She loved edelweiss, the little bushes and the small flowers that grow along the path behind his cabin. She said she couldn’t find them in Seoul. He knew the busy streets of Seoul barely has enough ground to grow wild plants so he took some of the bushes and kept them in a ceramic flowerpot for her.

She loved the fireflies that came out almost every night near an oak tree not too far away from their patio. She told him about the stories her late mother used to tell—the ones about her childhood in the island with her brother—and the fiery bugs they captured to light up their bedtime in a jar. So he once went to capture them and put them in a jar for her. She smiled wide enough to make him smile along.

She loved classical music too. Vivaldi and Tchaikovsky, also Bach and Beethoven. All in all violin and piano, though she wasn’t the one to play the instruments, as she is not a very musical person. So he went through his father’s collection of classical album and put them on every night until dawn so she would be able to sleep with her favorite pieces of music playing in the background.

He loved books. So she huddled next to him in front of the fireplace at night, listening about how romance blossoms and kingdoms perish.  Of King Henry and Julius Caesar to Jane Eyre and the prince-turned-beast. He looked happy. She wanted him to be happy.

He loved flowers. Or so she thought because he spent a lot of time outside, putting bushes of edelweiss in pots and arranging them around the house. She didn’t mind though. The tiny flowers are the most beautiful things for her. So she happily squats down next to him, voluntarily holding out the ceramic flowerpot to help him with his work. He smiled. She was happy because they had great times talking and laughing.

He loved the night sky—the calming darkness and the constellations up above the horizon with the twinkling lights across the pitch-black atmosphere. She would help him with their hot chocolate and they would sit on the balcony with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. He always smiled at the sight of the stars. She was always happy to see his smile.

All those times, her heart fluttered with love for her newfound brother. All those times, along the flutters was a pain she hid from him. He didn’t need to know, did he?

All those nights, his heart swarmed in joy. He was happy. Content. He felt no need for his arse of a father or the exasperating paparazzi that awaited him back home. The presence of his sister was enough to bring him back to life.

A/N: How was that for a start? (: