Photos in Jeju ft Yoon Seoyeon
Word count: 18k words
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one to the point I kept wanting to add more and more. I hope you enjoy! (PS: I’m not an expert in photography)
Tags: fluff, ex to lovers
Yoon Seoyeon x Male Reader
“Wow. This is… terrible.”
He leans closer to the computer screen, over your shoulder, squinting at the images.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know. It just… is. Like there’s no… emotion to it,” he waves his hands to get his point across.
“What do you mean?”
“Come here. Look at this,” he points at a photo of a close up of a toddler, “what did you feel when you took this?”
You open your mouth to answer, only to close it again. What did you feel?
“See? You feel nothing because this,” he circles the picture with the mouse, “is terrible.”
You huff in frustration, hand combing through your hair.
Back in high school, you were considered a photography genius. Your photos won multiple awards, even landing you features in reputable magazines.
Nowadays, your photos are just that. Photos. No emotions in them. You were about to give up on photography, to change career paths until an opportunity came knocking—one you nor your manager can turn down.
“You have two months until the exhibition.”
You snap, “You don’t think I know that!”
“What was so good about my previous work anyway?”
“What was good about it? You could feel the photo! What the subject was feeling! How you were feeling when you took the photo!”
You look away from your manager muttering, “Well that was a long time ago.”
“I know!” Your manager shouts, “Why don’t you message her again? Maybe the two of you can have a photoshoot here? Recapture the emotions in the photos?”
You whip your head towards him, ready to give him a piece of your mind before your friend decides to speak. You forgot he was here, lying on your couch, playing his stupid mobile game.
“He can’t do that. She’s an idol now.”
“Really?” Your manager turns to him, “What group?”
“tripleS”
“This is great! If she agrees, we definitely can—“
“They broke up.”
You stand abruptly, walk over to your former friend. You take the nearest cushion before attempting to murder him by suffocation.
“No no,” your manager mutters, shaking his head. “She was our ticket out of this hell! Was it your fault?”
You temporarily stop ending the life of your friend before glaring. “That’s none of your business. Everyone out,” you say, tone cold with no room for arguments.
“I was just getting—“
You began beating your former friend with the cushion before shoving both him and your manager out of your studio.
You lock the door, then made your way back to your computer. You stare at the toddler. Your manager was right: it is terrible. You scour your desk, looking for something. Eventually, you find your first memory stick, the one with the award winning photos.
The ones with Yoon Seoyeon.
——
“Come on. Show me how to take good photos,” Seoyeon whines.
You can’t help but smile at her, “Your photos are good though.”
“But yours are professional! Please? Pretty please?”
You watch her pout, fluttering her eyelashes at you in the full body mirror.
Both of you are sat on your bedroom floor, her between your outstretched legs, back against your chest. Your arms wrapped loosely around her waist, nose touching the top of her head. Her hair smells amazing, even after a long day at school.
Finally, you relent.
“Alright, alright.”
You let go, one arm reaching for the camera your uncle bought you, resting on the bed. You hand it over to her.
“So what you want to do is…” your hand gently holds hers, guiding it to the lens, “turn this to adjust the focus and this to zoom in.”
You feel her breath hitch as you help her play with your camera, a small smile forming on your face.
“Then when you’re happy, press down here.” Again you guide her fingers to the correct position before pressing down, taking a mirror picture of the pair of you.
“Not too bad,” you say as you both stare at the photo, “you might have a future in photography.”
Her smile widens. “Yeah? Will you be my subject?”
You laugh wholeheartedly before wrapping your arms around her waist again, nuzzling your nose into her neck. “I’d love to.”
“Look.”
You tilt your head upwards as you hear the shutter of the camera.
——
You’re pulled out of your nap when a manila folder is dropped onto your chest.
“What is this?” You open the folder, eyes still closed.
“It’s a job.”
You sit up, the heel of your palm pressing into your eyes, ridding them of sleep. “I can’t take another job right now. Not with the exhibition this close.”
“This will only take a week. Two at most. In fact, this will help with the exhibition.”
You narrow your eyes at your manager, who abruptly turns to avoid facing you. Your eyes return to the contents of the folder, reading them thoroughly.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You know how long it took me to negotiate this for you?”
“I never asked for this!”
“We need this exhibition to go well! If it doesn’t, you can say goodbye to this place.”
That shut you up. You sigh, sinking further into the couch.
“You’re fired.” You mutter softly, hands going to your temple, massaging them.
You hear a scoff. “You said that last week. And the week before. I’m still here.”
You don’t have the energy to argue anymore, instead focusing on how to get through this job without losing your mind.
——
It’s simple really. You follow Seoyeon on her holiday on Jeju Island, filming content for her group’s YouTube channel. In return, she participates in a photoshoot with you.
The job isn’t half bad. Filming vlogs without worrying about editing them is a dream. And the island is beautiful, any photoshoot there would instantly have that warm feel to it.
But why does it feel like this is the worst decision you’ve made?
——
You’re scrolling through your phone while sitting in the lounge, waiting to board the flight to Jeju, ignoring the little argument going on in front of you between Seoyeon and her manager. It’s a good thing she has a mask on or paparazzi would have a field day.
It turns out Seoyeon didn’t know you were the one assigned to the job or that it would only be the two of you travelling. To be fair, you weren’t aware of that either. According to the company, “minimal distractions” makes the content more authentic. You have a feeling your manager was involved yet you don’t have enough evidence for that. The shock on her face was so priceless, you wished you had your camera out.
She looks a lot different from the last time you saw her. She’s now sporting bangs, hair now blonde and shorter than you remember it being. Her eyes still have that fiery look in them and you’re grateful they’re not directed at you.
The tannoy suddenly comes to life, indicating the plane was now ready to be boarded. You watch as she sighs in exasperation before moving to stand in front of you. “Let’s go.”
She moves off, leaving you to trail after her. Looking back, you watch her manager bowing profusely, apologising for her behaviour. You wave it away. You knew what you were getting yourself into.
“For the record, I didn’t know it was you they’d send,” she says nonchalantly, adjusting the strap of her handbag while avoiding your eyes.
“Did they tell you about the agreement?”
“Yeah. You film me. Then you take photos of me. Right?”
That… pretty much sums it up.
“Do you even know—“
“I don’t really care,” she cuts you off, hand tightly gripping her handbag strap.
Okay. That hurt. The professionalism, the cutting you off mid sentence. Even after all these years, she still manages to hurt you.
A couple of flashes go off to your right: paparazzi and fans. You hear them shouting; ‘Seoyeon over here!’, ‘Seoyeon I love you!’
You look over to see her wave at them, making heart gestures before you board. You see the way her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles at them.
The smiles that were usually only reserved for you.
She turns from the fans, boarding the plane without looking back.
You follow a few steps behind.
——
You’re shuffling along the aisle before arriving at your seats. Seoyeon moves to lift her carry-on into the overhead compartment—until you put your bag there first. For a moment, she looks at you in shock before glaring daggers.
You scoff. Your hand reaches for her carry on, fingers brushing against hers. You try to pull it up into the overhead compartment but she doesn’t let go. You sigh before slapping her hand away. She recoils grabbing her hand with the other, allowing you store her bag.
You sit down on the aisle seat and immediately secure yourself tightly with the seatbelt. Your hands move to the safety instructions, reading it two, three times.
Seoyeon glances at you from her window seat. “Are you serious?”
“What? I don’t like flying.”
She continues to stare at you while you listen to the safety briefing. You’ve grown taller, hair a bit longer and your skin looks healthier; no more acne or blemishes marring your face.
Soon enough, the plane begins to take off. As it begins to lift, you grip the armrest hard. Except her hand is there instead.
Your fingers tighten before you realise.
She glances at you, only to see your eyes closed, back straight. “You’re okay,” she softly says.
You cautiously open your eyes, slowly relaxing as the plane levels out. “Th—thanks.”
She hums in response, prying her hand from yours—her fingers lingering on yours for a second—before putting her headphones on and stares out the window.
You look out the window too, seeing the clouds rolling by. Sunlight enters through the window, basking Seoyeon in a soft glow. She closes her eyes in the warmth, a smile breaking out.
This would make a good photo.
——
Soon enough, you land safely at Jeju. But before you can escape the plane, she stops you with a hand on your arm. You pause at the contact before turning back.
“We need to film something.”
“What? Now?”
She nods. “Yeah. Just me talking about going to Jeju and of me leaving the plane.”
You huff before getting up, bowing apologetically when you accidentally bump into someone. You take the camera out of your bag and start filming.
You watch as her idol persona comes to life. Her face seems to brighten when she talks to the camera like a friend. You had to turn away when she starts acting cute, puffing her cheeks, tilting her head and staring into the lens, fluttering her eyelashes.
It reminds you of how she used to act back then. How it was reserved only for you.
Now everyone can see.
Your chest aches at the thought.
You continue to film: her taking her bag out of the overhead compartment, walking off the plane to a shop to buy travel essentials. She continues talking to the camera and occasionally asks you for your opinion.
“Do you think this hat suits me?” She asks, twirling in place.
You’re not sure if she’s asking the camera or you. Either way, you keep the thoughts to yourself.
She goes ahead and buys it anyway.
“You can stop now.”
You end the recording and hang the camera around your neck. You’re already tired.
“Is it always like this?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Sometimes. It gets easier when you’ve done it a thousand times.”
Both of you walk to the rental car place, enough distance between so that your shoulders don’t touch. You steal small glances at her as you walk side by side.
“It suits you.”
“Hmm?” She’s not really paying attention.
“Being an idol suits you.”
Her gait stutters for a moment. She wasn’t expecting that.
“Thanks,” she says, eyes avoiding yours.
——
The restaurant she chooses is small and family owned, miles away from the regular tourist spots. The scent of the ocean drifts in through the open windows, the noise from an aging electric fan prominent.
You watch how she angles the camera to capture her, how she shows the menu to the camera followed by ordering food for both her and yourself.
You pull your own camera out from its bag and capture the moment: her making faces into her camera.
She looks up as soon as she hears the shutter.
“What was that?”
You shrug, “Something for the exhibition.”
Seoyeon tilts her head in confusion, “The exhibition?”
“The photoshoot? It’s for an exhibition I’m a part of.” You elaborate further, “Apparently, my current work is no good and I have to go back to my roots.”
It doesn’t take long for her to piece the puzzles together. Going back to roots means going back to the type of photos that won the awards.
Going back to where she was in the photos.
Her chopsticks stop moving, hovering over her plate.
“You think it’ll work?” She mutters softly, slightly glancing towards you.
