#raveh

// T A E K W O O N ☀

The air was humid and heavy. The kind of summer heat that suffocated your lungs and stuck your hair to your neck in a sticky mess. She wished for a cool breeze, anything to soothe her burning skin as she fanned herself impatiently with the now crumpled university pamphlet in her hand.

She was on her way home from orientation, enrolled in a prestigious liberal arts school in the heart of Seoul just a few months prior. There was a certain allure about the country, the creative aesthetic that drew her to studying here. Trading her hometown on the other side of the world for the far east. Towering buildings and glittering skylines, beautiful oceans, and rolling plains, even if she changed her mind and decided to move out of the bustling metropolis, she wouldn’t have a problem finding another home here.

Meeting others had been a challenge since the move. A foreigner like her stood out in a nation of raven hair, porcelain skin, and slim figures. She was tall with fawn locks and eyes the color of water, rich golden bronze skin. Piercing side glances were a feeling she was used to. Out of disgust or curiosity, she had no idea.

An audible sigh escapes her lips as she’s greeted with a refreshing wave of air conditioning, stepping into a coffee shop just a short walk away from the train station. Several others seem to have a similar idea of cooling down with a cold drink and she takes her place in line.

Her number is called the same time as the barista finishes up another order. Scrolling through the news of her home country when she collides into a firm body and sends her drink tumbling to the floor.

Iced coffee catches the young man’s white t-shirt and he hisses through his teeth. He instinctively steadies her by the crook of her forearm and she doesn’t miss how hot his hand feels on her skin. Must be the summer heat.

She makes the mistake of looking up.

Breathtaking. Lean and tall, taller than her by a full head and that alone is enough to make her swoon. Tousled onyx hair and piercing eyes blown wide in surprise.

And then she sees the coffee stains on his clothes and her cheeks burn crimson.

“I’m s-so sorry,” she stammers out. She can hear unkind murmurs left and right and she wants to melt into a puddle right there.

Don’t they teach manners where she’s from?

She wasn’t even looking.

Stupid foreigner.

She moves to grab some napkins from the countertop but he stops her with another gentle touch to her arm.

“You spilled yours too,” he smiles, his voice breathy and kind. She doesn’t even notice until he motions with his gaze.

Her white shoes, now splashed orange, are now sticking to the floor with her fluttering movements.

“Who even gets a smoothie from a coffee shop?” he teases. Her unease disappears and she can’t help but laugh along with him.

**

He buys her a new drink and they take a window seat nestled in the back of the shop. He tells her his name is Taekwoon and his accent when he tries to pronounce hers makes her smile so wide that her cheeks ache.

She notices the stares rather quickly, rather indiscreet looks cast over shoulders of customers towards them. She feels her mood sour as she picks up more impolite whispers. Of course she would stand out, even more so with such an exceptionally attractive young man sitting in front of her.

He notices her discomfort. “We can go somewhere else if you like?” he offers. She wants nothing more than to spend more time with this new acquaintance but that familiar sinking feeling in her stomach sets in and she shakes her head. “It’s alright, I should head home anyway.” she says. His eyes fall slightly in disappointment.

“When can I see you again?” he asks her.

The question pulls the corners of her lips into a smile. “Sorry?”

“Next weekend. I’ll meet you here, okay?”

He pulls her hand in his and pens down a phone number on the back of a napkin.

(“I’ll write it here in case you spill anything again.”)

**

Their dates slowly progress from coffee outings once he finds out she doesn’t take caffeine well in that form. (“No wonder you ordered a smoothie.”) It’s their seventh night out together, an evening dinner at one of her favorite restaurants when she notices his phone light up on the tabletop. He moves to click it off before his notifications are illuminated but she doesn’t miss the plethora of messages.

She doesn’t think anything of it until out of the corner of her eye, she sees someone gesture in their direction, followed by the muffled snap of a cell phone shutter. Taekwoon pays no mind and looks up from his meal to ask her about dessert when their gazes lock and everything falls into place.

