five

***

There's just something so different about living in the middle of a busy city. The endless sound of traffic, particularly during peak hours; the vast amount of people simply crowded onto pathways, heads bowed against the cold winds, as they made their way to their next destination. It fascinated me to no end while I sat by the wall to wall windows of Minseok's studio apartment. I could understand why he might've chosen such a place, five storeys up from the ground where he could see the people walking by below. I watched all day long, noticing just how busy people appeared, never once looking towards the sky and only ever at the ground. Where is the hope in humanity? Nowhere... It's so different from my own home town on the coast, where people mostly kept to themselves and the only lively time were during the hotter months of the year.

Turning back around, I craned my neck to see if I could find Minseok, but he had disappeared behind the multitude of screens. His open bachelor pad was neatly divided into different sections using traditional Japanese paper screens, decorated beautifully with painted works of art showing flowers, birds, small animals and mountainous ranges. To match them, his furniture was mostly wood or coloured in natural greens, ochres and browns, making it feel as if he'd grown his home from Nature herself. It felt welcoming and homey, and he even had small cacti sitting on the window sills. Completely the opposite of what I had initially imagined - a modern monochromatic scheme with cold steels, abstract art and strange furniture. I guess I was just assuming all those who live in the city are modern.

He eventually walked out from behind one of the screens to the left of the otherwise open room, a stack of photos in his hands. Minseok came over to where I sat, pulling over another chair and showed me his photos. "Here," he said, handing me a small stack. Holding them up, I realised they were photos of me. "What do you think?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with expectancy, "I'm using them for my solo exhibition."

I hummed, flipping through them and every single photo of me had been taken when I wasn't looking or rather, focused on something in the distance. I can't believe I didn't even notice when he pointed the lenses in my direction, but maybe I did and had dismissed the idea, convinced that he wasn't looking at me. No one ever looked at me. I look up and meet his eyes, unable to form any sort of compliment for him; maybe he can read my eyes and be satisfied with that, because anyone can see that the photos seem to hold hidden feelings in them, expressing them through the subject. I quickly give them back to him and stand from my chair; I'm unsure what I feel, but there's something stirring in my heart.

"What's wrong?" he asks, confused by my sudden movement. He takes hold of my wrist, thumb rubbing gentle circles over my pulse point. "Do you... No, never mind. I'll make you some tea. What would you like?" he inquired, taking my hand and walking through to his kitchen area. Minseok makes me sit down at the small, wooden table and begins to open cupboards, taking out a teapot, cups and saucers, and a kettle. He starts filling the kettle with water when I finally answer him.

"Earl Grey, please."

"Earl Grey it is then!" He repeats cheerfully, going over to another cupboard and searching for the tea. For a brief moment, I can see all the different tins of tea he owns before he closes he cupboard. He scoops some out into the teapot and as soon as the kettle finishes boiling the water, he pours it in, closing the lid then bringing it over to where I sat, placing it on a coaster. He brings over the cups and saucers, placing one in front of me with a clatter of china while we wait for the tea to infuse. The silence hangs over us, and I stare at the ceramic teapot feeling awkward. I think Minseok is staring at me as well. "It's nearly Christmas. Do you want to help me put up a tree?" he asks me in an attempt to get me speaking.

I don't know what to say though. I've never really celebrated Christmas, and don't have memories of having done so either in the past when my parents were still alive. I only remember my house being filled with guests, the noise penetrating through the walls while I was kept locked in my room, told to stay out of sight through malicious words. So, I nod, because I want to experience everything I've ever missed out on.

"Great, we can go shopping for one later if you'd like," he chuckles, "Since I don't exactly have one because I live alone. It'll be fun," he assures, moving to check the teapot and begi