A wry smile etches itself on your face. You lean forward, arms crossed atop the table. “Who knows?”
The main dish arrives, interrupting the conversation. You grab a bowl and immediately fill it with stew before placing it on her side of the table.
She pauses for a moment, looking down at the bowl before glancing back at you. She opens her mouth to say something, only to close it and start eating without another word.
——
The hotel room is quiet when the door closes behind you.
Too quiet.
You kick your shoes off at the entrance before laying on the bed, camera bag next to you. You aimlessly stare at the ceiling, listening to the crash of waves outside the window.
You reach for the bag, pulling out your camera and scrolling through photos you took earlier—the ocean and flower fields you passed on the drive.
You stop at the photo in the restaurant. Of Seoyeon making faces at the camera and the look on her face when she was caught.
It reminds you of your first photo.
——
You’re sat on a hill, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair. Your school tie hangs loosely around your neck, the top few buttons undone.
You continue to fiddle with the camera you received from the photography club, trying to figure out how to work it.
You didn’t want to join any club. Unfortunately, the school counsellor thought you needed something else to do besides roaming the streets after school. You could’ve joined a different club but photography was so popular, you figured you could keep a low profile here. How wrong were you.
You finally get it to work and you look through the lens, making any adjustments to the exposure or focus you saw fit. You look around your surroundings, trying to find something to snap a photo of when you saw her.
Her hair was in a bun, blazer around her waist as she runs around with her friend. You zoom in and see her cheeks red from running around, how she breathes heavily.
You thought she was the most beautiful person here.
Suddenly, she looks over and sees the camera pointed at her. You freeze. Before you put the camera down and look away, she poses for you. She stands straight, cheeks puffed out and a peace sign by her eyes.
You snap a couple of photos then you look down to examine them.
“Hey, can I see?”
You look up, startled.
“H—huh?”
“The photos. Can I see them?”
Before you could say anything, she sat down next to you, peering at the camera. She leans in closer, to shield the screen from the sun.
You feel your heart beat faster in your ears as she looks at the photos, her scent filling your nose.
“Wow, these are really good!” She turns to you with a wide smile. She calls your name, dragging you away from your thoughts.
“H—how do you know my name?”
She laughs loudly. “It says so here.” She pokes at your name tag on your chest.
You blush in embarrassment. “What’s your name?”
She proudly shows you her own name tag. “Yoon Seoyeon.”
Her friend calls her over before you had a chance to say anything else.
“See you later.” She waves before making her way back down to her friend.
You look down at the photos.
Maybe photography isn’t so bad.
——
Your phone buzzes beside you, pulling you out of the memory. You set the camera down and reach for it.
A text message from Seoyeon.
It’s the itinerary for the next couple of days. You scroll through it: a cafe visit, fruit picking, the beach and dozens of activities she’s planned. You doubt you have enough time to complete all this but if there’s one thing you know about Seoyeon, is that she never sits still for long.
Another message. This time a voice note. “We’re starting at the cafe. Don’t be late.”
——
“Can I get two Iced Americanos? And two croissants?”
Seoyeon moves to pay, only for you to walk ahead and tap your card to the reader before she did.
“Yah!”
You ignore her whining and accept the receipt from the barista. You walk off, finding a table by a window overlooking the farm. When she arrives, you pull out her chair before sitting down yourself.
You pull the video camera from its bag and begin recording. You film a stationary shot of the farm from your seat before panning over to her. She’s glaring at you.
“Why? Why did you pay?”
You shrug and point to the camera.
She looks down and goes back to her idol persona. She mentions her plans for the day, what cafe she’s at, what she’s drinking. She even asks questions meant for her fans—answers she’ll never hear.
You watch as she continues to talk, random murmurings now, until your drinks arrive. She gently claps as the barista sets it down, a look of wonder as she stares at the croissants.
You can’t help but smile.
After a few more minutes, she taps the plate in front of you. “Put it down and eat.” She says, pointing a knife at you.
You relent, placing the video camera on the table and angling it towards her before you start eating.
It’s nice. Though not nice enough to hum in approval after every bite like she does.
You grab your personal camera from around your neck, snapping a photo of her drinking her coffee. Her eyes squinting at the bitter taste, her cheeks slightly puffy.
“At least tell me when you take a picture,” she mutters. “I should at least pose or something.”
“It’s better like this,” you respond, “you’re prettier when you’re unguarded.”
The pair of you freeze. You don’t know why you said that. Seoyeon’s eyes widen slightly and for a moment, something soft flashes across her face—something that looks dangerously close to how she used to look at you. She blinks and it disappears.
You drop your camera, your head tilting forward at its weight and grab your own coffee. You drink far too quickly as you begin coughing.
Seoyeon hands you a packet of tissues with a warm smile on her face, her eyes holding concern. “Careful. Careful.”
You give her a thumbs up as you continue to cough, now into a tissue. You remove the camera from around your neck and walk quickly to the bathroom.
She watches as you leave, a look of worry marring her face, her mouth slightly parted.
As she waits for you to return, she notices your camera. She grabs it, looking through your recent photos. Your photos of her.
——
“Okay… maybe you could… tilt your head slightly? Maybe have both arms behind your back?”
You’re sweating a lot more than you’re used to. This is your first photoshoot and you couldn’t believe Seoyeon agreed to participate. You remember how clammy your hands were when you walked up to her friend group to ask her. How her friends stared you down like an insect. You were such a stuttering mess, you actually can’t remember if you actually asked her or she volunteered herself.
“Like this?”
“Huh? Ye—yeah,” you respond. You snapped a couple of photos then went to the computer to examine.
Something’s wrong. It’s not what you’ve envisioned. You can’t seem to get the photo right. Your head drops between your shoulders as you sigh.
Seoyeon walks over, jumping on the desk behind, swinging her legs. She watches your defeated frame from behind, her eyes softening after hearing the sigh escape your lips.
“They look good.” She reassures.
You shake your head profusely, “No. Something’s missing. I don’t know what.”
“Maybe you just need a break.”
You sigh again. The local photography studio were generous enough to lend some equipment for the club: the camera, lighting and the backdrop. Except now they need it back by tomorrow. This was your last chance.
The silence is heavy as you contemplate what to do next. Suddenly, you hear her feet landing on the floor before you feel her arm loop through yours.
“Come on.”
She drags you without explanation outside the classroom, grabbing your personal camera before you had time to resist.
“W—where are we going?”
“To the festival.”
Right. You forgot there was a school festival going on right now. You have no idea what for but it’s happening now.
After entering the festival, she makes a beeline to a game tent.
“Win that for me,” she points at a giant stuffed bear.
You decide to just go with it, paying the employee for a chance to win the prize. You sucked. None of the balls stay in the buckets. You try three more times, but your concentration falters when you hear her laugh and the shutter from your camera. She’s taking photos of you with it.
“Alright, alright. Ball throwing isn’t your thing. Let’s go!” She drags you somewhere else but instead of an arm through yours, her hand holds yours firmly. You swallow and hope that your hand isn’t too sweaty.
As you walk past various stalls, she stops at one selling animal headbands. She hands over your camera before picking one out. Walking over, she gestures for you to lower your head before placing it on you. “Ha. Cute!”
Your ears turn slightly pink at the compliment. Seoyeon turns around before grabbing one for herself—a headband with dog ears. She looks at the mirror, adjusting it on herself before turning to face you.
You raise the camera without thinking and take a photo.
“Wh—I wasn’t ready!”
A soft smile forms on your lips as you continue to snap photos.
She laughs without care, eyes crinkling at the corner, mouth open wide, cheeks lifted high.
The two of you move through the festival stalls, trying every game you can. You take photos of her every chance you get. The frown when she fails to win a prize, the way her eyes brighten when she spots a new game, and the laughter as she drags you from stall to stall.
“Let’s try that one!” She drags you to another game. It’s simple. Shoot down a duck, win a prize. She grabs a toy rifle from the stall before aiming at you, making gunfire noises.
You smile again, ignoring your fluttering heart.
She plays the game. And fails. Again and again. She’s losing money faster at this stupid game than the others, her fierce competitiveness burning. You need to stop her before she blows all her money away.
When she fails again, you step forward, preventing the stall owner from taking more from her. “Let me try.”
Seoyeon blinks at you in surprise.
You’ve never stepped in like that before, not even during the photoshoot.
You take aim and shoot. One pellet misses, another bounces off the duck. You stop, trying to figure out the game before you take aim again. You shoot. And the duck falls.
The stall goes quiet for a moment until you hear a cry of happiness behind you. Seoyeon jumps on you, wrapping her arms around your neck, celebrating this very important victory of yours. Your arms naturally surround her waist.
You gently let her down, staring into her eyes as the owner asks what prize you want. You don’t bother looking away just pointing at a toy nearby. The stall owner hands over a stuffed hamster toy. You take it without looking away from her and place it in her hands. When she looks down at the toy, the moment breaks. She squeals in happiness, hugging it tightly against her cheeks.
You grab the camera from around your neck.
Click.
This time she’s smiling directly at it.
Her eyes stay on the toy as you move on from the stall. You place your hands gently on her shoulders, guiding her through the busy crowd. You glance down to see her phone out, taking photos of the toy.
You notice her friends hanging by the food stalls. You tap her shoulder, about to point them out, but she suddenly drags you toward a nearby photo booth.
“Y—your friends are here,” you say as you stumble after her.
She looks back at you, “They can survive without me. I want to do this with you.”
You’re about to ask why before she interrupts you.
“You can’t always be behind the camera.”
Inside the booth, you’re not quite sure what to do. As the timer goes down, you feel awkward. Do you pose? Do you smile? Before you spiral any further, Seoyeon hugs one of your arms, her other hand making a peace sign, reminiscent of the first pose she did for you.
“Relax, this is just for fun!” She says loudly.
You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
You start posing for the camera—a peace sign, a heart sign. Eventually, you start to get into it. You grab two pairs of sunglasses, standing back to back.
In another, the two of you are close to the camera.
But you aren’t looking at it.
You’re looking at her.
——
Seoyeon’s fingers tremble as she looks at the photo strip, absentmindedly grazing your features in the photos. She won’t admit it but the last one is her favourite—where your eyes are only on her.
For a moment, it feels like the noise from the festival still surrounds her.
When she hears the bathroom door open and you step out, she hurriedly stashes the strip back into her handbag.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
You can only nod, not trusting your voice. You avoid her eyes as you sit down opposite her, cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment. You notice the camera was not where you left it and how distracted she seems. Her eyes are on the farm outside, one hand gripping her coffee cup but the other tapping away at the table.
