I was taking careful photos of the café with an old camera when the boy walked in. This time, I ignored him until I finished taking the photos. He watched me with a hint of amusement, but I could tell that he was distracted.

“Why are you taking pictures?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the counter. I placed the camera on a shelf, and dusted my apron out of habit.

“I like to see how things have changed these past few years,” I said, fiddling with my necklace. The boy coughed, and rubbed at his nose. I waited expectantly for him to say something.

“Chanyeol wanted to know,” he trailed off, looking embarrassed, “if you wanted to come over to our place for dinner tonight.” He flushed slightly, and I smiled.

“I’d love to,” I said, untying my apron. “Should we go now?” The boy looked surprised at my suddenness.

 “Do you need me to clean up a bit?” I asked, a little unsure. Nervously, I twirled my hair, but the boy pulled at my hands and held them tight.

“Don’t,” he said, “I like it when you look like this.”

“What?” I asked, a blush threatening to break out on my face. The boy chuckled lightly, and leant in to touch my hair.

“Don’t hide behind a mask,” he whispered. His breath tickled my earlobe and I felt the warmth seep into me. “I like it when I can see the real you.”

“Then don’t you hide behind one either,” I said, poking a finger in his chest. He saluted me, and I laughed. With the boy tugging at my arm and the bright rays of the sun at my back, I didn’t bother running my fingers through my hair.

“Ah, it’s nice to see you again,” Chanyeol said happily as he opened the door. The boy ushered me in and I nearly tripped over the shoes that were haphazardly piled on the welcome mat.

“I’m really sorry,” Chanyeol apologized. “I forgot to clean the place.” I was given a quick tour, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the rest of the apartment was quite clean.

“You don’t really want to know what’s under Chanyeol’s bed,” the boy told me dryly as we entered Chanyeol’s room. On his dresser, there were several hair products and containers of creams.

“My girlfriend’s,” Chanyeol said, accidentally knocking over a few. He cursed and arranged them back with an experienced hand.

“You got another one?” the boy asked, genuinely surprised. Chanyeol glared at him, and crossed his arms.

“Jae Hwa’s different,” Chanyeol defended, as the boy snorted. “You’d better behave tonight.”

“I already know how to shut up when you guys are in the bedroom together,” the boy said, sounding bored. I stifled a laugh, and Chanyeol looked outraged. Then, the boy and I were unceremoniously thrown out of the room and the door was slammed behind us.

“You’re mean to Chanyeol,” I said reprovingly. The boy lowered his eyes in mock disgrace, but a smile danced on his lips all the while.

“It’s not being mean if it’s true,” he reminded me. “Anyways, let’s go to my room.”

His room was smaller than Chanyeol’s but much neater. There were no pictures on the walls, and there was only a small digital clock on his dresser. His clothes were hung up in his closet, and I remembered my own clothes, strewn across my bedroom floor. As I studied his room, I realized there was a small wooden box right at the foot of his bed.

“What’s in that?” I asked curiously.

“Photos,” he said shortly after a pause. I took the hint and dropped the subject. However, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at it every so often. Eventually, the boy noticed and sighed.

“If you really want to look in it,” he relented, “you can.” I sat down on his bed and gingerly placed the box on my lap. 

I was about to open it when I realized the boy had left.