There, seated alone on a couch in the corner of the bar, Taehyung saw the girl for the first time.

He was heading to the restroom downstairs when he spotted her, leafing through the pages of the menu quietly, eyebrows furrowed. A newcomer, he thought to himself as he walked past. On his way back to where his friends clustered together, he caught a glimpse of her still fixating on the menu, turning the pages again and again in what seemed to him a perpetual indecision.

What’s with her?

Taehyung pulled out a chair across from Jeonghan and rejoined the group, though he wasn’t really keen on following what the others were discussing and his gaze too often wandered across the dimly lit room to where she was. The girl was an anomaly; the singularity contrasted starkly against the boisterous crowds scattered all over the place, and that fact alone was enough to pique his curiosity.

“Stop ogling at her like a freaking creep!”

He immediately turned his head to Jeonghan, a smirk playing on his lips. A hush fell over the table as everybody’s attention shifted to Taehyung, whose eyes darted around in confusion.

“She just caught my eye, that’s all.”

The long-haired man nodded in apprehension, raising a bottle to his lips and drinking the liquid in measured sips. “That’s new.”

 

 

That was indeed new.

Taehyung had never been the most outgoing out of the bunch, and back on the more idyllic days he would’ve preferred to read comic books or play League of Legends or just spend his free time indulging his many whims. But life happened, and he’d long realised he couldn’t afford to be so carefree anymore—not when everyone was scrambling desperately at the wall to find something to hold on to. Still he found himself coming to everyone’s favourite hangout place whenever he needed to uncork the tension, and through the years together with his friends their Friday night outing had become some sort of ritual.

They would drink to their heart’s content, talk, discuss about current affairs should anyone call for it, or even roam around to try their luck—anything that would help distract and relieve the stress. Taehyung, on another hand, would draw himself to the background, listening to the other guys’ chatter or zoning out in his own world. He would switch off to unwind the strained knots, and respond occasionally to comic reliefs or topics he deemed interesting.

But tonight, too, he saw the girl sitting in the same spot, and his equilibrium was in chaos thanks to the stranger’s intrusion.

She was typing away on her tablet, the white light from the screen faintly illuminating her sharp features. Drinking his favourite soju—the smooth, savoury taste flooding his mouth, Taehyung sat back. Thoughts swirled in his head, spinning round and round on their circuitry and urging him to stand up.

And so he stood up quite abruptly, then walked in her direction with an awkward gait. As he got closer, the girl gradually came into focus, and for a brief second Taehyung was puzzled by what he saw. The amber eyes, an intricate mingling of copper hues at dusk, met his—an endless stretch of midnight sky.

What’s wrong with me?

He could hear his voice shake. “Can I join you?”

Her lips upturned slightly, and just then a waiter approached her table to serve a bottle of Chamisul and a plate of french fries, providing him a chance to order another bottle of C1 Blue. Soon after he left, she nodded her head—her voice low, but clear.

“So long you don’t mind protracted pauses.”

 

 

He glanced at her still figure and for the longest time held his gaze there, her eyes peering through to take in her surroundings. She appeared intrigued, in a way that made him curious as well.

“Why are you looking at everything like that?”

“I don’t know.” She said ironically. She didn’t sound bitter or anything. “It’s just that believed I was missing out, and I thought everyone had this exciting life when in reality they don’t. We all really just do the same boring, mundane things every day of our lives.”

“Hm. But that’s life really is about, an endless loop of losing ourselves in a routine.”

She shrugged it off reluctantly, her stare still distant. Taehyung sat down across from her then, his finger over the mouth of the bottle. Moments passed, and she finally twisted the cap of the Chamisul and pulled it open.

“I probably should’ve gone with Chum Churum to give myself a proper welcome.” She said, bringing the bottle up to her nose to inhale the content slowly. She then took a careful sip and swallowed, after which her face visibly soured. Taehyung chuckled a bit.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.” He raised the chilled bottle in his hand. She laughed. Her laughter was crisp amidst the unabated cacophony, the kind that made him smile when he heard it. Taehyung looked at her face; in the gloom he could just make out her fair eyelashes, the slightly turned-up nose, and the hint of dimple on each cheek. He thought she was beautiful. Not perfect, but beautiful.

