True beauty doesn’t consist of one’s appearance or of one’s clothes. It’s not about  the way one speaks and behaves, concealing thoughts or being straight forward. And it’s definitely not about the fortune and fame, success or bad luck. A beautiful human being is one that wears its story on its skin, that doesn’t say much with words, but which expresses so much more with the eyes and with gestures. A beautiful human is one that is capable of reading in between the lines and knows just how far to go. That particular human doesn’t care about money or fame or anything like that. He makes his way into this world maybe without even leaving a single trail behind himself. But he marks souls, that’s for sure.

And as I was sitting on Jongin’s couch, all I could think of was that he was one of those beautiful humans. His dark, tanned skin contrasting with the white tank top, the tense muscles moving under his skin as he moved his hands quickly above the stove, his long fingers that weren’t bearing any ring. And then his face: a mixture of traits that probably would have been perceived as ugly if possessed by another, but managing to make him look so tough – the eyes, dark and concentrated with soft, expression wrinkles in their outer corners, his slightly crooked nose and natural pouted lips that made him look like a troubled kid. But what attracted me the most to his messy appearance was the roughness of his hands.

Kim Jongin was a man.

Kim Jongin was a beautiful being.

“Still not going to tell me what happened?” He broke the silence, raising his eyes from the pot where the noodles were being cooked.

I shrugged and played with the hems of the t-shirt he lent me. “There was a bit of a situation and I couldn’t return to the dorm. That’s all. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here as soon as the rain stops.”

“It’s not about that,” he frowned at me, “it’s just that I’m – oh, leave it!” He bit his tongue and returned to his cooking without throwing me a second look. And that made me feel bad.

“Chanyeol payed me a visit tonight,” I walked to Jongin and leaned against the kitchen cabinet close by. “He said some things and I said some things. I think you can call it a fight,” I smiled embarrassed. “And he,” the words got stuck in my throat under Jongin’s stare, “he kind of forced himself on me? That’s all that happened! Don’t worry, like I said, I’ll be out of here before you know it. What?” I looked at him as he stopped me from returning to the small table in front of the couch.

“I’m going to kill that bastard,”