“Any place in mind?” she asked him as they wandered out of the cafe and into the streets, breathing in the fresh morning air and the scent of flowers that always seemed linger around the city.

“I was thinking that we could explore the city. You know, walk around.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I could take you shopping.”

“Great!” she exclaimed, unconsciously looping an arm around his in her enthusiasm. “I love shopping!”

He smiled at her, letting her cling onto to his arm as they made their way to his motorcycle parked next to the curb. The ride wasn’t as terrifying now as it had been before; Junhee thought that maybe the prospect of shopping had made her in an infinitely better mood. That, or Jongdae finally decided that the traffic laws were important for once. He manoeuvred his bike with practiced ease, weaving through cars, occasionally answering the questions that she asked.

She was partly familiar with the roads now, ever since Jongdae had taken her on that first adventure through Gardenia, though it would be more appropriate to say that she recognised the alleys rather than the roads they branched out to. They passed the town square sometime in their journey; Junhee spotted a glimpse of it when they passed a small avenue, pretty shops sitting on the stone-paved ground. She had half the mind to ask him to stop again, but Jongdae had already zoomed past it.

The area he took her to this time was considerably more crowded than the ones in their previous adventures. People milled about in the streets, crossing the road at random moments. Tables were laid on the sidewalk, some directly across the front doors of a store, and old ahjummas stooped behind it, hawking their wares and smiling at customers. There were trees here too, small decorative ones, functioning as a source of shade besides their primary purpose to beautify the street. Jongdae slowed his bike, carefully manoeuvring it through the throng of people and cars, its engine purring like a delighted cat after a pet.

“Where are we?” she yelled over his shoulder.

“The shopping district; a tourist spot,” he yelled back at her. He jerked the handlebars sideways, going around the car in front of them.

“I thought you said you knew better places to show me than tourist spots,” she teased.

“If you want to get any shopping done, here’s the best place.”

Jongdae soon found a parking spot around the curb, at the next street. He nudged his motorcycle into the small space, taking care not to scratch the paint, and killed the engine. She jumped off, tearing the helmet off her head and sighing as she breathed in the fresh air. It was smokier here compared to the rest of the town –understandable, considering that it was where the cars were mostly centred at –but it was, undeniably, cleaner than Seoul could ever be.

“I can finally breathe,” she remarked, taking in large gulps of air in relief.

“Excuse me,” Jongdae tore of his helmet, revealing his short, mussed up brown hair. His bangs fell, askew, over his eyes, and she had to admit that it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen. “I’m taking that as insult. My helmets don’t smell that funky.”

“No, they don’t.” she hiked her bag up her shoulder, eyeing him suspiciously. “On the contrary, this one smells strangely of pine air freshener.”

Coupled with the messy hair, Jongdae’s sheepish grin looked boyish. “Busted.”

And so they began their journey into the shopping district. The shops here were by not high end, and neither were the clothes couture, but Gardenia had a charm of its own, embellishing its walls, the architecture, born in the smiling faces and animated chatter. Junhee slipped her arm through Jongdae’s again (it just felt so right, almost second nature) and tugged him into almost every store there was, stopping at every little table to examine the goods. Jongdae whined at first, somewhere between the second and third apparel store that she’d dragged him into, but grew more enthusiastic as he riffled through the racks, popping on a hat or two and styling a few sunglasses in front of the mirror.

“No,” she had told him, the second time he snatched the away the hat the she’d been trying to hold away from him. “Fedoras do not work for you.”

“And who are you to determine what should and should not be in my closet?” he argued, putting it back on and checking his reflection in the mirror.

“It’s just female input,” she said, switching tactics, seeing as Jongdae wasn’t going to back down any sooner. “You’d find that valuable someday, when you want to look for a girlfriend.”

He paused, turning around to squint at her. “What makes you think that I don’t already have one?”

She eyed him darkly. “No, you don’t.”

“How are you so sure?” He as enjoying this; amusement was dancing in his eyes.

“Because if you do, you wouldn’t have had so much free time, and neither would you have even suggested this venture in the first place, as it is wrong –I repeat, wrong –to go out with another girl when you already have one waiting for you.”

Jongdae’s lips twitched. “So we’re going out?”

She rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “I can’t win with you. Fine! Buy the hat if you must. I’m praying that one of your fashion savvy friends will find it and burn it,” she added darkly.

He laughed, plopping the hat back in its stand. “I’m just messing with you. I hate the hat.”

She opened indignantly, but Jongdae was already steering her out of the store, the warmth of his hand comforting on her shoulders. She felt herself tense in his hold, but like a puppet, she moved where he guided her.

The odd feeling left as fast as it came when she saw the goods laid out over one of the tables, an exotic collection of hand-knit jewellery, woven out of threads with vibrant colours. Each colour was entwined with the next, interlaced with beads that glistened underneath the sun. She picked one up and toyed with the clasp, brushing her fingers over the design.

“Hey,” Jongdae called. When she turned to look at him, she found him bent over one of his findings: a simple bracelet of cream, pink and grey, woven into a fine braid barely three centimetres in width. It had a charm dangling in the middle, a simple star moulded out of silver metal. “This would suit you, don’t you think?”

She leaned over his shoulder to look at the bracelet cradled in his palm. “I don’t know, but I admit that the combination is pretty.”

He held it out to her. “What better way to know than trying it on?”

