I hate it when I get lost.

I was wandering around the streets, squinting over the screen of my phone as I tried to use the map feature to locate my whereabouts. The sun was already slanting, confirming the fact that it was already late evening and that I best get a quick move on before the sky turned dark. Shadows danced against the walls, and the lampposts were looking like creepy figures that might rise into an awakening during the night.

Right after I left school, I got a text from my mother asking to pick up some flowers she ordered to give to her friend who had just given birth to a son. She sent me the address and directions to get to the flower shop, along with specific instructions to not drop the bouquet or get it wet.

Unluckily, the area she had sent me to was the one that I wasn’t familiar with in the city. I was sure that I had gotten down the right bus, but I did think that I took a wrong turn at the forked road that I encountered about fifteen minutes back.

I rubbed my arms and dialled the number again, sighing in annoyance when my mother didn’t pick up her phone again. Well, considering her career as a lawyer working at a round-the-clock firm, I couldn’t really blame her for being too busy to pick up calls from her daughter. Usually, she only paid attention to the calls from her work phone, and even that was handled by her secretary.

I pulled up the map application and stared at it again, trying to get the head and tails of it. I wasn’t very good with navigation, and I wondered why on earth my mother entrusted this task to me instead of my much more adept brother who seemed to know every curve and turn in the city, from the alleys to the large roads and intersections.

I quickened my steps and pocketed the phone, giving up. It was time to ask for directions.

This area of the city could be considered dark, but not entire uninhabited. I still saw some people walking around, and most of them seemed sane enough to not be considered as some stalker or criminal let loose. The only problem was that most of them were walking too fast for me to stop and ask for directions.

After five fruitless attempts, I finally gave up looking for the flower shop and just for the bus stop instead. I wandered aimlessly around the streets, doing my best to keep to brighter, inhabited parts and avoid the alleys.

The sound of loud, pulsing music stopped me on my tracks. I cocked my head, trying to distinguish the location of the sound, and soon found it coming from behind the chain fence next to me. I bit my lip wonderingly, debating the wisdom of following the trail of the music. It couldn’t be a club back there, since it wasn’t a building. Beyond the fence, the path turned towards the left, and from where I stood, I couldn’t actually see what was going on.

I tried to distinguish the nature of the people I might encounter by listening to the type of music playing. The song definitely wasn’t heavy metal or hard rock; it sounded like the usual innocuous, upbeat melody of K-Pop.

Thinking that I could just peek in and bolt if I found trouble, I quietly pushed open the gate and tiptoed in. There were some scrap pieces of paper and cans scattered on the path, and I did my best not to alert any attention by accidentally kicking one of them. I finally reached the corner and slowly, I poked my head in.

The area looked like a basketball court, quite large, and enclosed by four buildings that rose from all four sides. The south wall had a mural depicting a tall basketball player dribbling a ball over a yellow background. The mural on the west wall looked newer. Musical instruments were painted over a background of dark blue, music notes snaking up from each of them in a serpentine motion, representing the tune they supposedly played.  

The basketball net had been replaced with a tall platform and perched on it was DJ table, surrounded by speakers that pulsed to the beat of the music. A crowd was gathered in the middle of the court, hands up in the air as they cheered and clapped to the beat. I slinked out from behind the wall.

They didn’t look harmful. In fact they all looked young, high school aged, like me. Most of them were guys and a few of them were girls, though judging by the height of the heels they wore, I suspected that some of them were college aged. There were some shorter, petite ones who looked like they could be in my year. As the crowd parted slightly, I saw the spectacle they had been admiring.

I got closer to get a better view. Taking centre-stage was a boy about my age –perhaps a year or two older –with blonde hair that sparkled as it caught bits of light. His bangs flopped into his eyes as he danced, revealing a delicate nose and a soft jaw. I could see that his skin was glistening with sweat, induced by the rapid succession of different dance moves he whipped out to showcase to the crowd.

I watched in awe. He moved with sharpness and grace, calculative in a way, and he had a certain edge to his performance. His dancing was quick and smooth, skilled and passionate, filled with bursts of energy that showed that he was enjoying his performance.