She remembers seeing that face somewhere before, buried within her subconscious. An early morning segment on the news of a music group coming back with a new album, the main vocalist’s serenade filling her kitchen as she fixed breakfast.

Leo, she remembers. She nearly drops her fork.

“This is..this is such a bad idea…” she murmurs to no one in particular.

He stops chewing. “What did you say, sweetheart?”

That does nothing to stop her pulse from skyrocketing at the fact that she’s currently dining with a pop star.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore..” she says. He definitely heard that.

“What?”

She bites her lip but the words still tumble out.

“This,” she gestures to the two of them, “a-and me. Someone like you shouldn’t be with me. I’m too different, I draw attention. You deserve someone more..” her words trail off and she hides her face. She feels that same gentle touch on her arm.

“Don’t you think I went into this business for attention? I’m used to it.” he says behind a kind smile. She’s about to interject but he continues. “And you’re not just a publicity stunt, you’re so much more than that.”

Again, he takes her hand in his like that blistering hot day not so long ago. “It’s not a crime.” he whispers and the camera shutters fire off like bullets, “Let them see,”

// ☽ W O N SH I K

Cozy mornings like this is what she loved about Sundays. The traffic had been light to the bookstore despite the rain, but that did little to spoil her mood. Her paycheck had come in the week prior and she was dead set on treating herself to some new reads, thank you very much.

The Classics section was one of her favorites, if she had to choose of course. With the mint chamomile tea she had sipped with breakfast this morning having cleared her mind, she begins her process of thumbing through pages and covers for a taste.

Another figure joins her just a few shelves down. Sporting silver hair and a button down plaid shirt paired with dark jeans, a Brontë book in hand. She studies him as he studies his novel, his fingers ghosting over the text.

“Jane Eyre? I haven’t seen many people here pick that up.”

He looks up from his page and flashes her a grin. “Yeah, I have this soft spot for romance novels.”

“The English edition you’re reading, can you understand it?”

“No,” he laughs, “but I’m learning. I’ve heard there’s some gothic elements and I wanted to give it a shot.”

“If that’s what you’re reading it for, I wouldn’t recommend that one,” she says. And just like that, she’s bonding with a complete stranger over literary devices. “Try this,” she hands him a copy of Frankenstein and mentally thanks her high school English teacher for those boring lectures on 19th century literature. More mystery and rustic for obvious reasons.

He lets out a low whistle and skims the excerpt on the back.

“I think I’ll really enjoy this, thank you.”

She mirrors his smile and goes back to the shelf in front of her before there’s a tap on her shoulder.

“Have you read this?” he asks. It’s a hefty hardcover. War & Peace.

She chuckles. “I can’t say that I have.” She flips through it and finds something wedged between the pages. A phone number scrawled on notebook paper.

“And you can use that as a bookmark.”

**

Wonshik takes her to record stores and music concerts, fitting places for two intellectual minds as he liked to call it. She learns that he has a thing for music and composing, something she hadn’t expected from his cool exterior.

They go to the museum one rainy afternoon. She likes seeing him babble with childlike excitement about the Roman and Greek exhibits, staying respectfully quiet while she studies romantic paintings.

He insists on paying for their lunch at the museum restaurant on the first floor despite how expensive it is. They giggle over a shared meal of overpriced sandwiches and bottled juice.

**

She finds out about his musical career that weekend. After the museum, he had spent quite a bit of time jotting down in a notebook, to which her quick eyes had spotted lyrics and sketches.

She had gotten up to leave then, worried about his future as an artist and the scandal it would cause, how a relationship would hinder his creativity with distractions.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re the problem. You’re the complete opposite of that,” he says after her and stops her in the doorway, “You’re my muse. You inspire me.”

Her blood roars in her ears. “Still,” she whispers, “If your company finds out..”