As the morning sun slowly elevated through the dark sky, its silence was broken by pants and gasps for air. A strained desperate expression took over Minho’s face prompting him to clench the bedsheets. sweat emerged from his forehead and neck, emitting a foul stench. Minho clenched his teeth and tossed in bed until finally he opened his eyes to a dim blue room.

He laid there on his bed in a fog of embarrassment and sadness. Like many other nights, Minho had awoken from the same nightmare. Twisted representations of childhood traumas, figments of his imagination used to explain fear and anger. It’s obvious that life wasn’t so good to him in the past. That’s why Minho had moved to a new place, without any friends or relatives. It was hectic his first week, going back and forth between Minjung and Minho and instantly he was out of groceries.

“I left the groceries I bought at that place. .” Minho, sat up like a zombie awakening from the dead. It was five in the morning, of course no stores were open at the moment. So why not spend the time dressing up? Minjung needed some fun, too.

He walked over to his cheaply made vanity mirror and scanned his makeup. He began his conduction. He squirted a bit of moisturizer onto his palm and spread it across both hands. Then he rubbed his hands across his face giving every crevice attention. He sprayed a bit of primer onto his fingertips and distributed it along his ‘pore-problem’ area. He pulled out his tube of foundation and wiped the cream on his cheeks, chin, and forehead. With a brush in his hand he commenced a tempo. He spread the foundation to the beat of soft symphony playing in his head. A romantic song with the build of an explosive love. And with a wild love like so, you need to set. He let down his foundation brush with a clink and grabbed a soft and puffed setting brush. Next was contour, but because of his already sharp facial structure he had to be careful, gentle, and delicate. A tiny swipe here, and little there. Coming up was the most pleasurable part. Highlight. His nimble hands fumbled around his drawer looking for the small clasp that encased a rose shaped powder. It glowed a soft pink, like a freshly bloomed shepherdess rose.

Minho searched through his cluttered mess yet again for a glass fan brush to apply the highlight. With a swift caress like a conductor’s 4/4 mark to the cheekbone Minho concluded his face makeup. He looked up to his mirror and peered into his own eyes. He wasn’t completely finished. His fourth movement was beginning. Eye makeup was generally his forte. He was quick and efficient in daubing colors onto his eyelids. He chose natural colors that compliment the highlight. A velvety pink and a slight red undertone dramatized his eyes. It was an expeditious process and within a few minutes he was done. One brisk strike to both eyelids and his eyeliner was done. Lips were left and Minho had a difficult time deciding what color he was feeling. It was either a strengthening red or a compassionate pink.

After much complentation he decided to go with the red. His final note. Loud and robust.

Finally it was time to find an outfit. Minho was really feeling roses. He dug around his closet for anything with roses on it. He managed to find a white crop top and a pair of mom-jeans with embroidered roses. Then, to complete his look, he set the outfit off with simple ankle strap red heels. Minjung was good and ready to go.

She grabbed a matching purse and stuffed her keys, wallet, and phone, along with some earbuds, into it. As she walked out the door a lean figure walked by. A guy with a cigarette in his hand and a lighter in the other. He seemed to be low on the lighter fluid because of his continuous clicking that annoyed Minjung as she locked the door.

“.” He hissed.

Minjung knew he was going to ask her for a lighter and mustered a strong firm answer. Minjung absolutely hated smokers, smoking and anything of the like.

“Hey, maybe this is a sign I should stop smoking.” This guy didn’t sound like some old creep Minjung assumed he was. She turned around to see a skinny boy around the same age she was. He was wearing one of those thin hoodie t-shirts.

“Oh, yeah. Smokings not good for you anyways.” Minjung gave a small scowl under a light chuckle.

“Yeah, no .” The guy threw his cigarette over the ledge. “I noticed you glancing at me.” The guy joined his hands together through the front pocket on the shirt.

“I know you weren’t looking at me because you think I’m attractive or anything. I’m not dumb.” The guy rested his back on his door and turned to look at Minjung. “I’m smart enough to notice that last night I only saw a man walk into your room.” Minjung gripped her purse and was ready to attack any bigotry.

“I don’t judge. I just want you to know that I think it’s pretty cool, what you’re doing. You’re proud in being able to express yourself in more than one way.” He stared towards the blue sky and didn’t even look towards Minjung.

She was surprised by his words. His words that spilled a deep hidden secret. His words that reflected Minjung’s own deep hidden secret. His words that allowed a bit of mutual comfort.

He sighed and headed inside his room.

“Wait, what’s your name?” Minjung interrupted his exit and he seemed to light up at her question.

“Kim Kibum.” He gave a soft smile before going inside.

Minjung sighed and returned a smile. There was some sort of underlying trust that caused her not to panic. A newly found encounter with a promising future.

“Now, those groceries…” Minjung walked down the steps and made her way to the market that would take approximately thirty minutes to get to.