The first time I saw you it was at a café. A small cafe, by the corner of Busan. Next to the second hand shop with the drunkard as the owner.  A small café; with the softest pastels and lightest hues engraved in the faces of everyone who set foot into the small shop, smiles lingering behind crescent eyes. A place where liquid chocolate would ooze over the contours from cup to cup, where the scent of coffee beans would lift up noses and the aroma of mint leaves and brewed tea would keep noses up just a little bit longer.

You were sitting in a corner reading a book. I couldn’t recognise it; all I remember was a thin white paperback between your delicate fingers as you languidly turned each page. Your hair genially tucked back behind your ear as you sipped your drink occasionally.

I like books, that was my reasoning for my next action.

I remember walking up to your table; it wasn’t because the café was crowded. In fact, hardly anyone went there seeing as there were bigger chain coffee shops just around the corner in the main streets. Just because, well I guess you could say I was feeling particularly spontaneous that day.

“Kim Junmyun” I announced as I walked over to the table, probably a lot more confident than I actually felt. You looked up at me, smiled and repeated my name again. Although you weren’t saying it to me, rather yourself to remember the name of the stranger that decided to share a table with you.

“Kim Junmyun” came the hushed whisper. It sounded nice, of course you are not the first person who said my name. After all I have colleagues, teachers , family members who all addressed me by that. But there was something in the way you said it, as if my name was as delicate as silence and just one whisper could break it until it was non-existent.

I sipped my coffee as I eyed the book, I asked you what it was, and you replied by saying a string of elegant French words and buried your nose back into the now suddenly profound book.

The second time I saw you it was in a toy shop. I think you were an employee, truthfully I didn’t expect to see you there. I was buying a gift for my idiotic excuse for a friend; Kim Jongin. Because apparently Christmas is a festival that Koreans celebrate as well (he could at least try to sound like he genuinely wants to celebrate the birth of Christ and not just wanting me to buy him presents). I like it when you have your hair tied back, it makes you look happier. You glow when you are happy, like the day when it is just coming to an end, when dusk has taken over the canvas in the sky. A mixture between rainfall and sunshine.

I don’t know many things but you are pretty, I know that much.

I was looking around the shop as you came and assisted me. You looked at me strangely before asking “Do I know you?” then you shook your head and smiled at me excusing yourself for being rude. “If you’re looking for a toy, Porroro is pretty popular.” you said after a slight pause, gesturing to a blue and white stuffed penguin with a yellow cap. I smiled and thanked you as I walked over to the toy and presented it at the counter.

 You reminded me of the dim fairy lights that were up in the display around the toy shop. So I bought a present for myself as well.

One set of fairy lights and one stuffed Porroro left as I closed the door. The last thing I hear was “Goodbye Kim Jongmyun.”  And that alone could awaken butterflies in my stomach and make my heart try and break free from the tight shroud that suddenly constricts my chest.

The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth time I met you it was all a blur. A mix between strange butterflies trying to escape my stomach, crimson staining my cheeks as we would make conversations.  curved lips and full out laughing that ended up hurting my cheeks for the rest of the day. Stolen glances between stuffed animals and fairy lights. Ice cold drinks that resulted in giving me a cold for a week. Late nights spent with droopy eyelids but neither of us wanting to give in to sleep before the other.

"The Little Prince" you said one day when we were back at the coffee shop.

"What?" I asked taken aback.

"The Little Prince, I remembered the Korean name."

I asked you what it was about and you told me it was the adventures of a little boy who left his planet to explore the galaxy. You told me that I remind you of  him, leaving Gangnam; the prestige and wealth to peruse a dream to become a singer.

"Didn't you say you wanted to travel the world? I hope you won't forget me when you become famous."  you chuckled.

 Something grasping the loose ends of my heart and tying them together into one barely audible phrase “I think I like you.” However unheard and easily masked by the screaming anxiety of ‘don’t let me leave you’

 I read the book, and I realized I could never really leave. I have already been tamed and you are my rose.

“It strangely resembles you.”

“What does?”

“The angel on the Christmas tree”

I paused and looked up at the top of the festively decorated pine tree. “Yeah” I half sigh. “I suppose.” You giggled and I shot a glare in your direction. You pressed your lips together before smiling in my back. I could feel my heart stop. A cage of butterflies are set free inside of my stomach and my lips curl up in the most stupid expression I think I have ever made.

“Kim Junmyun, my angel, my Suho.” You announced before Jongin came into the room and demanded we open our Christmas presents.

One night, somewhere between Korean pop star impersonations and discussions about the importance of fairy lights in a toy shop you asked me “Do you fancy anyone Suho?”

“I don’t know, I think. Maybe.”

Maybe you.

“Oh yeah, for how long?” you add before I can make any other input. You nudged me against the side and a broad smile lit up your face.

“I think I’m still falling” I speak in a quieter tone.

“Falling?” you reply, confused.

“Yeah, falling.” I reply. “But you know. I'm scared I will leave her one day. " I spoke timidly. "I'm just like the prince in many ways; a boy reaching for the stars but I will leave behind my rose." I looked up to your face, a mixture of emotions that I couldn’t read were displayed on your face. I sighed. "I'm falling towards you but flying away at the same time."

"Me?!" You sat strait up and peered at me with your large brown eyes.

I looked up to your face. Bright, vivid, yet still demure. Like dusk, always like dusk when you’re happy.  Your face could be painted on the sky for the whole world to see and your beauty would not look out of place with the spender of nature.

It is then that I realize if falling in love is when your heart tries to pound out of your ribcage, or when the world becomes a mixture of the stormiest nights and the sunniest days, or when staggered breaths don’t feel alien to you anymore. Then I’m okay with that. As long as I am in love with you. I am okay with anything as long as it’s you.

“Yeah, you. I’m still falling for you” I finish.