He sighed to himself as he lay in bed alone, already tipsy, and

contemplating getting up. His eyes were scanning his phone intently

looking for her user name. He hadn't seen anymore comments from her

lately, and wondered if something happened, or if maybe she already

forgetten about him, or got tired of him, or thought he was too weird

or crazy, or.... No. He had to stop thinking like this. His negative

thoughts ran a mile a minute. He posted a Richter. No. Maybe she

thought he was a one trick pony. Maybe she didn't like one of his

favorite artists. He deleted it. Thought for a few seconds and posted

another picture. There that should do the trick.

     He was confused at his behavior, that as a grown man, he sought

the approval and affection of a woman he knew almost nothing about, who

lived halfway around the world from him, and who didn't even speak his

language. He, who had no interest in new people, was intrigued by some

western woman, enough that he couldn't help but wonder about her. He

felt like a fool. He thought about how he ended up noticing this

strange and fascinating woman...

     He had wondered why people would go out of their way to comment on

very old posts. He supposed it made sense if it was a new follower but

he didn't understand why some of the commenters would reply over and

over, begging for or trying to trick him into a response. It always

made him want to not answer anyone because he felt bad that he couldn't

answer everyone. He noticed a comment that stood out on an old post of

food that he had called ugly. He didn't remember this username. He

noticed it was different because the words and picture didn't have

anything to do with him or BigBang. This was rare. Her comment was what

seemed to be either well studied or native english words. This was

maybe rarer. He wasn't too confident about english sentence structure,

but he could mostly understand the words she used. She addressed him

formally, saying she agreed with him and thanked him for making an

effort to share himself with his fans because she knew how hard it was

for him. Hmm? She didn't ask for selfies or tell him he was crazy. It

was just a sweet thank you for being himself.

     He clicked on her name to see her posts. It seemed to be a

relatively new account.Few posts, and fewer followers.Her profile pic

was kind of cute. She looked a bit confused or surprised or sleepy? Her

eyes heavy lidded, slightly parted... He wondered, if he ran

his thumb across her red cupids bow lips, would they be soft? He

scrolled down to see more. Oh. Just another typical female. Mostly

selfies and pics of her cat. He quickly clicked away.

     She left several more comments before he paid much attention to

her again. Usually she commented things about his health, or some

fortune cookie nonsense, and she always, ALWAYS called him Mr.Choi. One

night something was different. She called him Sweetheart, and asked why

he looked so sad. She said she wished she could ease the burden of his

pain by holding him and singing to him. He felt himself blush at how

forward she sounded, even though he didn't think it sounded ual.

     He clicked on her account again. She didn't post often, and still

had few followers. He looked at who she followed, and was a bit

surprised. Aside from himself, and a couple of most likely American

pinup models, there were no celebrities. No idols. No movie stars. No

pop icons. Just pages with strange art and vintage photos.He looked at

who followed her. No one mutual, so probably not her friends. Where did

this girl come from?

     He checked out her photos again. She had just posted an

illustration. Did she do that? It reminded him a bit of himself in

monster. Same basic face shape as him. Same smokey eye make up and

hallowed cheeks. He wondered if she realized it. He checked the caption

 and realized that she didn't know. He also realized the reason for her

comment and smiled to himself. She was the sort of sentimental that

came only from being tipsy. Since he last checked she had posted pics

of....video games? okay...then he noticed it was because she designed

what was in the photos. She posted some of her own art, and that even

though it seemed to be outsider art and illustration, he thought she

showed promise. More importantly, she had never asked him to look at

it.  He looked at her selfies again, and the longer he did, the more he

realized they weren't the usual type of 'tell me I'm pretty' photos.

They were strange and etherial. She definitely had his intrest, but he

didn't know what that meant yet. For now he would watch.

     As time went on, he felt he got to know her a bit. She liked

design, things that are dark but beautiful, and apparently, him. He

couldn't help but wonder why. He knew that you could tell quite a bit

about the things people favorite and post. His conclusion was that she

had a romantic heart, and a silly innocent quality, but that she too

had a hidden ache inside that resulted in lonely sleepless nights. So

one day when she commented that seeing his new posts always makes her

smile when she feels sad or has a bad day. He wished he could actually

see it. To know he makes her smile in person. Still, he tried to post

some things he thought she might like.

     She promised that she would tell him one day how and why she came

to follow him, and so he waited. A couple of times she sent him a

direct message, but by the time he clicked they were gone. She still

commented as if they were truly friends, but she also started typing

things that alluded to the fact that as she learned more about him and

his flaws, yes flaws, the closer she felt to him, and the more she

desired him in a womanly way. He knew that, even though they were

fairly innocent words, they spoke volumes about her true feelings, and

were only said because she'd been drinking. At first he was offended

when she said that she didn't care about T.O.P and that he was too cool

for her. He came to understand what she meant was that she wasn't

interested in his persona. Nor did she think of him as an idol. To her,

he was just a man. The feeling that someone thought of him that way

made his heart beat fast like some sort of lovesick adolescent

schoolboy, leaving him feeling flushed and foolish. But how could he

really know?

     She never begged him to notice her or to reply to her, but he

really wished that he could. He really felt they would get along and

understand each other without even speaking. Sometimes he wondered what

it would be like if she ever did hold onto him and sing him a lullaby.

He wondered what it would be like to lay beside her, not even touching,

and just study her face as she slept. He wondered what it would be like

to chat on the phone like giggling children to fend of the long hours

of the late night. He desperately wanted to know if she is more than a

far off candle flickering in the dark. He knew he never could though.

     It scared him to think that if he did try to speak with her, she

might betray him and post details online. He was scared that he might

just be wrong about everything and its just his loneliness weighing on

his heart. And most of all.....

     He was scared of failure and having yet another person leave him

before he even lets them in. After all, she hasn't even commented

lately. Maybe she was tired of waiting for him in the wings. He would never

know. He buried his face in his pillows and softly shed tears as both

payment and penance over this life that he himself chose. All he could

do was watch and wait, and he wondered if he could ever make her know,

that sometimes, he really does post just for her.

author's note: Sorry it took so long to finish what is essentially just a oneshot. My laptop has decided that it no longer wants to recognize keyboards, and so I had to type this on the on screen keyboard. So crabby! So... this story really bummed me out. I might actually cry MYSELF to sleep. Lol. Incidentally, as I was writing about him posting, he actually did. So cute.