It was still fairly early, and the apartment seemed almost like a different place in its peaceful stillness.  Hawk loved this time of the day. He usually had his best ideas at this time.  It was strangely exhilarating to know that he was alert while everyone else was still unconscious.

  He stretched his arms over his head, loosening the sleep cramped muscles in his neck and shoulders as he padded slowly in front of the floor-length living room windows, trying to decide what he wanted to eat and brooding as he watched the dull dawn slowly brighten over the city landscape.

Sometimes at these moments the music would just come to him; a melody would be born out of his mood and the freshness of the new day.  But this morning his mind was too preoccupied to listen for it.  

He made his way to the kitchen to scrounge up breakfast. 

The state of the refrigerator was worrisome.  He contemplated, then pulled out the carton of milk and made a mental note to go shopping later.  His mother usually stopped by about once a week or so to do the laundry and stock the refrigerator shelves with plastic containers of home-made side dishes and other groceries, but now he’d have to call and make up an excuse for her not to bother.

He sighed. Even the kimchi was gone.

Hawk poured himself a bowl of cereal and mulled over the events of the night before.  He was worried.  Seung-Bae had fallen hard for the girl, Hawk was pretty sure of it.  His friend was the most reserved person he knew, so Seung-Bae’s actions spoke volumes about his state of mind. 

A little girl from their elementary school days named Bo-Ra was the first evidence of this that Hawk could remember.  Feisty and confident, the tiny beauty had ruled their fourth grade class with an iron fist.  Her shoulder-length, charcoal-black hair was the glossiest, and her hair bows were always angled to the cutest perfection around her deceptively angelic face.  Her clothes were always the prettiest, if not the most expensive, and despite her young age she’d already mastered the art of manipulation.  She knew exactly how to make the boys jump.

But even then Seung-Bae had been different.  Dreamy and shy, he’d been prone to episodes of solitary shoe gazing or book reading when Hawk wasn’t around to wind him up.

 Bo-Ra couldn’t stand that Seung-Bae didn’t moon over her the way the others did.  She’d unleashed all her schoolgirl charm on him, to no avail.  Finally, she’d dragged him behind the playground slide, and, when the teacher wasn’t looking, she’d kissed him right on the lips.  It had rocked Seung-Bae’s world.  He followed her around like a giddy puppy every day for the rest of the school year.

It had almost driven Hawk crazy.

Instead of playing ball with his best friend, Seung-Bae had fetched ice cream and carried Bo-Ra’s books as he walked her home. For months Hawk tried everything to get his attention – poked him with a variety of sharp objects and taunted him with a new soccer ball.  When Seung-Bae had started writing her love poems surrounded by hearts drawn in red crayon, he’d even resorted to a one sided fist-fight to try and knock some sense into the idiot.  But Seung-Bae had simply looked at him, the pain of betrayal unmistakable in his eyes, and then turned away. 

The insanity had only ended when Bo-Ra’s family moved, and she’d left to attend another school.  Seung-Bae had been completely devastated.  It had taken him months to get back to his regular quiet, but reliable, self. 

Hawk’s mother said it was because Seung-Bae was “sensitive.”  Hawk hadn’t understood back then, but as they’d grown up he came to know his friend better than he knew himself.  And because of that knowledge, this current situation had him worried.  Seung-Bae was like his brother and was, therefore, his responsibility.  He couldn’t let him get hurt by some crazy foreign girl who got kicks out of playing with local boy’s heads.

Well, maybe that was a bit much. After all, he had no reason to think she was doing it intentionally.  But still.

Hawk dumped his bowl into the sink. The sharp clatter of the dishes was followed by a muffled groan coming from the living-room couch. A foot, covered in a dingy, white sock, had been flung over the edge of the armrest.  The foot belonged to Min-Jae, who had spent the night to avoid his father’s wrath. 

