“Where are we going?” she asked as Jongdae began leading her back into the street. Instead of searching for a shortcut however, this time, he went with the flow. He had his hands stuffed deep into the pocket of his jeans, his voice soft as he hummed a quiet tune. She wallowed in the sound of his voice for a while, how it rose and fell with the pitch of the song, and how it seemed to match the bright sun in its cheeriness.

“We’re going to see graffiti.”

She raised a brow at him. “I’ve seen a lot of graffiti in the back alleys of Seoul,” she pointed out.

He shook his head with a chuckle. “Nope. Those are pathetic endeavours of recalcitrant delinquents looking for a way to express their need for attention. These, however, actually have an artistic sense in them, and were certainly done by a more skilled hand.”

“It’d be hard to draw graffiti.”

“Of course it is. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many failed attempts underneath bridges. “

“You know what I mean. It’d be hard to draw it on paper,” she said, huffing and swatting him lightly on the arm.

He grinned. He had a nice smile, she noted, even if it was the indulgent smirk of a prankster having achieved his goal. “Yeah, but art is art, don’t you think? Even if you can’t recreate it you can always appreciate it.”

She sighed. “Alright.”

He led her down a series of turns. The route this time seemed much more complicated, an intricate web of twists and sudden turns. After the street, they had thus far taken three lefts and one right, and Junhee had lost her bearings somewhere around the second left turn. Jongdae, however, seemed to know exactly where to go, which road would emerge in which street. In a way, she envied him; he must have explored his hometown so often that he was able to tell where everything was like it was on the back of his hand. She wondered how it would be like to have that kind of expertise. Seoul was too large to fully understand, its hidden crevices too dangerous to explore.

“You people don’t have too many cars here, do you?” she asked, the second time they crossed the street with Jongdae barely even glancing to his left and right.

“Well, we do like to walk,” he admitted, sticking his hands into his pockets as they converged with the flow on the other side. “But the cars here are mindful of pedestrians. And besides, the streets bend too much for you to speed.”

“I bet you never had a hit and run case then,” she commented blandly.

“We do, but the police are pretty fast.”

He suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist. She felt the familiar tugging at her heart again, as if a cord had wound around it and was pulling it towards him, similar to the manner he was pulling her hands with him now. Jongdae was chattering animatedly as they walked, as if the grip had been an unconscious reflex and he wasn’t aware of it yet to be able to let go.

He finally did when they stopped in front of a metal fence, its mesh of wires twining upwards for several feet before winding around a metal support above. Jongdae reached for the rusted padlock on the gate and began tapping at it with his fingers, forming a rather disjointed tune composed of metallic dings. After about a minute or so into his composition, the lock suddenly unlatched in his fingers.

“What on earth –”

“The lock’s mechanism isn’t working as well as it once did,” he explained, carefully unlatching the gate and pushing it open. “You just have to tap it at the right spot and it’ll pop open.” He held the gate open. “Now come on. Ladies first.”

She stepped in and he followed, tugging the gate closed behind him, but leaving the lock on the ground beside it for an easy exit. Carefully adjusting his camera bag, he announced the way, taking the lead once again as he led her into another one of the town’s secrets. At first, the alley looked dark, and she couldn’t help the sense of trepidation that crept up in her as they went further in. This place was practically deserted. If they were unfortunate enough to encounter muggers, would anyone be able to hear their screams?

But something in the way Jongdae was able to retain his cheery facade calmed her. He wasn’t exactly skipping, but there was a bounce in his step that seemed to implicate that he was revisiting a favourite haunt, his own personal sanctuary of sorts. Junhee sped up to keep pace with him, silently relying on his presence as protection.

“Here we are,” he announced. The alley had broadened, and at the far end, she could see a bright opening and the occasional flash of a car. There was still the mesh fence, but she took comfort over the fact that they were not entirely isolated from the rest of the community. “Take a look,” he heard him prompt, and then turned towards the direction of his gesture.

Junhee blinked, not quite believing the things she was seeing. Graffiti, to her, were an unpleasant sight to the unsuspecting civilian, riddled with explicit swears and inappropriate illustrations in ghastly colours. These though, were works of art. Most of them were words, characters without much meaning, but they were sprayed on in such beautiful whorls of colour. The characters were mostly spiky, its edges sharp and cutting, dancing against a brick background like letters on paper. The others were pictures, actual images depicting cartoon characters and the like, bright in colour but surprisingly accurate in proportion and detail.

She was used to holding paintbrushes and pencils and charcoal, but the manner in which they were able to gain control over a simple spray can to achieve such precision marvelled her. It wasn’t her style, the bright colours and whirling patterns, but it was definitely art in a more contemporary definition.

