WE WALKED SIDE BY SIDE — Namjoon, Taehyung, and I — down a long stretch of cozy cafes, elegant restaurants, and storefronts with bold, colorful signs. I drank it all in like a tourist in a foreign country, staring about with wide-eyed delight. However, once all the excitement and newness of it all passed by, I was left walking in a terribly uncomfortable silence, surrounded by strangers.

"Say something to him," Taehyung kept urging. "Just act natural." But what exactly was my natural? Was I witty and charming? Shy and unassuming? Friendly and playful? Calm and easygoing? Perhaps I was loud and abrasive, totally obnoxious, but did that really matter? Right now, my natural state consisted of awkward small talk and endless fidgeting.

Why fight it?

I stared down at the red wedge sandals on my feet, watching the gold buckles glint in the morning sun. I could feel Namjoon's eyes on me the whole time, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him for more than a few seconds. Those sunglasses, they created an intimidating and impassable barrier between us, and I wasn't sure how to overcome it.

It didn't take long for him to notice it too.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Namjoon asked after a while. His voice was low and timid. "You're awfully quiet."

"Oh?" I glanced at him, instantly meeting the black-tinted wall, and turned away again. "Sorry, I, uhh, I have a lot on my mind."

As we crossed the street together, the gap between us seemed wider than ever. People passed through it with ease, their eyes glued to their mobile phones. I saw that Namjoon had pulled out his too, and I wondered if I was to blame.

On the other side, food vendors had set up stalls throughout the crowded square. They were selling deep-fried pastries filled with cream, sizzling meats on skewers, and cold, refreshing treats. As we lingered among them, I could feel my stomach start to rumble with a sharp pang of hunger. Taehyung seemed equally enticed.

"Fish cakes! Barbecue! Fried chicken!" His eyes sparkled as they bounced around from booth to booth. "Wow, it all looks so delicious!"

It really did, and it smelled even better. The late morning air was spiced with grill-smoke, garlic, and chili peppers. It made my mouth water and my stomach growl. I tried my best to ignore it, but it was impossible. Before I could stop it, my stomach growled again, louder this time. Namjoon slowed his pace suddenly and looked over at me. "Was that your stomach just now?"

I turned away, my cheeks flushing. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Sorry?" He laughed. "Why are you apologizing, dummy? Didn't you eat breakfast this morning?"

I stared blankly. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" He made a face. "What kind of an answer is that? You can't go to work on an empty stomach." He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Here, let me buy you something. What do you want? A pastry? Sandwich? Hurry, pick. Anything you want."

I started to stammer. "N-No, that's okay. You don't have to. I'll be fine."

He groaned impatiently. "Come on, stop being stubborn. Your father will kill me if I let you starve."

My eyes widened. My father? He knows my parents? Just like that, I was stricken speechless, staring at this man with newfound fascination. Who is this guy?

He surprised me further by reaching out and taking my hand like it was second nature to him: so casually, so confidently. I in my breath while Taehyung cried out in shock. "WHAT? You can't just take a girl's hand like that! He's practically a stranger!"

But he isn't a stranger, I thought, not really. I may not know him, but he definitely knows me well enough to ... Blushing, I stared down at our joined hands, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, but something was off. My hand didn't fit naturally into the tiny spaces between his fingers, yet clumsily I tried to force it, like someone shoving a puzzle piece into the wrong space. We simply didn't match. Could he feel it too?

No, he must not have.

Without looking back once, he led me through the square, weaving in and out of the crowd with ease. We passed a small stall where a woman was selling twisted doughnuts covered in cinnamon sugar. 

"No way! Remember these?" He flashed me a dimpled grin, beaming with childlike excitement. "What do you think? Should we get some? Hmmm, we kind of have to, don't we? For old times' sake? Yeah, wait here."

Namjoon released my hand and approached the vendor. Taehyung quickly stepped up to take his place. "So?" he asked, hopeful. "Anything?"

I shook my head.

"Nothing, huh? Well, that's no good." He started rubbing his chin. "Hmm, well he knows your parents, so you must be pretty close. Could he be a relative or close family friend?"

I nodded. "That makes sense."

He seemed to agree, at least at first. "Or maybe ..."

Namjoon came back before Taehyung could finish, carrying two cinnamon twists. He handed one to me, and we continued on our way. The doughnut was golden brown, fresh out of the frier, and smelled amazing. Namjoon didn't bother waiting for his to cool down.

"Wow, I haven't had one of these in years," he said, his lips dusted with sugar. "Not since, what, middle school, I think. Wow ... Feels like longer, though, doesn't it? Man, you were always nagging me for these after school."

"I was?"

"Yeah, you don't remember?" He sounded surprised.

Frowning, I brought the doughnut to my lips and bit off a small piece. It was warm, soft, and mildly sweet. Wow, it's so good! I the sugar off my lips and eagerly took another bite, then another and another, savoring every little piece.

Slowly, the world around me started to fade away, and a new one emerged in its place: all hazy and dreamlike. "What's this?" Taehyung whispered, awestruck. "A memory?" Buildings sprouted up from the ground like trees, and a concrete path rolled out from beneath us, stretching out as far as my eyes could see. Two school-children walked upon it, a girl and a boy dressed in different colored uniforms. The girl was happily eating a twisted doughnut, her smile so big it went all the way up to her eyes.

The boy glanced down at her. "I'm not sure you even deserve that," he said, rolling his eyes, "not after failing your math test. What are you gonna tell your parents?"