The silence stretches between you. You’re replaying what you said over and over in your head. A headache begins to form. Your heart starts racing.
You need to break the silence with something. An apology?
That’s stupid.
Who apologises for calling someone pretty?
You sigh quietly.
There’s that word again.
The silence stretches longer except for the tapping of her fingers against the table as you watch the ice melt into your coffee.
You risk a glance towards her. She’s still staring out at the farm, but her jaw is tight, finger still tapping against the table.
A red light in your peripheral catches your attention. The video camera. You’re suddenly reminded that you’re here to work, to be professional, to not act like the ex with unresolved tension.
You clear your throat, startling her from her thoughts. “Shall we move to the orchards?” you ask.
She blinks at you in surprise before nodding. Grabbing the video camera, she’s already halfway out the cafe before you rise from your seat. You neatly pile the dishes and cups on a tray before following her out the door.
——
The orchards were… uneventful.
Seoyeon wanted to film the picking as a vlog, immediately walking off without so much of a glance back.
You’re not sure if she’s avoiding you or giving you space.
You stand awkwardly at the entrance, unsure what to do now. Grabbing a basket and tools, you end up doing your own tangerine picking. It’s better to do something to occupy the mind anyway.
Before long, the basket’s filled to the brim. You lay down on the ground, exhausted, wiping sweat from your brow. The sun is high above, leaving no shade from its harsh warmth.
You get up, ready to head back to get a drink—for both you and Seoyeon—when you notice it. The way the sunlight shines on the orchard. The tangerines against the green leaves make the landscape impossible to ignore, you have to take a photo.
Just as you lift the camera, Seoyeon walks into frame, hair slightly damp from the exertion of lugging a basket filled with tangerines. She’s talking to the video camera, breathing heavily, cheeks pink from the sun.
Click.
You capture a photo of her.
You meet her halfway, reaching for her basket. She pulls back slightly—an instinct—before letting you take it. The two of you walk out the orchards together, the weight of something more than tangerines hanging between you.
“Did you take another photo of me?” she asks, looking up at you with round eyes.
Your ears turn red as you look in the opposite direction. “…Maybe.”
She narrows her eyes. “Let me see.”
——
You’re sat on a table outside a convenience store, staring at the ocean, mindlessly eating an ice cream. The sun has started to set, casting the sky in a soft orange glow. A pile of tangerine peels sit between you and Seoyeon, also mindlessly eating an ice cream watching the ocean.
“Shit.”
You look over as Seoyeon spills some of her ice cream onto the floor. Unconsciously, you hand a tissue over to her. She grabs it without looking, wiping her hand of the sticky mess.
She stops mid-wipe. Her eyes flick to you then quickly away.
This scene feels strangely familiar to you.
——
“Do you think aliens exist?”
You look up to the sky, the stars shining brightly against the dark backdrop. You take a bite of your ice cream before answering. “Maybe?”
“It’s pretty here.”
You can only hum in response. The whole class is on a field trip to a rural town just outside Seoul. The two of you are supposed to be in your rooms but when she calls to say she’s hungry, well, that’s how you find yourself out past curfew, staring at the stars.
She has her head in your lap, your blazer draped over her legs as you sit in comfortable silence. You stare down at her as she continues watching the sky, memorising all her features—the little mole on her nose, her cheekbones, her dark eyes. Right now, you’re struggling not to touch her.
Your pulse thrums in your ears, a frantic rhythm that seems way too loud. It’s been happening a lot lately, not that you’d admit it. Nor would you admit to your excitement at seeing her. Or your nervousness when she gets a bit too close. Like right now.
You feel a slight tug on your loosened tie. You look down and see the prettiest smile on her face, her eyes creasing at the corners.
“How long are you going to keep staring at me?” she teases.
“Uh…” you don’t know what to say, your ears tinging red and your throat suddenly feels really dry.
She laughs before you get a word out.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll think you might like me.” she banters, laughing uncontrollably, eyes shut.
The words slip out before you can stop them.
“I do,” your face burns red at your sudden confession, “I—I do like you.”
Seoyeon’s laughter immediately stops, her eyes wide and frozen in shock. She sits up quickly, narrowly avoiding your nose to look at you.
“Wh—what?”
“I li—like you,” you start rambling, your brain no longer in control of your mouth. “I think... since the festival? And I know—I mean, you don't have to—I just don't want things to be weird—“
The sound of cicadas seem to cut out all at once when you feel a soft pair of lips press against yours.
You stare at her face, stunned, as it turns bright red, eyes looking anywhere but at you, hands playing with your blazer.
“Seoyeon, you—“
She kisses you again, this time firmer, her eyes squeezed shut. Eventually, your eyes close too, your hand slowly travelling up to hold her cheek. She needed to hold onto something, gripping your tie tightly, pulling you even closer.
You only separate when the need to breathe becomes too much. Her chest rises and falls rapidly like yours. Both of your faces have turned red, the air around you suddenly warmer than you remember.
You whisper, voice rough, “Does this mean—“
She nods her head, an affectionate smile gracing her face, one that you replicate.
You gaze into her eyes and you feel like you can look into them forever.
——
You snap out the memory to the sound of her laughter, your fingers unknowingly at your lips. You drop them to your side, immediately clenching your hand into a fist.
Seoyeon’s no longer beside you. You look around to find her crouched down in front of a stray cat, a stick in hand. She moves it around in the dirt, laughing as the cat chases after it.
This is different from the other times. There’s no camera in front of her. She’s not acting or aware of a camera pointed at her. This is her at her freest.
You move to grab your camera only to retract it at the last second. It’s perfect. The background, the subject but you don’t want to capture it.
Your chest tightens at the thought. You don’t like where this is going.
She finally looks up at you, a bit of dirt on her face. “Hey, I was thinking…” she pauses, distracted by the cat, “maybe tomorrow we don’t film anything.”
“Hmm?” You tilt your head in confusion.
“I mean… you came here to photograph me right? Let’s do it. No filming, just photos.”
You hesitate before answering, “Why?”
A soft smile appears, directed at the cat, “Why not?”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Because I want to help you? Or maybe I want a day where I don’t film? Which do you prefer?” She asks, turning towards you.
You briefly forgot how to breathe, the setting sun casting her in a warm glow. She almost doesn’t look real.
You feel your throat closing, “S—sure.”
She gives you a smile before returning her attention to the cat now on its back. The same smile you remember back in high school.
You’re in trouble.
——
You’re sat waiting in the lobby, knees bouncing, fingers fiddling with the zippers of your backpack. Inside is full of essentials: portable lighting, spare batteries, blankets, snacks. You might’ve packed too much but you never know what’ll happen. The early morning sunlight comes through the wide windows, casting the place in a warm, yellow glow. A few guests walk by, chattering around you easily, making their way to the hotel buffet.
You could barely sleep last night, memories of the convenience store—both yesterday and from years ago—never left your mind. So instead of sleeping, you decided to build an itinerary of places to go. Except, you never got past the first bullet point: the beach. You typed it out and just… stared at it. Stared at the cursor blinking. Nothing else coming to mind. You hate how much she still affects you, how she still preoccupies your mind enough that you spent all night watching her content online—the variety shows, fan compilations, when she was first introduced to the world.
You just hope she doesn’t comment on the bags underneath your eyes.
“Have you slept at all?”
Your head snaps up. She stands close enough that you have to tilt your head to look at her face.
Your mouth goes dry.
The morning light catches her—the pale blue sun dress, light and simple, moving slightly in the air conditioning. Her hair is down, soft and wavy, falling past her shoulders, held back by a white headband exposing her beautiful features with little makeup on. Her colour contacts are gone too. Her hands are clasped in front of her, fingers twisting together.
You can’t help but stare at her. For a brief moment, you see something in her expression. You’re not sure what.
You stand up too quickly, the bag on your lap falling to the floor with a heavy thud. Hotel workers and visitors look towards the commotion but you don’t pay any attention to them. “Wh—what?”
Her features soften, a ghost of a smile on her face. “I said… have you slept at all?”
“Yes… maybe… not too much actually.” You chuckle halfheartedly. Your hand goes behind your neck, rubbing it, your face feels like it’s burning right now.
A small sound escapes her lips—a laugh that she quickly stops. The two of you just stand there, eyes only on each other, the stares of hotel workers and visitors no longer important to you. Or to her.
But after a moment, it becomes too much. She breaks eye contact first, her gaze drifting from your eyes to your shoulders to the window behind you. She takes a small step back and you watch as she finally takes a breath.
“Shall we get breakfast?” Seoyeon asks after a moment, after she’s composed herself enough to look back up at you, her eyes now in a sort of crescent shape, features bright, like she’s happy she can still get this reaction out of you.
“Y—yeah. Sounds good.” You point to the direction of the hotel buffet before bending down to grab the backpack, following after her.
——
You wait at the table, looking at your phone except there’s nothing on it. You glance towards the coffee station and watch Seoyeon wait for the coffee machine. Every so often, you catch yourself staring and immediately avert your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. But your eyes don’t stay averted for long, always finding their way back to her.
When she returns to the table, it’s your turn to get up and move to the buffet line, grabbing anything that looks tasty, and doing your best to avoid looking back. Just as you reach the end, out of the corner of your eye, you swear she was looking at you only to quickly turn back to her phone. You sigh. This is going to be a long day if you keep this up.
You return to the table with an assortment of bread and food from the continental breakfast section. As you sit down, you immediately plate the food for her before sliding it over. She nervously smiles at you before digging in.
You both eat in quiet, the silence thick but comfortable.
“Can I see the itinerary?” She asks, mouth still full with food. You open the page on your phone before handing it over. “Uh… there’s only one thing here. The beach.”
You freeze, eyes wide.
Fuck.
You forgot about that.
“Y—yeah. I couldn’t… didn’t….” You shift uncomfortably in your seat before sighing. “I got distracted last night… watching your content.” You admit, ears turning red. You’ve noticed that’s been happening a lot lately.
“You watched my content?” She asks in disbelief, her eyes wide at the sudden confession.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“You already made it weird.” She teases, smiling brightly as she watches your reaction. A beat later, “What did you watch?”
You take a second, chewing through your food, “Badge wars,” you say before adding, “I forgot how competitive you are.”
She stays silent, unsure what to say, whether she should be embarrassed you saw that side of her again, or flattered that you’re watching. Her hands grip the coffee cup tightly as she brings it towards her lips, staying there for a moment before taking a sip. “I’m not that bad… when was I that competitive?” She whispers, mouth covered by the rim of the mug, eyes looking down at the coffee.