Hawk chuckled at the thin line of saliva leaking out of the corner of Min-Jae’s mouth.  It pooled on the throw pillow beneath his chin and left a dark, damp mark.  Hawk reached up with his foot and shook Min-Jae’s legs.

“Ya!” he teased.  “You’re drooling all over the couch.  That’s so nasty!”

Min-Jae looked up at him through blurry eyes.  “Hyeong?” he managed, and then slipped back into oblivion.

Hawk shook his head and stepped away. 

Across from him, the door to Seung-Bae’s room had been left cracked open.  He pushed it wide then leaned against the frame. 

The red-headed girl looked up at him from where she sat on the bare floor with her legs folded beneath her. Her fingers nimbly worked to braid a thin lock of her long hair.

Hawk conceded that she was beautiful, but it was unthinkable to let this go on another minute.  Even if she was crazy, she obviously wasn’t a runaway with no place else to go.  There wasn’t a single sign of struggle or hardship on her; even from where he stood he could tell that her hands and feet were as smooth as a newborn’s and her complexion was flawless.  She was clearly well cared for – probably cherished by someone who had to be looking for her. 

Seung-Bae will thank me …

The girl studied him in return, her luminous eyes sorrowful, yet resigned, as if she knew he was talking himself into action.  As if she expected it. 

When he pushed away from the doorframe and beckoned her, she gave him an understanding nod and then rose to take his outstretched hand.

.  .  .  .  .  .

Seung-Bae was in heaven.  The breeze was cool and sweet, and so was the blanket of soft grass beneath him.  Afternoon sunlight dappled lazily through the leafy branches overhead.  With a blissful sigh, he stretched out his long legs and nuzzled the back of his head against her lap.  Her slender fingertips lightly a stray lock of hair away from his forehead and then traveled downward to trace the curve of his brow, his cheekbones, his lips …

He caught her hand and pressed his lips to the soft flesh of her palm as he searched for her face.  The faint contours were bathed in shade, but fighting through the haze of his contentment, he drank in the depths of her dazzling blue eyes.

A bee buzzed somewhere near his ear.  He shooed it away, but the sound grew louder and more insistent.  He shooed it away again, but again it grew louder ... and louder ... and LOUDERRRRRRRRRRRR …

The phone was ringing.

Seung-Bae pulled the pillow over his head to drown out the noise. His mind struggled to grasp at the remnants of the dream; it had been too sweet, and he wasn’t ready to let it go. But the shrill chirping wouldn’t stop, and as the dream’s threads dispersed like wispy strands of ephemeral vapor, realty came crashing down on him. He grabbed the cordless house phone off Hawk’s nightstand and stabbed the “talk” button.

“Yeah?”

“Hello son.”

His heart skipped a beat.  “Abeoji?”

“I’m in town for a conference.  Come and meet me at the Intercontinental.”

“Oh …” Seung-Bae felt the clammy chill of blood rushing from his face. “Um … all right.  What time?”

“Come for lunch.  I’ll see you in the second-floor restaurant at 11:00.”

The call disconnected.

Seung-Bae hands trembled. He returned the phone to its cradle then pushed his hair out of his face.  His father was a corporate attorney for a large Korean conglomerate and spent most of his time overseas.  Over the years, Seung-Bae had come to view it as a blessing.  His mother had always been the buffer between them as he was growing up.  But now that she was gone, the man would periodically appear like a hurricane; all the walls he’d built to brace himself for the inevitable, to make it all more bearable, would be in danger of being swept away by the back-breaking wind that was his father’s will. 

Seung-Bae’s stomach rolled with apprehension.

A light rapping came from the doorway. Hyun-Woo leaned against the frame, pumping a weight he held clutched in his fist. His bicep bulged.

“What?” Seung-Bae asked.

Hyun-Woo pulled his shirt sleeve up over the curve of his shoulder and admired his handiwork. “Did you know she’s gone?” He looked at Seung-Bae, and then, as if a thought had just occurred to him, he frowned. “Hawk’s gone too.”