7:09pm

Choi Seunghyun-

Received 6:34pm-

Yeah, and I won’t be late.

I couldn’t help but find my eyes trailing down to my phone again. It seemed in my absence the confidence that spurred me on in our last encounter had dwindled, leaving me to watch minutes tick by after showing up early, again.

A tap on the shoulder brought me back to reality, but the smokey gaze and crooked smirk shot my nerves me back to that scrawny 18 year old in that crowded kitchen at that college party.

“I hope you don’t consider ten minutes too late.” I couldn’t help but find myself matching that smile.

“That’s positively early early for you.” Seunghyun’s laugh rumbled around my chest, causing its’ already strong palpitations to intensify.

“I figured it wasn’t too late to try and make a good impression.”

What Seunghyun didn’t seem to realize was he had already left hundreds of lasting impressions, small and large. A stolen kiss, a hand to hold, a promise kept, a secret told, they each found places to rest on the curves of my ribs, the dips of my spine, in the space between breaths and on the backs of my lids.

We made our way through the windy passages of streets, jackets pulled tight. Winter had passed, but the wind still easily pulled the delicate petals of spring from their branches.

“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked, unable to sustain my curiosity any longer.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask. You were never good with surprises.” He turned and was met by a warily raised eyebrow and chuckled before beginning again.

“There’s a gallery opening in my neighborhood. I know a few of the artists so I figured we’d stop by. I would have come up with something better if you had given me a bit more notice…” he jabbed with a smile of mirth, and I closed the small space between us pushing him with my shoulder, hoping to hide the heat that seemed to grow in my cheeks.

I’m sure the art was beautiful, and I have no doubt the words that seemed to roll off every tongue that surrounded me were certainly engaging, but I found little time to study the decorated walls, or hold polite conversation. My eyes continued to find themselves following the breathing statue, listening for the thunderous roll of his laughter. The sight left me with knots in my stomach that seemed impossible to untwist. It was hard to imagine the handsome, debonaire man that elegantly worked his way from room to room, the velvet of his voice and pearl of his large bright smile innately commanding attention wherever he went, was the same boy who’s back rested along the wall the entirety of parties; whose gravel of a voice had to be forced into conversation. The boy whose crooked smile and deep dimples seemed to be reserved for me and me alone. The passage of time inevitably brings change, but I couldn’t help but wonder what remained of the boy I once loved.

“Hey.” The voice sounded at barely a whisper behind me over the buzz of the gallery. I turned to be met with a smile, small, crooked; the way I liked it.

“Let’s get out of here. I know a place with better wine and better company.” I smiled and grabbed his elbow, quickly leading him to the door; ready  to rid myself of this place and the thoughts it had left me.

Our pace slowed, but my hand still found its place at Seunghyun’s arm. We walked in a direction only Seunghyun seemed to know.

“So where to?”

“Well, I uh figured we could talk over a glass of wine at my place. If you want. It’s just a couple blocks away.” I couldn’t help but smile as he fumbled with his words, leaving me to hope that that shy sweet fool of a boy was still there.

“No, that sounds great.”

The house was nearly pitch black as we entered the foyer, fumbling in the dark as we removed our shoes. Finally with a flick of a switch, the house was illuminated. Large bookcases of well worn tomes lined the walls of the entrance way, Seunghyun’s collection obviously growing from the well worn pages of poetry collections and rap notebooks.

“Red or white?” Seunghyun turned the corner, into what I presumed was the kitchen.

“Ah red.”

“Good, cause that’s all I have.” his laugh filled the large loft. “Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll bring the glasses.”

I lazily continued into the house, inspecting as I went, but stopped as I entered the living room. Amongst leather bound first editions and gallery worthy art were shelves, rows and rows of small, bright, and garish plastic figurines. It was strange that the one hobby I hated was the key that put me at ease. Despite time, and the layers of a new found confidence, was really Seunghyun, my Seunghyun. He was here, in private; in glasses of wine and hidden smiles, and if that’s where he was that is where I wanted to stay.