I pulled my hood up tighter around my head, watching my breath puff into little ghosts in front of my mouth. My fingertips were numb in my pockets and I squeezed them into fists, trying to bring some feeling into them. It was cold at 6:30 in the morning, but the dawn light was perfect for the effect I wanted to create. 
    Luckily, the flower nursery opened at 5:00, and was happy to let me come and take as many pictures as I wanted. I brushed my fingers absentmindedly over a uniform row of alyssum flowers next to me, dew collecting in fat drops and then rolling along my arm and disappearing into my sleeve.
    I was walking towards my favorite place to sit and just breathe, a place to exist and watch the world happen. It was a delicate wooden arch in the north side of the nursery, looking out over the rows of roses and weeping cedars, a view that was both whimsical and beautiful. I listened to my feet crunch slightly over the gravel lining the paths, the low murmur of early morning gardeners, and the way the wind toyed with everything in its path. The nursery was surrounded by fields, nothing to block the wind, and it was free to roam and play. 
    I could feel it now, tugging at my hoodie strings, playing with the wisps of my fringe, tickling at my cheeks with cold fingers. My camera was heavy around my neck, a familiar weight that held me to the ground. I paused to stop and look up at the sky; powder blue and rose blush and pure gold veins webbing through the purple, painting the clouds with slender . 
    When I looked back down, I passed by the pottery section and cast my fingers along one slick painted vase. There were sculpted fountains bubbling next to clay dragons and Buddhas, creating the perfect peaceful place to wake up. I dabbled my fingers into the water of one fountain, then wiped them off on the back of my jeans.
    I was finally near to my arch, but I stopped quietly when I realized someone was already sitting there. A someone who looked as beautiful and whimsical as the view itself.  
    He was wearing a soft grey shirt that had long sleeves, but still didn't look nearly warm enough. His hair was black and stuck out every which way, random and capricious in the wind. I watched his long slender fingers clutch at a charcoal pencil, carefully defining, blurring, then redefining lines on the thick pages of a sketchbook in his lap. There was a focused tenseness in his broad, lean shoulders, the tiniest crease between his brown eyes. 
    Without thinking, I raised my camera and focused the lens on him. The camera clicked faintly, capturing perfectly the delicate way he curved around his sketchbook, glancing every so often at the weeping cedar in front of him. I felt immediately guilty for intruding on such a private moment, lowering my camera and shifting my weight slightly. My foot dragged slightly on the gravel, the wind tossing my hair into my eyes as if to say, 'ha, caught you!'
    He looked up briefly, saw that I was watching, and looked at me with a relaxed intensity. Just like that, I got the sensation that I was falling into his eyes. They pulled me off my feet, forcing me to trace every deep brown detail, making me take a halting step closer. I could dimly see his pale pink lips, clear milky skin, and a nose that was a little thin. I forcibly tore myself out of his eyes, feeling an aching loss the moment I did, and focused instead on the paper cup of coffee steaming on the bench next to him. 
    "Hey." He said quietly, a tiny smile curling the edges of his lips. He stretched his impossibly long legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles, and then set the sketchpad flat against his thighs. 
    "Hi." I managed back. He patted the bench next to him invitingly, shifting his coffee to his hand and giving me a slightly wider smile. There was a dimple in his left cheek and his teeth were straight and white, a tiny chip in his lower right incisor making him that much more endearing. 
    "I'm Kris." He said, quickly switching the coffee to his left hand and extending his right. I took it, feeling the warmth the coffee had spread across his palm, the tiny callouses on his fingertips. His hand left a faint smudge of charcoal across the back of mine, a barely-there mark of dark grey. 
    "I'm Tao." I smiled, accepting the seat next to him. I was so close, I could see the amber swirling in his eyes, could count the individual brush of his thick eyelashes. 
    "Nice camera." Kris said, gesturing with one graceful hand to the weight around my neck. I nodded, looking over at his sketchbook. 
    "Amazing drawing." I said honestly, my voice awed. He had drawn a perfect replica of the weeping cedar in front of us, shadowy and lonely on the page, melancholy in every arch of its unique branches. 
    "Nah, it's not that good." Kris blushed, color rising rich and rosy to his cheekbones. I looked for another moment at the drawing, feeling the despair emanating from the page. 
    "Are you an art student?" I asked, my eyes flicking up to meet his. He nodded, the warmth of his arm brushing mine when he set the coffee down by his opposite hip. 
    "Yeah. What about you? Photography?" Kris guessed. I nodded, looking out to take a picture of the weeping cedar in front of us. My picture held none of the melancholy Kris' did, and I wondered if the tree was sad in his drawing, or if Kris was. 
    We stayed silent for several minutes, Kris watching the dawn over the rim of his paper cup, and me watching the steam spiral up around his face. He turned to look at me and I tore my eyes away, looking instead at the tiny goosebumps on the back of his hands. 
