“I have nothing!” you scream, throwing all of your clothes towards the bed before falling on to it yourself.  I have a date in less than three hours and I look horrendous.  I have nothing to wear and ugh! You whine to yourself.  Here you are, about to go on your first date in Seoul and am stressing out about anything and everything.  Hoping a shower would do your mind good, you slipped out of your temporary outfit and climbed in.
                        You adjust the temperature to as hot as it could go while still being enjoyable, before stepping in and holding your hands out to catch some of the liquid before running your hands along your face, wetting it in the most delicate way.  You couldn’t understand how some people took showers in water feeling like ice cubes.  You shiver at the thought.  Turning around you get your hair wet.  Suddenly, the thought hits you: I don’t even remember what this man looks like!  I have a date tonight and I don’t even know who it’s with!  I don’t even know his name!  You scour your brain to try and remember everything you can about the stranger.  He was tall.  He had a deep voice.  He was kind.  .
                        You hurried through the rest of your shower before slipping into your robe and a pair of fuzzy slippers.  You tried to calm your nerves while blow-drying your hair by doing all sorts of funky breathing exercises.  None of them worked.  Deciding on lose waves, you blow-dry your hair just enough so that it’s not dripping, before applying a thin layer of mouse and putting six large foam curlers in your hair and securing them with bobby pins. 
                        Walking back to your room, you decide to dress casually; after all, it is just a movie date.  You shimmy into a simple white top tucked lightly into a pale pink skirt that stops just a few inches above your knee, topped off with a rose headband and white heels.  “Ah,” you sigh into the mirror after finally deciding on your outfit.  “There.”
                        When your hair dries, you take out the pins and the rollers and brush it quickly with a wide tooth comb.  “Descent,” you think aloud as you finish off the look with some hairspray.
                        Glancing into the mirror, you are suddenly displeased with your appearance.  Your outfit and figure were both fine, and your hair wasn’t out of place, but for some reason your eyes kept being drawn to your face.  Donning a little foundation and lightly applying some white eye shadow, you look at yourself one last time before coating your lips with a pale pink liner.  Here goes nothing, you say to yourself while straightening your back, grabbing your purse, and walking out of your apartment.
 

                        You stepped into the café with your head held high, nothing was going to ruin today for you.  Your arm reaches out to grip your purse tighter as you extended your neck to search for your date.
                        “Hello,” a familiar voice calls from behind you.
                        Spinning around, you almost smack the chest of an extremely attractive man. Oh, you think to yourself, has he always been this cute?  Taking a step back, you take in the full figure in front of you.  The man was a good six feet tall and was dressed well. He had light chestnut colored hair atop of a skinny frame sporting lightly toned muscles.  His face was full of undeniable beauty.  Large, chocolate brown eyes were framed by small dark lashes underneath well-groomed brows.  His nose was long and slender above cute, plump lips.  His chin was rounded enough to give him a “baby face” which was only an accent to his cheeky smile.  He was wearing a plain white tee shirt underneath a light blue button up shirt.  He was wearing a dark pair of skinny jeans and a seemingly new pair of black Chuck Taylor’s.  You couldn’t help but widen your eyes and drop your jaw at first sight.
                        “Um, hi,” you manage to choke out.  Great, now he thinks I sound like an idiot.  You try crossing your arms over your chest as if that would allow you to hide yourself and disappear from view.  Here you go, not even a minute into the reunion and making an absolute fool out of yourself.
                        “You know,” the guy begins—you make a note that his deep, manly voice does not match with his cute childlike face—“I don’t think we exchanged names last time.  I’m Chanyeol,” he says smoothly, not paying any mind to your current composure (or lack thereof). 
                        When your brain finally decided to process the lovely sounds that had escaped from Chanyeol’s mouth, you were at last able to stammer out your own name.
                        “That’s pretty,” Chanyeol comments, smiling.
                        This smile will kill me.
                        “Do you know what movie you’d like to see?  I looked up all the times and I think I accidently memorized them all,” he confessed with a light laugh.
                        That laugh will kill me.
                        “Um, any movie is fine with me,” you reply with a nod.
                        “Well, there’s a really good English, well, American movie showing at 8.  I don’t know about you, but I love them!” he scratches his head as if embarrassed.   “It’s a really great way for me to practice my language skills,” he adds, following up with a small laugh.
                        “Oh.” So he speaks English, could this guy be any more perfect?  “Sounds good to me,” you glance down at your watch and make a note of the time.  “But it’s not even seven o’clock yet.  What should we do until then?”  The moment your words had silenced, your stomach let out a small growl and you cursed yourself for forgetting to eat.
                        Chanyeol eyes you suspiciously.  “Have you eaten yet?”
                        “No,” you deny weakly.  “I forgot.”
                        Chanyeol tilts his head.  “How do you forget to eat?  Is this common for you?”
                        Admitting defeat you nod.  Not eating was actually a very common practice for you.  Not that it was your fault, between work and college who has time for food anyways?  Your stomach rumbled again.
                        “Well then,” he says before taking your hand in his, “let me take you to get something!  I know a great sushi place!  You do like sushi… right?”
                        “Yes, I love sushi!” you reply a bit too enthusiastically as you cursed yourself under your breath.
                        He beams at you before grabbing the door.  “Ladies first.”
                        Surprisingly, you hadn’t even bothered to look for Yejun today.  Where is he?  You walked through the doors and into the night as Chanyeol slipped his fingers through yours.

