After meeting the enigmatic character when he performed in the music bar where you worked, the arduous journey to rearranging your hearts began.

It was awkward. The two of your were shy, and young. He sang of sweaty girls, the drunken stupor of society, blood loyalty and the untouchables in our social hierarchy and had dreams to make it big whilst you wiped down tables and sipped at your tea. He walked on the car-side of the road everytime the two of you went out to the streets, to protect you from game traffic. You ruffled his hair and pinched at his nose when he couldn't understand your love for Kafka, Kerouac and Kirkegaard. You fought when things didn't work and time was unforgiving, always to crawl back to forgiveness and compromise after neglected call ands and rocks thrown at the window.

It was sweet though. You were both young.

Bang Yong Guk. He made it big. But before he did, the two of you fell out of touch. The whole thing split, raggedly, like ripping crumpled paper. 

He found you again though. Dragged in ignorance to a concert, sitting doe-eyed in the audience. When he noticed, he stumbled his lines. Afterwards, he looked through the fans and despite weird glances and confused whining from his ever-growing fanbase, called out your name. That was when you decided to run for it.