#prkwook

When you slept 15 minutes past your alarm, only giving you 20 minutes to get ready and on your way, you thought it was just you being tired and when your hair straightener wouldn’t straighten how it always does, your excuse was that it was a hand-me-down from your older sister and it was getting old. But when your oatmeal was cold and you almost fell down the stairs on your way out the door, and you forgot your headphones at home, you decided that today, your luck (not that you normally have any) had run out.

When you got to school, you made a beeline directly towards the teacher’s office. When you got there, you found your teacher immediately and started walking towards him.

“Good morning, Y/n. What can I do for you this morning?” he asked you, eyes looking up at you from an email he was reading.

“Hi, Mr. Kim. You know those presentations we’re supposed to give today in class?” you mumbled. The frog in your throat was getting bigger by the minute and you didn’t know how much longer you could’ve stood there.

“Oh right! Thank you for reminding me! I completely forgot about those. What about ‘em?” You mentally kicked yourself. Another thing to add to the list of things that just couldn't go right. A nervous laugh escaped your mouth and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“Right. Um, giving presentations makes me… uh… really um… nervous so I was wondering if I could maybe… uh… just come during lunch and just present to you instead of in front of the whole class.” You could already feel your usual day-of stomach ache coming on and it was not helping.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but this is a really big part of your grade. Public speaking is very important for your future so you should get used to it. I’m sure everyone is nervous. Plus, I can’t go around making exceptions for people just because they’re nervous, now can I?” he questioned with an expectant look in his eyes. Unable to respond, you sighed quietly and drop your eyes to the hands fidgeting at your side.

“Oh... okay. I understand.” Honestly, you wondered if your day could get any worse?

Turns out, it could and just did.

“Hello, class!” Mr. Kim exclaims as he saunters into the room, smile on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim.” the class less than enthusiastically says back to him.

“Aw, where’s the excitement?” Silence.

“Well …” he claps. “I had forgotten about your presentations today but was reminded about them this morning, thanks to Y/n!” he laughs. All 52 eyes in the class turn to look at you. You remember how you used to want to be Violet from The Incredibles when you were little and try to make yourself as invisible as possible. Maybe if you close your eyes, they’ll all disappear.

“Since you reminded me, why don’t you go first Y/n?” You hesitate and a second later, a hand shoots up. It’s the hand that belongs to the class president, your knight-in-shining armor, and the boy you’ve liked since the first day you joined this school, Park Gunwook.

“I’ll go first!” he announces and starts to walk up to the front of the classroom, hands carrying bright, neon-colored flashcards. You didn’t even prepare flashcards. You watch as he gives his presentation with the confidence only a scholar on the topic could have and when he’s done, you watch as he walks back to his seat and sit down.

“Would anyone else like to go?” Not a single hand raises. “Well, I guess it’s your turn then, Y/n.” You get up and silently shuffle to the front of the room, making a mental note of all of the eyes that travel with you on your way. You also can't help but notice how your hair and uniform are now slightly disheveled, a by-product from when you had to slump down in your seat in order to avoid the gazes of your classmates. Suddenly, you’re more self-conscious than ever, feeling the stare of every single person in the room bore into you. When you finally reach the front, you look out into the sea of eyes that are all staring right back at you.

You look down at your hands and fidget with your rings until you hear your teacher say that you can start when you’re ready. But what if you’ll never be ready? What if this fear of embarrassment, this fear that others will notice that your anxiousness and take advantage of it, never goes away?

“Um…” You feel your hands start to shake so you hide them in the pockets of your sweatshirt. “My project was on…. um…” You look up at the SMART board next to you that has the slide presentation you spent hours on, projected onto it. “It’s on …. um… Romeo- sorry… um … Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.” You look up at the people who could clearly care less about your or your presentation but somehow, your brain has you convinced that they can see your anxiety, as if it’s written in big, bold letters right across your forehead. You start to get overwhelmed and all it takes is a quick glance to the corner where you can see two girls look at you, laugh, and then start whispering to each other, for you to be running out the door.

You run and run and run until you reach the staircase, a place you know no one will be this time of day, and finally let the tears spill. You’re seemingly safe and yet the thoughts in your head spiral like a hurricane, wreaking havoc on your emotions, the peaceful citizens in your brain. Your lungs burn with an all consuming fire, never letting you catch your breath, not for even a millisecond. Your hands are still shaking and you swear your heart is beating so fast, you might even be having a heart attack. You’ve felt these all too familiar feelings before and yet, they’re still as strong as the first time. Everything other than the hurricane is gone and yet, you can still feel a tap on your shoulder, a tap that alerts you of the presence of another being standing on the outside of your storm.