                        “Like it?” Chanyeol asks, grinning.
                        Your plate is almost empty and you couldn’t help but shrug at the question, your eating habits should say it all.  You had been shoving food down your throat for the past hour.  Attractive date or not, your sushi eating skills never changed.
                        “Mhm!” you hum through a bite of the raw fish, swallowing it, you felt the urge to add: “I really, really like sushi,” you let out with a giggle. 
                        Chanyeol joins in.  You notice that his __ eye twitches a bit when he laughs; you find that only adds to his adorable quirkiness.  After a few moments of soothing laughter, he speaks again.  “You know, if you want, we can just go see the movie another night.  I’m having too much fun with you and your sushi.”
                        You wrinkle your nose at the comment, unsure whether or not it was to be taken as an insult or a compliment.  Deciding to go with the later, you grin as you carefully pick up another piece of sushi between your chopsticks and wait for him to select his piece before gently hitting them together as if in a toast.  The date was going wonderfully, and you couldn’t be happier.

                        After the two of you had gotten your fill of sustenance, you think it’s best to go on a long walk and let the contents in your stomach settle.  Since you have yet to explore Seoul fully, Chanyeol decides to take you to a few of his favorite locations.  The last spot he shows you is atop the Seoul Tower.  You couldn’t help but stare at the beauty.
                        Chanyeol was telling you a story of his childhood when you saw him start to get a bit distracted; he was looking past you and began to trail off.  “Chanyeol, what are you looking at?” you ask before turning you head.  You catch a glimpse of a tall boy—not as tall as Chanyeol, and not quite as old—half visible and half in the shadow.
                        “Hey,” Chanyeol says cheerfully, “I want to show you someone!”  He grabs your hand and drags you over to where the mysterious boy is standing.  “He’s one of my best friends,” Chanyeol says while flashing you a breathtaking smile.  “Jongin-ah!” he calls, extending his ridiculously long left arm to tap the boy on the shoulder.
                        The boy, Jongin, turns around suddenly as if he had just been touched by a ghost.  Looking up, he recognizes Chanyeol and begins to sweat.  You can tell the kid is nervous, but you can’t pinpoint why.  He’s not bad looking, rather cute actually.  He had medium-length brown hair and chocolate eyes, luscious pink lips and a nice muscular build.  A dancer most likely.
                        “Chanyeol…” he whispers, grabbing Chanyeol’s hand with his own, “I think we need to talk…” Jongin leads Chanyeol, which in turn leads you, a few steps away into a pile of light.  Obviously the boy had not noticed you until now.  You see the look on his face go from simple anxiety to pure horror.  “Hyung…” he gulps.
                        Chanyeol, completely oblivious to the younger male’s distress proceeds to introduce you.  “Jongin, this is my date, isn’t she lovely?”  Chanyeol gives a cheeky grin and raises his shoulders momentarily before dropping them back down in time with his breathing.
                        You throw the seeming-ly nice boy a little wave and a smile before your forehead wrinkles.  Jongin is pointing behind you, his face in the perfect “o” shape.  A woman is walking behind you.