2.

Lingering near a circle of acquaintances from campus, it took me a moment to realise that I hadn't been to a party in a very long time.

The last was during my first year. It was a sports party a number of people I knew were attending and so I had tagged along, only to be smothered by a football match on TV I was seemingly the only one in the room to know nothing about, and very bad drinking games that either had people toppling to the floor ungracefully or puking on shoes.

Well, it was safe to say that party didn't end well, neither did it leave too promising of an impression on me to attend more for the following year. But accountant-in-the-making and one of the many handsome heart throbs on campus, Kim Jongin, whose mansion we were currently in certainly changed my mind about that. It was far from the riot I had a bad experience with, and even though there was a packed dance floor, an invitingly large swimming pool, and drinks galore on offer, everyone was far from barbarically abusing the novelties.

I decided on a long-sleeved, knee-length chiffon dress white in colour at the bodice, and black at the very bottom with a seamless gradient around the waist. To complete the outfit, I sported closed sandstone heels that tied around my ankles in dainty strings.

Compared to the makeup I found suited the simple attire best, I had spent almost an hour perfecting the delicate double Dutch braid bun my hair was in. I managed to grow my hair out long enough to be able to pull off as many hairstyles as I could over the course of the past three years. It was my first time having it at waist length, and maintenance aside, I enjoyed it.

Everyone at the party seemed strangely on their own buzz. It was a refreshing change of scenery, and swaying with the thumping music that wafted about the grand patio we stood on, I took to admiring the bountiful view it offered on the other side.

The forest was – admittedly – alluring in the darkness it harboured. Jongin’s house on the hill dished out a spectacular view of the trees that now looked like inky shadows on a slate grey canvas; deep black focal points consuming a good portion of the expansive woodland. But the sky the tops of the trees met was littered with twinkling stars, winking exquisitely in comparison to the deep dark thicket below.

The view was entrancing to some measure. I hadn’t even realised that I’d stopped entertaining the music in the form of sways until I felt something brush against my arm.

‘Saerin.’

I turned; wide eyes growing even wider at the sight that greeted me. Hansol had finally arrived. And it took me a moment to admire how handsome he looked dressed in all black. Black pullover, straight black jeans, and a pair of contrasting white running shoes that completed the look. His hair was growing significantly darker at the roots, but the long blond tufts that remained held a charm like no other. I had vivid memories of friends claiming it a pet peeve when dyed hair wasn’t touched-up immediately, but I couldn’t quite care for it myself because it suited Hansol incredibly.

Then again, when did anything not suit him?

‘Hi,’ I smiled, feeling a few flutters in my chest when he moved to stand closer to me. ‘You sure took your time.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ he looked sheepish, combing one hand through his hair and placing another at the small of my back. ‘Jongin and I were just…’

‘I heard my name.’

We both looked up at the sight of the man himself. Kim Jongin strode towards us with a small group of his own, sporting a white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks, looking like a bean counter returning from work with a glass in his hand.

He grinned. An undeniably attractive grin that almost always had girls looking his way in secret. ‘I’m glad you could make it, Sumin.’

‘It’s Saerin,’ I corrected him, having lost the offence I initially took to him mistaking my name for something similar. Now it had become more of a routine than anything whenever we spoke, which was, admittedly, rarely.

‘And thanks for the invite. You’ve got a great place here.’

‘What can I say?’ he put his arms out beside him triumphantly. ‘It really is where you’ll find the best view of the city, that I can guarantee.’
 

There was a collective hum of agreement before a slightly awkward blanket of silence befell us. I wasn’t particularly fond of Jongin, neither did I ever intend being so. But considering the fact that he and Hansol could often be found together, I’d come to accept him, superficially so. He was a rather ostentatious individual, I’d learned. He had family that went places. Were professionals and who were multimillionaire success stories everyone seemingly adored and used to their advantage by sticking to him.

I watched as he was the first to interrupt the silence before it got any thicker by tapping a fist against Hansol’s shoulder playfully. ‘Godspeed, bro. You got this.’

Hansol chuckled awkwardly. ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

And with that, Kim Jongin was gone, being swept away by the crowd. The moment he was out of earshot even though the music was terribly loud and he wouldn’t hear me either way, I turned to face my boyfriend with unmasked scepticism.

‘What was that all about?’

‘Ah…’

Despite the dim mood lighting and the pool's cyan reflections that danced about every surface it could reach in ripples, I noticed the tips of Hansol’s ears turn red. He had a noticeable habit of pinching his earlobes whenever he found the least bit unease in something, and the fact that he now resorted to doing so – keeping his head slightly ducked and eyes averted – it suddenly occurred to me: the anniversary.

I probably turned just as red as him upon making the connection; my thoughts darting to the gift I had stashed away in my purse for the right moment.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, smiled soot