Note from the author: To save confusion, everything said in ENGLISH will be in BOLD font.

*Phew*, you sigh as you set the last of your moving boxes onto the floor.

You look around at your tiny, dirty apartment, finding it hard to remind yourself that this is where you want to be.  *Alright! I can do this! Fighting!* you encourage yourself.  *I moved to Seoul for a reason, and I will fulfil my dream before the contract for my apartment is up!* you think as you act out a one man play, gazing up to the ceiling whilst clenching your right fist meaningfully by your chest.

However, your positive attitude does not last long, and before you know it you have slumped face first on the floor in despair.  *Where do I start?*, you ponder whilst nearly inhaling a stray dust bunny, clear evidence that the floor hasn’t been cleaned for months, perhaps even years.  *Urg! I can’t be bothered with this!* you think as you defiantly flail on the floor.

Feeling strenuous after your outburst, you slowly drag yourself towards the box labelled ‘Cleaning Supplies’, sweeping up half the dust on the floor with your grey sweatshirt in the process. *Great…* you sigh as you pat yourself clean before finally returning to your feet.  Using your apartment key, you slice open the tape on the box and start to empty its’ contents onto the kitchen counter.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you signed the lease, but you wish the landlord had made some sort of effort before you moved in.  Would it have killed him to run a hoover around? Couldn’t he have a least tried to get rid of the cobwebs and dust bunnies?  Yet you can’t be mad at him – he let you have the place for two years for cheap, and had even told you that you were welcome to decorate the place however you wished, making it the perfect blank canvas for your artistic needs.  

After rolling up your sleeves, you fill the sink with tepid water and add a dash of soap.  “Ah, at least I’ve got running water and a boiler that works”, you mumble to no one as you plunge a cleaning cloth into the water and set to toil.  

                    *    *    *

It’s only when you notice the playlist on your iPod has started replaying itself that you realise just how long you’ve been cleaning.  “There! That looks better already!” you assert as you stand up and reach your hands to the ceiling in a much needed stretch. 

You head over to the sink and drain away the murky water for what feels like the hundredth time.  Turning round, you lean against the counter and take in your new, now clean – yet still small – apartment.  The only furniture that your landlord left is a fridge, a small single bed, an old bedside table and bathroom facilities.  *It’s a good job I saved up before moving to Seoul* you reflect as you pull your iPod out of your back pocket, *hmm, already past three, I better head to the shops to buy necessities*.

Feeling sluggish and with a massive crick in your neck, you unenthusiastically pull on your old white converse and stumble out your front door.  The cool afternoon air feels somewhat refreshing on your worn out body as you slowly plod down the stairs that lead to your apartment.  Not knowing where you are going, you decide to take a leap of faith and follow your instincts, and before long you spot signs directing you to a supermarket. 

Once inside, you realise just how lucky you are that your mum taught you how to read Korean, instead of just teaching you how to speak it.  Absolutely no signs are in English, forcing you to remember that you really are not in Surrey anymore.  You let out a long sigh and think of home – how are they coping without you, their only child?  You hope that they aren’t wallowing in self pity, but you also hope that they’re not at the other end of the spectrum and already contemplating whether they should change your bedroom into an office or a gym.  The thought of your parents actually doing the latter makes you giggle to yourself, *Nah, they wouldn’t do that.  Mum will want to keep my room as it is so that she can use my bed as refuge from dad’s snoring. Or to nick the clothes I have left behind…*  You picture your mum going through your accessories as you had caught her doing so many times before, causing a wave of home sickness to enshroud you.

You pull out a cart and slowly make your way up and down the aisles, noticing lots of food that you have never seen before.  *Why did you never teach me how to cook Korean food, mum? That would have been just as helpful y’know* you muse as you eye up a packet of rice cakes.  Having no idea how to even cook most of the food you encounter, you decide to settle for a couple of packets of ramen, along with a crate of eggs, a handful of spring onions and some lettuce.  Next you move onto drinks: coffee, milk, water and banana milk, all the important things.  *There. That should be everything* you innocently think to yourself as you head to the check out.  