It felt like the song was ending too soon; I felt like I had just walked in when he struck his last pose and dropped into a bow. When he rose, he was grinning, accepting hi-fives from the guys and thanking the girls who were all gushing over him. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and flashed a wink at the crowd.  I stared at him, unable to move.

It took me a few moments to gather my senses and remind myself that I was here to ask for directions.

The crowd was dispersing, and I had to swim through the flow of people while tapping shoulders before either getting swept away or deliberately ignored. I recognised some of the people here; they were students at my high school, Seoul Academy. Unfortunately, none of them were in my social circle, so none of them deigned to talk to me. As of now, I had two girls brush me off and one guy who seemed to not hear a word I said.  

Why do the people have to be so darn snobby, I thought as I tried to find a friendly face.

I ended up having the friendly face find me.

I rubbed my shoulder, feeling my forearm pound for a while at the impact. I wasn’t focusing and had ended up bumping into someone –a strong someone judging by the strength of the collision. I looked up, and was rendered speechless when I met the eyes of the Dancing Boy.

He had nice eyes, I noted, taking in his warm brown irises that looked like the leaves that crunched under my feet during fall. He was relatively taller than me, and as he tilted his head downwards to look at me, I saw that his hair was actually a rich honey gold, framing his large eyes and cherubic face.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

I snapped out of my reverie. “Yeah, I’m fine. Perfectly fine,” I said as I averted by gaze. My goodness, those eyes... my heart was doing somersaults.

He smiled, and my breath hitched again. “I haven’t seen you around. Are you new around here?”

“Oh, no, I’ve lived in Seoul since I was born.” Then it clicked that he was probably wondering if it was my first time here, at this abandoned basketball court that had been converted into some sort of dance stage. “But it’s my fist time here,” I quickly amended, hoping he didn’t realise my foolishness. “You did great back there.”

He smiled again and rubbed the back of his neck modestly. “Nah. That was just a so-so. You should see my friend, he’s way better than me. Anyway, I’m Luhan.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Luhan? That name sounded familiar. I racked my brain as I tried to recall where I had heard it. Vaguely, I remembered a distorted voice from a few distant ages ago, pronouncing his name through some sort of speaker during some sort of occasion. Then it clicked. The school’s PA system. Luhan had been called to the teacher’s lounge about two weeks ago via the PA system.

“Do you go to Seoul Acedemy?”

He looked surprised. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’m a senior. Do you go there too?”

A senior. That explained why I never met him. Except lunch, the seniors were mostly separated from us during study hours; they had a whole floor to themselves, and mostly gravitate amongst themselves in terms of social circles. The only times we’d find seniors lingering around was during lunch or speeches or special events that warranted the participation of every student. And besides, our school was big, so there were perfectly good chances that Luhan and I would never bump into each other in the premises.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m a year below you. My name’s Kim Yoora.”

“Yoora, huh?” he said, eyes twinkling. “So what brought you here to this little secret club?”

I then realised my motive for coming here in the first place. “It’s something really stupid actually,” I said embarrassedly. “I was looking for directions.”

Luhan chuckled and I blushed, hard. “No, no,” he said, coughing and straightening up, “sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. You came to right place; I’d be happy to give you directions.”

Great. He probably thinks I’m an idiot, I thought, mentally slapping myself.

“How do you get to a flower shop by the name of ‘Flowers for Tomorrow’, and also the nearest bus stop,” I added quickly. Might as well face the truth and admit that I had no idea how to get home.

“When you’re out of the gate, go right. Walk for about ten minutes and you’ll see a junction going right. The shop’s right around the corner. As for the bus stop, I don’t really think you’ll be eager to walk all the way –it’s pretty far –but there’s a subway station just across the street from the shop.”

“Perfect,” I said, flashing him a grateful smile. “Thanks a bunch.”

“No prob.”

“Well, I’ll get going now,” I said, slowly backing away from him. The truth was that I wanted to stay here longer and talk to him, but I was also afraid of the nonsense I might spout to one of the most visually perfect guys that I had ever met.

“See you in school,” he said with a smile and a wave.

I turned and headed back to the gate with the words echoing in my head.

See you in school.