It was his haven.

 

The little music store was located at a corner of a less populated street. it had aisles wide enough for just one person to squeeze through, walls and walls of less commonly known albums, and a special record section that is Jongin's ultimate favourite. 

 

He had always harboured a penchant for vintage items, and this store, with his cramped display and musty smell, was ironically the place where Jongin felt like he was most open, most carefree.

 

He discovered the store on stormy afternoon that caught Jongin by surprise, as he never developed a habit to take an umbrella out with him. Shivering and drenched, he had tumbled into the shop, gasping and cursing inwardly for his foolishness or probably just laziness for not bringing any waterproof coverage at all. And it was the rainy season, to top it off.

 

The storekeeper glanced up at him with slight amusement as Jongin shook himself like a puppy, trying to find a part of his body that he could dry his dripping wet face with, but it was pointless because his entire body was wet anyway.

 

"Dude, don't wet the display." The storekeeper murmured. He was a tall young man, middle-twenties, and had large sparkling friendly eyes. Jongin bowed at him gratefully, and proceeded to flop his damp body onto a small seat by the window.

 

He had no choice but to wait this out, he thought. The warm moist smell of the display collections had a lulling effect on him, and soon he found himself softly nodding off. Before his eyes shut in a slumber, he thought he had a soft chuckle, and a "Wonder how long more this would continue. He would want to resume his painting soon."

 

Jongin felt a soft nudge in his side, and his eyes flew open, dazedly. The storekeeper stood over him with a bemused expression. "Dude it's close-shop time, you've been here for hours."

 

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Jongin stumbled clumsily to his feet, eliciting a giggle from the storekeeper. "Thanks for looking after me... Uh... Shopkeeper." He bowed once, feeling his cheeks burn at his slip-up.

 

"You can call me Chanyeol. You're very welcome, it's nice to see a new face in this part of town. Hope you'll come back again." The man called Chanyeol patted his back with a smile.

 

***

 

Jongin found himself back in the music store the next day after his university classes, and there were two storekeepers that day. Chanyeol waved at him with a broad friendly smile. 

 

"Hello again!! Uh..." 

 

"My name is Jongin. Good to see you again, Chanyeol-sshi!" He bowed respectfully.

 

Chanyeol made a face. "Drop the formalities, I said call me Chanyeol, right? Anyway this is Yixing the co-owner, he comes in some days to help me or take over me."

 

Yixing approached him with a dimpled smile. "Hello Jongin, never seen you here before."

 

"Ah, I just discovered this place yesterday, and I really like it here. Umm..." He looked down at his toes, shuffling slightly, "Do you guys mind if I sit here for a while? I mean, if you want me to buy something first I can... And unnh..."

 

Yixing chuckled. "I'm going to free you from your awkwardness and misery but saying that YES you can stay and NO you're not obliged to buy anything."

 

Jongin's eyes widened, and he turned to Chanyeol, who nodded in approval. "Thank you, thank you!!"

 

"It's fine, Jongin. No one actually asked such a thing before, you're the first."

 

***

 

Before long, Jongin was coming in everyday, clad in a soft jacket as the store was slightly cold, hand holding a cup of coffee or tea or some warm drink, other arm tucked with his school worksheets.

 

The shop wasn't busy during weekdays, and was usually patronised by elderly regulars who came in for their dose of music dating back to the 1950s. This left the store peaceful, perfect for study, and this also left the table by the window perpetually empty.

 

Jongin would squeeze himself on the small chair by the window and spread his books out, pouring over exponentials and graphs and calculus, and listen half heartedly to the friendly banter between Chanyeol and Yixing, which would sometimes include himself.

 

"Yixing you're gonna destroy it! I command you to stop that!" Chanyeol shrieked between laughter, and Jongin looked over to see the usually calm man doing a crazy hip hop dance with a record balancing on his face. Jongin doubled over at the sight of his new friends goofing around, sometimes wondering if they were really 25 years old, as they claimed to be.

 

"Jongin come over and try! It's fun!"

 

"No way in hell! Now stop that or you're going to DROP it!!"

 

***

 

After a week of discovering the music store, Jongin discovered something else.

 

He happened to be gazing out of the glass wall one fine afternoon, when he noticed the building directly opposite the store. 

