“suga hyung! What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever.”

“Here, kookie. You can give out the rest to the others.”

“What about you?”

“I already had one.”

He turned and went back to his room. A mix of emotions and thoughts swirled in his head as he laid down on the comforter. Confusion, hurt, surprise, guilt and even a little, although subdued, joy.

When he’d seen her sitting at the piano, with her hair shining in the sunlight, she’d looked almost ethereal. Even though nothing was the same as it had been before, for a second it felt like it was. A beautiful girl sitting next to a piano, her hands hesitant to play yet her eyes yearning for a melody. For just a moment, he wondered what it would be like if he had gone over there and started playing, like the first time they’d met.

But soon the moment had passed and time moved too quickly and then she was gone. He couldn’t really describe what he was feeling. A part of him was happy, really happy, because he could fool himself in that moment to think that none of the messy things had ever happened. He could be where he’d been three years ago, entranced by the girl in the music store. But the other part of him, the part that was here in the coffee shop, knew the difference. This part of him knew that when she ran out the door, he didn’t deserve to go after her. Though he wanted to, what would he even say to her if he did?

Yet before he could come to terms with his thoughts, it was time for their schedules. Packed with interviews, photoshoots, and rehearsals for their comeback, he barely had time to think, let alone dwell on whatever had happened. For the next few weeks, every day was filled with work, work and more work. Seven hours of the day he’d be locked up in his music studio, fine tuning melodies and rhythms, writing snippets of unfinished songs, and putting together tracks for the new album. 

That was the thing about her.

She was easy to forget, until she wasn’t.

It was easy for him to get caught up in everything else he had to think about, until it wasn’t.

There were moments when he’d catch himself losing focus on the very things he’d used to force himself to forget. If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself losing grip to an extent that he didn’t know if he could ever get it back.

And so he sat in his music room, refusing to break out of the enclosure he’d built.

And that worked. Until it didn’t.

---

It had never occurred to him how distracting she was until now.

In the halls connecting the dressing rooms at the music shows, it was easy to forget who was who in the rush of swift costume changes and anxious voices. More often than not, he was too caught up in their performance while waiting to go onstage to pay close attention to the passing faces he bowed to greet.

But she refused to be ignored as just a passing figure. 

No, she commanded attention and awe. Or at least it seemed that way to him. He was never able to resist looking up whenever she walked by.

It was one of those things he’d always hated. How much of a lasting impression her presence left on him. She was the one person he’d look back at in a crowd of people. It was an involuntary sort of response, something he didn’t realize he was doing until he’d done it. He was helpless when it came to her. Pathetic, really. Pathetic because he knew he was the only one who still cared this much about someone he’d once known. It was the sensible thing to bow to her like he did to everyone else, of course.

No good could come out of lingering looks and wistful thoughts. That much he knew.

So even though it went against his instincts, he resisted the urge to meet her eyes every time she walked by. He bowed his head without looking up and fixated his gaze ahead even when he knew she was walking away from him.

It never got easier, though. He’d hoped it would become second nature to ignore her presence.

(He thought he’d read something somewhere about habits developing after twenty one days of repeated action. It must not apply to forgetting people.)

The funny thing, now that he thought about it, was that he’d never believed he’d see the girl in the music shop again. It was a coincidence they’d met in the first place and fate only worked like that in dramas. So he’d been feeling bittersweet when they’d parted ways, without even telling her his name. The moment they’d shared was nice, maybe even something he’d recall suddenly someday, in an unexpected spur of forgotten memories.

He probably wasn’t going to ever see her again, so he’d moved on. Even now, he refused to believe in fate being the reason why she’d shown up looking lost in the park four streets down from his house. It wasn’t because of fate that she’d ended up at his high school as a new transfer student at the end of the year. And it most certainly wasn’t fate that they’d been on the same night train to Daegu.

---

The next time he saw her, he almost screamed. He wanted to say something, anything, so that he didn’t feel so messed up inside. It ate him up even when he tried his hardest to not let it. He’d long given up on trying to ignore her. For the last few weeks, he’d settled with pushing his feelings further and further down until it worked. 

But things never turned out the way he wanted them to, especially when it came to her.

She’d always been that way.

And so when he bumped into her again for what seemed like the tenth time that month, she didn’t look away. Instead, he felt her gaze on him even after he’d walked to his table at the awards show. And afterwards, when all of the groups were backstage, he caught her looking at him again. She didn’t seem cold or distant, like he’d expected.

He’d never been able to tell what she was feeling, though. She was good at hiding it.
….

It was snowing that day. He remembers because he’d forgotten his gloves and regretted it the moment he walked out the door. Even though it was freezing outside, he didn’t mind it much. The ground was laden with freshly fallen snow and the snow covering the branches of trees sparkled in the afternoon sun.

He remembers seeing her sitting on the bench near his favorite corner store. He didn’t recognize her at first, or even after he’d sat down next to her. It had only struck him when she tilted her head to the side to glance at him. He hadn’t been able to tell what she was thinking that day, either. All he knew for certain was how striking she was in the sunlight filtering through the bare branches of the trees and illuminating her bright, almond-shaped eyes.

And then she’d caught him staring at her, realization dawning a moment later. They’d both fumbled for words and then settled on silence. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It never was, with her. He could’ve sat there in the cold for hours, with her by his side. It was another one of those things about her that he’d never really understood.

Soon enough, a bus had creaked to a stop in front of them and she’d rushed inside without looking back.