I had 'Can't Say' stuck in my head the entire time while writing this and when I googled the lyrics it sort of makes sense.

Taekwoon looked at his arm and gave a gentle smile. It was that time of day again. He bit his lip and turned up the volume of his music while he watched the patterns appear on his skin. It fascinated him. At the same time of day, every day, they would appear. They were in all colours of the rainbow: cherry red, vibrant green, electric blue, even the occasional splash of pink. 

The patterns themselves varied day to day, season to season. Gorgeous oriental flowers would appear in the Spring while cute little snowmen would inhabit in the Winter. Even the weather seemed to have an influence sometimes. He hated that he had to keep them covered. They were part of him somehow. He never washed them off; instead he would wait till they faded. Seeing the patterns gave him a great deal of comfort in his hectic life.

He neglected to even glance at his other arm which was a chaos of ugly, black ink. Messy characters of hurried notes were scribbled on his skin, smudged by the fabric of his long sleeved shirt. He hated them. They were a taunting reminder that his life was spinning out of control. The meeting with Choi at 2pm right after the lunch with his parents at 1pm. And when he got home, his girlfriend would expect him to go out with her or spend the night pleasing her in other ways. She never doodled on him. She never sketched gorgeous oriental flowers in the Spring or painted cute little snowmen in the Winter. Instead she would choose to decorate his skin with ugly, red lipstick stains or leave painful booms of purple and navy on his neck and collar bones. She never even noticed the patterns usually. Though, once, when she had, she had been furious.

Taekwoon sighed and looked down at his arm once more. His right forearm was now almost fully covered with a giant Arabesque motif. It was beautiful. It was styled in rich oranges and cheerful yellows, the pattern of colour not faltering once. It was so uniform, so neat, so pretty. It seemed to be the only piece of tranquility he had left.

Wonshik creased his brow in concentration as he finished the zen doodle on his forearm. He knew he should've really been paying attention to the artist singing in the recording room but they were on their thirteenth take and he was so bored. With a hushed grumble, he pulled the sleeve of his denim jacket down and pressed the small button in front of him, cutting off the music and speaking through the intercom. He told them exactly what they wanted to hear: they did great, he would mix it for them as soon as possible, and that they could go home. Over two years of producing, this routine had been repeated too many times to count. 

When the singer had shaken hands with him and taken her leave, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and shuffled back to his chair, sinking down and beginning to put away his equipment: laptop, notepad, flashdrive and his pens. He hadn't meant to aquire the twentyfour pack of felt tips. He had bought them for his niece but, as she had been particularly defiant that day, his sister wouldn't let her have them so he took them back with him to his apartment. From there, the strange habbit of drawing on himself just began. He blamed the fact he didn't have a girlfriend.

He sighed and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his other arm, a strange disarray of black ink, the occasional blue. The markings seemed rushed, aggravated. They would appear at random times in his daily schedule. Some of them were small and sharp, others larger and with less pressure; it was almost like the writer had lost the will to put whatever they were writing down. But all of it was messy. It had taken Wonshik months to figure out they were even words.

He wondered who it was who could lead such a life. He felt like he was their personal diary most of the time, wishing they would share more than just dates and times and the occasional place... Place. 

Wonshik frowned and sat up in his seat, looking closer at the latest scribble to appear. He squinted, biting his lip as he tried to decipher it: 'Gangnam, Bloom And Goûte, 5pm'. 

When Wonshik arrived at the café, he was slightly shocked at the amount of plants that were placed around. They were everywhere: hung over the door frame, potted on and around tables. The lighting was simple and dimmed. Relaxed music washed from the speakers in the corner of the room, slightly sad and melancholic. The establishment itself seemed moderately busy but he still couldn't understand who would meet here unless it was for a date or something. His throat tightened all of a sudden. What if he had accidentally stalked someone on their date?

He took a breath and bit his lip, finding a booth near the back and sitting in the corner. He removed his beanie and sunglasses and buried his nose in the menu, eyes darting around the room every so often. He probably looked more conspicuous than he would've liked. 

After deciding he wasn't hungry or in the mood for a drink, he pursed his lips and reached into his pocket, drawing out a small, red sharpie. Wonshik pressed his palm firmly on the table and leant over, making sure to be careful as he put the ink onto his skin. Sharpie didn't wash off easily.

Taekwoon watched the man in the booth with his head tilted in unhidden fascination. He wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before; tall, wide brown eyes deep and sparkling with something Taekwoon couldn't identify. His mouth was small in a natural pout and his dark navy locks fell across his forehead. 

Taekwoon let out a small, unintentional sigh and sat back in his chair. His business partner was already twenty minutes late. He shook his head in annoyance and reached down for his mug of coffee, lifting it up without taking his eyes off the man. 

However, he nearly dropped it when something on his hand caught his eye. A bright red silohuette of a tree. What the-? Taekwoon's head snapped up again and he frowned at the man in the booth who was still leant over the table, not paying any mind to anyone else in the room. 

He watched in awe as a small cage appeared slowly, hanging off the tree with the door open, small birds flying out into an imaginary horizon. Taekwoon looked at the man again but this time made an effort to see what he was doing. He observed closely as he could when the stranger lifted his hand and inspected his work, giving Taekwoon a quick glimpse of the drawing.

It was identical to his. Not one line or shape was different as far as he could tell.

Taekwoon didn't know why he felt the corners of his mouth creep upwards into a wide grin or why a shaky sigh of relief left him. He scrambled for the pen in his blazer and tore off the cap with his teeth, gazing down at the flock of birds. He bit his lip and placed the tip of the biro on his hand, just under where the birds were flying and wrote in large, clear letters. 'FOUND YOU'. 

Okay, so I wrote this because I was bored and this idea has been stalking me for literally weeks (literally, it was a prompt that kept popping up on my Pintrest feed). It's my first one shot and I don't think it's that good but please feel free to comment and tell me what you think.