where do you hide in a town so small, one where you'd find a familiar face in every nook and cranny?
where do you go when you want to run away, to a place where no one knows your name, and all the weight that comes with it?
for most, a flight out of town is the obvious answer. it's why he escapes to europe whenever mugunghwa feels a little too constrained; a little too suffocating. he can't, however, get on the plane whenever he wanted to—not with the new semester starting and all the responsibilities that came his way.
lucky for him, he's found an escape within the borders of mugunghwa, close enough to reach by foot, but far enough from his people—the rich, the privileged, the selfish—to never be found when he wants to hide.
largely disparate from the clean, polished neighbourhoods he and his circle of friends grew up in, this neighbourhood did not boast opulent mansions lined up in neat, perfect rows, much like the people living in them. instead, modest houses were scattered around the quaint neighbourhood.
it got relatively dark at night, with some lights out of order, others flickering, threatening to go out any moment now—unlike the brightly lit neighbourhood his family home was situated in, frequently maintained and upkept in tip-top condition, almost as if it was intentional, to deter the burglars eyeing the fancy mansions and their treasures kept within.
point is, you wouldn't think of finding nam minjun in a neighbourhood like this. not at the humble restaurant he's grown to love and frequent—where he had met her—nor this tiny convenience store tucked away into a quiet corner of the neighbourhood—where he was headed to, to find her.
he's never asked for her name—never had to. he sees it on her name tag every time she's working at the store, yet never had to use it. she knows whenever he's talking to her, because no one else would be around. it would be late at night, with the occasional customer popping by to get a late night snack or two, otherwise, it would just be them, alone, in their safe little bubble.
that's what she, her restaurant, and the convenience store, all meant to him—an escape. a place he could be himself, not nam minjun, or all that his name entails. he knew nothing of her, and her of him, besides the thoughts and ideas that filled their minds, some of which they're too afraid to share outside the safety of whatever their relationship was: a late night reverie, an unlikely friend, a soulmate.
the familiar chime of the doorbell brings a faint smile to his lips as he pushes past the glass door of the convenience store, eyes meeting the girl behind the counter. the store's fluorescent lights are a stark contrast to the dim streets outside, another reason for his visit to the store at this time—to walk her home, and prolong whatever conversation they'll have tonight, of which he already knows he'll enjoy.
"please tell me you've set aside one custard pudding for me. those always sell out so fast."
SECRET FOR TWO ft. @glassfilms