 

It was a small corner shop as well, but the interior was blocked from outsider view. There wasn't a sign on the shop front, which intrigued Jongin even more. But the thing that truly caught his attention was the open-air balcony on the second floor.

 

It was a small area, a design unique to that store only, leading Jongin to think that it was specially customised by the owner. In that small area, a large easel had its back half facing the street below, such that Jongin, from where he was seated, couldn't see the artwork. 

 

And there was a young man who sat on a stool, painting away on the canvas.

 

Through the glass, across the road, Jongin could barely make out the man's face. He couldn't pinpoint his exact features, but he could identify his smile, his frown, his concentrated gaze. 

 

He would watch as the man add a few on the canvas, lean back to study it, and then nod to himself with a small smile.

 

He would watch as the man sit staring at his canvas for hours, wondering where to put his brush next.

 

He would watch as the man nod off on the stool, finally falling off with a crash when his body couldn't hold its weight. And he would chuckle as the man pick himself up with a dazed, confused look and search for his brush that had slipped out of his fingers in his sleep.

 

Maybe, he was watching too much.

 

***

 

"Jongdae." Yixing said one day, jolting him from his obsessive staring deep thoughts.

 

Jongin turned to look at the smiling man. "It's Jongin."

 

"I don't mean you, I mean him." Yixing tilted his head towards the building opposite, where the man was now hopping about, seemingly trying to get paint out of his hair.

 

"Oh, really?" Jongin stifled a giggle as he watched, not bothering to hide the blush creeping on his face.

 

Yixing rolled his eyes. "Oh god you are hopeless. Anyway, just thought that you should know."

 

Jongin blinked. I should know? "Wait, Yixing-hyung. How much do actually know about Jongdae."

 

After an hour of probing, Jongin learnt a lot about the mystery guy.

 

Kim Jongdae, 23 years old, graduated from university with an arts degree, and opened his own artwork studio. He currently has the most sought-after artworks despite him being a rookie, but he mainly turns art requests down because he wants to paint what he wants. 

 

When asked how they knew all that, Chanyeol shrugged. "Well, that's what he told us. He comes over sometimes."

 

Comes over sometimes. Jongin couldn't understand the strange butterfly feeling he had in his chest after hearing that. 

 

Jongdae comes over sometimes.

 

For some reason Jongin didn't really want to be around when he comes over. But at the same time he wanted to see the man's face up close.

 

***

 

He didn't have to wait long.

 

Approximately three weeks from the day Jongin discovered the shop, he was pouring over his homework as usual (not staring, not staring, I have a test coming up, I need to FOCUS) when there was the familiar tinkling of bells. Jongin looked up out of habit to see who had come in, and froze.

 

Jongdae.

 

It was unmistakably him, with the all-too-familiar smile, and messy chocolate curls peeping out from his snapbacks. He wasn't wearing his usual dirty overalls, instead clad in a simple black shirt and dark jeans. 

 

Jongin's eyes shot down immediately, and he hoped Jongdae hadn't seen him. He tried desperately to become one with the chair.

 

"Hey Jongdae, hi!!" Yixing ran up to Jongdae with his hand up, and the man slapped it in response. "Good to see you again yo!" He swung an arm around Jongdae's shoulder and led him to the back of the shop. "You can see me everyday from your shop, Yixing..."

 

Jongin couldn't help but stare at the man's perfectly sculpted body, lean but strong, small but sturdy. 

 

No Jongin. Go do your homework, a voice in his head warned, and he sighed, turning back to his books.

 

But once again, his eyes strayed over to Jongdae, who was now browsing the music along an aisle. Jongin's breath hitched, as he took in Jongdae's face, now clear as day, on front of him.

 

He had gorgeous eyes, framed with long eyelashes, and his mouth seemed to be curled in a perpetual bow-lipped smile. His jaw was firm, cheekbones high, and had a smooth radiant complexion. Then Jongdae suddenly looked up, straight at him, and Jongin felt a sizzle of shock jolt him.

 

Jongdae smiled, his lips widening and his eyes crinkling, a breathtaking sight. Jongin swallowed and returned what seemed more like a wince than a smile, and quickly ducked his head into the textbook he was reading, hiding his flaming cheeks.

