fall nicely from her neck.

"I'll get you a bag of air when I'm on a trip to Tasmania then. Air from one of the cleanest place on Earth will surely be good enough to replace me."

He scoffs in response, pushing himself off the bed to sit on the front edge where he can be right in front of her. She grins mischievously down on him as she continues to fiddle with her attire.

"I don't think that'll work, babe. 'Coz you're not all that pure," he smirks, ignoring the glare that comes his way. "Besides, nothing can replace you, that's for sure."

He reaches up to adjust her scarf for her before moving his arms down and wrapping them around her waist. Pulling her closer, he buries his head in her chest and sighs his disappointment away. She returns the embrace by awkwardly bending forward and leaning down on his head.

"It'll be fast. I'll come back as soon as I'm done with work. And it's only a two hour time difference, we can still talk to each other easily, alright?" she assures him, her voice calm and confident.

Still in the same position, he nods his head and at her words. He knows work is important for her and he trusts them enough to let her go. Besides, who is he to stop her from working when her work is the reason he had fallen for her two years ago? He looks up at her, a warm smile on his lips as he gazes lovingly into her eyes. He puckers his lips to her and she laughs before placing a chaste kiss on it. Just as he is about to hold her and deepen the kiss, she wiggles her away out of his arms.

"No more! I'll be late for my flight," she giggles. "You've delayed me enough."

Chuckling, he follows her out of the room. He helps her with her luggage before sending her off at the door. Just last night, she had insisted that she would make her own way to the airport to avoid any paparazzi and he had relented after a good night's sex. Or maybe after the second one when she did that wicked thing with her tongue. Subconsciously, he begins to trail his fingers down her spine as he entertains last night's memories.

"You're incorrigible!" she calls out, swatting his arm off when he starts to trail lower.

He shrugs innocently at her but he knows she can see through him. Shaking her head, she wears her boots before heading out of their front door. Turning into him, she wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him into their final hug. After a few deep kisses that managed to curl his toes in pleasure, she releases him before going to the taxi that is waiting for her below.

As he waves her off one last time from the window, he knows that they will be fine. Besides, it is only two hours between them and six months is not that long... Right?

A few days later

Minhyuk turns to look at the phone by his side, thinking that he notices a blinking notification light. Just as he suspects, he receives a text from Sungjae but not from the one he is waiting for. He sighs again, wondering where the hell she is that she forgets to text him tonight.

Slightly frazzled, Minhyuk runs his hands through his hair as he takes a seat on his couch, a fresh can of beer in hand. He came home tonight expecting to talk to his girlfriend but somehow, she did not leave him any messages or nor did she reply to his. The last thing that she texted was that she was on her way home from her road trip and that was at 7pm earlier.

He takes a gulp of his beer, wondering and worrying where she is. He checks his phone again and sure enough, it remains silent. Sighing, he picks it up and dials her number to call her. However, after glancing at the time he realises that it is too late. Midnight in Seoul means it is 2am in Melbourne. She is sure to be sleeping, especially after a long day today. Even though they are only two hours apart, the gap feels even wider when he becomes aware of how tightly packed their schedules are. The window for them to talk narrows even further now. Normally when he comes home, she will be there waiting up for him and they will share with each other everything that had happened earlier in the day. But now... this long-distance claws a little at his heart when he could not even say 'Goodnight' to the one he loves.

With a heavy sigh, Minhyuk chugs his beer down before heading towards his lonely room. Tomorrow, he promises to himself. Tomorrow, he will wake up earlier to text her 'Good Morning' and hear her sweet voice even if it means him sleeping lesser.

He misses her.

A month later, sometime in December

He smiles as he reads her scribbled 'Wish you were here' on her Instagram stories, knowing that it is directed to him even though she did not tag him. Just the other day, she was complaining about the Melbourne heat and she wished that she was back in Korea for the winter. It had taken him a while to get used to the fact that they are experiencing different and opposite seasons from each other. But he welcomes the pictures of her on the beach; she looks the best when she is having fun in the sun.

While they continue to miss each other's timing at times, both of them are able to work things around their schedules with some compromises. Knowing that they are not able to stay up and text, she will often send him long messages about her day before she sleeps. If he ends his schedule early, he will reply and call her but most of the time, he replies to her the next day instead. Their long-distance relationship is not smooth-sailing but that is a given; in fact, it actually makes him treasure every little time he gets to spend with her even more. And he tries to make her happy by doing the simplest things: greeting her in the morning, sending her his selfies or voice messages when he knows she is stressed with work and just keeping his time together with her. Even now, his phone has a dual-clock function that allows him to keep track of Australian time.

