I want to say that everything returned to normal after that, but the next day, I had a very odd encounter with Jung Jinyoung.

To be honest, I wasn’t feeling too hot about the guy since, well, since I first met him, but I was polite enough to reply when he greeted me.

He was standing at the edge of the shore, looking out on to the sparkling sea and the white sun that stretched over the horizon. Spindly arms folded, like a weedy little General surveying his troops.

“I’ve been meaning to paint something like this,” he told me. “Like Turner, you know?”

I didn’t know or care who or what that foreign sounding word was, but I nodded anyway.

“I’m glad I came back,” Jinyoung continued, still not facing me. “The city’s fine and all, but there’s a real charm to the countryside you can’t capture anywhere else. So much undisturbed beauty, and the people around here pay so little attention to it.” He sighed, as if upset that no one else partook in his grand artistic vision.

“I guess people are too busy actually working,” I replied. He ignored me.

“But I suppose that’s just how it is,” he said instead. “People usually can’t see beauty like that when it’s right in front of them.” He looked down, and I could swear there was a strange grin on his face. “Before you know it, time has passed, and everything you took for granted has just -- slipped away… Gone to someone else who wanted it more.”

I just stared at him. I didn’t know what else to do. I must’ve looked pretty stupid too with my mouth wide open, but I always did have a problem controlling my facial expressions. I didn’t understand his words at all. Was it some weird artist-code or something?

“Your friend Chanshik has a real knack for photography,” Jinyoung stated randomly, breaking the silence. I perked up at the sound of his name, instantly more invested in the conversation. Jinyoung had a very fond smile on his stupid pretty-boy face that ticked me off for some reason. “Well,” he said, rocking back on his heels and putting his hands in his pockets, “I'd best be off now. It was nice talking to you, Jungjin.”

What was that all about? The least he could do was get my name right.

When he was about 20 metres away, I finally let my frustration out. “Junghwan!” I yelled at his retreating figure.

He turned around, and gave me a smile that could only be described as infuriatingly angelic. “No, my name’s Jinyoung,” he called back, “Jung Jinyoung!”

Never I have I been closer to physically assaulting someone in public than at that moment.

*

I went home that day not thinking much about that strange conversation. But in hindsight, I really should’ve seen it as some kind of warning. Perhaps it was the eternal optimist in me, but looking back, I was stupidly short-sighted about a lot of things.

*

With Jinyoung wiped clear from my mind for the most part, I spent the rest of the Summer in peaceful oblivion. Before I knew it, the time came for me to return to university once again.

Gongchan offered to accompany me to the bus stop, dragging my heavy luggage despite my protests. It was dawn, the remnants of the deep blue night retreating across the sky, the cool air sitting pleasantly on our skin. Gongchan was still feeling sleepy, so he rested his head on my shoulder.  I could feel the press of his elbows on my back, and, if I concentrated enough, the warmth on his breath on my neck. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. I was almost numb to Gongchan’s touch by then, because he was always doing it.

It was a lonely bus stop, with metallic paint peeling and the slowly dying posters of forgotten events, looking out onto an empty road. I had a long journey ahead of me, and I was only comforted by the thought of tucking into a huge meal once I was back in Busan. My mind drifted off to a little restaurant near the train station where they made they best kimchi pancakes I’d ever tasted. Oh, and the chicken bibimbap! The naengmyeon! The wafer-thin bulgogi that melted in your mouth...

My daydream was cut short as Gongchan sat up on the seat with the groan of old metal, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at me as he saw my face.

“You’re thinking of food, aren’t you? You’re getting this dreamy expression on your face. It’s really cute.” 

“Hey!” I exclaimed ang