Choi Junhong was only 11 the first time he fell in love. He was in his room with his friends, and someone started singing. He doesn’t quite remember who that friend was, probably someone from a grade over him that had followed him home after hanging at the skate park.

What he does remember is the words that boy awkwardly raps out, softly and not meant for Junhong to hear.

“Even if my heart hurt I wanted to definitively endure it. I didn’t want to fall in love again. I was hoping my feelings would dry. Even when meeting you I tried so hard. I tried to hide my heart, from then on my breathing stopped.”

He remembers listening and slowly repeating, tasting the words on his tongue. It felt good there, and he tried it again, slightly faster this time. Again and again, he repeated the words, higher and higher and adding a soft beat to it after a while. He rolled his tongue to make the words longer or shorter, cutting himself off or allowing his voice to slowly die out. When he looked up again, all of his friends were staring at him. He remembers blushing and wanting to die right there on the spot. What was he doing trying to rap when his friends were still there?