“Wow, huh?” Jongdae said. He had been watching her face in amusement. “That’s what I said too when Jongin first showed this place to me.”

“Who did this?” she asked, tracing the patterns of a mural on one wall lightly with her fingertips.

Jongdae shrugged. “Nobody knows. It’s just there when everyone wakes up in the morning. The police don’t do anything against it, since this place is pretty much abandoned, and these things admittedly do make it look more beautiful.”

She touched another mural, agreeing quietly. Although the motifs weren’t really her cup of tea when she put her pencil to paper, on brick, they looked perfect. Jongdae had already pulled out his camera, taking a few experimental shots here and there, but mostly just staring into space, looking thoughtful.

“We did the online shopping mall photoshoot here once,” he told her, drawing her attention away from the Naruto mural that she had been examining. “Jongin’s idea. It turned out to be one of our best.”

“These clothes that your shopping mall has,” she began, turning around to face him, “are they... popular?”

His brows shot up in amusement. “Oh yeah, Kris gets tons of orders. But if that question is a subtle manner of asking whether or not they look good then....” he shrugged, “you’ve seen how Jongin and Sehun were dressed like at the park.”

Skinny jeans and graphic shirts, with ed cotton shirts tugged over their shoulders –simple, yet effective in turning heads. She had to check it out sometime.

Jongdae only laughed when she requested the web address, and gladly wrote it down for her on one of the spare pieces of paper she had dug out from somewhere inside her bag.

“Kris should double my pay for doing promotions for him,” he said jokingly, returning her pencil to her and casually looking up. A cat-like smile suddenly lifted the corners of his lips.

“Hey, can you do a favour for me?” he asked, looking down at her with bright eyes.

She eyed him warily. It had only been two days into their acquaintance, but she was already able to tell that the sudden twinkling of his eyes could only mean that he was about to play a prank or had a very bright idea. Most of the time, the idea tended to have something to do with the prank.

“What is it?” she asked warily.

Jongdae reached out and cupped her shoulders, navigating her away from the Naruto mural to the one beside it. She tried to turn her head to see the picture, but Jongdae was quick to catch her face, only shaking his head at her as he positioned her body in front of it. She was too busy wondering if he could feel the sudden warmth of her cheeks underneath his fingertips to notice the sudden flash that went off, but the second one succeeded in snapping her out of her reverie.

“Jongdae,” she hissed, hand going up instinctively to cover her face.

“Oh, come on,” he called out, shooting her a pleading smile above the camera. “Just one more. And smile this time, please.”

“Are you going to let me move if I don’t?”

His lip twitched in amusement. “Not really. Most likely no.”

She sighed in exasperation and flashed her brightest smile at his direction, though it was a touch sarcastic at the edges. He chuckled.

“Tone it down a bit.” Brightness dimmed into only a light lift at the corners of her lips. “ your head.” Head cocked. “Now try and look at the camera in the gentlest way possible –”

“I would appreciate it if you don’t go all diva photographer on me,” she snapped. “I’m not even being paid to pose, unlike your models.”

He laughed, but finally bent his head into position behind the camera. “Say cheese!”

The minute the flash disappeared, she whirled around to look at the mural behind her. It was one of the less ostentatious of the bunch. The brick background hadn’t been sprayed over with bright colours; in fact, a majority of the space was left empty, except for the wings. The big, beautiful butterfly wings spray-painted onto the brick. The colours were an intricate blend of blue and orange, the brighter of the two colours tipping the forewings, while the softer one tipped the hindwings. The colours went progressively darker from the tip to the basal, at which it had turned into a lovely shade of violet. It was outlined by black lines at the margin, and the lines seemed to bleed into the colours, forming whorls and patterns within, including the tiger’s eye that seemed to pulse with its own life.

“You took a picture of me with,” she gestured vaguely at the wings, “that?”

“Yes, and it turned out great!” he chirped. She turned to find that he was staring at his camera instead of her, pleased with whatever result displayed on the screen.

“Let me see.” She reached for it, but Jongdae tugged it away with a shake of his head.

“No, not now. Not until I get these developed.”

She crossed her arms and sighed exasperatedly. “Why would you even need to develop that? You can show it to me now and have done with it.”

When he looked up, his dark eyes were as deep as the lake. “The same reason why you paint and sketch. So that the memory will last, because sometimes, you can never get the same shot again.”

“The photographing for an online shopping mall gig wasn’t at all how it was supposed to be actually,” he said as he delicately stirred his cup, spoon clinking against the glass on occasional intervals. “It was actually the result of the dreadful mistake of oversleeping.”

Afternoon had rolled around, and after all the excitement, they decided that a break was due for lunch. Jongdae had insisted on a particular restaurant, claiming that its menu was the pride of Gardenia, and she had obliged, bemused by his enthusiasm. He turned out to be right, as he always was.