You look at the ceiling, pondering. “Remember the school festival? And how much money I spent on the games for you?”
Of course she remembers the festival. She still has the photo strip tucked away in her bag, the hamster you won displayed proudly on her bed in the dorms. Not that she’ll tell you any of that. “I—I didn’t think you minded.”
“I didn’t. I’m glad I spent the money…” your sentence peters out, not sure if you should say it. “If it meant spending more time with you.” You whisper the last part, not looking at her but she caught it. Her eyes return to the table, her face a soft shade of red.
The rest of breakfast was slow and quiet, a heavy, charged silence falls between you. You shouldn’t have said that. You made a promise to yourself—about her, about distance.
You’re breaking it.
It doesn’t feel wrong though.
——
“Just walk along the beach. I’ll be a couple steps behind, taking photos.”
Seoyeon puffs her cheeks out, raising two fingers in salute before turning around.
The early sun bathes the beach in a radiant glow, great for a photoshoot. You managed to find a quiet section, away from the early morning crowds. It’s just the two of you.
You hope she doesn’t read into it.
You take a deep breath, bringing your professionalism back. The setting, Seoyeon, all of it is perfect. All you need to do now is capture it.
“Go ahead.”
Seoyeon begins walking down the waterline, and you follow a few paces behind, camera raised. Click. She’s the subject. Professional.
Except she stops, and wiggles her toes in the sand. You catch it without thinking. Click. When she looks up and faces the sea breeze, hair fluttering like a veil behind her. Click. The way she closes her eyes to enjoy the sunshine.
Click. Click.
How the photo looks is the last thing on your mind now. Instead, you watch as she soaks up the rays, how she flinches then smiles when a wave crashes nearby, splashing her with saltwater.
You lower the camera and you just watch her. She’s moving again, this time closer to the water, her dress billowing in the wind. She bends down, hand splashing around in the water. The breeze blows particularly hard, messing up her hair and dislodging the hair band.
You move to adjust it, only to freeze when she does it herself. She tucks her hair behind her ears before turning to face. “Yah! You’re supposed to taking photos!” She points at you, a mock scowl on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes.
You immediately put your eye through the viewfinder, snapping a photo.
She stands again, looking out to the ocean. She takes a deep breath and watch as her shoulders relax.
Click.
You’re not taking photos for the exhibition anymore. You’re taking them because you can’t help it. You finally understand what your manager meant. That feeling you get when you photograph her.
She stops and turns.
A breeze picks up—gentle and perfectly timed—and her hair lifts slightly. She tucks a strand behind her ear and smiles.
At you.
Click. Click.
You see everything through the lens: the slight tilt in her head, how her fingers linger around her ear, and the softness in her eyes as they crinkle around the corners.
Your breath catches.
You lower your camera slowly.
She’s still smiling at you.
That smile. You remember it vividly.
——
“Ta-da!”
You tilt your head in confusion, unsure how to react. Her hands are outstretched to the side like she’s presenting a prize to reveal… a bicycle. A blue, slightly rusty bicycle with a basket in front. “Uh… what is it?”
“It’s a bike,” she says, pouting.
“I know it’s a bike. But why is it here?”
“Because I rented it,” she says, gesturing vaguely to a bike rental nearby before walking up behind you, loosely wrapping her arms around your torso, her chin just barely hooking over your shoulder even on her tiptoes, “and you’re going to give me a ride.”
You place a hand over hers. Before—back when you took that impromptu photo—you would’ve been a stuttering, flustered mess with how close she is. Now, you can hide it better.
Mostly.
“Why?”
“Because… it’s nice and fun and I see it all the time in those movies and shows.”
You look over to her, chin still on your shoulder, squishing her cheeks. “You want that movie moment?”
She nods—tries to anyway—enthusiastically, squeezing your torso a bit more.
How can you say no to that? Still, you act like you’re pondering the idea. From the corner of your eye, you see her face dissolve from enthusiasm to nervousness before ending your playful torture. “Alright, let’s do it,” you say, smiling brightly.
“What the hell?” She whines, hitting you on your back with no force in it.
Seoyeon moves towards the bike before your hand on her shoulder stops her. “Here. It’s going to get cold.” You unzip your grey hoodie, draping it over her and zipping it up. You playfully tug the hoodie over her head before stepping back. She looks adorable, her figure engulfed by it, her hands covered by the sleeves, the hoodie falling to about mid thigh.
“Come on then,” you say, already moving toward the bike. You turn around only to see her frozen in place. Her hands come up to remove the hood and fix her hair before she quietly inhales your scent.
“Seoyeon,” you say, this time louder, catching her off guard. Your chest tightens at the sight, but you don’t say anything.
She hurries over as you steady the bike with one hand before gently lifting her onto the seat.
“Hold on tight,” you tell her, feeling her arms snake around your torso. You push off, and she squeals—half laugh, half surprise—as the bike wobbles before settling.
You gently navigate your way through the park, pass by other couples, families, and street vendors. Her laughter rings in your ears at the many turns you take to avoid others. Soon, you hit your stride, going at a steady pace, enjoying the view and your girlfriend pressed against you. It’s been a while since you’ve relaxed like this. And it’s all thanks to her.
Neither of you say anything, even as you start riding along the Han river. You feel her hold on you tighten and the weight of her head on your back. You think she’s closed her eyes but you can’t be sure. One hand leaves the handlebars, gently covering hers as you continue pedalling, watching as older couples take one look at the both of you and gush—like they know what you have. You feel one of her hands loosen and intertwine itself with yours.
You continue to ride, no destination in mind until the sun starts setting. You pull over near the water, feet finding the ground. The bike steadies, but she doesn’t let go. Doesn’t lift her head. She stays there, breathing against your back, hand still in yours. You let her stay like this for a while.
You look out into the river—small ripples, reflected sunlight. You wish you had your camera.
Eventually, she lifts her head, watching the same scene as you. Her fingers tighten against yours as you caress hers with your thumb. She leans up and presses her lips gently on your cheek.
——
“Do they look good?”
You blink, pulled from memory. You tilt your head all the way back to see her standing above you, a small smile on her face as her hair acts as curtains surrounding you. You’re outside a convenience store where you’ve stopped to rest after the photoshoot.
Seoyeon drops down, sitting next to you before handing you a bottle of water you take gratefully. You hand her the camera, letting her peruse the photos. “Let me know if there are any you don’t like. I won’t use them,” you say, opening both bottles before downing half of yours.
You don’t watch as she scrolls through the photos. You can’t. Instead, your eyes return to the beach—to the odd couple walking along, side by side, then to the occasional influencer taking selfies along the waterline. You look at anything if it means you don’t see her reaction. But that doesn’t mean you can’t hear her little hums as she looks through them. You’re not sure if they’re hums of approval or not.
You hear the quiet click of the camera as she moves through the photos. You feel your heart beat faster the longer it goes on.
“These are…”
You look over and see that she’s stopped at the photo where she turned, hand by her ears.
Your breath catches.
“They’re really good,” she whispers, still looking at her photo before turning to face you, her cheeks tinged pink. She watches you avoiding her gaze, one hand fidgeting against your knee, the other gripping the water bottle with more force than necessary.
She hands the camera over to you carefully, making sure you have a hold of it before letting go. “So… where next?”
That’s a good question. You’re not too sure yourself. “Uh…”
“The lady in the convenience store watched our little photoshoot. Recommended a vinyl music shop not far from here. Want to check it out?”
“Sure,” you say, moving to stand. You lend her your hand. She hesitates before taking it, fingers warm against yours, holding onto you for a moment longer than necessary before dusting the sand off her dress. “Lead the way.”
——
The journey to the shop was a lot longer than either of you anticipated, further inland and away from the tourist spots. Still it gave you a lot of opportunities to photograph things you wouldn’t otherwise. A lone tree providing shade along the path, fields where farmers work, a house that you rarely see in Seoul.
When you arrive, you’re greeted by its elderly owner. You bow in greeting before walking further in. It’s small—cosy is the better word for it—but feels lived in, like there’s history inside the walls. The shelves are full of vinyl records and books, boxes of these also lie along the floor. Record players sit in the back with headphones hanging above them. You even find a cat lounging on a stack of vinyl staring at you.
High windows stream the sunlight in, giving the place a unique look. Further in, you see a small alcove with chairs and mats, a perfect place to read and listen to music. You flip a nearby switch, illuminating the area with small fairy lights hanging above.
You turn to Seoyeon, only for her to not be there. Looks like she’s engrossed in conversation with the owner about this place. You watch her features and the expressions she makes talking. Lifting the viewfinder to your eye, you snap a couple photos through the shelves.
Click. Click.
The owner notices you first, telling her that you’re taking her photo. She turns to find you and poses for you, even asking the owner to pose with her. You let out a small chuckle before snapping a photo of both of them.
She moves towards you then, eyes on the floor as she approaches, like she’s about to tell you a secret. “Apparently, he’s owned this place for almost 50 years and that this is his personal collection of records,” she explains, walking into the alcove, hand brushing the back of a rocking chair. “Not many people come here now. He was really happy when we entered,” she pauses before looking at you. “He wants to ask a favour from you.”
You lower the camera, letting it rest against your chest.
“He wants you to take pictures of this place… before he forgets.”
The answer was obvious though you don’t voice it. She looks almost melancholy at the thought of the owner forgetting about this place. Almost as if she knows exactly what it feels like to lose something precious.
You don’t want to think about it. Not now.
You turn to the owner and nod. His face breaks into a relieved smile and immediately hobbles over to you. He grabs hold of your hand, thanking you profusely and you can’t help but smile. Eventually, he slowly moves back, gesturing for you to follow him.
Seoyeon looks on fondly as the owner shows you what he wants memories of. She stands there, unsure what to do before moving into the alcove to sit on the rocking chair, watching you.
After finishing your conversation with the owner and watching him leave, you raise your camera to get to work.
You start with the wide shots—the slightly crooked sign above the entrance of the shop, the shelves of records that stretch far into the shadows, the proudly displayed vinyl covers behind the counter. Then you move closer: the worn spines of books, the cat reclining under the sunlight falling through the high windows, the various records lying in the boxes.
You feel her watching you, know she hasn’t taken her eyes off you but you focus on your work. On what matters right now.
The record player and its spinning turnstile, the weathered headphones hanging above. You move and capture a photo of the fairy lights in the alcove, the cushions littering the mats.
You move through the place carefully. Each shot deliberate. You want to preserve everything you can, make the memories tangible.
