It starts in silence.

You’re not sure when it happened but you do remember how the day was.

It was hotter than usual for a fine, spring day—the temperature rising higher than the supposed weather forecast the night before. You don’t mind the heat, you revel in it. You like that it gave you the chance to finally wear that floral sundress Dana had been whining to you about—the one with dandelions and daisies littered around the hem and collar. It looked nice on you, as do every piece of clothing your friend had forced you to buy does. You’re okay with that.

You bumped into him on the street. He was jogging, his ears plugged with his earphones in place and blaring jazz while you were preoccupied with texting Dana about running late for their brunch with friends. He was cute, in a floppy, sweaty kind of way, but you hadn’t really thought much of it then. It was barely a hit too, but it made both of you stop and look back—your eyes catching each in other in a dead lock of… curiosity and warmth you were almost tempted to do something stupid like grin and say ‘hi’ to a sweaty stranger.

He did it for you instead (thank God), raising a hand over his head in a wave and grinning before turning back to his run, plugging his ears back with a jazz song you swear might have been the soundtrack of that very moment. Except you didn’t know his name and he doesn’t know yours, and he’s gone and you’ll probably never see him ever again.

That day though, with the heat sweltering against your nape and sticking hair across your cheeks, you thought you were okay with the notion.

You meet again on another hot spring day and this time you’re the one jogging with your ears plugged and blaring Mozart into your system. You don’t realize it was him until much later, when he tapped you at a much-needed water stop—grinning that grin as he handed you a cold bottle of water and told you he’d been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes since you rounded the gate at the East wing of the park.

“I’m pretty sure the parents around the playground thought I was crazy for yelling at you all the while you were jogging there, but you couldn’t hear me and I had to try.” He said, running a hand through his hair as a sheepish smile crossed his lips.

“I don’t usually respond to strangers yelling at me on my jogs,” you told him, smiling despite yourself because how can she not when he looked so cute and precious in his suit and suitcase in hand. “Shouldn’t you be off to work and not loitering at a children’s park?”

“I should,” he agreed, shrugging as he fixed his eyes on you again. Heat rose to your cheeks and for once you’re thankful you’d just come from a jog and sweating and not opening blushing at a cute guy she hasn’t officially met yet,  “but I saw you pass by the gate on the way and I remembered you so…”

You shake your head, patting your face with a towel and smirking (blushing). “Do you often follow around girls you bump into?”

He laughed at that, extending his hand towards her—his watch glinting in the light as he spoke. “Only the pretty ones. My name is Yunho, by the way.”

It’s too warm when you let your hand wrap around his, but you’re okay with that as long as he keeps smiling at you that way.

“And my name is Liyin. It’s nice to meet you.”

It continues in a song.

You realize after an odd number of months from meeting Yunho that ‘Love at first sight’ does exist to an extent.

You were attracted to him at the start, even though you hadn’t known it then and it’d only grown as time went on and both of you developed a steady friendship of sorts.

It always brought a smile to your face when he tells you your meeting each other was faith. Destiny. As though it was a whimsical sort of event that should be recorded in the type of storybooks you read as a child.

Secretly you believed him, even though you outright for being so sentimental—ruffling his hair on the days you jog together or catch a late lunch, scoffing over the phone or whining when he uses it as a reason why you should share your popcorn with him when he came over for a movie. He liked to be affectionate, holding your hand at scary moments of a film or hugging you from behind while they joked and played around while on a jog.

He became your confidant, your brother, your best friend, your love. And for a long while, you thought he saw that in you too.

It was easy to fall in love with him, and he with you though you both never really spoke about it. It didn’t seem important at the time. It was just destiny.

But then he meets her, BoA, and the world in