Junhee arched an eyebrow, more intrigued now than she had been when she posed the question. “How so?”

“My friend –let’s just call him Kris, since that’s less of a mouthful –has had very big plans for his business. His mother was a seamstress, so he knows a lot about clothing, and coupled with his degree in fashion designing, it was practically his fate to establish such an enterprise. During the course of the planning, he had everything down: the down payment, the clothes he was going to sell, the website which becomes the forefront of his business, the models. The only problem was that he didn’t have a photographer to photograph his designs. Somehow, he managed to get in touch with a famous magazine photographer to do his shots, but then –”

“He overslept?” she asked in slight disbelief.

Jongdae’s smile was wry with amusement. “He told me it was a late night. There were designs that he needed to finalise and little details in the website that needed editing, so he crashed late. The next morning, when he woke up, he realised he didn’t set his alarm clock and it was already well past noon –three hours past the designated time of the meeting.”

“I can feel his pain,” she said solemnly.

“That’s how I came into the picture,” he continued. “Kris and I were neighbourhood buddies when we were kids. He begged me to do him a favour last year when I was a first year in college and take the gig temporarily until he finds a permanent photographer. He must have been desperate at that time to get his models photographed, because he gave a pass for every shot I took without as much as a word.” He drummed his fingers on the table and sighed wistfully. “It’s already been a year, and Kris has found a permanent photographer, but sometimes, I still take up some jobs for him. For old time’s sake, you know? And mostly because Kris loves my shots,” he added jokingly.

 She rolled her eyes. “For someone who has yet to obtain his qualifications, you’re completely and utterly full of yourself.”

“Trust me,” he said with a conspirational smile, “the photographer that Kris ended up hiring is ten times worse than I’ll ever be.”

They tucked into their food, and for a few minutes the only sounds that could be heard between them were the slurping of soups and the chewing of rice. Junhee gazed absently at the people around her, and then around the restaurant’s interior. It had a simplistic touch to it, with plain cream coloured walls that seemed to fade with the afternoon sunlight. They were bare save for a few pictures and a pair of wooden fans mounted above the register, inscribed with words in hanja. The tables were just made out of wood, with matching chairs for every set. The whole place seemed to glow with the warmth of care and love.

“So,” Jongdae began, his tone curious, “how long will you be staying here?”

“A week –that’s how much time my wallet could afford.” She grimaced a little at the thought of her decreasing funds.

“That’s short,” he murmured, his eyes glazed as he stared at his rice bowl.

“Sorry?”

“It’s too short for me to show you everything,” he clarified, looking up. The odd look in his eyes was gone.

“Well,” she chewed thoughtfully, “you can always just show me the important stuff.”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a small laugh, “the important stuff.”

His phone suddenly exploded into a ringtone of Justin Bieber’s Baby then, and she couldn’t help but laugh as she watched him fumble with his pockets. His cheeks were slightly pink; clearly he was regretting his decision in setting the volume on full blast. He still managed to playfully shush her when he finally got a hold of it though, placing a finger lightly to his lips as he mock glared at her.

Junhee stifled her giggles into her soup as she listened to Jongdae talk. His voice changed in tone, she noticed, when he talked over the phone, going slightly rougher, while his replies were brusque. There was a sudden furrow in his eyebrows, followed by a sigh and a resigned huff of agreement. He set the phone down when he was done.

“That was Kris,” he said, lips turned down into a frown, “he told me he needed me to fill in today. Kwanghee –his photographer –is sick. I’m gonna have to handle his models’ photoshoots for him.”

“Now?” she asked, looking up at him as he slung his bag over his shoulder and stood.

“Now,” he said with a sigh. “No worries though, I’ll just contact you.” He slid his phone over his table and looked at her expectantly.

“Yeah,” she smiled awkwardly at him, “about that. I sorta dropped my phone yesterday after I called my mom and smashed the screen.” She winced when she saw his expression. “Don’t ask. So yeah, no phone.”

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Seriously? How are you going to live?”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Being phoneless is turning out to be quite peaceful.”

“I bet you’re glad, ’cause you won’t have anyone calling in on your vacation now,” he said cleverly, smirking at her.

“Caught red handed,” she said with a grin.

“Alright.” He tugged his phone back and slipped it back into his pocket. “How about we meet at the lake again tomorrow and pick up from there?”

“Sounds good to me.”

He tugged out his wallet, slapping a few bills onto the table for his share before waving goodbye at her. She watched him leave, his figure getting progressively smaller as he crossed the threshold, before finally disappearing as he slipped out of the door. She sighed. Kim Jongdae was starting to grow on her.