It’s a Friday just like any other, so you continue your routine as normal.  After tutoring your last university student, you enjoy a delicious rose latte from your favourite cafe before heading into the heart of Seoul to purchase the makeup needed for your YouTube channel.  Catching a glance at yourself in the mirror, you quickly give yourself a once over before furrowing your brow and nodding in approval.  You are wearing your new maroon plaid shirt that dips down to your knees at the back, a pair of black skinnies, black suede laced up biker boots with grey fur lining, a black leather jacket, along with a cream and black blanket scarf.  Your long iced chocolate brown hair has begun to wave naturally from the damp December air, and your simple yet chic makeup is still looking flawless.

*Why do I always have so much stuff?*, you inwardly moan as you shuffle your heavy teal bag on your numb right shoulder.  Over time, the strap has become thinner and weaker, yet you never learn.  Every day it is packed full of students’ exercise books, makeup, unnecessary snacks, water, an assortment of junk kept neatly in your white rabbit sweets pencil case because you’ve always been a bit of a neat freak and your macbook.  You know you should get a more practical bag, but fashion always wins.

As you wait in line, you find yourself spinning the engagement ring on your finger.  It feels cold to touch, and even the thought of your fiancé doesn’t bring you any warmth.  You’ve only been engaged for a few days, but you’d be lying if you said you are completely happy with the prospect of marrying Yeona.  The two of you have been dating for nearly two years, yet rather than feeling excited about taking the next step as a couple, you can’t help but feel like the ring is a heavy shackle.  There is no doubt that you love each other, but you honestly don’t know if that is enough.  You have no clue if this is what you want for your future, or if you are simply doing what people expect.

You are so lost inside your mind that you haven’t even noticed that you’re slowly shifting out of the busy queue.

“Offt”, you emit loudly as someone bumps into you, sending the contents of your handbag sprawling in every direction as it hits the floor.

“I’m so sorry”, a soft, somewhat delicate voice apologises from under a black cap, “I wasn’t paying attention”.

You can’t get angry because something like this was bound to happen with the weight of your bag.

“It’s okay”, you affirm as you bend down and begin to retrieve the scattered exercise books, “It’s my fault”.

“Either way, I’m sorry”, he continues through a black mask as he passes you the slightly childish pencil case.

You look up and feel slightly weary of the man before you.  Not only is he wearing a black cap and mask, he is also adorning sunglasses, making you unable to see any of his features.

“Honestly, it’s okay”, you smile as earnestly as possible before picking up your favourite Kat Von D lipstick and cramming it back in your bag.

“Sang?”, the man questions in bewilderment, making you completely confused, “Kim Sangae?”

Instead of answering, you look up as if trying to bore your eyes through his disguise.

“It’s me”, he continues as he quickly takes off his sunglasses and mask.

It takes a moment for you to remember him, yet before you can say anything the queue is urging you to move forward.  Quickly, you go to grab your bag but realise the strap has finally given up.  In a flurry, you push your bag against the counter with your foot and order your coffee before turning back around.  The person in front of you seems a lot less daunting now, and on second inspection, you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat.  He is wearing black ripped skinnies with a baggy plain white t-shirt tucked in at the front, white trainers, a long black hoodie that grazes his thighs and a black leather jacket.

“Taekwoon?”, you smile brightly as you throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him tightly, “It’s been years!”

“It really has”, he affirms as he awkwardly pats your back lightly, his body held rigid.

Hugging is definitely an English thing, and even though you only spent a year in England five years ago, the habit refuses to leave you.  You wish you’d never even picked it up in the first place, but your English friends had certainly been partial to a good hug.  Before it gets even more uncomfortable, you quickly release him from your grasp and head towards the pick up counter, kicking your bag along with you.

“So how have you been?”, you ask as the barista hands over your drink, making you let out a small squeal of excitement paired with some form of jiggle, “Latte, latte, latte”.

He takes a long sip from his cup before replying: “Good, and you?”

“Not too bad”, you reply as you scoop up your bag with your free arm and head out of the busy cafe.

Once in the cool December air, Taekwoon puts his disguise back on before asking earnestly: “Is it broken?”

“Hm?”, you are too busy wondering why he is hiding his face to listen.

“Your bag”.

Things feel a little bit awkward between you, but it is to be expected.  It really has been a long time, and he never was a man of many words.

“O-Oh”, you begin before chuckling as you notice the strap swaying limply in the wind by your thighs, “Yeah, I guess it finally died”.

You had first met Taekwoon seven years ago when you started your second year of university.  After some housing issues with another friend, you ended up moving in with two students who were already in their final year studying Biology.  You’d moved in early to be close to your boyfriend of the time and hadn’t even met them yet when Jisu messaged you on Facebook informing you that her boyfriend would be staying the night.  The whole situation made you nervous, but you felt you had no right to tell her otherwise because it was her house too.  You waited anxiously for his arrival for hours, playing every different scenario out in your head until you had convinced yourself that you were going to be murdered.  When the doorbell had finally rung at close to midnight, you were glad to see that he wasn’t (as far as you could tell) the complete psychopath you had envisaged, but instead seemed intelligent and gentle.  Expecting Taekwoon to go straight to Jisu’s room, you had been surprised when he followed you silently into the kitchen.  He effortlessly made you both a cup of coffee in the familiar surroundings and proceeded to talk to you for over an hour, obviously assessing your compatibility with Jisu.  When you woke up the following morning, he had already left.

“Follow me”, Taekwoon’s voice pulls you out of memory lane.

“Hm?”, you question as he relieves you of the broken bag, your arm not moving from its position, “What?”

