“Get over here.  You still have an entire page of problems left,” hollered a middle aged man wearing khaki pants and a white button up shirt with a bowtie done a tad too tightly.  Shaking in his hand was a rolled up math workbook. He tried running towards the giggling eight-year-old boy, who was way ahead of him, but age and the small potbelly were catching up to the man. Heavy pants could be heard from the man as he crouched forward, planting his hands on his knees. A swirl of dust and dirt circled around him, only making it harder for the man to breathe, coughing up a storm now. 

“Sorry teach! I got dance practice right now,” the same little boy from earlier yelled back, turning his head to catch the sight behind him. Seeing the trail behind him, he giggled once again.  Anyone could see the large grin on this kid’s face, the type of smile that would warm anyone’s hearts, well almost everyone. 

“Since when?” the man screamed this time, heavy panting accompanied with this.

“In a few minutes.” the little boy waved back, a hop was in his steps, “See you tomorrow!”

“KWON JIYONG!”

———

No matter what time of the day, the streets of Gangnam were always packed.  A melody of cars blaring their horns at each other.  People halfway hanging out of their vehicles with his their hands held up making random shaking and signs while screaming at each other.  Roaring rivers of pedestrians forcing their way onto the crosswalks when there were not any light signals there.  Signs decorated every single building and skyscraper when possible.  Whether it be night or day, people were bound to bump into someone or be pressed against strangers.  No apologies.  Only moving forward like cattle in silence and in their own world.  Personal space did not exist here.  People did not care.  What was the point in a populated neighborhood like this?

In the midst of it all, a young voice could be heard every few seconds, “Excuse me.  Sorry!”

Kwon Jiyong tried with all of his eight-year-old might to push through the crowd.  His hands fastened onto his backpack’s straps like as though it would fall if there was no support.  The little pitter patter of his feet was different from the clicking of heels and heavy footsteps from those around him, light and airy were his steps like as though he was bouncing and prancing through the crowd.  During his trek his eyes were straight forward, trying to find the small gaps that he could slip in between, only looking down when needing to check the time and how much time he had left.  However, from the corner of his eye, something caught his attention.  In front of one of the many mom and pop convenience stores were two arcade machines, the root of his temptations these days, that and playing around. Slipping his tiny hand into his jacket’s pocket, he felt a few coins rustling and clinking around there.

That same cheeky smile of his appeared as he dashed out of the crowd to those machines.

———

Like his teacher, Jiyong arrived panting in front of a large gray building with some windows and only one sign.  Nothing extravagant or obvious about it like the other signs in Gangnam, just a subtle one with the words, “S.M. Entertainment,” on it in pink font.  A gaggle of girls was waiting there, many of them looking like they were standing there for hours and days with little care for themselves.  Faces oily and blackened.  Others wearing clothes wrinkled, no one washing or ironing it for some time. Some screaming names like “Tony oppa” or “Kangta oppa”.  Another crowd for him to tackle.  

Jiyong chewed on his bottom lip and inhaled deeply, charging into the building with the same yelps of excuse me and sorry when he pushed into the sardine packed crowd.  Once up the stairs though, he sighed in relief, opening the door to the clean white lobby with kids around his age and older walking around.  Some were chatting with their friends.  Others were peeking into the glass doors to watch the classes going on there, not watching the teacher, rather instead the other kids inside.  Greed in their eyes.  There were few that were taking a break, sipping on water, eating a snack, or sitting on a chair, but this never lasted long.  Only a minute or two before they would bounce off into one of the many practice rooms here.

Spotting the check in desk in front of his, Jiyong over there.  The receptionist was on the phone, talking about something, but nothing he could figure out.  In the meanwhile, she would hold up her hand to inspect her freshly manicured nails or twirl her hair around her index finger.  He stood there for a good minute or two, tapping his foot to the beat of the muffled music he could hear from one of the dance rooms blaring nearby.  Despite this waiting though, nothing still happened.  Patience was one of Jiyong’s best traits, but this phone call was never ending it seemed like.

He let out a huffed before waving his hand, “Excuse me.  I’m here to check in-“

“I’m on the phone right now.  Are you new here?” the receptionist snapped back with her hand on top of the phone.

“No.  I’m a trainee here,” Jiyong retorted, arms crossed over his tiny puffed up chest.

Clicking her tongue, the receptionist said, “Haven’t seen you here.” Her hand was ready to grab this kid and toss him out. 

Jiyong was ready to stop his foot to the ground, but before he could say anything, he heard a voice from the distance.

“It’s okay.  He’s one of ours.  He’s just never here,” a young slender man waltzed over to the two of them, clearly emphasizing the never.  When in front of them, he reached out for Jiyong’s ear and tugged at it like an old woman, dragging the little boy away from the desk.

A string of whine came from the little troublemaker as he dug his heels into the cold marble ground.  He held onto his ear while hearing the older man go on about Jiyong’s potential in dance and music, but never trying to do anything about it.  These words really only went into one ear and out the other though, especially with Jiyong’s main concern being about how to free himself.  Shaking his head and shutting his eyes tight, he truly was a sight to see in the building, putting up this fight.

Maybe it was Heaven’s intention for him.  Maybe it was luck.  Maybe it was pure chance.  Miraculously though Jiyong happened to open his eyes.  At that second, on his right side, he happened to catch the door halfway opened.  Inside he spotted a girl around his age.  Despite her young age, she had sharp distinct features, but still maintained a precious flower like feel to her.  Long black hair traveled down her back.  It was neatly combed and framed her face delicately.  Slacere a laced white dress, one that only little princesses would wear, accompanied with pastel pink sandals.  Definitely a different sight from little Jiyong, who was in his baggy tan hammer time pants and loose white t-shirt, topping it all off with dirty red converses.     

In reality what was only a second was ten for Jiyong.  Time slowed down.  Not one out of boredom or restlessness.  Rather him wanting to drag out time in that second.  Appreciate each frame of a second for a little while longer if possible.  What he saw were stars and a bright shining light surrounding the girl his age.  He saw no one and heard no one.  It was just her.

Despite it all, one thing that snapped him back to reality was when he heard another girl call out, “Gyuri”.

"Gyuri," he whispered to himself.

He made a promise to make her his girl no matter what.  She was the first and only girl for him.

At eight years old, Kwon Jiyong fell in love for the first time.