Hansol POV

When I got back to Seoul after that heartbreaking visit back home in Busan, I drowned myself in training. If I wasn’t practising dance with the boys, I would be busy with photoshoots or attending as many dance workshops as I can. I managed to successfully get Liz out of my mind for most of the time but I knew deep done at the very core of my being, that I would never be able to forget her. I still have that Polaroid of her and on some nights, I run my fingers along the picture and wonder about how much I miss her, and about how I’m sure she must have gotten much more beautiful than the last time I saw her. I have never planned to give her up and it was always part of my plan to find her someday if she didn’t happen to come back into my life before that happened. I just prayed that no one would find her before I did.

-

January 2015

Today was a rare day off for me and whilst the boys had decided to do some shopping, I decided I wanted some hot food in my body. So right there on a cold winter night, I found myself inside one of those plastic tents tucked along the sides of Korea’s alleys. Stepping through the clear plastic that served as a door, I found myself an empty table at the corner of the tent and it didn’t take me long before I decided to order grilled fish, kimchi stew and spicy fish cakes for dinner. My surroundings were shrouded in grey smoke from the cigarettes around me, making the images hazy. Mutiple conversations happening around me all blended to become a single cacophony that I tried to block out but to no avail.

I guess the only salvation for tonight would be the good food.

When the long-awaited food finally came, I tucked in heartily, relishing in the taste of spiciness and tender, succulent fish that tantalised my taste buds tonight. After readjusting my beanie over my sandy blonde hair that covered my forehead tonight, I stood up to pay, having to bend my head slightly lower due to the short height of the tent and my tall height. When I opened my wallet, Liz’s Polaroid came into view as I fished out some bills to pay. After receiving my change, I placed the new bills into my wallet before fishing out her Polaroid. I crossed the road and stared at it under the white glow of the moon until a sudden change in the colour of the glow caused me to become aware of my surroundings.

The soft, white glow was replaced with a harsh, green line across her face and when I looked up, I was staring at neon green light bulbs that read “TATTOOS”

Having a mind of their own, my heart and legs steered me towards the tattoo shop, my mind not even uttering a sign of protest. As I entered the store, the swinging door hit against a bell hanging by the ceiling, causing a tinkling sound to reverberate around the silent shop, signalling the entrance of a customer.

The lady behind the counter raised her head to look at me under hooded eyelids, her eyes showing absolutely no interest in me even as she noted the photo in my hand. Raising an eyebrow at me, her quiet voice travelled to me.

“I bet you’re here to get a tattoo for your lovesickness.”

As blunt as she is, there could have no other way to put it across.

“Yes.”

“What would it be?”

Chewing at my bottom lip, I thought for a long while before choosing the simplest and most direct tattoo.

“Numbers, Roman numerals in black, to be exact.”

“Sit down.”

Nodding my head ever so slightly, I walked over to one of the empty leather chairs before sinking into the soft material that smelled heavily of ink dyes. Before long, the lady emerged from the back of the store, a tattoo gun and some swabs in hand. She walked over to me, and proceeded to bend down to pull out a similar leather stool from beneath my seat.

“Where would you like your tattoo to be?”

“My wrist” I said, as I pulled up the sleeve of my white turtleneck, exposing my wrist to her.

“What’s the number?”

“2512, MMDXII” 

“Her birthday, how classic”

“How do you know so much?” I questioned her.

“After seeing tons of heartsick people walk through that door for years, you automatically tend to become a fortune teller when it comes to matter that concern the heart. Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, this might hurt.”

Yet without giving me prior time to prepare myself, the tattoo gun whirred to life and began to spill ink that would be permanently lodged beneath my skin, the needle of the gun biting into my skin which felt like multiple ant bites with the pain amplified and I could feel the occasional rivets of blood that would flow out and the sweeping motion of the swab immediately after to clean up the blood. The studio was completely silent except for the whirring of the tattoo gun and the steady breaths of 2 human beings that was out of sync. All this while, I started at the photo of Liz.

That was until the silence was broken.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Pardon?” I turned my head to the lady, whom still had her eyes fixated on my wrist and her work.

“The girl in your photo, I s