    He picked the charcoal up again, flipping to a new creamy page and looking over at me again. He began to draw, gentle sweeping lines that became a jawline and then a cheekbone. I turned to follow his fingers moving across the page and Kris clucked his tongue at me, reaching out to gently return my head to its previous position. 
    His fingers smelled of paper and chalk and paint, and faintly of sunscreen. I stayed still, peeking out of the corner of my eye as he replicated the hoodie I was wearing and my heavy-lidded eyes. He paused once briefly to sweep his hand across his cheek, leaving a smear of charcoal against his creamy skin, but I rather liked the contrast.
    It might have been awkward for a perfect stranger to be staring at me intensely with his wonderful eyes, but it felt pleasant—startling and magnificent all at once. I was conscious of his eyes on me, along my cheeks and following the curve of my ear. I occasionally raised my camera to snap a picture of the roses, but I mostly stayed still for him. 
    When he finally finished, he tore the page from his sketchbook and carefully signed one bottom corner. He folded along the seam at the top, tugging the binding scraps away from the sketch paper and leaving a perfect rectangle. 
    "Here." Kris smiled, handing it to me. There was a thick silver ring on his middle finger and it winked at me, my eyes trailing down to the paper. 
    It was like looking at a photograph of myself. The shadows, the proportions of my face, the tiny scar on my chin I got from falling down the stairs when I seven—they were all perfect. 
    "Oh no," I smiled, waving the drawing away. "This will be worth a ton of money in a few years. I can't accept it."
    Kris chuckled a little and I already wanted to make him laugh more, to earn the rich rough sound. He folded the picture precisely along the middle and then folded it again, tucking the quartered paper into his sketchbook and winding a string around it to keep it closed. His pencils went into a small case at his side and he carefully slid everything into a backpack at his feet, stretching his arms out with a tiny sigh. 
    "I have work in half an hour." Kris said, and he sounded almost regretful. I nodded, unable to help the small mysterious frown that coaxed my mouth down.  
    "Good luck." I smiled slightly, not wanting to leave him just yet. I had the feeling that this morning had been frozen in time, and if we both never left this bench we could live forever, together. 
    "Thank you." Kris smiled in return, standing up and slinging his backpack over one shoulder gracefully. 
    "Have a good day." Kris said softly, extending his hand one last time to shake mine. I thought briefly that he had the perfect handshake—not too floppy, not too soft, not too rough. 
    "You too." I said, watching him walk away. He paused briefly to bend and smell a gardenia by the exit, long fingers over the delicate white petals and catching tiny drops of dew. I remembered doing the same thing earlier with the alyssum and smiled, opening the pictures I had taken to see if I had captured anything worthwhile.
    I finally stumbled upon the picture I had taken of Kris, so deeply engaged in his own world. I briefly wondered if I should delete it, erase this whimsical young man and let him have his privacy, but I found myself unable to bear the idea of losing my only way to hold onto him. 
    I slowly stood up, stretching the stiffness from my back and stamping feeling back into my feet. My jeans were slightly damp and cold from the bench and I brushed off the back, walking towards the exit. 
    I didn't have class today, and I decided to use my time to study a bit. I swung into my small VW Bug, tossing aside crinkling candy wrappers and throwing an empty coke can into the backseat with the rest. My textbooks were on the floor of the passenger side and I set my camera carefully onto the passenger seat, starting up the engine and listening to it sputter to life. 
    I picked up my phone, dialing one of my best friends and putting it on speakerphone, tossing the phone next to my camera. 
    "Hello?" Minseok said, his voice crackling over the line. I turned down the stereo, smiling out of habit. 
    "Hey, Minseok!" I greeted happily. "What was the name of the book store you said I might like?"
    "The one I talked about yesterday?" Minseok asked. I could hear papers rustling on his end and knew he was ruffling the stacks of sticky notes on his desk.
    "Yeah." I said, deciding that trying a new book store would be fun. Minseok said there was also a coffee shop inside, which would be a definite plus. 
    "It's called Babbling Books. It's over by the river, on Berry Way." Minseok said finally. I knew where Berry Way was and I smiled, picking up the phone. 
    "Thanks, Seokkie!" I smiled. Minseok mumbled something—either acknowledgement of my thanks or complaint about the nickname—and I hung up. 
    The drive to Berry Way took about ten minutes, and it wasn't hard to find Babbling Books. It looked like an old colonial mansion that had been converted into a store, with crisp white walls and a shaded green lawn. The sign outside the front read, 'Pets Welcome! Please don't stay off the grass!', and I laughed at the irony. 
    The stairs creaked when I walked up them and there was a porch swing hanging on the patio, covered by overstuffed cushions and a few blankets. The door had a bell that chimed when I opened it and I walked inside to find myself in an old foyer. 
    There was rug on the floor with a rack next to it for my shoes and I toed them off slowly, hanging my sweatshirt on one of the hooks on the wall. The bookstore was warm and the scent of sweet baked goods emanated from everything, soft music coming from hidden speakers. 