He looked to the floor, unable to believe himself.

“So are you attending Korea University too?”

“I’m in my fourth year.” He answered. “Majoring Computer Science. How about you?”

She stabbed the french fries with a fork. “I’m a Public Administration major.”

“And this is the first time you ever set foot in this place?” He launched a question he’d been dying to ask, at which she nodded. While he acknowledged that everybody had their own propensities, it just seemed idiosyncratic in this day and age to not engage in the compulsory social act.

“I don’t suppose you’ll understand.” The girl said. “I’d much rather study and keep everything in perfect order to chase my parents’ dream, but one day I just got so upset and decided to give it a try.”

He took another swig of the soju and grimaced as it went down. He remembered it all too well; the first time he’d seen her and spent the night casting furtive glances at the misfit—unable to look away.

She stood out so much from the crowd.

“I come here every other week with my friends. We drink, have snacks, play board games,” Taehyung said with a smile, “and it’s nice, you know, to bury your head in the sand once in a while.”

“I actually agree with your conclusion.”

“But you always come here alone,” Taehyung said, emboldened now, “sit on that couch and spend most of your time here typing.”

She put aside her tablet and looked at him fixedly.

“It’s because this is the only pair of one-seater couches in entire the bar. One pair—“ he couldn’t help but grin at her gesticulations, “—one pair, okay, which attests to the prevalent communal culture, but that opinion is neither here nor there. Regardless...” She pat on its arms endearingly, “this couch in this bar is almost perfect I’m able to work on my thesis at an accelerated pace.”

“Almost perfect?”

“Close enough to the campus, yet pretty dubious my friends won’t deign to go inside and hound me nonstop with preps for the civil service examinations.”

 

 

And just like that, she’d be there on the days he visited the place. In the corner, fully focused on the tablet.

And when the conversation between the boys went off on a tangent he couldn’t follow them all the way to infinity, he’d come over and sit across from her. A plate of starter and either a glass of cocktail or cider on the table—something she’d finally settled on—she’d look up briefly from the screen and say, “Hi.”

Taehyung put the bottle down.

“Hello.”

“You always order only that brand of soju.” She said. It was a tic of hers, to state her inquisition in the form of declaration. Taehyung’s eyes drifted to the blue-coloured C1 printing on the white paper.

“Hm. This is something I’ve grown accustomed to drinking.” He explained. “And it tastes alright.”

“See, you didn’t even say you like it.” She emphasised the word like. Turning off the screen of the tablet, she took a piece of pajeon with the chopsticks and dipped it into the sauce. “You’re just okay with it because there’s an element of familiarity.”

“I guess it’s just the safest bet.” He admitted, his boxy smile bashful.

She flashed a small smile as she turned her tablet back on and started the keys—arranging her thoughts as she typed. The illusion of stillness quickly enveloped them, and Taehyung could only hear the subdued clicking sounds as she tapped rapidly on the keyboard. Her eyes glinted with seriousness and sometimes frustration, her lips moving wordlessly—alternating between smiles and frowns.

It’s funny how when his attention was absorbed in something or someone, all the noise seemed to dissolve into a soundless buzz—the echoing dance pop all around them vanishing into a vacuum. Everything else seemed transitory, and she alone was on his focus.

“How’s the progress of your thesis?”

The girl typed some more, but eventually turned the tablet off and put it inside her backpack.

“It’s going very well, thank you for asking.” She answered. She picked another piece of the pancake and popped it into , biting it down slowly. “I’m keeping the momentum going so I’ll get to graduate as fast as I can.”

She offered it to him too, so Taehyung took the chopsticks from her and picked up a piece. “And what do you plan on doing afterwards?”

After having washed the food down with gulps of cider, she spent seconds looking down at the glass, pausing to give her answer some thought.

“I'm aiming for an internship in the Ministry of Education.” She said resolutely. “Because I hate our country’s education system. I despise the pressure and expectations—and this constant conversion of dreams into money and prestige-making ventures.”

She said that with such fervour, such radiance that she took his breath away. Their gaze locked throughout the exchange.

“I’m also considering a career in the creative field. It’s just... I’m so fed up with people telling me what I should be doing with my life.” She continued. “Ever since I was little, my parents were dead set on pushing me to become