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the sun beats against the soft cotton of my hoodie in a stark contrast to the biting snow we'd had only a few days ago. i'm not sure which extreme i prefer though, as i shift uncomfortably in the hot air trapped by the layers of fabric. a baseball cap pulled down low protects my eyes from the glaring light as i emerge onto the 'van gogh' square, a hidden gem on the edge of town.
stepping out of metropolitan korea for a moment, my world transforms into an idyllic italian village centre: flaxen buildings rise like a wall, encasing a cobbled square and a marvellous water fountain of greek gods carved from the purest marble. the sounds of the water gushing is inviting on a day as hot as this and i stride closer, fiddling with some spare change in my pocket.
i was about to silently criticise these pathetic families enjoying the sunshine like there wasn't a serial killer walking among them with the mask of an innocent civilian hiding his true identity, when the realisation that i was also strolling about town blindly hit me and i embarrassingly pushed the thought away.
i was standing right against the bowl of the fountain, surrounded by the sound of the flowing water: i gaze at the bottom, the image of the hopeful wishes shifting and moving as the water refracts the light rays. hesitantly i drop my own copper coin in, observing the way it slowly sunk to the bottom to be forgotten about forever.
with the constant gushing of the water, it became harder to ignore the feeling of my dry throat and after coming to terms with the fact that i was parched, i focus my attention on the yellowest of the buildings, sticking out like a dandelion among the daisies. appropriately named 'the buttercup tavern', the tantalising display of pastries and cakes in the window prompt me to take a seat at a metal table outside.
as i study the menu, a shadow falls over me. this is followed by the bright voice of my waiter.
"hello, welcome to the buttercup tavern! what can i get for you today?"
my eyes drift upwards and even i have to admit that the handsome face staring down at me would look more at home in an italian renaissance painting than here: the sun behind his long platinum hair, slightly wavy, creates an ethereal halo that frames his delicate eyes, pore-less skin and blinding smile. the white shirt he wears as the uniform has the first two buttons undone and the sleeves have been folded up to his forearms in an attempt to disguise the fact that it was too big. he holds a notepad and pen in his slender fingers expectantly.
"..sir?"
"sorry. could i have the cafe au lait and a slice of your strawberry shortcake please." he nods, scrawling my order down with elegant strokes before meeting my eyes again, never letting his smile fall.
"will that be all?" i nod and he disappears back inside, but not before he's stopped by a table of middle-aged women who fawn over his good looks wantonly.
i bide the time people-watching before the angelic waiter appears with my order. this time i catch his name tag before he leaves. his name is jeonghan.
the food itself isn't horrible, but left no distinct impression in my mind. to me, cake is cake and coffee is coffee. i take my time, sipping on the murky brown liquid until it grows cold and the cafe thins out as evening sweeps in. i had been watching the waiter cautiously and took note of the fact he would disappear around the adjacent alleyway every so often and appear again a few minutes later smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke.
every angel falls sooner or later.
under the cover of the tangerine sun, i follow him down the darkened alley hidden from the public eye. at first he seems surprised to see me, puffing on the cigarette resting between his rosy lips, but he relaxes much quicker than i expected. did people often corner him in alleyways?
"if you're here for my number then i'm sorry but i'm not interested. i'm sure you're sweet though." now it's my turn to be startled as i hardly expected his biting passive-aggressiveness. wordlessly i lean against the wall opposite him, propping one boot up on the brick.
his eyes never leave mine as he inhales, exhales and taps to let the ash fall in a dull cycle.
"seriously, can i help you?" he's more irritated now, his usual suitors backing away with their tails between their legs at his first snide remark.
i think about the brilliant sun threading through his platinum hair. i think about his porcelain skin. i think about his dreamy sable eyes.
my gaze drops to the elegant fingers stubbing out the smouldering cigarette.
