No matter how good you are at games, fate will always win.

On my last day in Gwangju, I decide to just walk around and take a look at the city. My manager nearly blows his top when I tell him this because of my sprained ankle, but I only have to wear a boot for it to heal so I do not see a point in not taking advantage of my day off. Once again, I walk off and hear my manager yelling, saying that I was a reckless, spoiled pop star. I shove my hands in my pockets and huff under my breath. No matter how many times I try to shrug off those words, they will always effect me in some way.

The city is beautiful. It is not as urban as Seoul, nor is it so rural that I need a car to get from one house to the next. Trees line the streets of the neighborhoods and streets. There are no fancy sports cars around except for in the parking lots of the office buildings, and even then, they are not too flashy. Everything is in moderation. Every few blocks there is a cute little coffee shop next to a noodle shop next to some street vendors. It is like the tourist city everyone wants to go to because it is not crowded, yet it has everything the big cities have and more.

I stop by a gift shop and pick out some things. My manager is getting a bumper sticker that says, "I'm grumpy and I know it." My parents are going to get a brand new dish set so it can go with the furniture I ordered for their 25^th wedding anniversary. As for myself, I buy a mini piano figurine, specially wrapped in case I see the musician again. I thank the cashier and leave the store. I turn to head back to the hotel because my foot is beginning to bother me. When I am about to turn the corner I hear someone begin singing my song.

I stop in my tracks. He has a beauitful voice. I stand there, my back facing him, just listening for a while. His voice mesmerizes me, making me feel as if I need to introduce myself. When I turn around, the musician is sitting on the bench, head tilted back against the wall behind him, his eyes close and his voice floating through the air. I notice a few other people look at him, but none of them actually stop and listen. I decide to walk up and stand by him. I listen for a few more seconds before I quietly start to sing with him. It does not seem like he realizes I am there, so I sing a little louder with a smile on my face. When the of the song approaches, he stops singing and jolts his eyes open, throwing his head forward. He notices me.

I finish off the song and look at him. He is staring right at me. That is when I notice his eyes are a colorful gray, almost a light shade of a baby blue sky. I sit down next to him and grab his hand to shake it. "My name is Jung Yunho. What's yours?" I feel that his hand is shaking and take a closer look--his whole body is shaking. I do not know why, but I try to put him at ease with compliments. "You have a beautiful voice. Do you listen to a lot of my songs?"

He nods his head slightly, tense. "Y-you're my favorite singer."

I smile even brighter. "That surprises me. Someone such as yourself seems like you would be interested in BoA or Super Junior."

The tension slowly leaves his body and he scowls a little. Then it disappears as fast as it arrived. "I do, but the way your songs make me feel are different. I feel like an actual human being, not someone that needs help getting through every little thing they do in life."

I tilt my head slightly, deciding not to poke and prod at a wound that may have just opened up slightly. Instead, I change the subject. "Are you a singer yourself?"

He shakes his head. "My name is Kim Jaejoong. I major in music at Gwangju University. I play the piano."

My jaw drops slightly. He can play the piano despite being blind? "That's amazing. How do you do it?"

Our conversation goes on and on with each of us explaining each other's profession and interests and hobbies and hopes for the future. I finger the little trinket in my pocket and smile. So my hunch about him being that pianist was correct. I choose it is better to hold off on giving it to him because it would be slightly strange to give him a present after just meeting him officially for the first time. Soon, someone emerges from the coffee shop. "Jaejoong, are you ready?"

Jaejoong stands up and nods. "Yeah. How was your lady friend?" The guy's face goes red as he punches Jaejoong in the arm lightly. I almost feel the need to be overprotective, but I stop myself. I say my good-byes to Jaejoong and leave as quickly as I can before his friend recognizes me and says something about me being famous. I hate that.

While I walk away I begin to scold myself for not giving Jaejoong my phone number before realizing that he probably did not have a cell phone in the first place. I will have to get used to this blind thing if I want to get to know him.

Now I will have more opportunities to get close to him.