“Follow me”, he repeats before heading off down the street.

“O-Okay”, is all you can muster as you feel yourself being swept up by the situation.

            *    *    *

“What about this one?”, you smile half an hour later as you hold up a light grey shoulder bag, “Cute, right?”

Taekwoon ponders for a moment before exaggeratedly picking up your deceased bag, letting it plonk back onto the floor with a light thud.

“Point taken” you chuckle as you place the bag back on the shelf, “Something practical…”

As your eyes sweep across the display, you can’t help but glance at Taekwoon.  So much has changed since then.  He’s no longer the person you knew.  Back then he had been a trainee for an agency, something that had caused him and Jisu to argue a lot.  You remember hearing them having heated discussions for hours on end about how he didn’t put her first, and that he was always too busy or tired.  You hadn’t meant to listen, but the walls were thin, and It definitely wasn’t the only thing you heard.

“This one?”, he queries as he pulls a black and white striped canvas backpack from the top shelf. 

Taking it from his grasp, you loosen the chord and take a look inside.  It has a separate compartment for a laptop and a zip pocket at the very back.  On the outside it has a large front pocket and side pockets, all fastened with a magnet which would be handy for keeping all your useless junk organised.

“It’s perfect”, you beam merrily before feeling your heart drop as you locate the price tag, “Ah… It’s ₩60,000… Better keep looking”.

Instead of replying, Taekwoon pushes your old bag to your feet and takes the new one to the counter.

“What are you doing?”, you ask, flustered by his quick and decisive pace, “You can’t buy it for me”.

“Is that all?”, the male clerk emptily smiles as he scans the tag, completely ignoring your opposition, “Would you like a bag?”

“Taekwoon!”, you object loudly as you arrive at his side, “I said you can’t buy it for me!”

“No, thank you”, he ignores you as he collects the receipt and heads for the door, “Coming?”

Quickly, you retrieve your belongings and follow him outside.

“Why aren’t you listening to me?”, you fume as you drop your bag onto a bench and fold your arms in disapproval, “I told you not to buy it for me!”

“But you wanted it”, is all he mumbles through his disguise, making you even more angry.

You inhale deeply and count to three before furthering your argument: “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should get it for me.  I’m not a charity case”. 

You can’t see his features at all, but his shoulders are slumped over so you know you’ve upset him.

“Look”, you start before taking another deep breath and sitting next to him calmly, “Sorry, I know I should be grateful for your generosity… It was just… unexpected”.

Taking the backpack out of Taekwoon’s grasp, you place it on your lap and wrap your arms around it before turning to him once more: “Thank you.  I love it”.

“I’m glad”, he affirms softly with what you suspect to be a smile.

After quickly relaying all your belongings into it, you double check your teal fallen solider before shoving it in the closest bin with your eyes closed: *Goodbye, old friend*.

“Right!”, you declare abruptly as you swing the backpack onto your shoulders and jump it into place, “I think we’re in need of more caffeine! And snacks!”

                                                   *    *    *

“I remember that”, you laugh before taking a sip of your iced mocha, “I was so pissed!”

“Best speech ever”, Taekwoon muses through his chocolate muffin, “You could hardly stand up straight!”

You feel yourself flush a beautiful shade of burgundy: “Well, I had spent the whole day drinking on the roof… Plus, I got a first on the essay I wrote that day!”

“That’s impressive”, he chuckles as he rests his chin on the back of his hands, “You two were a nightmare together”.

Your smile fades slightly as the topic of Jisu continues, and before you know it something you should never ask slips out: “What happened between you two?”

Taekwoon ponders this for a moment before simply answering: “Life”.

They had been happy together for the majority of their second and third years of university, yet after graduation they mutually decided to break up.  You had never dared ask Jisu why, and over the years your friendship with her had dwindled away.  It wasn’t particularly your business, but you had always wondered why they hadn’t even tried to make it work.

“Fair enough”, you nod in response, knowing you shouldn’t pry any more.

Feeling the atmosphere darken, you take a mouthful of banana muffin and frantically scan your brain for a change of subject.  You are just about to say anything when Taekwoon interjects.

“So you’re a fully fledged teacher now?”

“I am”, you smile fondly, “I help English teachers control their classes and act as a sort of aid for them when there is a language complication.  I also sub music classes when needed”.

“You still play?”

“Only a little, but I have the qualifications needed for teaching music, so…”, you shrug your shoulders and take a sip of your drink, “What about you?  Did anything come from you being a trainee for that company?”

Taekwoon lets out a small chuckle before picking up his sunglasses and tapping them lightly on the table: “You could say that”.

“What was the company’s name?”, you ask earnestly.

“Jellyfish, but enough about me…”, he trails off as his eyes set on your ring.

Instead of replying, you quickly cover your left hand and force out a big smile.  You really don’t want to weigh him down with all the details.

“What’s his name?”

It’s obvious you aren’t going to avoid this one, so you take a deep breath before replying: “Her name is Yeona”.

Saying you’re ashamed of the biological of the person you’re engaged to would be wrong.  You have never once been bothered by the fact that you are panual, it’s just that people like boxes, and when someone doesn’t fit, it worries them.  You have never fit in any of the boxes.  

“When did you meet her?”

Glancing up, you see that Taekwoon isn’t even a little bit phased by the situation.

“Nearly two years ago.  I met her whilst I was on a short skiing break”.

“And now you’re engaged?”

“And now we’re engaged”, you repeat with a slight sigh, “She wants me to move to Busan with her…”

“And you don’t want to?”

There’s no point in trying to hide your negativity now: “I don’t know what I want”.