Kim Namjoon waltzed into your life like a dream. One day, you were in the park reading your favorite book and the next day, a thin man with dimples as deep as his soul had your heart fluttering. One day, you were content with your life and satisfied with where you were in your journey—and the next day you found the one person you could never live without.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I was just curious what you are reading.” His voice was deep, soothing, but you were still annoyed that someone dared to disrupt you while you were laying out on a blanket, surrounded by buttercups and buzzing bumble bees. You were flipping through the pages, unable to stop, lost in an adventure, a world far away, with characters from another realm. And someone had to rip you away.

But then you looked up to see who dared to bother you. His face was soft, cheeks plump in all the adorable places. His lips were plush and distracting, spread into a smile you only read about in books. Around his neck hung a camera, his long fingers holding it as if it were an extension of his hand, as if he were touching the world through the images he captured.

You held up the book so he could see the cover, unable to do anything that involved words. “Inkheart, good book. One of my favorites, actually.” You nodded and managed a smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, again. I’m a student at the university, studying photography and the lighting over here is perfect and you look… stunning.” Your heart raced to a stop and you were sure he could see the way your insides liquefied under his gaze, honey dripping from his eyes. “Would it be okay if I took a few photos of you reading?”

You nodded again. You cursed at yourself for being so awestruck with a complete stranger that way. He still has the same effect on you, years later, but it was extra embarrassing the first time.

“Stay where you are. You look perfect.” His smile widened and your heart fell into your stomach. How could someone be so handsome? He raised his camera and pointed it to you for a moment. You could feel his stare through the machine, making you feel vulnerable.

“May I touch you for a second? If I could just straighten your shirt over your shoulder, it won’t be so shadowed and will make your skin glow in the sunlight.”

“S-Sure…” You managed to say a word to that surreal being and you couldn’t even say it right. He fell next to you, his presence more graceful than his knees, and it made you feel at ease. You chuckled to yourself as he smoothed your sleeve, the noise hiding the fact that his touch was hotter than the sun blazing over you.

“There. Just go back to reading and doing what you were doing. Just be natural and ignore the camera and me.” He stood again, but you didn’t miss him stumbling a bit as he regained his balance.

You went back to your book as he asked, letting yourself get lost in the story again, of Moe reading the gold out of Arabian Nights for Capricorn and his goons. You imagined Moe’s voice to be the ethereal creature that moved around you, solidifying you in a two-dimensional world forever. He should be the one in front of the camera is all you could think as the words of the novel washed over you. He must have been read out of a book about a prince, a handsome prince, a prince that saw the world through a lens that made the simplest things, like you reading on a blanket in the park, beautiful.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” You look up from your coffee cup and into the same handsome face that stole your heart three years ago. “You look like you’re a million miles away. Is your head in the clouds or are thinking dirty things?” He winks with a playful smirk.

“Clouds.” You chuckle and reach for his hand. “Thinking about when we first met.”

“The day you forgot how to speak. A day I miss because you haven’t stopped talking since.” He laughs when you hit his arm playfully, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“I don’t talk that much…”

“I love that of all the things that make you speechless, I was one of them.” You bite your lip and look into your coffee again. Damn Namjoon for having a way with words that make you feel like that kid in the park all over again. You bring the cup to your lips and finish the last at the drink, hoping it hides the blush on your cheeks.

“We should get going. We’ll lose the sunlight if we don’t hurry.”

“Do we have to do this? You didn’t get enough pictures the first time?”

“I’ll never have enough photos of you, babe.” He stands and holds out his hand. You set your empty mug down on its matching saucer and collect everything together. You hate to leave a mess behind, even if it’s “okay” to. You finally take his hand and his fingers wrap delicately around yours. He holds you like he holds his camera, like his entire existence depends on whether or not you’re safe and secure with him.

“Fine, fine. But only because I love you will I let you take pictures of me.” You swing your hands as you bow to the cafe workers in thanks. He holds the door for you, the same way he did on your first date here—a gentleman then and a gentleman now. You kiss his cheek as you pass through.

“Does that mean you loved me then?” He smiles, his chest puffing out with pride.

“I loved you the next day. I was annoyed you disturbed me reading my favorite book.” His laugh is light like a spring breeze and soothing like crashing waves. He pulls you against him and kisses your temple.

“I was in love the moment I saw you. An angel with a book. You were a dream. You are dream.”

You scrunch your nose at the line but your heart beats loud in your ears. You stop walking and pull him in for a kiss, deep and uncaring of the stares from others around you. Three years is enough time to forgive someone for interrupting your reading time, especially when he still leaves you speechless.