I love the way he dances. The way his back muscles turn and flex when he spins his arms around, or the way his neck 
twists while he's executing a flawless pirouette, or the way his hair dances with him, flopping around on the top of his 
head like it has a life of its own. It was perfect. 

He was perfect.

Today was just like any other day, except it wasn't. Something was off, and it had to do with him. Everything he did 
caught my eye, it stood out like a straight edged geometric shape in a painting of blurs and smudges. I dreamed that this 
morning he came into my room shirtless, a blue towel wrapped neatly around his waist, and I couldn't help but smile. His 
muscles were larger nowadays I noticed, he'd apparently been working out, and the shock of blue and pink tinted hair on 
his head made me want to bite into him and savor his sweetness. I was woken up by my cell phone blaring out into the dark 
of my room that I had recieved a message. It was from him. All the collecting sadness from the loss of the dream had 
vanished, replaced by a sort of buzzing, excited feeling.

He had texted to ensure that I was awake and ready to get to work, he remembered quite clearly what had happened last time 
I had been late for work. I laughed at that, the memory of Manager Jae Pyo screaming the severeness of my constant 
tardiness into my face. That day was terribly frightening, but also inwardly hilarious. Me and Jiyong had a nice laugh in 
the back, giggling over the way his veins throbbed incessantly in undeniable anger. 

It took a small eternity to get out of bed, I, as usual, spent the whole morning snuggled under the covers, not wanting 
to leave their securing warmth behind for the cold world outside. It was Winter now, and what meager snow had fallen has 
already been run over by everything, swept to the sides, and left to pile up into big, dirty brown clumps along the roads.
If the word "depressing" was made into a reality, then Winter for me would represent it almost perfectly. I hated this 
time of year. The time I wasted in getting out of bed I made up for in speed, popping a piece of minty gum in my mouth in 
place of brushing, and leaving my hair as it was, a ruffly bedhead that I'm sure looked absolutely horrific. I struggled 
to shimmy into the nearest pair of skinny jeans and threw a dark long sleeved sweater over my undershirt, lastly putting 
on my double ed winter coat, pulling it up to my chin and bracing for the cold.

And cold it was. 

The wind today was blowing directly into my little apartment when I opened the door, sending in a couple 
of kamikaze snowflakes and mussing my hair up even further. Before slamming the door shut I grabbed a scarf from the coat 
hanger, after locking the door I put my keys into the interior pocket of my bag, along with my wallet and my phone. The scarf 
found its place around my face, my warm breath seeping through the fabric and collecting in the air where I could see it.

The Market where I worked was about a half mile down the road, and a quarter of the way there I could already feel melted 
snow seeping into the crevices of my shoes and feet. I quickened my pace to a slow jog, my bag slapped against my thighs 
with every other step, and cold droplets of water splashed up onto the backs of my legs. I can't be late again, Jae Pyo 
has already been contemplating firing me, I can't give him any more reasons than he already has. It was about five minutes
later that I came to the back entrance of the store, early. I walked in, being sure to wipe my shoes on the mat, and hung 
up my things that needed drying. Manager Jae walked in with his hands on his hips and a smile adorning his wrinkling face.
"Good work Choi, I'd like to see you in this early all week you hear? Anymore late days and you're gettin' tossed out into
the snow a-ight?" I nodded quickly, stuffing my cold, shivering fingers into the pocket of my sweatshirt and waddling off 
to the front to find Jiyong.

He was in his normal spot, nestled snugly behind the coffee counter with a small book in the crook of his fingers, and 
those round wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like a little ahjusshi. I took my place at the checkout stand nearest 
to his post, clamping on my nametag and leaning back in the chair by my scanner. Jiyong was still absorbed into the pages 
of his book, his eyes flickering over the pages and his lower lip clenched between his teeth. He hadn't even noticed my 
arrival. I sighed loudly and stuffed my hands back into my pockets, turning back to look at Jiyong right when he had 
turned to look at me, and our eyes met. He smiled, one of those cute smiles, whilst dog-earing the page of the book he 
was on, and said hello. "Hey Jiyong.." I averted my eyes to my shoes, heat rising in my cheeks as I suddenly found my 
laces a hell of a lot more interesting. He walked over to my counter with a flowing stride, neither of his feet making 
any sort of noise against the linoleum tiles. It must be a dancer thing. "Sooo...Seunghyun, I have another dance practice 
today after work, do you think you can walk me again like we did last week? I enjoy the company and we can go get 
something to eat afterwards." I had to pretend that I was contemplating, make him think that I had other things to do so 
as to not sound overly eager. I knew that the answer was yes, I knew it was ever since he said "dance". "Uhm sure, sounds 
like a better option than sitting at home in the cold." He laughed at that, asking something along the lines of "How is 
walking around in the cold any better than sitting at home in it?" Well it's not like I can give him the real reason.