You lower the camera, looking for your next inspiration. Seoyeon still watches you, an expression on her face you can’t quite name.
“Is something on my face?” You joke.
She shakes her head, a small smile gracing her face. “No… I forgot what you look like when you work.”
“How I look?”
She nods, “You do this thing with your lips. Curl them into your mouth like this,” she says, demonstrating what you do, “and that expression on your face… like nothing else matters but the photo. It’s nice to see,” she softly whispers that last part, but you still hear it.
You don’t know what to say. So you don’t, instead holding her gaze. “You should look for something to listen to. It would be good to have memories of someone enjoying this place,” you say quietly.
She nods, slowly standing from the rocking chair and moving to the records but not before walking in front of you, gently squeezing your arm. You don’t need to ask what that means.
Thank you. For doing this for him.
You continue to watch her as she moves through the place, looking for that perfect song to fill the shop. There’s an ache in your chest when you watch her, one you’re trying to ignore. You raise the camera again.
Click.
You see her face light up when she finds a record before moving swiftly to the record player, removing it from its sleeve and playing it. She reaches for the headphones, carefully putting them on. Her eyes close as she listens, hands still over the ear cups as she gently sways to the song.
You still watch her through the viewfinder, unable to take another photo, and watch how the sunlight shines on her like a spotlight, how the specks of dust dance around her. You love her like this. When she didn’t have a care in the world. When she was yours.
She slowly opens her eyes and turns to face you, a smile forming on her face that reaches her eyes. She beckons you closer and you can’t help but move forward. She takes the headphones off, rises to her tiptoes and places them on you. She’s really close now. Like a breath away.
For a moment, you don’t recognise the song. Until you do. And it takes you back.
——
The music plays softly in your room, a welcome addition to atmosphere. You’re sat at your desk, working on edits for your latest portfolio showcase. You raise your glasses before rubbing your eyes. You’ve sat here for a while, feel your back ache as you sit up, your neck sore.
You hear her feet padding across your carpeted floor before her arms snake around you. She’s wearing the same hoodie from the bike ride, this time with the hood on. She lays her head on yours, nuzzling into you. “You should take a break. You’ve been at this for hours.”
You sigh, visibly relaxing in her hold. “If I was going to take a break, it would be to take you home. Do you know how late it—OW!” You yelp, feeling her pinch your side.
“Not funny.”
When you told her your aunt and uncle would be away this weekend, you didn’t expect to see her standing outside your door, duffel bag in hand (the bag was more unexpected than her being here, what with the amount of clothes she steals from you). Apparently, she told her parents she was staying with a friend, studying for a made up exam.
She moves to walk away only for you to grab her arms, keeping them on you. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry,” you say, moving her hand to your lips, a ghost of a smile still there.
“What song is this?”
“You like it?” You hum in approval. “My homeroom teacher played it a while ago; took me ages to find it on Spotify,” you pause before continuing, “I don’t know. It just stuck.”
The two of you stay like this, unmoving. When the computer screen turns off from inactivity, you stare at the reflection, how her face presses into your head, her own glasses askew from the position, how the hoodie still dwarfs her.
She stares at your face through the screen and notices your eyes fighting to stay open. “Come on,” she says gently, spinning the desk chair and removing your glasses before lifting you up by your hands. You follow without resistance as she walks backwards to the bed, only to trip over something. Seoyeon lands on the bed, sitting on its edge while you fall just before her, on your knees.
“Are you—“ she freezes when you lay your head down on her lap, cheek pressed against her thigh.
“Just 5 minutes,” you whisper, closing your eyes and encircling your arms around her.
Seoyeon exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding before threading her fingers through your hair, gazing softly as your breathing begins to even out.
——
You’re brought out of the memory when the song ends, Seoyeon removing the headphones from your head.
“Feeling nostalgic?” She teases, though you can tell it’s halfhearted with how her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, like she was experiencing the same memory.
She’s still so close—one more inch and you’re practically touching—but before you could reach for her, the owner arrives, a tray of tea in his hand.
You carefully take the tray from him, settling it down on a nearby table before showing him all the photos you took of the place. You can’t help smiling watching his reactions, tears welling in his eyes as he looks at his own memories in picture form. Looking up, you see a giant smile on her face, happy at what you’ve done for him.
He stops you when he finds the photo you took of her, swaying to the music before walking to the counter and returning, this time with a polaroid. You stare at it, shocked at the uncanniness of it. You realise it was a photo of his wife from years ago, captured just like Seoyeon was moments ago. He looks up from it and smiles at you, like he knows why you took that photo.
You’re finding fewer reasons to argue.
As you exit the shop, you only make it a few feet before doubling back, leaving Seoyeon behind and confused. You return with a plastic bag, handing it to her, “Here.”
She takes a look inside. It’s the vinyl of the song she played. “You bought this?”
You hum in agreement, “A souvenir.” You start walking, leaving her behind as she looks inside the bag. When she lifts her head, watching your back as you continue forward, a soft warmth spreads through her chest, like she’s seeing the boy from years ago.
——
You return to the music shop the following day, this time with her video camera to record more content. Of her admiring the place, listening to music, looking through books. She does a good job of hiding that this isn’t her first time here, that the first visit should be a secret kept between you two. Still, it gives you ample opportunities to capture more moments—her reading in the rocking chair, of her admiring the space again, even her playing with the cat.
You’re sat with the owner by the entrance, conversing. He brought out his photo album like he knew you’d return, proudly showing his memories of his wife, of the shop. They built this place together, every detail inside chosen by her and made possible by him. You look back to your own memories and know nothing could compare to this.
You stop mid-conversation when you feel her approaching with the camera in hand, pointing it at you. “What do you think of this place?”
You look at her in shock, “Uh… you have it pointed the wrong way.”
“It’s fine, they won’t use any of this stuff. At least, not without your permission,” she reassures, her eyes wide, still expecting an answer.
The owner steps up, talking about the history of the place as if he knew you didn’t have any answers. She points the camera to him but her eyes stay focused on you, eyes curling in amusement. He starts moving, showing her little details you missed in your photography—the slightly uneven shelf when he set it up wrong, the little cracks in the paint from the layers of wallpapers they put up over the years. You follow quietly behind, documenting everything you missed with photos of your own.
When the tour finishes and her camera is off, the owner gestures for you to stay inside the alcove as he goes off to fetch tea.
“You didn’t give me answer,” she pouts, “why not?”
“You didn’t give me enough time.”
“It’s spontaneous.”
“It’s too much pressure. This is why I’d rather be behind the camera.”
She hums in thought, thinking about what you said. “I guess you’re right,” she says. You watch as her eyes lighten up and you know this can’t be good. “What about when you suddenly confessed to me?”
You choke on nothing.
“I distinctly remember you not needing a lot of time back then,” she teases.
Your cheeks burn red, “That’s different that—“
You’re saved by the owner rounding the corner, tray filled with snacks and tea in hand. He sets it down between you before taking a seat himself, ready to tell more stories about his wife.
You look away, too embarrassed to face them. You can’t focus on the stories—your heartbeat too loud, muffling his words. You do catch snippets though: how they met, what he wished he’d done when she was still here, how he wished he had more time with her.
You turn to look at him, noticing how he keeps looking between you both, his features solemn, his eyes knowing. The implication is clear.
There’s no such thing as forever.
You glance over at Seoyeon, her fingers wrapped around her glass, trembling slightly. Her eyes are misty, like she’s trying not to let the tears fall.
Your chest aches at the scene.
——
You leave the shop in silence, Seoyeon walking a few feet in front, shoulders hunched over, arms wrapped around her body. After saying goodbye to the owner, she moved to the door quickly, like she was starved of air.
You follow at a safe distance, far enough to not suffocate her but close enough to watch her, keep her safe. You walk through the local town, pass the community centre, houses, mini marts without really seeing them. You hang your camera forgotten around your neck. It didn’t feel right to capture this moment.
Instead, you look at her video camera. In her haste to leave, she left it behind. It was still recording when you picked it up, recorded the whole conversation, her reactions, yours. You debate deleting it, debate letting her see this, let her content team see this. The footage too raw, too real but you stop yourself. It’s not your place to.
You stop the recording just as Seoyeon stops. In front of her is a playground, a few kids playing before being called by their parents. You still stand behind her, watching. She moves forward towards the swings before sitting down, her feet planted in the ground. She stares at her shoes, how they mark the sand underneath her, lost in thought.
You walk to her, stopping when your own shoes are in her sight. She looks up to you, sees the blanket in your hand and the half opened backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. She takes the blanket gently, laying it over her lap as you move to the swing beside her.
The silence stretches between you until the sun begins to set, the soft orange illuminating the playground in warmth.
“That was…”
“Yeah…” you respond. She doesn’t need to elaborate. It was heavy for you too.
The temperature begins to drop as the sun sets. You feel it before you notice the rain, small droplets falling in front of you, darkening the sand.
You’re suddenly reminded of the last time you were in the rain with her.
——
You don’t know when the rain got heavier, your umbrella forgotten on the ground. You’re outside a convenience store near her home, late at night. You stare at her, watch how her lips move without registering anything, deafened by the rain or your heart, you’re not too sure.
“I have to do this. I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
“Regret not taking the opportunity? Or regret for being with me?” Your voice is hoarse, like glass sticking in your throat. You hit a sore spot with how her eyes widen.
“No! No I—“ she shouts, shaking her head profusely. She tries to continue but can’t, the brave mask finally breaking, her tears now mixing with the rain.
Your heart clenches at the sight.
She has the opportunity to be something more. To be seen and get the recognition she deserves. But you both know it comes at a cost. And while you know it’s the right thing to do, to grab the opportunity with both hands, it hurts all the same.
Still, seeing her like this, shivering in the night, trying to get the words out, you don’t want to be the cause of this.
You reach and pull on her hand, bringing her head to your chest as you hug her tightly. You don’t know when your tears started falling.
“I’m going to hate you. If I don’t, I don’t think I can continue,” you whisper, your chin resting against the top of her head one last time. “You should hate me too.”
She cries louder at that, her hold on you tighter, her shaking hard against your chest. You don’t hear the rain anymore, only her and it hurts.
You stay there until she calms down, at least enough for you to pull yourself away. When she realises what you’re doing, she clings on tighter, only for you to wrestle yourself out. You turn and leave, not looking back.
Her cries can be heard over the deafening rainfall, over your thundering heart but you keep walking, not letting yourself look back, leaving your umbrella behind.
——
You’re brought back by a touch on your arm. You turn your head towards Seoyeon, concern etched on her face but it’s blurry. You didn’t realise you’d been crying. You wipe your eyes with your hands before looking back to her.