She eyed the bracelet. It couldn’t hurt really; it wasn’t that she was obliged to buy it. The nice ahjumma wouldn’t hate her if she returned it. With that thought in mind, she angled it over her wrist, making sure that the charm was positioned in such a way that it dangled below her hand, lightly brushing her tender skin when she moved.

“Hmm,” she muttered, twisting her hand around. The charm glittered as it caught the light. “You do have taste, I’ll give you that.”

He cocked his head at her, lips curling into a smile. “One of my closest friends is a fashion designer. Do you really think he’d forgive me if I didn’t?”

She ended up buying the bracelet and wearing it. It wrapped around her wrist nicely, light and reassuring, like Jongdae’s hand in hers.

It was late evening when they finally got through the entire town, the sun slanting, casting orange light onto the roads and Jongdae’s helmet. They’d had lunch at a restaurant, which (not really to her surprise) Jongdae knew the owners of. It constituted mostly of typical Korean dishes, but the tales Jongdae regaled her made the experience unique to the other times when she had dined alone. Then, they proceeded to the theatre, a music store from which she procured the newest DBSK album, a store selling FaceShop products (she had dragged him there, despite his protests) and several other places that were all a blur in her head.

Now, she riding at the back of his motorbike again, cradling her bag which contained her purchases to her chest as she watched the scenery slowly transform from thin buildings with sloping roofs to large, expansive houses, each with its own small bit of land to serve as a garden. The whir of Jongdae’s motorbike was more familiar and comforting now than disturbing, melting into the sound of chirping birds and laughter, its ice blue body as much a part of the scenery as the trees and the glowing windows.

“Where are we going?” she asked. Jongdae had slowed his bike, opting a leisurely pace that allowed her time to take in the details of every house, every garden.

 “A place where I spent most of my childhood,” he replied. She had come to accept his vague answers, mostly because she knew in the end, Jongdae would show her the answer; in art, showing a picture was better than describing it.

The motorbike continued to decrease its speed, until it came to a full stop by a grassy patch, which extended far back to encompass a playground nested in the heart of the residential area. It was empty, the swings swinging listlessly on their chains, buoyed by the wind. There was a forlorn air to the playground; the slides curved downwards in spirals, not unlike a serpent, and the wire mesh metal floors connecting the whole structure together was worn by the continuous pattering of children’s feet. There was a seesaw about a few metres away from the slide, painted in equally vibrant colours, looking like a strange beast without children riding on it.

“I always thought that a nice way to end your day would be to spend it in silence, reminiscing old memories in places you’ve been,” he said, coming to stand beside her.

She peeked at him below her lashes; his eyes were still had that dancing light in them, but now it was more muted, soft –a glow rather than a flash of radiance. The curl at the corners of his lips looked prominent in his soft smile, a compliment to his cheekbones and eyes. As if pulled by some invisible force, he began to make his way across the playground, camera cradled between two hands as he scouted for something picture worthy.

She headed the other way and sat down on the swing, feeling the familiar clink of metal chains as they settled to hold her weight. She swung it back and forth a little, testing its strength, before tugging out her sketchbook and turning to a new page to begin an outline.

Jongdae popped up some fifteen minutes later, when she was busy squinting at the slide to get a rough sketch its serpentine curve. She blinked when the camera suddenly flashed in front of her eyes, the details escaping her grasp yet again as her eyes blurred and refocused.

“Jongdae!” she chided him, uselessly reaching out a hand to swat him with her pencil. She tried to blink away the black spots dancing in her eyes. The images were separating and blurring, and when they finally merged again, she found that she was staring at Jongdae’s hand instead, in which a red tulip had magically appeared. He smiled at her and tossed it lightly onto her sketchbook.

“Take it. It’s for you,” he said. The chains holding the swing beside hers jangled as he sat down, laying his camera bag beside him.

 She twirled it between her fingers; most of the stalk had been cut off, leaving only a small bit enough for one hold by pinching it between two fingers. The petals were soft when she brushed her fingers over the bulb, like fine silk. The red was bright and vibrant, a contrast to her sketch of grey and white; the intensity was such that it almost looked like it was bleeding into the paper, staining it crimson. 

She turned and raised a brow at Jongdae. “For?”

He smiled. “Does it have to be for anything?”

“Well, I’d like to know what I’d done to deserve it,” she said lightly, but her heart was pounding. She was almost convinced that he could hear it too.

Jongdae began pushing himself off the ground in slow movements. “Technically, besides one special reason, you’ve done nothing.”

She sighed as she watched as he swung higher and higher. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope!” he laughed as he whooshed past her.

“Okay then. Then tell me this: how on earth did you get your hands on a tulip?” She twirled it for emphasis.

“I plucked it.”

“Jongdae.”

“Fine.” He turned to grin at her when he passed her in another round. “I might have gotten it somewhere when we were in town. That’s all I’m telling you.”

She smiled as she watched him swing, hair flying when he reached the peak. Then gravity pulled him down, down and down until for a split second, he was beside her a before he whooshed away again. She tilted her head against the chain leaned into it, gazing at him.

“Hey, want a push?” he offered.

“If you can get down.”

He smirked. With one mighty swing, he pushed himself off, landing softly on his feet. “Take care not to scream,” he said, eyes glinting evilly as he slowly advanced on her.

Junhee could have sworn she had never swung so high in her entire life, screaming when she felt she was about to take off towards the skies.