~

I met Jiyong almost a month ago, at the Market where I had just been hired. He was where he always is, behind his 
elaborate set of shining machines and plastic bags full of foreign coffee beans, with a good old book in his hands. I was 
given a checkout station between him and a woman named Catalina, who was laid off last week. She was from Spain. And, 
according to Jiyong, was very pretty. I didn't really think so.

~

I waited hours for the work day to end. I assisted kind old women out to their cars to help with their groceries, and I 
checked out an uncountable amount of griping customers, who stood by the register with their hands across their chests, 
and their feet tapping out the quick, monotonous tune of my day. Nobody ever rang my good service bell. 

Jiyong and I kept up our small talk through the hours, we passed smiles whenever our glances seemed to meet, and we 
shared quick waves when we felt it had been too long without one. His customers always left with a smile on their face 
and a coffee in their hands, he could take any decrepit soul and make it happy, if only for just a second. He was like 
that.

After the mid-day's rush, I leaned back in my chair like I always do, and I glanced over at Jiyong like I always did, and 
he was, like he always was, reading his book. I was always curious to know what he was reading, but I was too shy to ask 
and too blind to see. It must be something exciting though, for it always had him chewing away at his lips, always had his
brows furrowing in frustration, and always made him have some sort of emotion splayed out across his face. I loved 
watching him read, I felt as though I felt what he was feeling, if that makes sense. 

Countless hours from the start of the day, we finished, and I felt as though the dark cloudy film lining my day had 
parted, and through it shined the promise of the rest of it with Jiyong.

~

We clipped our nametags onto our stations and set everything up so it would be ready for us the next day, and made our 
way to the back to gather our things and chat with the other employees. There were eight of us in total, eight college 
boys working in a tiny market at the end of a dirty street, in the middle of a dirty city in the winter time. We were an 
odd, mixed bunch of unruly mostly-adults who were cast off into the world a little too soon, with too little cash, but we 
managed to get by. Sure Taecyeon could be a mega  some days, Kyuhyun could get a little too touchy feely for comfort
Dongwoo and Jiho could get into pointless arguments over who was the best freestyle rapper, and Jonghyun was hella 
ing short, but we all got along just fine. 

Most of the time.

Jiyong and I took two of the last three coats off of the rack, the third being Jae Pyo's, and zipped them up as far as 
they could go. We put on our snow shoes, our scarves, our hats, and everything else we had to shield our sensitive bodies 
from the frigid weather. I stepped outside into the cold, and found Jonghyun and Cheondoong leaning against one wall of 
the building. "Hey guys." I said with a smile. "Hey hyung" and "Sup Seunghyun" came from the other two. We stood and 
talked for a few minutes while I waited for Jiyong to come outside. They were apparently waiting for Taecyeon to walk to 
his car and circle back around to pick them up, to take them out somewhere to which I was invited. But I shook my head 
politely at which point Jiyong walked out and jumped over to my side, wrapping his arm around mine and pulling me away 
shouting "Hurry Seunghyun we're going to be late!" And so I waved my goodbyes and ran away with Ji. 

We barely made it to the dance hall on time, Jiyong had stripped down to his tank top during the run so as to avoid 
wasting time changing, and soon after he stepped into the building he was ready to go. He had changed into his sweatpants,
kept on his sleeveless undershirt, and slipped on a pair of Chucks. Not only did his appearance change, but his mood as 
well. It was almost as if he had two personas, there was just Jiyong, the simple, cute, intriguing Jiyong, and then there 
was this one. It was the one that had the most aspiring determination buried into his eyes, and made his aura come off as
fierce and powerful. I honestly couldn't tell you which one I preferred, because they were both absolutely fascinating, 
and overpoweringly captivating. And I loved it.