“Are you okay?”
“Ye—yeah…” you reply. She doesn’t believe you but she doesn’t say anything either. You look at her more closely, hair damp from the rain. Immediately, you take your jacket off, placing it around her shoulders. “We should head out. Don’t want you to get a cold,” you say quietly.
She nods softly before attempting to stand, losing her balance as she does, one hand gripping the swing chain tightly. Instinctively, you reach for her, pulling her close to your chest. Almost as quickly as she fell, she moves away, slightly pushing against you.
You take the umbrella from your backpack, opening it to cover her. The pair of you walk silently out of the playground, wet sand sticking to your shoes. Streetlights illuminate the path back to the car, the smell of fresh rain in the air, the sound of it hitting the umbrella. You do your best to distract from your thoughts, from the woman beside you.
“Your shoulder’s getting wet.”
You glance at her, face still looking straight ahead. There’s a distance between you two—umbrella fully over her and partially over you. “It’s alright.”
She shifts closer. Her shoulder softly grazing the arm holding the umbrella. It tilts, letting it cover you both more evenly.
Neither of you mention it.
When you approach the car, you close the umbrella before shaking off the water. She’s at the passenger door, waiting. Immediately after both of you enter, you turn the heating on full, blowing warm air onto your hands. Both of you sit there, trying to get warm, waiting for the windscreen to clear before setting off.
“What’s the plan? For tomorrow?”
She turns to face you, unsure. “I—I don’t know. I’ll let you know. Tomorrow.”
You look at her, at her features. Her hair sticks to her forehead, her frame slightly shivering. You turn the air conditioning towards her before instinctively leaning forward, brushing the hair off her forehead. You hear her breath hitch before you realise why.
“S—Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The windscreen clears and you set off back to the hotel. The drive back is quiet, heavy but not uncomfortable. It continues until you make it to the hotel lobby outside the elevators.
“Get some rest,” she says.
“You too,” you reply.
You both get on different elevators.
——
When she asked if you wanted to go to the local market—for filming purposes—you couldn’t say yes quicker. You could barely get rest last night, still thinking about the events of that day and reliving the memory you wished never surfaced. You realise one thing that night: not once did you hate her.
The market is loud and bustling—vendors shouting, tourists browsing the various goods. The place is rich with subjects, perfect for both of you to get lost in. When you look down next to you, Seoyeon’s no longer by your side. Instead she’s further in, already filming.
You stay back, taking in the atmosphere before lifting your own camera and taking photos—stalls selling various trinkets, the food and the vendors. You were even lucky to find a few willing participants, posing for photos, asking you to retake them if they weren’t happy. You snap photos of the lanterns above, of the smoke rising from the food stalls. It’s chaotic and intense. Perfect for drowning your thoughts.
Slowly but surely, the two of you drift closer, going from stall to stall until you meet her at a tteokbokki stall. “Hey,” you shout over the crowd. She looks up, blowing on a piece of tteokbokki about to enter her mouth before changing her mind and bringing it to yours.
“Here, try this,” she insists, slightly pushing it against your lips. You open your mouth and take it, not looking at her. It’s good, better than what you normally order back home. “How is it?”
You cough, smoke coming out of your mouth. “Hot,” you fan your mouth, quickly inhaling as much air to cool it down.
A small laugh escapes her lips, watching you.
You freeze. You miss that sound.
The pain isn’t so bad after hearing that. You open your mouth again, signalling for more. She exhales loudly—exasperated but smiling—before feeding you more.
You both stand there, eating from the same container. Her feeding you and rolling her eyes whenever you open your mouth, signalling for more.
When you finish, you continue further into the market, this time side by side. Both your cameras lie untouched as you sample more food and browse the various stalls. You find yourselves in front of fish cake stand, Seoyeon’s eyes wide watching them cook in their broth. You flag the owner over, paying for two skewers before moving to an empty table nearby.
You take a skewer out of the cup, blowing on it then pointing it towards her. It’s your turn to feed her now.
“I can feed myself you know,” she says flatly. You shrug, a mischievous smile on your face. You wave the food in front of her before taking a bite out of it, humming in exaggerated delight at its taste. You watch as her mouth waters slightly at your performance, happy at her reaction. You present the skewer in front of her, egging her to take a bite. She finally relents.
“Wow…” her eyes light up at the taste, enjoying it more than you, eyebrows lifting in pleasant surprise. You smile, mouth still full, cheeks a little bigger than normal. She looks up to you and mimics your expression, your heart beating just a little faster.
It feels like you’re in high school again.
She moves to grab the other skewer before you could, a triumphant smile plastered on her face as she eats it. You watch her fondly until she finishes, grabbing the empty cup and sticks to dispose of them.
When you walk back to the table, you notice the crowds getting bigger. “Stay close to me,” you whisper in her ear as you make your way back to her, leaving no room for argument as you continue deeper into the market. She doesn’t protest, instead moving slightly in front of you, shoulder settling against your chest like her anchor.
You follow her, avoid bumping into the crowds or carts moving goods. She points at a fish tank holding fish for the restaurant, asking you to take a photo of her. She asks your opinion on what to get for her members, even though she knows you don’t know them too well.
“Do you think they’d like this?”
“Uh… sure,” you say, voice lacking belief. She looks over at you, eyes squinted reprimanding you for lying. “I mean… it’s kind of… generic?”
“Oh… really?”
“I don’t really know them. Maybe they’d like it?”
“Hmmm…”
She moves on until you reach the other side of the market, settling against a nearby wall and taking out the video camera. You hear her curse underneath her breath, “I was supposed to record more,” she looks up at you like she’s about to laugh, “I only got 10 minutes worth.”
You start laughing before she joins. That’s nowhere near enough. “You want to go back in?”
She shakes her head. “It’s too crowded, I’d just end up filming the back of people’s head,” she takes her phone out then, “I should find something else to film.”
You lean against the wall opposite of her, watching her. The way her hair frames her face, lips slightly parted in concentration, how some strands even fall into her mouth. You see her phone screen reflected in her eyes, see how she focuses on your next adventure. Her chest rises and falls faster than you expect, her features softer than you’ve seen on the trip. No exaggerations, no persona. Just her.
You watch as her face lights, turning the phone toward you, lightly jumping on her toes, “Let’s do this!”
You lean closer to the phone, before you turn to her, “You want to do this?”
She nods enthusiastically, reminiscent of when she asked you to give her a ride on a rental bike. You look towards the ground and sigh before lifting your head, smile forming on your lips, “Let’s go,” you move ahead, her running after you until she’s beside you.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
——
You drive in silence. Rolling hills to your left, the ocean to your right. Music softly playing on the radio. Her eyes haven’t left you since you started the drive. One leg drawn up on the seat, the shoe forgotten on the floor. It’s dangerous, how she’s sat but you don’t say anything, instead focus on getting there safely.
A sharp breeze blows through the opened passenger side window, ruffling her ponytail and bangs. You carefully steal a look before turning back to the road. You do it again. And again. Each time a little longer than the last—the smooth plane of her leg or the way her nails tap against the back of her phone.
You hear a laugh, one that you’re familiar with, normally when you do something she considers cute.
“You’re staring,” she says, amusement in her voice.
You turn back to the road, gripping the wheel tighter. Your face burns red, throat suddenly dry.
A familiar song comes on the radio, one that has Seoyeon sitting up and turning the volume up, “I love this song!”
Of course she does. It’s her own song.
You don’t say anything, instead you’re being treated to a live performance, phone serving as a microphone, occasionally placed near your mouth before returning back to hers. You can’t bite back the smile on your face at her antics.
“What’s your favourite song?”
“I like all of them.”
She huffs at that answer, “What a cop out.”
You turn to face her again. She’s smiling, staring at you. Time slows. Sunlight brighter, bathing her in a soft, ethereal glow. The light reflected from the ocean behind her makes this an image you want to remember.
It’s just a shame you can’t use your camera.
So you do the next big thing.
You memorise her.
——
Click.
You snap a photo of the canola fields, of the yellow flowers gently swaying in the breeze against the backdrop of a bright, blue sky.
You stand up, stretching your back as you take in your surroundings again. This place is beautiful, there’s no doubt about it, evident by the sheer number of photographers and visitors here. You remember from the car ride here how the best time to visit was now. And you’re glad you did. Missing out on seeing the blooming flowers would be one of your biggest regrets.
You scan the fields, looking for Seoyeon and finding her with her vlog camera, conversing with it. You watch as she turns the camera around, filming the flowers, panning the camera to capture how vast the fields are, the mountain behind her and the few rock statues scattered around.
You can’t help but change the settings to burst mode on your camera. You lift it and snap as many photos as she slowly spins, trying to capture anything and everything. She catches you taking photos, scrunches her nose, a mischievous smile on her face as she points her camera to you, zooming in.
Your heart jumps to your throat as you look at the photos.
She’s beautiful.
Her skirt flows as she spins, surrounded by yellow flowers that only enhance her. Arms out, face tilted toward the sky. Eyes closed. Smiling.
And in the last few frames—her eyes catch your camera, a sparkle in them as she aims her own at you. Like she knows these photos are for more than the exhibition.
You turn red at the thought.
As you finish admiring the photos, a couple taps your shoulder, asking you to take their picture. You oblige, taking their phone and snapping photos, gently repositioning them when needed.
Soon you feel her behind you, also directing, complimenting them on how photogenic they are.
You return their phone. They keep one hand open, asking for yours, “We should take pictures of you two!” The woman says.
“No, it’s okay, we’re—” Seoyeon starts.
“We’d love to!” you say, louder, quicker. You hand them your phone before standing beside Seoyeon.
She whips her head toward you. Eyes wide, mouth open. Eyebrows knitted together, head tilting.
“Three, two—”
She doesn’t have time to process. Doesn’t have time to pose.
Click.
The photo captures you both standing straight, stiff, side by side.
They laugh.
“Relax! Embrace each other!” the woman calls.
You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You didn’t think this through. You wrap your arm around her waist, gently pulling her close. You don’t look at her—afraid of her reaction. Instead, you smile at the camera, other hand making a V sign near your eye.
Seoyeon, still shocked, can’t help but look at you. Your cheeks slightly red. The movement of your throat as you swallow, pulling her close. Her hands clasp near her chest. Eyes never leaving your face.
Click.
The second photo captures her watching you.
You hear them laugh—call you adorable—but there’s a ringing in your ear. You turn to face her. She’s still looking at you, still shocked and now you feel a little embarrassed.
