20 meters. 25. Her smile was unmistakable. 5 minutes.

                He was right, and he could do nothing about it.

                She stood there, by the fountain, waiting for the prince that he knew was writing to her. He held a photocopy of the letter- that same one she’s holding in her hands right now. He looked at it – the same familiar words: beautiful, goddess, smiles, everything – and that phrase: ‘meet me by the fountain at four.’

                He heard the leaves beside him rustle. He remembered where he was, crouched in a hedge – watching Yeoshin, the girl he has been secretly spying on for over a year now, meet “the prince” – the guy whom she was secretly exchanging letters with for 3 months now. He perfectly knew how wrong this was, but everytime he tries to stop – she smiles at him, and sends him back to the miserable spiral of spying, breaking and unauthorized opening of letters.

                It didn’t help that Yeoshin calls him her ‘bestest friend ever.’

                Everything itched. He has a collection of differently-shaped insect bites on his arm, and a different set on the part of his foot uncovered by his pants. He was scratching an itch when he felt his phone vibrate. He looked at the time. She has been waiting for an hour now.

                Alone. And sad. Meet me by the fountain. Yeoshin xx

                He answered: Okay. I’ll be there in five.

                He looked at his watch and counted three minutes. He walked towards the bronze statuette of the school master and himself.

                Two minutes.

                Yeoshin was sitting on a bench, looking afar. She didn’t see him walking towards her. When she did, he seemed to see her face light up. Or so he wished.

                “He stood me up again.”

                “I noticed.”

                “Haha. This will be the last time.”

                “Yeah, right.”

                “How stupid should a person be to withstand being stood up three times?”

                “Very stupid.”

                “Sometimes I have this weird idea that this prince is you, Heechul.”

                “Except that when you call, I drop everything I’m doing to run to you.”

                “I know. Let’s get something to eat.”

                Yeoshin wanted tteokbokki, and the nearest stand was two blocks away. They walked, arms interlocked.

                “If it’s you, you can speak up now. It’s okay.”

                “The hell, Yeosh?!”

                “It’s just that, ugh, I’m so stupid.”

                “It’s okay. Haha. Ugh, the things people do for love.” He made a heart shape with his hands, and made a lovey dovey face with matching fluttering eyelids.

                Yeoshin laughed. He laughed with her. The sweet, sweet sound it makes.

                They arrived at the ddeokbokki stand. They ordered two each.

                “Hee, have I ever told you that you eat like a child?”

                “Huh?”

                “Here.”  She hands him her handkerchief. “Wipe that mess.”

                He obliges. “Where are we going to after this?”

                “I don’t know. I wanna sing. And dance. Or sing and dance,” she said, while dancing to an invisible music.

                “Ugh. You . Mom’s not at home. But I already told her you might be coming so she left some egg tarts. She baked some this morning.”

                “Cool. Are the amps there?”

                “Nope. Yonghwa has band practice. But I got the speakers to work.”

                “Yay!”

                Yeoshin ate up the remaining ddeokbokki. She sang all the way to his home, while he made the necessary sound effects.