Jiyong sat me down in a chair on the side of the room, and ran off to join the others. I had no intention of wandering 
off to explore the dance hall, or to meander the melting streets outside, because I had everything I needed in here. I 
had my electric heating, I had my vending machine sustenance, and most importantly, I had Jiyong. I watched him warm up 
with the group, which was rather evenly mixed between guys and girls. The instructor, Yixing, was a male of Chinese 
descent, and was a rather brilliant dancer. Jiyong however, as far as I could tell, was better. I do suppose my opinion 
was rather biased though, so I can't really say. 

And so I sat in my little chair in the corner of that little room, and watched that little group do their stretches and 
their weekly routines. Watching Jiyong stretch his arms and fingers out past the toes of his shoes was making my heart 
give out a little inside, I could tell. He pushed his shoulders forward and bit his tongue in concentration as he tried 
to reach his arms out as far as they could go, making the muscles in his biceps stretch and flex a little too much for my 
eyes to handle. Jiyong was breaking me down from the inside out without even knowing it, and he probably always would.

~

The practice ended an hour and a half later. An hour and a half of sitting in a chair and watching Kwon Jiyong dance his 
heart out. I was ready to go, and I was, for once, grateful that it was the winter and I had my coat. Even further 
grateful that my coat went to my thighs, so as to avoid any awkward situations with my 207th bone*

Jiyong and the rest of the dancers went to the back rooms to change, and Yixing and I were the only two left in the room. 
I had retrieved my coat and pulled it down as far as it would go, and assumed that he would keep to himself, but my 
assumptions were proved wrong once again. Yixing walked over to my side of the room, his hands in his pockets and a smile 
on his face. “I haven’t seen you around here before, are you planning to enroll?” I shook my head no for the nth time that 
day, “I’m not really the dancer type.” Yixing opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the loud interruption of Ji, 
who had run out of the locker rooms and bounded to my side. “C’mon Seunghyun let’s go get something to eat!” He jumped up 
and down, his arm wrapped around mine and his energy levels surprisingly high after such an exhausting class. Yixing made 
an “oh” and smiled at the two of us. “Now I see why you’re here Seunghyun. You two make a cute couple.” I immediately 
yanked my arm away from Jiyong’s grasp, and I felt the heat of the sun burning intensely behind my cheeks. I mumbled 
tremblingly as I inched away from Jiyong, “W-we’re not together.” Yixing nodded in understanding, but flashed a smug grin 
in my direction. He knew. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious. Jiyong just kind of laughed and twirled his cotton candy hair 
around in his fingers, “We should be on our way.” I said, and so we left.

We walked down frigid streets in search of a decent place to eat, the snow padding our footsteps, and the cold slowly 
seeping into the spaces between our bones. My heart pounded incessantly at the inside of my chest from what had happened 
earlier, I didn’t know how much longer I would last by his side out here, with his body pressed against mine in search of 
warmth.

“Where are we going hyung?” His voice quivered against his lips, and I looked down at him, and I almost cried. His eyes 
were big and glistening against the darkened white backdrop of snow, and his lips were cherry red with cold and his breath 
spilled out of his mouth like silky smoke. He looked like a child in its mother’s arms, small and fragile and in need of 
protection. I smiled, my emotional shell cracking slowly and seeping weakness onto my exterior, “Somewhere special.” His 
cheekbones protruded and his frozen lips split and his eyes crinkled up in silent bliss in a smile that would blind any 
living man. He wrapped his arms around my stomach and pressed himself closer against me, and I couldn’t help but feel as 
if this is where he should always be.

