Pale blue it was. Now, it was drowning in chocolate brown sludge of ice-cream, streaking down the abdomen of the shirt. Sun Myunghee was not in a pensive mood nor vacant for such daffodils which William Wordsworth once said, “And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils”.

No.

14 and half hours of flight it was. She had enough trouble dealing with rude old hags who were whining about the baby crying across the airplane’s width. Hypocritically, they ended up snoring on the middle of the night like squalling pigs. There was another scenario when a Pokémon ball landed on her chocolate mousse dessert and who would’ve thought that the one responsible for that was a 30-years old Otaku.

It was not long when she handled these problems, or shall we say ‘her’ problems which she considered as ‘peacefully’. Despite her ‘tad bit’ angry argument with an innocent four year old, who happened to spill his ice cream on her shirt; in her perspective, her management through it all was handled pretty well. But the reality side of it wasn’t exactly the same.

The boy with the empty ice-cream cone on his hand scattered away with tearful eyes and into his mother’s arms. The coward however, was already dissipating into the murmuring crowd.

Passing through penetrating eyes, dragging her luggage with her, she collapsed down the airport chair. She felt the icy touch of the metal, cooling down the excessive heat through the stained top as she quickly glance around her sight in caution. This twenty-four year old for sure, did not want to hear complaints from an angry mother. With her arms asleep on the sides, Myunghee sighed in exhaustion.

Was it just her or the day seemed to be hostile? Recounting back the journey of her plane ride, she wondered why so many misfortunes came all at once. Nonetheless, Myunghee originally as planned was supposed to be full of excitement. ‘Recovery’ she thought, would come for her sake.

It had been around a year and a half since the last time she came here in Seoul for a holiday. Myunghee was a dancer and a training choreographer. She started working under a talent agency in Seoul since at a young age of seventeen. Around the age of twenty-two, a brighter offer was at the tip of her fingers and not long after that, she transferred to another talent agency in New York. Even in childhood, Myunghee was already a shining star.

Lost in her sea of thoughts, a familiar voice filtered from the clamouring background noise of the airport.

“Don’t you look especially stylish today?” Myunghee straightened her back as she looked to her near left where a charcoal black haired stand, hands on his denim jeans pocket and a cream cardigan that contrasted with the mauve shirt underneath.

“Oh please. I don’t want to get any lectures from fashion- police.” She childishly stuck her tongue out before approaching him with open arms.

“But that stained top is to die for, sweetie.” She squeezed her arms around his waist and his warmth made her exhale with sweet bliss.

“Shut up Byun Baekhyun, before I kick that round of yours.”

Byun Baekhyun was Myunghee’s partner in crime since the age of diapers. Together, they were inseparable. Sometimes, people mistook the two as siblings and very occasionally, fraternal twins (only during their young age. Puberty hits).

What made those two so attached are their close family relationship and similar interests. Interestingly enough, boys are included in that category. Yes, Byun Baekhyun was straight as spaghetti. Despite his charming looks, the boy was born to possess this nature.

However, if Myunghee was the dancing physic of their family’s pride, Baekhyun would be the highly acclaimed voca