Your face burns.
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea...” you concede.
She laughs at you, at how the one time you take the initiative, you’re an embarrassed mess. “Just smile,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around your torso as her head lands softly against your chest, face turned to the camera, a bright smile on her lips.
Click.
You know for a fact she heard your heart beat loudly.
She looks up at you again, notices your collar is a bit disheveled from the hanging camera and moves to fix it, hands gently grazing your neck as she does. She moves the camera, makes sure it doesn’t dig into your skin. You can’t look away from her. Can’t look away from the pink on her cheeks. Or the way her chest seems to rise and fall quickly.
Click.
“One more!”
Both of you turn to face them, her arm looped around yours, holding you tight. Both of you have a small smile on your faces. Genuine ones. The kind you don’t need to convince others of.
——
“Which one’s your favourite?”
You peer over her shoulder as she holds your phone, watch as she scrolls through the photos on your phone. You’re close to her, can feel her looking at you and hear her breath quicken as your eyes focus on your screen. “That one.”
Her eyes return to the screen as you walk off, back towards the car. She catches up to you, handing your phone over. “That was my favourite too,” she says softly, like she’s embarrassed you have the same taste before running off.
You turn your phone on. She changed your wallpaper. To the photo you both like. The last one.
——
You put the car in park, turning the engine off without fuss. You turn towards her and just stare.
She’s asleep.
Somewhere between the canola fields and the hotel, she drifted off. Legs curled up on the seat, a blanket draped over them. Seat reclined as far back as it goes.
Her breathing is even, eyes moving underneath her eyelids—she’s dreaming. A part of you hope it includes you.
You watch her. Heart full. You don’t know how long it’s been. Could be five minutes. Could be fifty. You wouldn’t mind either way.
She shifts a little, trying to get comfortable. A strand of hair falls across her face. You want to move it but you don’t risk waking her. She wrinkles her nose, tickles by the strand. You watch.
She stirs, eyes fluttering open. It takes a minute but her eyes focus on you. “Hi,” she says, voice rough, a sleepy smile adorning her face. “How long have you been watching me?”
“Five, ten minutes,” you say, no embarrassment in your voice. “Ever since we got here.”
Seoyeon sits up, arms high above her head as she stretches, a soft sound escaping—half sigh, half moan. You watch as the blanket falls into a pile on her waist. Her shirt slowly rides up, exposing her stomach, before she tugs it back down. If she noticed you staring, she doesn’t comment. Just smacks her lips together and settles back into the seat.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I’ve never woken you up before. Why should I start now?”
You watch her think, trying to remember a time you woke her.
She won’t find one.
Not at the library during study sessions. Not in your bed while you edited photos at your desk.
“You never did.”
“I never did.”
She holds eye contact with you for a few seconds before breaking it, looking down at her hands playing with the blanket. “I used to sleep a lot back then huh?” She says quietly.
You shrug your shoulders. “Well it made sense. You were always moving. Always running, climbing, dancing too.”
Both of you laugh at the memories. She was the one that always dragged you out to places—arcades, parks, even dance studios. You honestly have her to thank for keeping you healthy.
You grow silent, suddenly remembering your relationship. How she was the first person you looked for whenever something happened, how she was cheering loudest when you won those photography awards. That proud smile she had when she took photos of you with the trophy, how you smiled when she claimed she was the reason you won. It’s true but you never mentioned it.
“I should head inside,” she says, snapping you from your memories. You see her reflection in the window. Looks like she remembered something too.
As her hand goes to open the door, you stop her. “Wait,” she turns to you, waits as you gather the courage. “Dinner. Would you like to grab dinner together? Tomorrow?”
A small smile creeps up her face. “Just dinner? Let’s make it a date.”
You stutter, surprised at what she just said. “Su—sure.”
She looks you in the eyes, her eyes wrinkling at the corner as she smiles. “Good night,” she says gently, opening the door and closing it with a quiet thud.
You sit there in silence, watch as she enters the hotel and release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
You can’t stop the smile.
——
You’re woken up by a soft knocking at the hotel door. “Alright, alright,” you say groggily, rubbing your eyes as you pad your way to the door before opening.
You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming.
Seoyeon can’t be outside your door in a flowy white dress, hair curled, cascading past her shoulders. Her face has little makeup, just a soft pink on her lips.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
A small smile tugs at her lips, cheeks puffing slightly as she nods, “I’m here for our date,” she says matter-of-factly.
You turn to the table behind you, reading the digital clock. “Seoyeon, it’s 5:30 in the morning.”
She walks herself into your room, “I know. Gives you enough time to get ready. To see the sunrise.” She walks over to the window and draws the curtains. It’s still pitch black, “Remember what you said before?”
You try to rack your brain at anything and everything you might’ve said to her in the past week that would result in her being here so early in the morning. Nothing comes to mind.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You sit down on your bed, still trying to wake up as you watch her face in the reflection.
The smiles gone, replaced with a melancholy look. “You said you wanted to see the sunrise with me.”
Your eyes widen.
She remembered something you said years ago in passing, when both of you were snuggled up in your bed. You were just mindlessly talking about everything you wanted to do with her, thinking she’d fallen asleep.
Guess you were wrong.
“I didn’t think you heard that,” you say quietly, wondering how many times she pretended to sleep and how much she actually knows.
She turns quickly, hands clapping once. “I did. Now, get dressed. We don’t want to miss it.”
You stand, heading to your suitcase. “Are you going to watch?”
A bright smile crosses her face, “I mean… it’s nothing I haven’t seen a hundred times,” she teases.
“Seoyeon…” you say, a wry smile on your face as you look for something to wear.
“Alright, alright,” she says, hands up in surrender as she moves to the door, “I’ll meet you in the lobby. Hurry up.”
——
You walk towards where she set up, two water bottles in hand. The sun has yet to appear over the horizon, the only light being from her phone’s flashlight, illuminating the sand as she writes something. She hears your footsteps grow louder, sand crunching beneath your feet. She quickly wipes away the writing before you can see it.
“Is this all you got?” she asks as you hand her bottle.
“Seoyeon, it’s six in the morning. The only thing open is the vending machine over there,” you say, thumb pointing towards the machine beside the closed convenience store.
You grab your backpack from behind you, retrieving a blanket that you drape over her shoulders.
She didn’t bring a jacket. You want to ask why but choose not to. You’ll give her yours anyway.
As you wait for the sunrise, you notice her inching closer. She throws one end of the blanket over, encapsulating you both.
You turn to her, watch how she lays her head onto her knees, a soft, easy smile on her face as she stares at you. “Thought you might be cold.”
You gaze into her brown eyes, not breaking contact. You could stare into them forever. Her eyes slowly brighten, her face catching a soft, orange glow. The sunrise. Both of you turn towards it. You grab your phone, camera forgotten in your hotel room and capture a photo.
You stare at the photo and scoff in disbelief.
You’ve taken so many photos of the sunrise but this one feels different. Maybe because it felt like a chore before or maybe it’s because you’re fulfilling a wish.
You don’t know.
Turning towards her, you snap a photo of her side profile, how one side glows and the other is left in the shade, how her chin tilts upwards, eyes closed, basking in the morning light.
She lets out a long breath.
“You done taking pictures?”
One eye opens and looks at you.
You can only nod in agreement.
——
After packing up and leaving the beach, you both walk around aimlessly, looking for some place to eat. You notice her drift towards you. Closer and closer until your hands brush against each other. You don’t say anything. Neither does she, focused on what’s ahead, even as you feel her pinky reach out—tentative and testing—only to pull back. She does it again. And again. Until you hook yours around hers. A small smile appears.
She’s more energised now, talking about anything and everything.
She teases you about everything you said when you thought she was asleep. You fight back with some of her embarrassing moments but she brushes it off while you stay flustered. She talks about her company, her members—how she couldn’t imagine doing this without them. She even tells you about comeback plans you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to know about.
You continue to watch her, animated, jumping on her toes about a particular story during dance practice. At one point, you’ve stopped listening entirely, content with just watching her.
You notice her go quiet before turning to face what she’s looking at. A couple of elderly ladies on their morning walk approach you. With how close they are, you can tell they’ve been gossiping. From the way their eyes look at you both, you know the topic is both of you.
You both bow in greeting.
One of them smiles. “What a cute couple.”
Neither of you say anything. You just smile.
As you walk off, you feel her pinky being replaced by her hand tightening around yours.
——
Breakfast is at a small mom-and-pop shop run by someone’s grandmother, hidden from the normal tourist stops. Just the two of you, surrounded by the sound of the burner, the rattling of a portable heater in the corner, the TV playing news on low volume.
“Give me your phone,” she says, hand already outstretched.
You hand it over without hesitation.
“Same password?”
You hum in agreement, chin resting on your hands, watching her.
“You still kept the wallpaper?”
“Of course. It’s my favourite.”
She looks up, smiling brightly before turning around and lifting the phone into the air, camera facing both of you.
Her lips slightly puckered, other hand making a V sign. You follow her lead—V sign, small smile.
She snaps photo after photo, changing her pose each time. Dog ears. Cheek hearts.
Once finished, she scrolls through them. Her smile grows with each one.
“Yah! You kept the same pose?”
She keeps scrolling. Stops on one. Her smile falters—shifts into something softer. She turns the phone toward you.
It’s you. Looking at her, not the camera. A warm smile on your face.
Before she can say anything, the food arrives—hot, steaming, placed between you.
She hands your phone back quickly.
As you tuck it away, she grabs your bowl and ladles soup into it. When you look up, her eyes flick toward the food.
Eat.
——
The underground shopping centre is busy, full of people browsing items from various stores. Seoyeon drags you from one store to another, hand holding yours tightly as she looks for souvenirs.
“Here, try this.”
You bend down slightly, letting her place a pair of sunglasses on your face. Her fingers gently grasp your chin, turning your head to let her get a better look.
“You’re not buying this for me, are you?”
“Why not?” She takes off the glasses before walking toward the vendor, going as far as haggling for a cheaper price.
You stand frozen where she left you, the ghost of her touch still lingers on your chin, your head fuzzy from the contact.
“Here. Got a pretty good discount for it too,” she says proudly, handing you the gift bag.
“Th—Thank you, Seoyeon.”
You continue to follow her as she browses when something catches your eye. A small charm—a yellow flower. A canola flower, maybe.
You slip away while she examines key rings. The vendor wraps it quickly before handing it over.
When you return, she’s looking around for you. She spots you and smiles.
“Oh… what is that?”