We walked for however much farther we had to walk before we got to where we were going, our footsteps trailing behind us 
and echoing our presence in the snow. Our slow, quiet journey through the settling streets had eventually brought us to a 
small hole in the wall bakery I hadn’t been to in years. I opened the door for Jiyong, and the warmth spilled out around 
us, wrapping itself around our chilled bodies and welcoming us in with sweet smells and soft music. The ceilings were 
lined in sparkling Christmas lights, twisted in glistening bunches around the rafters, and the walls were covered in paint, 
and the paint was covered in frames full of pictures and old signs and shelves with interesting little trinkets b 
off the edges. All of the tables were only about a foot off the ground, and they were surrounded by a variety of chairs, 
some were giant, soft pillows that you could lose yourself in, and others were fluffy beanbags or egg shaped stools or 
giant hands where you’d sit in the palm. The kitchen opened up on one side of the room, and shelves of pastries and 
cookies and cakes and everything else you’d want on a cold day were displayed for us to see. Cute little waiters walked 
around with notepads and pencils, with their hair up in clips and big round glasses perched on their noses and inviting 
smiles to accompany. 

We made our way to the farthest back corner, away from the other people collected in small, mingling groups throughout the 
room, and sank down into the beanbag chairs around the low-lying table. Jiyong looked around the room, his eyes wide and 
his mouth open. “This place is amazing hyung, how did you find it? There isn’t even a sign!” I smiled, feeling the dimples 
etching themselves into my face like they do a lot. “My mom used to work here; she was taken in off the street by the owner.
 I’d come here every day after school when I was little and I’d sit in a different chair for each day of the week. I’d 
watch the lights on the ceiling flicker and listen to the people talk. I grew up here.” Jiyong looked at me, and smiled 
even brighter, “Where’s your mom now?” I turned my face, fiddled with the plush exterior of the beanbag, and closed my 
eyes. 

“She’s dead.”

His reaction was almost instantaneous. His smile was wiped off of his face like it was a stray speck of dirt on someone’s 
new, shiny car. He flopped ungracefully out of his beanbag and crawled over to mine on his hands and knees, ushering me 
to scoot over a bit so he could squish against my side and hold my hand in condolence. “I’m so sorry hyung…I-I didn’t 
know.” I smiled again, except this time I didn’t feel my dimples become pronounced and I didn’t feel my eyes disappear 
behind my joy, this one was a quiet smile, just barely scratching the surface of my happiness. “It’s okay, really, I’m 
okay. It’s been years, really…I’m okay.” Jiyong twisted his fingers around mine and for once I didn’t feel like I was 
going to choke for air, my cheeks didn’t heat up and I didn’t overreact like I would normally. This time I tightened the 
grasp and I leaned into him, and my heart felt all tingly and I decided that I was happy, with or without my mother, 
because I had Jiyong, and he was the closest possible thing to my heart at that moment.

We sat in silence for an accumulation of time, seconds to minutes, to half an hour before anyone spoke, just us and that 
chair and the bright lights and the quiet bustling and occasional chatter of our fellow customers.I was feeling ok, not 
entirely happy but not entirely sad, lost somewhere in between in a swirling pool of despondence and simple content. I 
stared vacantly ahead at the small crowds of people and my thoughts clouded my vision and my heart beat felt slower than 
it usually was. I felt calm, I felt at peace, I felt…hungry.

Half an hour into our leisurely, heartfelt stay at my nostalgic, childhood bakery and we were just now requiring the 
services of our hardworking counterparts. I waved one over and ordered a pot of coffee and a pair of apple fritters for 
our quivering stomachs. Jiyong smiled into the side of my shoulder, his hands resting cozily on his knees by my thighs, 
and my hands fidgeting at my sides, wanting to do something but not being able to. I spent myself working up the courage 
and stretched, reached out past Jiyong’s neck with my right arm and let it fall onto the curved plane of his upper back 
and back of neck, my hand now reassuringly taking hold of his shoulder and patting it. “I’m alright right here, with you”,
it seemed to imply. And this was okay, because I was. He looked up at me and I looked down at him, and the thin thread 
that I imagined was tied off on each of our faces was pulled tight, there was no room to look anywhere else but at the 
other, there was nowhere to hide now. Our breath mingled and twisted together as we slowly exhaled our wasted air into 
the space between our bodies, and I reached now, with my other arm, and slid my shaking thumb along the peach soft skin 
of Jiyong’s cheek. I felt him shudder against me, like we both knew what was coming, inching closer as seconds passed and 
people murmured in corners and the rest of the world was blurred out and the whole world in that moment was just me and 
him and something beautiful, but everything beautiful has its end. Our waitress coughed her presence, shattering the 
thick glass of expectation and hope around our feet, Jiyong blushed and turned his head, and I silently cursed profanities
against the skin of my teeth at this perfectly innocent, but horribly timed girl.

