The chill of the whiskey glass and the drone of the bar goers came back in a rush at the warm hand on my arm that hadn't been there a second earlier. Snapped out of my trance I glanced at the owner of the hand. He was tall but not that much taller than me with caramel coloured skin. His hair was a shocking silver colour but it suited him. His face was small and soft looking with wide eyes, a small nose and slightly pouty pinkish lips, currently brought up into a one-sided smirk.

I brushed his hand off my arm and turned back to the bar, picking up my glass off the counter where I had left it. It had been sitting there for a while. The ice was starting to melt and perspiration was clinging to the sides of the glass, making it slippery. I downed the contents in one and put my glass back down. I watched as the drops of water slid down the side of the now alcohol-less glass, making another ring of water on the glass bar top. The ice shifted as I turned away from the bar, eyeing the other people in the establishment.

A couple kissing in one dark corner that I was sure was dark just to serve that purpose. A group of young men, all in buisness suits, all rowdy and smiling. A group of middle aged men, also in buisness suits looking stern as they drank their soju and ate their food. The strange young man with the silver hair sitting next to me, staring at me silently.

"Mwo?" I asked him with a perfect korean accent. If he was surprised at my Korean he didn't show it. My chocolate brown hair, pale skin and green eyes marked me as a foreigner. Some would say pretty but personally I wouldn't go that far.

"Mwo?" I asked him again, louder, in case he hadn't heard me the first time.

"Nothing." He replied in accented english.

Ignoring him once again I looked over the tables for the second time before turning back to order another whiskey on the rocks. The strange man stopped the bar tender and said something to him before turning back to his own drink.

The bar was fancy. Very fancy. Everything was top notch. All softly lit glass, stainless steel and sharp lines. It was obvious that whoever owned this place had spared no expense. The alcohol glasses were crystal and if that wasn't enough there was a gigantic chandelier hanging in the middle of the large, open room. The way the light was caught and reflected off each of the clear beads was mesmerizing.

The sound of crystal banging lightly on glass brought me back to myself. I made no move to pick up my glass and the strange man beside me cleared his throat in an attempt to get my attention. I ignored him. I was too tired to deal with whatever conversation he was trying to start. Obviously ignoring the fact that he had been brushed off he leaned over to me with a grin ghosting on his lips.

"What brings you to Korea?" he asked in Korean, his voice husky.

"Why do you dye your hair silver?" I asked in English. If he wanted to play I would play with him. He blinked at my question, seemingly caught off-guard for a moment before he answered with a smirk.

"Why not?"

"Dancing."

"Huh?" He looked at me with a slightly confused expression on his face.

"You asked my why I came to Korea. My answer is dancing." Understanding bloomed on his face he looked me up and down.

I was so used to people inspecting every aspect of my body I didn't even flinch as he took in the curving lines of my toned muscles. I kept my eyes on his face and his expression changed from charming and aloof to something a little more wanting. Sighing I looked away and picked up my drink. I'd seen this all before. To many men and women I was merely an object of desire. I'd had partners in the past, both male and female but I'd always broken it off with them when they became controlling. When they started looking at me like he was. 

Glancing at my watch I caught the time. 12:30. I had to get back to my hotel room. I had a performance tomorrow night.

The stuffy rendition of 'Swan lake' that our choreographer had come up with was being praised everywhere by critics. As the lead dancer in the goddamn production I couldn't see how anyone could honsetly think that it was 'A touching great new rendition of a classic'. I thought it was stuffy and boring.

To be honest, I thought ALL of the performances we'd done were stuffy and boring. I don't even know why I continued with my dancing. It wasn't as if it brought me any great joy anymore. I was bored with it all. There had been a time, a few years ago when the bright lights, the music, the applause and everything that came with performing had made me feel alive but that felt like decades ago.

Now I was dead on my feet. The bright lights annoyed my eyes, the applause was too long and loud, and everything else was a hassle. Downing my drink I made to get up and pay but the bartender waved his hand, saying everything had been paid for by the gentleman with the silver hair. Shrugging I made my way to the door, my heels clicking on the white marble floor. Someone grabbed my arm and turning to face the person, my retort got stuck in my throat.

"Allow me to you to your hotel room." He said as he linked his arm in mine as I walked to the street to hail a taxi.

I politely refused his offer but he insisted. Eventually I gave in. He was a perfect gentleman. He opened the car door for me, helped me in and then closed it. Inside the car he made no move to touch me, only offering up polite conversation. At my hotel he again opened my door for me and walked with me arm in arm to the foyer.

The expression in his eyes had changed. On a whim I invited him up for tea and dinner by way of roomservice. Much to my surprise he declined. I insisted, saying it was to pay him back for his kindness at the bar and for the taxi fare. He agreed. In the elevator he raised his eyebrow at me as I pressed the button for the penthouse. My company had spared me no expense.

We went up to my room and I took off my skin-tight leather pants and loose sheer white blouse and put on my comfort clothes. Arabian style plain black pants and a loose button-up black singlet top. I put my hair up into a loose messy pony tail and sat at the bar on the balcony. He joined me and I ordered hamburgers for the both of us.

"What's your name?" His sudden question surprised me. I realised that we hadn't exchanged names.

"you>you." 

"Ahh" he breathed.

We sat in silence as we waited for the knock on the door that would tell us that our food had arrived.

 

After we'd eaten we moved inside to the spacious​ living area. We talked for what seemed like minutes but was in reality hours. When the sky began to grow light I told him I had to sleep. When he asked why I told him about the performance.

He made no move to leave and instead ed his shirt and took off his pants. His body was lean and toned, quite like mine. He was a dancer as well. He was part of an idol group called 'vicks' or something. His group was taking a break currently and he had been bored. The rest of s were off doing their own thing in other parts of the country so he was left alone. He'd gone out to the bar to find someone to talk to.

Shrugging I threw him a pair of my old track pants. They fitted him well.

With that I closed the heavy block-out curtains and fell into bed. He crawled in on the other side and fell asleep. Looking at his sleeping face I quickly fell unconcious as well.

 

When I woke up he was still there. I detangled myself from our mess of tangled limbs and moved quietly out of the room, leaving a scrawled note on top of his folded clothes on the dining table on my way out.

The performance was boring. My mind was elsewhere while I danced. I thought about the strange man. Hakyeon as I recalled.

Once the performance was over I went back to my hotel room. His clothes and my note were gone and in place my track pants were neatly folded with a note of his own on them. I picked up the paper and read what he had written.

Thank you for last night. It was interesting. I'm sure I'll see you again someday though you may not see me. Good luck to you. ~N~

 

The following week my company and I left Korea. My performance that night was talked about for the remainder of my career. After I retired, I moved to Korea. Occaisionally when out and about in Seoul I'd see flashes of silver hair and caramel skin and smile to myself. Sometimes I would get a text message from a private number with a particualrly nice picture of myself, always tagged with the line "~N~".

I didn't meet him again. That strange man with the silver hair. But the memory remained.