Heart&Seoul || jjk/kth/bts

Chapter 3: Dragon

Bridget

"Are you from North or South Korea?" Wave seems curious as to why I'm asking him this question. He's wearing gloves and setting up his table to draw yet another tattoo on me, and even though he isn't facing me, I can tell his forehead is wrinkled in pure concentration.

"South Korea," he answers as he spins on his wheeled stool to face to me.

Even after all these years, I still get goosebumps every time his deep, pitch-black eyes read into my ordinary brown ones. I've never denied having a soft spot for him, but also never wanted it to be anything more. I considered suggesting to hook up, either casually or periodically, because models fear for their job when he's around... he's so undeniably attractive with half of his body is covered in ink. Maybe that's indeed part of the reason why he could make anyone fall to his feet. It's intriguing, tempting and intimidating at the same time. And yet, he's not interested in doing so. There have been times when I wished he'd hit on me so I could flirt back three times more shamelessly than I do now.

"I probably wouldn't be standing here in my own tattoo shop and in a different country if I were born in North Korea." Well, I should've brushed the dust off the corner of my brain where my knowledge in history is stored. After answering my question, he raises an eyebrow at me. "Why?"

"I'm planning to spend a year abroad there, was wondering if you could tell me something about it, I don't know" I shrug.

Wave grabs the ink machine and crouches a little to start tattooing me. Pretty much all of my tattoos have his name on them. I trust him blindly and have shared with him bits of my story that most people don't know. Each tattoo has a meaning, which I opened up about since he was going to draw my own life on my skin.

We've spent enough time together to be considered good friends, not just an artist and his customer. Funny enough, though, I don't know his real name. He goes by the stage name Wave, a reference to his watermark: he's capable of reproducing the most fascinating sea waves on human skin, the design he's most requested for. He isn't willing to share why he hates his birth name so much that nobody is allowed to know it. Maybe if we ever get close enough, I might get to listen to the full story.

"I haven't been there in eighteen years," he reveals. "There's not much I can tell you."

"C'mon there must be something peculiar you can warn me about" I insist, almost whining. Uncle Pete may have talked about Korea quite a lot, but he's not a 29-year-old whose mindset is close to mine. Wave is.

"Does it hurt?" he dodges the question for a moment, referring to the needle currently poking my arm. After I've shaken my head no, he returns on the topic of our conversation.

"Well, uh, everything is different. I mean not just the food or the currency, but the mindset and every aspect of society will be mind-blowing to you. Everything you think is normal here, it's most likely considered disgraceful or an offence in Korea. Tattoos and piercings for instance. You'll have to learn a lot of stuff before you leave."

"Oh wow, I can't wait to study more than I already do..." I'm resigned at this point. But I'm joking. If I'm going abroad, obviously I'll educate myself on the new culture I'm diving into. This is a good start already. I've taken a look at the Korean alphabet, and so far it seems less contorted than I believed. I knew so little about it that I was certain it was a language largely based on ideograms like Chinese. Had I studied history with more accuracy, I would've known that Korea's had its own writing system since the 15th century and doesn't use ideograms any longer.

"Also, as a European, you'll surely think all Koreans look the same."

I'm quick to defend myself against these false accusations with zero grounds whatsoever. "I won't!"