“Y/N, are you okay?” the person asks, worried laced in their words. You could recognize this voice from anywhere.

“Do I look okay?!” you yell, louder than intended. Gunwook recoils, words hitting him like cold water. Your storm widens and he's caught in the crossfire.

“Ok, I probably deserved that. Hey, it’s okay.” he says softly as if he’s trying not to scare you away. “Just breathe with me.” Inhale. Exhale. “Again.” Inhale, exhale. You feel your breathing start to return to normal but even still, you can’t seem to escape the storm. The boy sits down next to you and pats his shoulder. You lay your head down and cry on his shoulder for what feels like an eternity.

You sit up and look at his tear-stained shoulder. “Oh my god, I am so sorry." Embarassment floods your senses and a second wave of tears start to fall. Gunwook wraps his arms around you as if he's trying to protect you from the dangerous winds of your storm, now surrounding you both.

“Hey, no. It’s okay, I promise. No need to apologize. I completely understand how you feel. You might not believe me but trust me, I’ve gotten really good at hiding it. I don’t know if you noticed but while I was up there, my hands were shaking like crazy.”

As he talks, you feel your storm get smaller and smaller until it’s only just a little, tiny rain cloud floating above your head. You pull away and look him in the eyes.

“Why’d you chase after me?” you question, still looking into his warm, brown eyes. He looks right back into yours and wipes away a tear-shaped raindrop running down your cheek.

“Because I was worried about you, Y/N.”

“Why were you worried? I mean look at me, I've never been better.”

Gunwook laughs, and his laugh is a sound you're convinced is your new favorite. “What do you mean why? If the girl I like runs out of the classroom crying, obviously I’m going to be worried …. wait a second…..” He looks away to hide his cheeks, but his red ears are a dead giveaway.

“The girl you what?!”

“Shit. I’m sorry if that just made this awkward. I mean you said it yourself, we’re not really friends so I don’t blame you at all if you want me to leave. You know what, I’ll just go.” As he gets up and starts to walk back in the direction of your classroom, you grab his hand.

“Don’t I get to say my piece now?” Gunwook pauses and you take this as a sign to continue. “Remember when you were assigned to show me around the school because I was new? That was the day I spilled my strawberry milk all over you. I felt so bad and kept apologizing but you insisted that it was actually your fault because you bumped into me. You even bought me a new one from the cafeteria. Instead of making me feel embarrassed or humiliated, you comforted me, saying that it was okay because you had been looking for an excuse to get a new jacket. To this day, no one has ever done something for me like that.”

Gunwook laughs and the smile you’ve come to love appears on his face. “I remember that day like it was yesterday. The entire time I was with you, I was so nervous. I mean how could I not be? You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Every time you smiled, my heart skipped a beat.”

“How come you never told me how you felt?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was scared. It’s a lot easier to stay quiet about it than have to deal with rejection.” Gunwook responds, sadness written all over his face.

“Hey y/n, do you mind if we stop by my studio on the way home? I forgot my paint brushes there this afternoon and I need them for class tomorrow. It’ll be quick, I promise.” your blond-haired boyfriend says to you as he helps you get your coat on.

“Yeah, of course!” you respond with a smile. You secretly love going to his art studio. You’ve always loved seeing his art, seeing the things he can create with just a pencil, some paint and paintbrush. In the past 3 years you’ve been together, his talent has never ceased to amaze you.

“Thank you, y/n.” he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead. The familiar feeling of butterflies creeps up and makes you blush. In order to distract him from your rosy cheeks, you take hold of his hand and lead him out of the Thai restaurant you were regulars at. 

As always, he walks over with you to the driver side of the car he bought you for your first anniversary and opens the door for you. In an effort to make you laugh, he pretends to climb into the driver seat. He pats the covered passenger seat and without missing a beat, he says “Hop in, hot stuff, let me take you for a ride.” in the most Chad voice ever, finishing off the bit with a wink. You laugh and give him a small slap to the arm. Mission = success! 