Suddenly, you stop dead in your stride.  “PANS!” you exclaim, perhaps a little too loudly, causing most of the supermarket to stop what they’re doing to look at you.  Feeling yourself turning a wonderful shade of beetroot, you hurry back down the aisle whilst searching for the houseware section sign.  In your flurry, you somehow manage to run over a young man’s foot and nearly knock down a sale display, making you turn an even darker shade of crimson.  

Finally you spot the houseware section and feel thankful that the aisle is nearly empty.  Letting out a sigh of relief, you bend down to assess your options of pans.  Seeing as you’ll only be cooking for yourself, you chose the smallest one that has a lid, along with a cheap temporary mug.  Next you look for cutlery: “Chopsticks, chopsticks, chopsticks… AHA! CHOPSTICKS!” you babble to yourself, once again a little too loud.  In your embarrassment, you slyly look over your shoulders to see if anyone is paying attention to you.  Luckily the aisle is still pretty much empty, but you become aware of a tall figure wearing sunglasses and a snap back who is apparently finding you rather amusing, causing you to turn an extravagant shade of burgundy once more.  Feeling somewhat ashamed of yourself, you grab the chosen chopsticks and swiftly head out of the aisle towards the check out desk.

                    *    *    *

“BABO!” you insult yourself whilst poking your pan of ramen, spring onions and lettuce with chopsticks later that evening: “Why am I always able to embarrass myself like that?”  “And what about that guy? Was I really that amusing?” you state as you crack open an egg on the side of the pan before emptying its’ contents on top of the bubbles.  You place the lid back on the pan and turn off the heat to let the ramen stand for a couple of minutes to ensure the egg is cooked.  

Realising your lack of tables, you place a box in the middle of the room as substitute before plonking yourself on the floor.  Not knowing what to make of today’s events, you slump over the box in surrender.  Yes, you know you can be a complete mess at times, but why were you so aware of that guy’s laughter? What made him so different?

Looking at your iPod you note that the ramen is probably ready by now.  You rise from the ground apathetically and traipse your way to the stove.  With a sigh you place the ramen precariously on top of the box before seating yourself.  The smell of the ramen snaps you back to reality as you realise that you are starving.  Within seconds you are slurping down the remains of the noodles whilst feeling content that your first meal in Seoul was one of your favourites.  

Perhaps it is the effect of the delicious ramen, or perhaps the ramen is merely a placebo, but suddenly today’s events seem less important to you.  Feeling satisfied, you push yourself to your feet and place the dirty pan in the sink to soak.  “Ah, there’s quite a nice view from here” you murmur as you gaze out the window above your kitchen counter, *the night sky in Seoul is so different to back home*.  

Your eyes search your apartment until you spot your old rucksack thrown on your bed.  Inside the front pocket you find your nearly empty box of cigarettes and a lighter.  You don’t smoke often – perhaps it’s even better to say that you don’t really smoke – but every once in a while you appreciate the calming effect it has on you.  Pulling on your converse, you head over to the front door.  Once again, the cool air feels great on your skin and you inhale deeply, completely filling your lungs.  *So different* you consider as you light your cigarette, *in Surrey the nights were pitch black, but here it’s like the sky is glowing*.  You lean against the wall and watch the smoke cascade through the air.  Inhaling another toke of the cigarette, you close your eyes and let the sounds of the city engulf you: *It feels somewhat magical, like anything could happen*.   

                    *    *    *

“Today is a very important day.  It’s the day when I give my second confession to one girl.  I am going to find her once again.  Will she accept my heart?  I feel good today for some reason.”

You roll over in bed as Minhyuk’s voice wakes you up.  You don’t like early mornings, but BTOB always seem to make you feel a little bit less reluctant to move; once you’ve listened to the entire song that is.  Reaching out to grab your iPod, you knock over your bedside lamp and it smashes aggressively on the floor. “Great…” you mumble, still half asleep.

You turn off the alarm and carefully climb out of bed.  After locating the dustpan and brush, you sweep up what used to be a lamp and let out a small sigh, “I guess I will have to buy a new one”.  You open the bin and watch as the shattered glass falls in, followed by the now completely useless wire. 

Luckily it’s Sunday, so you don’t have to rush off to work.  Its been a month since you moved to Seoul and you feel like you’ve settled in quite well.  The city seems less daunting, and you absolutely love teaching children English.  The only thing you’re still struggling with is the cooking; you don’t want to think about how much ramen you’ve consumed.  

