“It’s a nice country.” I could only nod in response. The whole year I spent in Singapore, I only cried and pooped, and was basically unconscious.

“How do you like Cole?”

“I’m not a professional, so I can’t really say, but there’s something about his music. The beat, melodies are all really good,” I start and hesitate a little before continuing, “But it’s the lyrics that don’t come up empty, and it’s a breath of fresh air considering what’s out there at the moment.”

“A breath of fresh air, huh?” I see him smile, and for the first time I notice the small creases on the corners of his eye. I knew he was only three years older than before, but some reason it felt as if he’s aged a lot more, physically and mentally. I hate that I had to continue my little white lie. Before I could say anything else, the door opens and Jessica appears looking a whole lot better, though her face was still flushed. She took a glance at him, then at me and I could already picture the words that were coming out of when a smirk started to creep onto her face.

“Let’s get you out of here.” I quickly say, covering and grabbing her arm to drag her away. “It was nice meeting you!” I shout back to him, and he gives me a small salute in return.

“It’s him. Oh my god, it actually is him! That’s insane!” Jessica yelps as soon as we were out of earshot, jumping in excitement.

“You’re going to fall, Jess. Being drunk and jumping in stilettos isn’t a good idea. But yes, it’s crazy insane." I would probably be doing what she was doing, had it not been for the fact that I had to steady her with my hands in case she loses her balance. “Let’s find you a nice seat next to Grey to get your sanity back.”

“But you need to go see him, Rika!”

“He’s peeing. Let’s go.” I drag her to the bar to meet Grey, who could only laugh when he saw Jessica in her cute-drunk state. She does turn that cuteness up a notch when she’s intoxicated; it’s a habit of hers that every guy easily finds endearing.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her have a sober day in the three days I’ve known her,” he chuckles. He leads us upstairs to the quieter VIP section and sits Jessica down on one of the couches, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her steady. I could tell he was a decent guy, and for once agreed with Jessica’s choice in men. We met with a couple more of his colleagues who were on the same table, such as the stylists and photographers. They were really passionate about what they were doing, and with a little bait, they began talking about their future concepts for Cole and the like. It was nice meeting such motivated people, but in my head all I could think about was him, which was why I almost spat out my drink when he appeared in front of me. He talked to one of the photographers called Sam who I remember had said that he was in charge of the concept shots for the album jacket and they were laughing. Then before I knew it, he was suddenly standing beside me.

“I didn’t know you were a friend of Grey’s,” he says, taking a seat.

“You know Grey?” I blink.

“Yeah, the guy over there with your friend right?” He nods towards Grey and Jess, who was still picking up shots.

“I swear, she needs to stop drinking,” I silently growl.

“It’s alright, Grey’s a good person, and he’ll take care of her.”

“I know. It’s tomorrow I’m worried about,” I turn towards him and hold out my hand, “I’m Erika by the way.”

“I’m Edan,” he replies, shaking my hand. From there, we did not stop talking. It was about everything and nothing, but I remember laughing and smiling a whole lot. It was Grey that broke our conversation, with Jess drunk in his arms.

“I’m going to take her home, I’ll drop you off as well Rika.”

“I’ll take her home Grey,” he cut in, before I could say a word, “If you want.” It was after a stunned silence that I could finally make an effort to say something.

“Sure,” I replied, “That sounds good to me.” It sounds very good to me.

After the two of them leave, we move downstairs where people were still dancing their heart out and the music was still blaringly loud.

“It’s late, let’s get you home,” he says in my ear. I nodded. As soon as we were out the door, I put my blazer back to fight the cold wind and give him a small thank you. He smiles and leads me to the car park, where a white Bentley starts to blink its lights as I see him press the key. Obviously, he was still living the high life here in the US. I noticed the interior still smelt strongly of leather as I sat down at the front, and watched as he did the reverse out of parking with one hand thing that I love. I saw the veins on his neck as he stretched to look back, and his arms flex as they rested on the back of my seat and I knew that I had to distract myself.

“Is the car new?”’ I asked.

“A present I recently bought for myself. You know, since the songs I wrote finally got their debut. I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you I was a composer.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you I was a student. There, we’re even.” He laughs in reply, and we move onto the road towards my apartment.

“Doing what?”

“Psychology. Final year at UCLA. Then I’m moving on to my masters, somewhere.”

“I heard the last year is the tough one.”

“Thus, my reason for coming here tonight. Oh, make a right here.”

“You didn’t even get drunk though,” he points out, after turning the wheel.

“I guess you were more interesting than alcohol. I meant what I said about the songs by the way. You’re really talented.”

“I’m glad you liked them.”

Then soon enough we’re on my all too familiar street, and a small part of me begins to crumple in disappointment. The night was everything I had hoped for and so much more, so I honestly don’t have the right to complain. This man, the person who inspired me when I was eighteen to do something I love, is driving me back home in his car. What more could I ask for? With his car parked outside my apartment, I notice him sitting still and a selfish part of me hoped he wanted to stay with me longer, but I knew we had our own lives to return to. In the morning he would probably go back to his studio, blink his eyes, and write up some amazing new song, and I would be going back to my own work.

“Thank you, again,” I say and reach for the door handle, as I feel his hand on mine. A jolt of electricity shoots through me. I silently gasp as I turn and find myself staring into his beautiful, dark brown eyes, and suddenly I’m taken by an overwhelming feeling. Take away his charm, his looks, and his talent and I realized that here was a simple boy, who had struggled for a dream and is still struggling for it. And despite the small sense of relief after his songs have gained reacceptance in this new place, on the other side of the world, it felt like a part of him was still empty, lonely.

“Don’t ever stop writing, you’re really gifted,” I whisper, “I’m sorry I lied.” I kiss his cheek and get out of the car, before I did anything stupider, and make my slow walk up to the apartment.

Note: Anything in italics is spoken, written in Korean.