From:

[email protected]

To:

[email protected]

Subject: Double T ( Taeyang and Tattoos ) , two entirely different things.

Dear Lee Chaerin,

I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THE FACT THAT TAEYANG TALKED TO ME. OH MY BELOVED STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE DOLL. 

It was 6 p.m when Taeyang and Satan finally walked out of Satan's office. 

"Uhm, Sandara-ssi?" Satan said. 

He called me Sandara-ssi! SSI! SSI! 

"Yes?" I stood up immediately, waiting patiently for him to give me a command. This situation somehow reminded me of a dog and its master. 

I didn't want to give it any further thought, knowing that I would be the dog.

"Well, I heard you like Taeyang, so yeah, uhm, maybe if you want to- like.. take photos or some-" 

"YES, I WOULD LOVE TO!" I couldn't believe that Satan had at least a bit of a kindness in him! I couldn't even tell myself to stop smiling, because come one, it's Taeyang. T TO THE A TO THE E, Y TO THE A N G! 

Satan cleared his throat and patted Taeyang's back. 

"See ya later, dude!" 

Taeyang nodded and patted Satan's back too in return. Then Satan walked back to his office, leaving me and Taeyang alone. 

.....

.....

.....

It was so quiet I could hear the ticking of the clock. 

"So, you're the "crazy, rabid and also morbid fan" of mine Jiyong was talkin about" Taeyang broke the silence. He then smiled angelically at me and I swore I died at that moment and resurrected of course, if I really died, I wouldn't have been able to write you this e-mail. 

"You don't look crazy nor rabid, nor morbid. You look beautiful" 

Chaerin-ah, I. COULD. NOT. BREATHE. 

I gave him a shy smile and looked down playing with my fingers nervously.

He then walked towards me and patted my shoulder. His hand was warm against my shoulder and my legs felt all wobbly. I glanced at the clock. 6.07, Taeyang, my eternal love my soulmate, touched me.

"Well, see you next time then. I believe we would meet again, Sandara-ssi" he smiled and waved my goodbye. 

Like I've just stated above, I DIED. 

I. FRIGGIN. DIED. 

5 minutes after, I was forced to snap out of my imagination. Satan called and told me to bring him a cup of black coffee. ( I swear he drinks coffee as much as we drink water. ) I knew it isn't a healthy thing to drink too much coffee. But well, it's his body, not mine. 

I walked into his office 4 minutes late and he gave me a look of doom. 

"Is it really that hard to pour a sachet of instant coffee and hot water into the cup?" 

"No, sir" Damn damn, he had a crappy personality, really. How could I think he had changed just because he talked to Taeyang ONCE. He was one heck of a Satan that even 10 Taeyang wouldn't be enough exorcize his damned personality. 

"Come here and take these papers" he said, not looking up from his phone. He seemed to be texting his lover, he occassionally smiled and laughed and giggled. GIGGLED. 

I walked towards his table and suddenly I just lost my balance and topple forward. I fell down on my face and stood up like nothing had happened few seconds ago. 

Turned out I couldn't, because there Satan was, staring at me as I had castrated ( Call me a hypocrite for using this word ) him. His sleek crisp white shirt was now stained black. He kind of looked like a dalmatian, but of course I wouldn't say that out loud.  

"I-I'm sorry, sir" I was trying to remain calm but with the look of doom he gave me, I couldn't. I took out my pocket of tissue and went to wipe the stain. Useless, I knew that. I was just trying to look guilty. 

"Just forget it! Get the out of my office and bring me back a t-shirt from the warehouse! Black color." he stood up and took off his shirt. IN FRONT OF ME. 

I wasn't the kind of girl who would go berzerk seeing men's abs, given the fact that I always drooled over Taeyang's and I could almost assure you that Satan's body wasn't even half as good as Taeyang's. He had a lean body, definitely not bad for my style. ( Don't get the implication that he's my style ) 

What struck me was his tattoos, I had always known that he had tattoos ( Who didn't? ), but that was the first time I got to see them. He had so much tattoos, on his back, arms, nape. Weren't the process to get tattoos painful? He turned around, his back facing me and I could see his "Too fast to live, too young to die" tattoo. Almost the entire population in Kwon Fashion & Co knew about that tattoo, but I found my gaze fixed elsewhere. The tattoo was way smaller and less extravagant than the others. 

It said "La Dolce Vita" in cursive font.

I didn't understand Latin/Spanish/French/whatever language it was. So I just stood there, trying to figure out what did that mean. 

The Satan? 

The Devil? 

The.. uhm Big Balls? 

I Love Mama? 

I made a mental note to google it later on. 

"I thought you said you aren't a ic old woman who would gawk over young men" he suddenly said. 

I was not gawking over him. I repeat, I. WAS. NOT. 

I said nothing and went out of his office and to the warehouse. 

I took the wrong size for the t-shirt. When I first came here, Satan made me study his biography, including his shirt size. But maybe my old brain was starting to deteroriate and degrade, I forgot. I took the biggest size available and it looked like a dress on Satan. I figured out he was too tired to scold me, he just told me to make him another cup of coffee and hushed me out. 

"La Dolce Vita (Italian pronunciation: [la ˈdoltʃe ˈviːta]; Italian for "the sweet life" or "the good life")" said Wikipedia.

So it was not Latin nor Spanish nor French. It was Italian. 

I was wondering why would someone as wild as Satan would have a very gay tattoo stating "The Sweet Life"? 

People have always been unpredictable, no? 

XOXO, 

Sandara Park