After returning the dustpan and brush to its home, you make yourself a cup of coffee and slump into the lime beanbag at the end of your bed.  You look around your apartment and access everything that you have bought for it over the last month: two beanbags (one lime green, one sky blue), a small low wooden table, a wooden desk and desk chair, dark purple towels, wooden shelves above your desk, bed sheets with various coloured bird silhouettes, a Rilakkuma plush and new kitchenware.  “Not bad,” you murmur to yourself, “but it still doesn’t feel like home”.     

Taking a sip of your coffee, you reach under your bed and pull out a shoe box full of little notes and pictures children at school have given you.  As you flick through them, your heart starts to feel warm, causing a smile to creep onto your face.  “I know! I should buy a notice board to pin these up on! That would make this apartment feel more personal,” you affirm as your face lights up.  “Heck! Why don’t I just go all out today and make this place mine? I could buy some paint too!” you affirm, perhaps a little too energetically.  “I should probably buy a new lamp whilst I’m at it” you grumble as you shoot a withering glare at the bin.

The February weather is harsh, so you opt for black skinnie jeans and a grey grandpa jumper underneath your black military coat and maroon scarf.  You messily tie your long hair into a side ponytail, clean your teeth and quickly apply some eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss, your friends’ words haunting the back of your mind: “You never know when you’re going to meet Mr. Right – It could even be at the bus stop”.  Taking a last glance at yourself in the mirror, you decide to add a maroon hat to complete your look.  *There! Done!* you nod to yourself as you leave the bathroom.  Whilst heading for the door you down the remains of the coffee, pull on your favourite pair of boots and slouch your bag over your shoulder.   

Whilst the cool, crisp air finds every gap in your clothing successfully, you can’t help but smile at the weather.  Winter is your favourite season.  To you, there’s nothing better than being wrapped up all warm with a hot chocolate and book in front of a fire.  Plus, you get to wear cute hats and scarves, and rock smokier eye make up – is there anything better?  “Ah, this is bliss!” you exhale as you look up into the clear blue sky and shove you hands in your pockets to protect them from the cold.

After fifteen minutes you are standing outside the hardware store. *Right!  You know what you’ve come here for!  Don’t get distracted, Jae!* you tell yourself as the warm air hits you.  You head straight to the paint section and pick up some brushes and a small roller.  Next you chose three tester pots – candy pink, baby pink and mushroom – and one regular size tin of sky blue.  *Now, where are the notice boards?* you ponder as you start aimlessly wondering up and down the aisles.  “Ooo! Pretty!” you exclaim as you pick up a lime green cushion with a bow on it.  *Okay, not what I came here for, but finding such a perfect cushion for my bed was destiny!* you reassure yourself as you place your destiny in the cart.  “But seriously, where are the notice boards?” you ask no one as you continue to meander through the store. 

Twenty minutes later you are ready to face the cold again.  As you walk towards the exit you rummage through your bags to double check you have purchased everything needed for your mission, *lamp, paint, brushes, roller, notice board – yup, got everyth------*

You feel like you have walked in a brick wall head on and collapse into a heap on the floor, lamp smashing into a million pieces as it makes contact with the concrete. 

“Ouch!” you whimper as your right wrist jars under the weight, barely missing the shards of glass.

“Great… Twice in one day.  Just my luck” you sob, as you survey the damage and prod your injured wrist.

Realising that you have no idea what the offender was, you slowly look up, just to come face to face with a young man.  The closeness of your faces shocks you, but you do not move.  *Why hasn’t this guy said anything yet?  And what’s with that look?* you question as you feel his eyes bore a hole in you.  You notice a slight look of confusion on his face, as though he’s trying to figure you out.

“American?” he queries.

“English” you return, slightly confused as to why this is the first thing he asks.

“Ah.  I’m Canadian” he smiles.

“Great…” you drone, wondering why that really matters.
Then it hits you, *OMG! I’M SPEAKING ENGLISH! HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN?*

“Are you okay?”  