 

A soft tinkle announced that Jongdae had left the store. The breath that Jongin had been holding for what felt like forever whooshed out of his lungs, and he coughed awkwardly to push down the lump in his throat.

 

***

 

It happened several more times. Jongdae coming in, smiling at him kindly, browsing the music, buying a record disc or two, smiling at Jongin again, and then leaving. Every time it happened, Jongin felt a tight constriction at his throat like someone was strangling him, and his heart would flutter madly in his chest. Worst of all, his face would swell into a red flaming cherry and sometimes he couldn't conceal it well enough by his books due to his nervousness.

 

Other days, Jongin would let his eyes wander to the man on the stool with his artwork, painting with a renewed sense of determination that Jongin had never seen him with. Why, I even notice such things, he chided himself. But he didn't feel guilty or creeped-out at himself. Instead, he just got more curious.

 

The days he disliked were the days that rained. Although he loved to hear the sound of the rain pattering against the glass panes, and the cool moist outside air after a downpour, Jongdae didn't paint on rainy days. Not outside, at least. He would have shut the balcony door, and Jongin would gaze wistfully at the empty spot where the easel and the man would've been. 

 

Without knowing, Jongin found himself falling. He could've tried to pick himself up, to stop coming into the shop, to stop letting his gaze settle across the road. But he didn't. And thus he was falling.

 

Falling hopelessly in love with the stranger he knew as Jongdae.

 

***

 

"Just go see him already."

 

"Just go talk to him already."

 

"Ugh just kiss him already."

 

"Shut up!!!" Jongin groaned as Chanyeol and Yixing surrounded him one day with exasperated looks. 

 

"But honestly, you just keep staring and staring with that wistful lovesick look that it's driving me mad!" Chanyeol threw his hands in the air to prove his frustration.

 

Yixing placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's been three months, Jongin. You've been staring at him for three months. We can't just sit back and watch anymore. Just GO talk to him, will you?"

 

"Yeshhhhh! It's not like he lives in Afghanistan or something, Jongin. HE'S JUST ACROSS THE ROAD  for god's sake!!"

 

Jongin chewed on his lip sadly. "Why would he like me back. He's so smart and perfect and talented but I'm nothing."

 

Chanyeol and Yixing slapped their foreheads in unison. "How dumb can you get, Jongin? Seriously you should change your name to Dumb-in." Chanyeol moaned.

 

"Just go talk to him... At least if he doesn't reciprocate, you guys can be friends..." Yixing added with a hopeful smile.

 

"But..." Jongin sniffed. "I don't want to be his friend." He knew he sounded awfully immature, but at that moment he didn't really care.

 

"DON'T BE CHILDISH Jongin just go there and kiss him already."

 

"Shut up Chanyeol. Jongin, we'll leave it to you but I really hope that you would pluck up some courage and do this. We'll support you, okay?" Yixing smiled, his voice gentle.

 

Jongin just felt like hugging Yixing and punching Chanyeol square in the face. But he simply nodded and managed a weak "okay..."

 

***

 

It took Jongin a week of rolling around in his bed and pressing his face to his pillow in a great dilemma to finally pluck up his guts and head over to the other side of the road from the side he always went. It has been a week since he went to the music store, and when a worried Chanyeol rang him up, he had told him that he was thinking, and Chanyeol had erupted into cheers and hoots and whistles, so Jongin just hung up.

 

Walking along the street, Jongin felt his heart jumping about in nervousness, and he considered running back home and burying his head under his pillow again countless times. But finally he was here, standing in front of the art studio, palms sweaty and toe curled in his shoes.

 

He turned around to see Chanyeol and Yixing with their heads stuck out of the shop, and they gave him a thumbs up in encouragement.

 

Okay, so there was no backing out now.

 

Jongin gently pushed open the door, and was immediately hit with the pungent smell of paints and thinner. It was slightly suffocating, but Jongin's nose adjusted quickly. 

 

There was no one in sight. Paintings were strewn everywhere, leaning against the wall half finished, flat on the floor with just a pencil outline, and stacked together looking dazzlingly and flawlessly completed. They were all astonishingly beautiful, each artwork so delicately painted and expressed with young, vibrant colours. There was realistic paintings of everyday life, impressionist paintings, still life paintings, abstract paintings, and they were all picturesque, unique and breath-taking in their own special way.

