The call to Kibum had to wait however. Woohyun was so tired that the moment he reached his room and touched the bed, he fell asleep. It was particularly uncomfortable for him to sleep with clothes and shoes on but his weary body didn’t mind them at all. His slumber was deep and he didn’t wake up until it was almost dark.

Once he rose, he showered without glancing at the mirror and put on a fresh set of clothes. He went down to the dining room to look for food but the staff apologized, saying it was too late for dinner and too early for supper, they were closed.

My stomach’s growling.

Dejected, Woohyun tried to ignore the squirms in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten properly on the plane; in fact he hadn’t had a proper meal in quite some time. But he didn’t feel like going out to eat either.

In the end, his stomach won and he trudged outside, scanning the surroundings for a shop. Any shop, he wasn’t going to be choosy right now. He walked lethargically, not because he was tired but because he felt drained of the energy and will he was bubbling with when he first started on this journey. He didn’t love Sunggyu any less but the reality seemed to beckon at him from the distance.

“But if you continue on this trail for a while, maybe you will understand how hopeless all this is…”

He remembered Sungjong warning him, he even recalled Myungsoo saying love was hopeless. The burden grew heavier in his heart.

This can’t be true.

Woohyun was angry with himself for brooding on those unhappy thoughts and he tried to fight off the despondency that was settling down on his bones. He told himself love wasn’t fickle, it was something people held on to, believed in.

Love is the ultimate guide.

As if by magic, his pace quickened and soon he found himself in front of a patisserie. Pleased that he had recovered at least some of his vigor, he walked in, causing the bell hung overhead the door to jingle loudly.

“Bonjour!” the man at the counter greeted him, then paused, giving him a one-over. “Hello,” he then said in Korean, startling Woohyun.

“You’re Korean?”

Why is it that I meet someone Korean everywhere?

But he wasn’t complaining of course since not having to speak broken foreign languages really helped to keep his concentration up.

“And a fan,” the man said, coming out from behind the counter to stand in front of him. He was tall and he wore a pleased grin on his face as he extended his hand towards him. Woohyun shook it uncertainly.

“Fan?”

“Yes!” The man’s smile widened, causing his gums to show. “A huge fan.”

Woohyun wasn’t sure what the man was talking about, so he simply smiled. He had probably mistaken him for someone famous.

The man must have understood his confusion because he motioned to a table and said, “Shall we sit and discuss your paintings? I’ve seen each and every one of them, mostly in your photo books. I went to the exhibitions when I was in Seoul but then I moved here and…”

With a sigh of relief, Woohyun sat down. Now it was clear to him what the man was talking about.

My paintings…it’s nice to meet a fan, here of all places.

He hadn’t really met fans of his paintings outside the Art School he worked at. It was a nice change. A genuine smile lit up his face as he asked the man his name.

“Sungyeol. Lee Sungyeol. You don’t need to introduce yourself, I know everything about you: Nam Woohyun, age 28, famous painter, graduated from Seoul University, great man.”

Woohyun stopped him.

“Seriously, great man?”

“You are; everyone loves you.”

Woohyun raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t familiar with this bit of information.

“They do?”

“Yes, at the Art College I used to go to, all the students and the teachers loved you, not only because you’re an awesome painter, but also because you’re loveable.”

Woohyun laughed loudly and his stomach growled.

“Wait here, I’ll get you food.”

Without waiting for him to order, Sungyeol darted away. Woohyun took the opportunity to look around himself.

It was a small café, with only 3 tables, which were all now empty, except the one he was sitting on. He couldn’t see any other workers either but there was a door behind the counter and he assumed it led to the baking room, where the other workers might be resting now since there were no customers.

All in all, it was a cozy comfortable place and from the smell of the pastries, he could say it ran well.

“There you go, these are our specialties.”

Sungyeol set down a large tray in front of him.

As his stomach growled again, Woohyun started to wolf down the food hungrily. Sungyeol watched him with twinkling eyes. On other days, he would have minded someone staring at him as he ate but today, he was too hungry to protest. When he was finally done eating almost two-thirds of the food, he slowed down, taking a gulp from the coffee Sungyeol had served.

“Very good,” Woohyun said, breathing in. His stomach ached lightly from the excess food he had shoved down his gut. “I mean it’s delicious.”

“Thanks,” Sugnyeol said, sipping his coffee. He was staring at Woohyun now as he dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin.

Now that he was full, he felt much more inclined to start a conversation. He looked at Sungyeol curiously, who wore an amused smile.

“You used to go to an Art School? Why did you leave?”

Sungyeol shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, sipping his coffee noisily.

“Another lifetime.”

From his tone, Woohyun comprehended that he didn’t want to talk about his past. So he changed the topic.

“So you work alone here?”

Sungyeol shrugged again.

“Not always. There are a few people coming in for part-time job. I am the only permanent worker. Except for the pastry chef of course. But he leaves in the afternoon.”

“It’s quiet,” Woohyun said nodding.

“Yeah, it usually is. The customers that shop here are really easy-going so nothing outrageous ever happens. Quiet.”

“And you like it here?” Woohyun asked, tapping his fingers on the edge of the tray.

Sungyeol cocked his head to one side.

“Why not?”

Woohyun shrugged. The lifestyle seemed too quiet for someone like Sungyeol. He loved to smile so much; he would suit better in a noisy bar or someplace like that. Woohyun could feel a vibrant energy radiating from him – he couldn’t help thinking how the energy was being wasted in this low-key job.

“It doesn’t seem like you,” he admitted.

Sungyeol laughed in reply but didn’t say anything.

“But really, what are you doing here. Oh wait don’t tell me,” he suddenly looked very excited. “Are you going to have an exhibition in Paris?”

This time, Woohyun had to laugh. Even though he had his small fan base in Korea, he was not that well recognized worldwide. He hadn’t tried to hold an exhibition overseas but he felt that no one would be interested even if he had.

“Sungyeol, if I do, then I will sell only one ticket, and that would be to you.”

Sungyeol gave a sour look that said he disagreed.

“You really are awesome, you can’t deny that. Anyone who has seen your paintings…they have soul.”

Woohyun shuddered involuntarily. Sungyeol had just reminded him of Sunggyu, who used to say the exact same thing.

“Your paintings have soul. They not only look, they speak. Like you.”

“Thanks Sungyeol, that – that means a lot.” Woohyun got up from his seat. “I think I should head back to the hotel, it’s getting colder. But I’d love to come around some other time and talk with you. And…it’d be great if you could help me.”

He stopped short, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go on. This matter was close to his heart and yet without help, he couldn’t see any way to proceed. He realized he had to confide in Sungyeol if he wanted his help but right now, he wasn’t up to the job.

“Tomorrow’s my off day so why don’t we talk somewhere?” Sungyeol asked, looking concerned.

“Okay, this is my hotel.” Woohyun handed him a card he had taken from the hotel reception earlier. “Can you come in the morning?”

“Sure.” Sungyeol put the card in his pocket. “I’m really happy I met you.”

 “Thanks, same here, umm…the bill?”

“Are you kidding me? I do want something, and that’s an autograph. I will bring your photo books with me tomorrow so that you can sign them.”

Woohyun laughed but he was too tired to argue.

“Then tomorrow, all the meals are on me.”

Sungyeol walked him to the door and when he turned back after walking a few feet away from the shop, he could see Sungyeol still standing at the doorway. He wondered why Sungyeol had left Seoul and his art school to work at a patisserie in Paris.

Looks like we all have stories to tell.