    "Hello?" I called out uncertainly, following the scent of cookies and coffee into a living room. It was crammed with bookshelves, massive stacks of books spilling out into the aisles and covering little tables set out next to comfy armchairs. The window was framed with gauzy curtains, and empty lightbulbs hung on delicate silver strings in front of it. I recognized them as hanging vases, filled with water and tiny flowers. The effect was splendid and I took a moment to look around the comfy room, eyeing the tiny wind chimes dangling from one bookshelf. 
    I wanted to bring Kris here. I knew instinctively he would love it just like I did, and the thought made me smile. 
    "Is anyone here?" I said, somewhat quieter this time. I almost wished I could have this place to myself, a hidden fantasy world. 
    "Hey, hon. Come on back." A gentle voice called, coming from somewhere behind a gauzy beaded curtain hanging over one doorway. 
    I brushed through it carefully, finding myself in a large dining area. A large woman with an apron was bustling at the kitchen stove, racks of cookies cooling on the countertop. People were lounging around on more armchairs and at the dining room table, set up with steaming cups and thick books. 
    "Pick your poison." The woman said, turning to me with a wide smile and handing me a small whiteboard. Coffee, hot chocolate, cookies, and muffins were the only options on it, written in elegant blue ink.
    "Coffee, please." I smiled, still stunned by the amazing little escape this bookstore offered. She poured a stream of hot liquid into a medium-sized mug, a panda sketched faintly on the outside with a small chip in the handle. 
    "Milk, cream, and sugar are over there, hon." She smiled, gesturing to the table behind me. I nodded, accepting the cup and cradling it carefully.  
    "Thank you, Miss...?" I trailed off questioningly, searching for her name. She had already turned back to kneading dough on the large wooden sideboard, pinching and fluffing and flouring rapidly. 
    "Just call me Auntie, everyone does." She smiled, giving me a gentle smile and returning to the dough. 
    I nodded, adding cream to my coffee before walking over to the shelves. The books were in compete disarray, stacked tumbling over one another in their eagerness to be discovered. I brushed carefully past a few pages, finally settling on a book titled Before I Say Goodbye. 
    I sunk into one of the armchairs, setting my coffee cup on a coaster next to me and beginning to page through the book. I realized two things early on—the first was that the book didn't have a price tag on the back. The second was that Auntie didn't seem to really care if someone just sat down, read a book, and then put it back without buying it. 
    I decided then and there I loved this place. I stayed long enough to finish reading Before I Say Goodbye, placing my empty mug carefully in the large sink and accepting the sugared doughnut Auntie placed in my hand. 
    It was warm and fresh and I took a big bite, savoring the thick doughy treat. I gave a thumbs up to Auntie and she smiled, beginning to pass the heaping plate of doughnuts around the room.  
    "Come back soon, hon." Auntie called when she saw me brush through the curtain. 
    "Thank you, Auntie." I smiled, taking another moment to look at the hanging lightbulbs. The walk out into the real world was somewhat startling, as though I had been in another dimension for several years. 
    It had only been a few hours, and I got into my Bug to drive home. My apartment was modest but I had decorated it carefully, making it my own. There were glossy photographs as wall paper in the bedroom, and I had painted the rest of the rooms myself. My furniture style was more eclectic—if I was out and I saw something I liked, I added it to my collection and just found somewhere to put it. 
    For example, there was a delicate silver lamp propped up next to a modern sculpture on my dresser, the dresser itself an antique. I had an old fashioned water pitcher in my bathroom for washing my face in the morning, but a fairly modern granite sink basin and silver faucet. 
    If someone ever came to visit, they might find my apartment chaotic or confusing, but to me, it was soothing. There was no set schedule, no tight rules on what kind of piece could qualify to live with me. The most important part of the apartment was the tiny darkroom I had created next to my bedroom, the perfect place to retire to my talent. 
    I would stay up until three in the morning sometimes, playing fast-paced hip hop or low crooning love songs on the stereo next to the door, depending on my mood. 
    I walked to the small kitchen, pouring myself a glass of iced tea from the bottle in the fridge and then settling down on the couch with my textbooks. I fell asleep late at night with my face in my math book, rousing myself enough to brush my teeth and change into sweatpants. 
    It was cold at night these days and I jogged past my open window, pausing briefly to close it and then tumble into bed. I yanked the blankets up to my chin, aching for sleep and warmth. 
    Instead, I found myself filled with thoughts of Kris. Was his hair naturally that eccentric, or did he purposely make it that way? Why wasn't he wearing something warmer this morning? When was his birthday? What foods make him smile and which ones made him grimace?
    I knew instinctively I would see him again. I had to. My questions needed to be answered, a little at a time, bit by bit. 
    I set my alarm for 6:00, hoping I would find him sitting at the arch again. 

A/N:
Hello everyone ^_^
I'm back with another Taoris two/three-shot 
Please be patient, I'll try to update soon 
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Sorry for any typos; please accept my heart *blows kisses*
Thank you!
Love you all~ 
—Sujinnie
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