"I'm not gonna tell them. My mom will freak out if she finds out I failed another math test. So let's just pretend I lost my test on the way home, okay? It just blew away, and neither of us could catch it."

"Your mom isn't gonna fall for that, you dummy." The boy laughed and tousled her hair until she playfully shoved him away. "Besides, the school is gonna call your parents anyway."

"What? No way! They do that?"

Now he was grinning. "Uh-huh! So you better stop slacking off. You'll be in middle school next year, Moanna, and then high school before you know it. How do you expect to get into a good high school if you don't study?"

"You sound like my father," the girl muttered back, taking a huge bite of her doughnut and chewing aggressively. She swallowed it all and stuck her chin in the air. "Anyway, I don't care about getting into a good high school. I'm not as smart as you, Namjoon. I swear, it's like you don't even have to try. As for me, I'm perfectly fine with being average."

"What?" He brushed her off. "No, that's unacceptable. I won't even consider it. You have to work really hard so that you can go to the same school as me. Deal? Then we'll go to the same high school and the same university, too."

The girl clutched her head. "Ugh, that sounds like too much work! Why do we have to go to the same school?"

"Because my mom says I'm supposed to watch over you, and I can't do that if we keep going to different schools." He gently bonked her on the head. "Besides, I know you can do it."

Her face went red. "You do?"

"Yup!" He smiled proudly. "So you have to promise me. Swear that you'll study harder."

She smiled back. "I swear. From now on, I'll study real hard. Who knows, maybe I'll even be accepted into a better school than you."

Giggling, the girl took off running and the boy followed close behind. They flew past Taehyung and me and vanished into the distance, their carefree laughter echoing in my ears.

The scent of cinnamon lingered in the air long after the memory had faded. My face broke into a huge smile, and I held the doughnut close to my chest. I almost didn't want to finish it. "I remember," I muttered.

Namjoon glanced my way. "Huh?"

I met his gaze confidently. "I remember now. We went to different schools, but you always found a way to walk me home. Even though you were so busy, you made the time for me, always."

He put his hand on my head, affectionately messing up my hair just like in my memory. When he smiled, I saw a little glimpse of that same little boy. He's still there, isn't he? I realized. Although he looks different, he's still the same person deep down. I may not know who that person is just yet, but I know he's someone special to me. I can just feel it. 

 

We reached our destination shortly after that: a modern yet rustic French-style cafe with a small covered terrace blooming with greenery. My jaw dropped when I saw it for the first time. It was so beautiful, like an oil painting come to life. I really work here? Wow ... I felt honored and humbled all at the same time.

In the distance, someone new was calling my name. I turned and saw a young man with dark hair walking toward me from the opposite direction, a backpack slung over one shoulder. "Hey, Moanna!" he called out with an enthusiastic wave. "Long time no see! Wait for me, okay? Here I come!"

Without wasting a second, the man broke into a brisk jog and met me in front of the building. I had no idea who he was, but his cheerful smile instantly put me at ease. He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm glad to see you finally feeling better," he said. "We were all praying for a quick recovery."

"Feeling better?" Taehyung repeated. "Were you sick?"

The young man noticed my company. "Oh, Namjoon, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

Namjoon shrugged it off. "I promised to walk Moanna to work. It's no big deal."

"Yeah, but if you keep skipping class—"

"I said, don't worry about it!" Namjoon snapped, his voice rumbling with repressed anger. "Why do you care if I go to class or not, huh? Jeez, this guy ... Hey, Hoseok, do me a favor and stop lecturing me like I'm one of your students, okay?"

My eyes widened. "Namjoon," I uttered, crumbling under the tension. Was that any way to speak to another person? He was only showing his concern. Had I really caused him to miss his class? I bowed my head in guilt. "It's my fault. Namjoon, I'm sorry you went through all this trouble and missed class because of me. You really didn't have to. I could've walked myself."

"Eh?" His expression softened. "I said it's no big deal, dummy. I promised I'd walk you, so I did. Besides, I can stand to miss a class or two." He gestured toward the man called Hoseok. "This one just likes to give me a hard time. He has nothing better to do."

Hoseok smiled bashfully. "I'm just looking after my junior. Someone has to."

"Hey, we're the same age last time I checked."

"Right." He started to laugh. "It's easy to forget sometimes, isn't it?"

Slowly, I was beginning to understand their dynamic. Still, I had no idea where I fit into it — or if I fit into it at all. I felt so out of place.

"Oh, look at the time," said Hoseok, checking his phone. "Moanna, we should be heading in. The cafe will be opening soon."

"Right. Okay." Before going, I turned to Namjoon and gave a grateful bow. "Thank you for walking me to work. Please get home safely."

Namjoon scrunched up his face. "Why are you acting so formal all of a sudden? Anyway, don't push yourself too hard, okay? I mean it. If you're feeling tired and overwhelmed, be sure to take a break. Hoseok will look after you. And I'll pick you up after work, so just wait for me here, okay?"

He's gonna pick me up again? Is that really okay? 

Deciding not to push it, I nodded and thanked him one last time before heading inside with Hoseok. Namjoon stayed by the entrance for a while to make sure I made it in safely. I don't think he meant for me to notice, but I saw him standing there when I glanced over my shoulder. He's still watching over me, after all these years. And yet ... it feels different somehow. The way he smiled, the way he held my hand ... Why? Who is he to me? 

I was determined to figure it out.