You hand it over and wait for her to unwrap it. The charm sits on top of tissue paper inside a small box. The fluorescent light catches it, making it sparkle.
You watch her reaction, swallowing hard when you can’t decipher its meaning, “It’s for your bag. Or wherever.”
She stares at it before picking it up gently. She hands you the empty box, attaching the charm to her purse. She smiles at it then directs at you.
She grabs your arm, looping hers in yours before you continue browsing. You feel her rise on her tiptoes before you can do anything, lips pressed gently against your cheek in a quick peck.
“Thank you.”
Your stumble slightly, missing a step. She laughs at your reaction, dragging you to the next store.
——
After dinner, you find yourselves back at the beach. The sun is setting, casting the sky in a soft orange and pink. You walk along the waterline to digest, both yours and her shoes in one hand, her hand in the other, fingers intertwined. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand is pleasant, the feel of the sand under your feet warm and inviting.
She squeals beside you, jumping back from a wave splashing against her leg. You can’t help the laugh that escapes. She pouts at your reaction then grins. She lets go of your hand, wades into the water before kicking some onto you.
“Hey!”
“Still think it’s funny?” she says, laughing at you.
Dropping the shoes, you run in after her, splashing her but not enough soak through. She runs away, laughing and squealing, begging you to stop, “You’re going to soak me!”
You look at her—laugh lines around her eyes, hair damp and wild, smile radiant.
Your heart clenches.
She looks the exact same as she was from years ago.
You shake your head, force yourself to stay present and carry on after her.
——
You find a bench, just at the edge of the beach. You sit, towel in hand, drying your hair, arms, legs.
Both of you went a bit overboard splashing each other. What was once playful soon became competitive. You lost.
You turn to her, watch as she slowly dries her hair while looking out into the sea. You look further down, her legs still damp, feet covered in sand.
You get down on one knee, towel draped over your thigh. Gently, you take one foot, wrapping the towel around it, you begin wiping away the sand stuck to her skin. Working your way up—ankle, calf, knee.
“Wh—what are you doing?”
You don’t look up, focusing on what’s in front of you. “Drying you.”
You hear her breath quicken, see how her hands fall to the bench, gripping tightly.
You look up.
Her mouth slightly open, eyes glazed over but locked on you.
You move to her leg, eyes still on hers.
Her cheeks flush, her chest rises and falls—quick, shallow breaths.
The air feels charged around you, everything else drowned out.
“Ah—“
A breeze picks up, kicking up sand into her eyes. She flinches, squeezing her eyes shut.
You move quickly—hand cradling her cheek as you blow the sand away. Your thumb caresses her cheekbone, clearing the sand.
The sand is gone. Your thumb keeps moving.
You wait for her to open her eyes.
She nuzzles into your hand as she slowly opens her eyes, slightly red from irritation but still beautiful—so deep you could drown in them.
You trace the path down—the mole on her nose. To her lips.
Still parted.
You don’t remember closing the distance. Just your lips pressing firmly against hers.
Your eyes flutter close as she reciprocates. Her lips soft, insistent.
Your thumb still traces her cheeks. It’s wet.
She’s crying. Like she can’t believe this is real.
You can’t either.
You part eventually. A thin string of saliva connecting you.
You open your eyes slowly. She’s already looking at you.
Your breaths mingle in the space between.
Her hand glides up your arm. Reaches your neck. Pulls you back.
This kiss is different—more urgent, desperate. Her tongue asks for permission. You give it.
Your hand finds the bench, steadying yourself. Her fist finds your shirt.
You hear fabric tear.
You don’t care.
——
“Wow! These are amazing!”
You stare blankly ahead at the screen as your manager hovers over you, scrolling through the album.
It’s been a month since you’ve returned from Jeju. You kept in touch with Seoyeon—constant messages about her days, sending her old photos from before. It was great until it wasn’t. Messages became infrequent and short. You chalk it up to you both being busy. It’s true—she’s busy preparing for a comeback, you with the exhibition.
Still, you wish you were still on the island.
“This is what I’m talking about! The emotion! The setting! I knew you had it in you!”
Your manager grabs hold of your shoulders, shaking them as if you won something. You don’t listen. To be honest, you hardly do anymore.
“Alright, is it done? Are these the photos going in the exhibit?”
You hesitate.
Putting these up feels like a violation of your privacy. Of hers. But you can’t deny the beauty of them, the feelings they evoke.
“I’m not sure,” you say finally.
Before your manager says anything, your friend appears—ushers him out the door.
You forgot he was there. He’s been quieter than usual.
You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face, tired.
“You should put them up. It’s a disservice if you don’t.”
Your face stays behind your hands, even when he leaves without another word.
You roll your chair closer to the desk and reach for your phone.
There’s an email from the exhibition host: invitation codes.
Your aunt and uncle are already coming. The manager too.
Your thumb hovers over her name.
Send her a ticket directly. That’s what you want to do.
But what if she doesn’t come?
You can’t shake it. The thought of her trying—schedule permitting, company permitting—and failing. Or worse: not trying at all.
You close her contact. Open your email. Address it to her company instead. Thank them. Offer tickets to the group.
If she comes, she comes.
You hit send before you can second-guess it
——
The event hall is bustling. Other photographers set up in different areas of the hall, a steady stream of visitors coming in and out.
Your exhibit is one of the more popular ones. Visitors stay and look at yours longer than others, debate between people as to what your photos represent, of the technique used. Others have come just to admire them. They look for you, ask for the meaning behind an image then compliment you on capturing such beauty.
All you do is smile and thank them. Your focus is on the entrance.
You see your aunt and uncle approach, your manager leading them to you. You lean down, a kiss on the cheek from your aunt and a pat on the back from your uncle. They hand you a bouquet of flowers, congratulating you on the successful exhibit.
“Your nephew is a prodigy! Come, come. Look at the photos.”
Your manager drags your aunt, pointing at some of the photos, describing what they mean. You doubt he knows the actual meaning.
“Are you sure you want to stick with him?”
You sigh, “Yeah. He’s good at what he does. Even if he is all about the money.”
Both you and your uncle watch as your aunt starts asking questions that your manager has no hope of answering. You laugh when he suddenly excuses himself, leaving your aunt alone.
Your uncle joins her. You return to the other visitors, even publishers who want to use your photos for their magazines.
When you get some free time, you rejoin your family. “You have a favourite photo?”
Your aunt points to one, ignoring your question. “Is that Seoyeon?”
You follow where she’s pointing. It’s Seoyeon in the canola fields, “Yeah…”
“She’s even more beautiful,” she comments, eyes still on the photo. She turns to you, “How is she?”
“She’s great. Preparing for a comeback right now.”
“Is she coming? Did you invite her?”
You struggle to get anything out, a noncommittal sound answering her question instead.
“It’s a shame. What happened between you two,” she says, a wistful expression on her face. She turns towards you. “She was the best thing to have happened to you. I’ve never seen you smile so much. Ever since your parents died,” she whispered that last part, like she knew she shouldn’t have said that but did so anyway.
“Yeah.”
You both stare at her photo for a few minutes before your aunt turns towards you, arms outstretched.
You smile, leaning down and accepting the hug.
“If you see her again, tell her we’re always rooting for her. And that we forgive her for breaking your heart,” she whispers into your ear.
“Auntie…”
“Relax. It was a joke,” she says as you separate. “Now go. Your manager wants to introduce you to someone.”
You turn. Your manager is beckoning from across the room. You give your aunt a small smile. She pushes you toward him.
——
The exhibit starts to wind down. A few people still mill around but the majority of the hall is empty.
You’re walking back to your place after helping another photographer pack their stuff back into their car when you freeze in place.
She’s here.
She looks different—her hair is now brown and wavy, her bangs a little longer than before. She’s wearing a jacket and jeans—different from the sun dresses you’re used to seeing.
She’s staring at your photos, still hasn’t seen you yet. You move until you’re just behind her. You look where she’s staring at—the photo of her in the record shop. And next to it? The owner’s wife. He gave it to you before you left.
The resemblance is uncanny.
She eventually turns, surprised to see you. “Hi.”
You smile, “Hi.”
She turns back, looking at the rest of your exhibits. “They’re beautiful,” she says in awe, like it’s the first time she’s seeing them. “Especially the ones with me.”
You can’t help the huff that escapes your mouth as you look down, kicking at an imaginary rock.
She moves now, away from the photos and towards you, until her shoes are all you see. You look up. She’s close. Really close.
“I’m sorry. For being distant. It’s not an excuse but—“
“You were preparing for your comeback. I know.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, like she was afraid you were angry. You can never be.
“My aunt and uncle were here. My photos of you were her favourite.”
“Yeah?”
You hum in agreement, “They also told me to tell you… that we’re always rooting for you.”
You see her eyes widen, tears forming at the corners. You move without hesitation, wiped them away with your thumb.
She drops her handbag to the floor, a loud bang echoing in the hall. Her hand reaches for yours on her cheek, holding it tight.
You look around, worried someone might see her like this but there’s no one left. Just the two of you.
You focus back on her, watch as she locks her eyes with yours. You don’t break contact, even when both your breathing starts to pick up.
“I want to start again. Us.”
Your heart—
“And before you say anything. We’ll make it work. I’ll protect you from the fans so don’t worry about them,” she whispers, her other hand now on your cheek.
You hold it there. “I should be the one reassuring you.”
She laughs tearfully before going quiet and staring at you—your eyes, nose, lips. She moves quickly up on her tiptoes, kissing you like she did back on the beach. It’s wet with tears but you reciprocate, how could you not?
Both hands are now on her cheeks as you push—your tongue in her mouth, her into the wall with a gentle thud. She follows your lead, wrapping her arms around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.
You had to separate eventually, placing your foreheads together as you both breathe heavily. You stare into her eyes, communicating all your emotions into them.
“I love you.”
You smile wide.
“I love you too.”
——
(You remember the first time she said it)
“Hide me. Hide me.”
You’re fiddling with the settings of the camera when Seoyeon comes barrelling into your classroom, running to hide behind you.
“What did you do now?” you whisper, shielding her from whatever comes through the door.
“Nothing. Just playing tag.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be playing tag?”
“Aren’t you a little young to be this boring?”
Before you could refute, her friend enters, slamming the door.
“Is she in here?” she asks, no one in particular. When no one responds, she moves off to the next room.
“She’s gone.”
She peers over your shoulder, checking her surroundings before sighing in relief.
“Thank you. Love you,” she says as she presses her lips against your cheek before running off again.
Your hand slowly comes up, touches where she kissed you, dazed.
All you can hear are her screams as she’s tagged.