For the first time, you look properly at the young man in front of you.  He’s wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, paired with a red sports coat and matching sneakers.  He seems tall – more so from the floor – with a well defined face and ash brown hair that is swept effortlessly to the side. 

“Um… Yeah, I think so”, you respond as you move your right wrist.  The pain seems to have subsided, but you daren’t put any weight on it.  “I wish I could say the same for the lamp…”

“Ah, sorry about that”, he responds as he holds his right hand out towards you, “C’mon, lets go buy you another one.”

You place your uninjured hand in his and he effortlessly pulls you off the ground.  Whilst you dust yourself off, he carefully puts the bag containing the broken lamp in the bin before appearing at your side.

“I’m Kris, by the way.”

“Jae”, you reply as you look up and come face to face with his chest.  *Geeze! I’m tall, but bloody hell this guy is a giant!*  You crane you neck and look up at Kris, who is smiling warmly down at you.

“Shall we then?”, he asserts as he nods down the aisle.  

“Sure”, you smile at him before taking the lead towards the lamps.

The two of you walk in silence down the aisles, and you have no idea what to say to make things less awkward.  Finally you reach the lamps and quickly pick up the one you had chosen before.

“Done”, you affirm as you hold up the lamp and smile.  *Now what?*

Kris steps up to you and takes the lamp.  “I got this”, he states before turning round and walking back down the aisle.  Confused, you follow him, but he does not head for the pay desk.  *Where is he going?*, you wonder as you traipse after him like a duckling.  As you walk behind him you can’t help but study him some more.  *He’s got a really great build: great height, great shoulders, great *.  The last thought makes you turn a deep shade of maroon and you hit your head lightly a couple of times as punishment.  You look up to see that Kris has stopped and is watching you, making you quickly dip your head in shame.  He chuckles and continues walking.  *BABO!  Don’t think such impure thoughts at a time like this!  He knows!  He totally knows!*, you silently sob to yourself before catching up to him in the next aisle.

Kris has stopped and is looking at spray paint.  He picks up three cans – black, grey and red – making you curious as to what he needs them for.  You are just about to query him, but you realise that he has wordlessly head off down the aisle.  *Suspicious…* you think as you bob along behind him.  

Before long you have entered the ‘Arts & Crafts’ section of the store which confuses you even more.  Silently, you watch Kris as he places your lamp and the spray paint on the floor, eyes up canvases and chooses six square ones.  *I wonder what kind of project he has in mind… Perhaps he’s a stencil graffiti artist?*

“It’s for me and eleven friends.  We want to create a kind of mural where we live”, Kris states as if he could hear your thoughts.

“Ahh… That’s cool”, you reply before fully taking in his words.  “Wait! You live with eleven people?”

Kris nods and starts placing the canvases under his left arm before inserting the lamp in his left hand.

“I can take those”, you state as you reach for the spray paint.

“I got this”, he affirms once again, and easily picks up the three cans with his right hand.  You smile at him in gratitude as he heads towards the pay desk.  *Wow, he sure is manly! His hands look so much bigger than mine! They were so warm too*, you think back to when he had briefly held your hand.  *NO! STOP THINKING LIKE THIS, YOU !*, you yell at yourself as you make your way to the exit.

After paying, Kris joins you and hands you the bag containing your new lamp.  

“Thank you”, you smile.  “How much do I owe you again?”

“You’ve already paid.”

“Huh?”, you look at him in total confusion.

“And you gave me a rather weighted tip.”

*Okay, now I’m completely lost.*  You furrow your brow in confusion, making Kris chuckle.

“Your smile is worth ten of those lamps, and that cute expression just now was priceless.”

You know that what he just said was beyond cheesey and should be reprimanded, but you curl over in laughter instead.  Kris laughs with you, making the atmosphere between you two change completely.  

“I guess that means you owe me coffee”, you chortle as you lightly punch his shoulder.

“Next time we meet”, Kris affirms before heading off and waving goodbye with his free hand.

*Next time we meet, huh?  He thinks he’s so smooth*, you giggle to yourself as you watch him leave.  *Though, it is a shame we didn’t exchange phone numbers…  No, Jae!  That is not what you should be thinking!  You’re here to teach, not to meet gorgeous men!*  You pump your fists in conclusion and start walking home.