 

Jongin thought that he was lingering too long, and should focus on the task at hand. He found a staircase at the back of the first level, and began to ascend it.

 

The second storey was empty as well. The room was spacious, and there was a television, a couch, a large gramophone player and a magazine rack. It looked so plain and simple, yet so cosy and liveable.

 

The second floor didn't have any paintings, aside from the one at the balcony. Curiosity engulfed him, and he headed over to the balcony to have a look at the painting he had always watched Jongdae paint, but never actually seen it.

 

It took his breath away.

 

Marked on the canvas with monochrome shades was a scene that Jongin had never seen with his own eyes before. Because it was a scene of himself.

 

Jongdae had been painting him, a realistic artwork of Jongin sitting on the chair by the window, gazing back at the viewer with eyes filled with intensity, with longing. The colours were dull, washed out, devoid of happiness, so unlike the vibrant, delightful paintings that sat downstairs. It was so emotional that Jongin couldn't help but bite back a sob. 

 

Then, Jongin heard a sound behind. He turned, already knowing who it was before he actually saw the person.

 

"You're here." Jongdae's voice had a hint of surprise, as he stared at Jongin standing in front of the painting, the painting of himself.

 

Jongin's eyes swam as he struggled with his words. 

 

Jongdae painted me, Jongdae was watching me, Jongdae knew I was watching him.

 

"Jongdae... I...w-why..."

 

Jongdae stepped forward slowly, until he was standing in front of Jongin. His eyes were clouded with desperation.

 

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

 

"You didn't," Jongin protested with a weak shake of his head. "I was j-just wondering w-why did you make it so... S-sad."

 

Jongdae broke the eye contact, gazing at something faraway. 

 

"Because I was feeling sad."

 

Jongin felt his heart clench at the simple words. So simple, yet so deep.

 

"Why are you sad?" He wanted very much to take that face in his hands and kiss those lips.

 

Jongdae sighed, his eyes expressionless. 

 

"I couldn't have it."

 

"Have...what?"

 

Jongdae's eyes darted to the painting. "Him."

 

Jongin's breath sputtered and he was worried, for a second, that he might just faint. 

 

"Why not?" He breathed.

 

"He's too perfect. Despite me trying to cover that perfection with dull colours, it didn't work. He's still..." Jongdae bit his lip, still staring at the painting, "so perfect."

 

Jongin had an urge to slap him, to wake him up and look carefully, at who the perfection really was. Jongin wasn't perfect, hell he wasn't, he was the most imperfect, most foolish dumb guy he had ever known. He was Dumb-in.

 

He didn't realise he had said all of it out loud, until Jongdae looked up at him, with wide teary eyes.

 

"I'm not perfect" he reasoned.

 

Jongin shook his head. "You are, in my eyes."

 

"Then you're perfect too, in my eyes."

 

Jongin couldn't argue back. He didn't want to, not with Jongdae looking at him with such intensity, awe, and maybe even a hint of fear.

 

"So..." He managed with a dry laugh. "We're both perfect then."

 

A hint of a smile ghosted over Jongdae's lips, as he reached up and placed his hands shyly on Jongin's arms. 

 

"Or should I say, perfect for each other."

 

Jongin found his hands snaking around Jongdae's waist as he pulled the smaller man into his arms. He tilted his head down and watched Jongdae as he shivered in the sudden intimacy. 

 

"You know, I'm tired of being your stalker. That's just low." He smirked, feeling his heart pound crazily in his chest.

 

"So I'm not going to stalk you anymore and just do what I've been wanting to do since forever."

 

And he pulled Jongdae in closer, gently pressing his lips on the older man's mouth, feeling his shudder and his sudden gasp, leaning into his warmth and the soft fragrance of his skin.

 

When they pulled apart, Jongdae had a sweet smile on his face.

 

"I've been wanting to do that since forever too, Kim Jongin."

 

 

Jongin never mentioned his name. Then again, Jongdae never mentioned his name either. 

 

 

 

Maybe Jongin wasn't the only stalker in this case. And he was glad for that.