Still laughing, you respond with “Okay Max Verstappen… you and what license?” As he climbs out of the car, he says something along the lines of “fair” and then offers you his hand to help you into the seat he had just occupied. Once he’s seated in his passenger princess throne, he queues up your go-to playlist and buckles up. You don’t need any directions since you know the route by heart. You can’t even count how many times you’ve driven these roads, bringing pick-up to his studio so you can keep him company on those inevitable late nights. 

You park in your usual spot and hop out. Just like the gentleman he is, Ricky is already at your side, ready to offer a hand for you to take and as always, you take it and walk with him into the studio. Once you walk in, Ricky departs to go find his missing items with a “I’ll be right back, love.” and you’re left by yourself and his art. Looking around, a sketchbook laying open on his desk catches your eye. At first, you don’t want to look but curiosity gets the best of you and you sneak a glance. It’s a sketch of you sitting on stage with your cello, deeply immersed in the piece you were playing but somehow you still look completely at peace.

You remember that day like it was yesterday. It was the spring talent show and your high school orchestra teacher had signed you up without you knowing. You found out a day after the deadline to drop out, so you were stuck doing it. The day of, your stage fright was so bad that you almost considered just not showing up, but something in the back of your mind told you that you had to go and so you did. When it was your turn, you walked nervously out onto stage with your cello in one hand and your sheet music in the other. Once seated, you looked out into the audience and made eye contact with a red-haired boy. He smiled at you and nodded, as if queuing you up to start. During the song, you would periodically glance over at him and he was always there with a smile and a look of encouragement. That red-haired boy not only turned out to be the boy you now call your boyfriend but also that was the day that you discovered your love for the cello. 

“Hey babe, what is this?” you called out to Ricky, who was now walking back towards you, paintbrushes in hand.

“Oh, this? Nothing, just my old sketchbook from high school. Why?”  

“Look at this. We didn’t even know each other then.” you say with a laugh. 

“I know. I just thought you looked beautiful while playing. And clearly, I like drawing beautiful things.” He gestures to the wall behind him that’s full of sketches and paintings clearly inspired by you. 

“Wait… when did you do this? I’ve never seen this before.”

“It was kind of supposed to be a surprise for your birthday but I forgot so … Surprise!” He sheepishly grins and attempts to do jazz hands.

All you can do is laugh and pull him in. You give him a kiss and look him in the eyes. 

“Thank you, sweet boy. It’s beautiful.”

YOU pause the music playing through your shared earbuds to whisper something to the boy that accompanied you to the national gallery of art on this rainy day.

“gunwookie, c’mon. let’s move on. i want to get to the monets before it closes.” you say, tugging on your boyfriend’s sleeve a little bit to try and signal that you want to keep moving but he is stuck in place, almost in a trance-like state, staring at the piece of art in front of you guys. he is always your choice companion to museums because of his curiosity. everything peaks his interest and just like you, he always wants to learn more. you two are similar in that way. both of you could sit for hours on end, staring at the same painting, always finding some small, little detail that you didn’t see before, but today, you want to see the new monet installation and gunwook is still playing a game of where’s waldo except instead of finding a red-and-white striped shirt wearing man, he’s trying to find the meaning behind the art in front of him.

“park gunwook~” you say a little bit louder, hoping to break into the tunnel vision he has at the moment. still nothing.

you engulf him in a back hug, one of your favorite things to do. he’s always so warm and no matter what, he’ll always provide some sort of comfort. this seems to always do the trick.

“oh gunwoooooook~”

“sorry y/n, what did you say?” gunwook says, with an apologetic look in his eyes.

“it’s okay.” you smile a smile that always eases his mind a little bit. “i was just saying we should move on because i wanted to see the monets they just got but since you love van gogh so much, we can stay a little longer.”

“are you sure? i don’t want you to miss seeing something you want to see because of me.”

“no, it’s okay! i promise! we can see them another time.” you say, still hugging him.

he looks at you in the eyes and smiles, an action that never fails to make your heart flutter. you two have been dating since primary school and even after all these years, a simple action like him smiling takes your breath away. you’re convinced that in this moment, you could never love someone more.

gunwook gives you a kiss on the head, takes your hand and guides you to the bench a few feet away so you can sit and admire the masterpieces arranged on the walls.

laying your head on his shoulder, you press play and music drowns out the world around you. in this sea of people, coming and going, it’s just you, your love, and the boy that holds it.