While they do video-call each other when they have the time, he becomes even more aware of how he misses her physical presence after the call ends. While her voice does take the ache away momentarily, the pain comes back with a vengeance after he settles alone for the night. He longs to be with her; to hold her in his arms and to feel assured that she is there next to him whenever they are together. But he knows that they need to keep their professional and private life apart. He just wishes he is able to drop everything and take the next flight out to join her in summer.

His phone beeps, indicating that he has an incoming text. Curious, he opens it and sees that his girlfriend had just sent a picture of her lunch with a message telling him to eat his soon too. He chuckles and replies that he just had breakfast and will eat later.

Four and a half more months. He will see her in four and a half months. While that may be long, he can wait. He, Lee Minhyuk, is good at waiting.

A few days later

He alights at Flinders Street station, looking entirely lost and displaced. He slings his backpack over a shoulder while he wears his shades. Finally, he is able to feel the heat on his skin after weeks of winter. Frowning from the sun rays, Minhyuk makes his way out of the station, in search of his girlfriend.

His schedule had cleared up unexpectedly and this had given him the opportunity to make a short trip to Melbourne. They had decided to meet at Flinders Street before going to Chinatown and he is right on time. As he looks around the station, he realises how amazing it is that he is able to recognise it easily from the pictures that she often sends. It is crowded as it is one of the main railway stations in the city. People, both young and old, wait around at the steps of the station; a clear statement as to how it is the main gathering point. While he feels slightly disoriented from the influx of English, he is glad that he is able to understand and pick out some of the words used. In fact, he is able to navigate his way here from the airport all on his own.

He cranes his neck as he looks around for his girlfriend. As her office is a few blocks down the road, she had told him that she will be on time to pick him up. After scanning the people at his right, his eyes light up when he sees a familiar face.

She is climbing up towards him, her eyes obscured by her oversized aviator shades. Clad in a simple sleeveless white blouse and khaki pants, she looks at home with everyone else. Her hair is longer than before and she ties it up in a ponytail, baring the nape of her neck. She climbs the steps quickly, her eyes set on him. Having noticed him, her face breaks into one of her widest smiles and he knows that a similar expression is on his face. He walks in her direction, intending to meet her halfway. Just before she reaches him, he opens up his arms to gather her into a hug. He is unable to wait, all he wants is to feel her again in his embrace.

"Hey you," she greets, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He returns the hug while he leans forward to kiss the top of her head. Just as he expected, he misses her scent and her warmth. He closes his eyes. He has no intention of letting her go, especially not after four months.

However, when he opens his eyes to look at her, he is unable to see her.

She had disappeared from his arms, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of her perfume behind.

Minhyuk wakes up with a start, panting from the weird dream or nightmare that he just had. Everything felt so real, heck, she looked and felt so real that there was no way that was a dream. He blinks his eyes repeatedly and sure enough, he is in his bed. Just like how he had been for the past four months. Ruffling his short hair, he sits up and closes his eyes as he tries to recall every single aspect of the dream. But just like any other dreams, the feeling and impressions are fading quickly. Sighing, he throws himself back down on the bed. He really misses her so much.

He wants to see her. No, he needs to see her.

Two weeks later

He sits in the corner of the café, holding his book open but not reading it. Instead, his gaze is fixed at the lady near the counter. She has taken her sandals off and is sitting on the cushion seats with her legs curled up underneath her. She looks comfortable and that is expected as he knows she has been spending her nights her almost every day for the past few months. She is a creature of habit and this makes it easier for him to surprise her tonight.

Absent-mindedly, she reaches out for the strawberry on her plate before dipping it into her personal chocolate fondue. Licking the tips of her fingers slightly, she then proceeds to type something in her laptop. She remains entirely unaware that he had walked in earlier and continues to be oblivious to the fact that he is staring openly at her. He shakes his head, sometimes his girlfriend can really be defenceless. Putting his book down, he gathers the bouquet of white baby breaths by his side. He smirks when he remembers how she used to tell him the various meanings of her favourite flower. For tonight, the meaning of "reconnecting with lost loves" seems to be a little apt.

He stands up, holding the bouquet behind his back, before walking slowly up to her. He wonders how she will react, knowing that he is here earlier in advance. As he crosses the distance to stand near her, he notices that finally, the small crevice in his heart is beginning to fill up. Finally, he is home with her.