I put on my best “I’m not going to stab you but I really want to” face and stood up, pins and needles making their tingly,
uncomfortable way up my legs and my fingers trembling in silent anger and lost hope. I took the little porcelain tray 
with our coffee on it, and she placed the little plates on the table and Jiyong and I sat on opposite sides. The waitress,
who walked away bouncily, was blissfully unaware of the beautifully crafted and intricate creature that she had shot and 
pulverized into particles of dust with a tiny little “Ahem.”

Everything felt awkward then, like a blinding fog had fallen over our heads and shrouded us in a cloud of . 
looked everywhere but at each other, the imaginary thread was now slack, our faces free to do as they pleased, and they 
pleased to avoid that which they did not want to face.

We shifted our eyes availingly, eventually catching each other's uncomfortable gazes and keeping them there for the time 
being. Jiyong grabbed at an apple fritter, pulling the sticky pastry onto his plate and cutting at it with his knife, his 
eyes on mine the whole time, like he couldn't look away. I decided to cut through the butter-thick astriction in the air 
with the knife of ease and happy feelings. "Uh-hum, so uh, your dance routine, is it hard?"
He nodded, his face stuffed with fritter and his lips sticky with golden glaze. I gave him a second to swallow his bite, 
and I watched his throat constrict around it as he did. “It’s hard to an extent. You get the music, you learn the 
choreography and then you just let your body take control, you listen to the beats and you move with the music, not 
against it. So yeah, it’s pretty hard, but not to the point where I can’t handle it.” He was smiling again; glad to be 
distracted from the painfully obvious fog around us. Dancing was his life, it seemed, and slowly, but surely, he was 
becoming mine.

~

It was nearly an hour later that we had rebundled ourselves up and made our way back to the frozen streets of Seoul. I 
couldn't help but notice the gap between us, unlike before where we were as close to eachother as physically possible in 
order to retain our precious body heat. We trudged along towards Jiyong's apartment, which fortunately was only about two 
blocks from mine. I purposely slowed my pace and set myself in step behind Jiyong, following his narrow footsteps in the 
snow, and imprinting mine over top. My eyes ventured upward, passed over his fashionable rubber boots, legwarmers, 
skin-tight jeans and cute little , and made their way up to his covered back, his puffy jacket pronouncing his broad 
shoulders and his dark scarf accentuating his sharp, pale cheekbones and pierced ears. He looked gorgeous, as always, 
with his breath sliding smoothly out of his mouth and nose in snaking tendrils of freezing air, and his face flushed a 
burning red from the cold. I sped my way up next to him again and took his hand in mine before any part of my body said 
I couldn't. He gasped slightly, looking up at me and back at our hands and then back to the snow-covered sidewalk in 
front of us, his fingers lacing themselves with mine as his gaze neared closer and closer to the ground, his cheeks 
turning a brilliant shade of pink over the already-present red.

We neared his apartment, our hands woven intricately together and our steps crunching softly in sync. I took him up the 
steps in front of his door and watched him fumble around in the near darkness for his keys, noticing that the wind had 
started to beat harshly against my face. He huddled up against the door, one hand on the handle and one on the keys in 
the lock, and he pushed his way to freedom, the wind deciding to whiplash against my quivering frame. I mumbled a quick 
goodbye and turned to race to my house before the storm hit, but I was pulled back a few steps almost instantly. 
"Seunghyun! Do you really think I'm going to let you out into that storm?" I turned my face almost hesitantly, my jacket 
sleeve bundled up in Jiyong's tensed hand. "My house is only a couple blocks away Jiyong-ah, don't worry about me.." The 
boy frowned, his other hand grabbing firmly onto my jacket, desperately beginning to, and eventually succeeding to 
pulling me inside.