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♪ 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, "𝘉𝘰𝘺, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦." ♪

I clutched the painting on my hand — thinking if I'm ready to wake up every morning, go down the stairs, and feel the pain as I see his face — before hanging it in its rightful place, on the wall above the small framed pictures of our son and me. I stood there for what felt like forever before deciding that it was time for my evening cup of coffee.

When my cup was made to perfection and my son was surely sleeping soundly in his room, I walked towards our balcony and sat on my rocking chair. The evening breeze slapped my face as I closed my eyes and smelled the aroma of my caffeine, and I let my mind drift off go the day I confessed my feelings for Kwon Soonyoung.

"What are you painting?" the ever so bubbly Soonyoung sat beside me on my usual bench at the street side.

It was winter, and the coldest day of the season, yet I was out in the freezing cold with my canvas and easel positioned in front of me.

"My project for this season."

I didn't know if it was evident, but I felt my cheeks warming up when he scooted closer to me, our thick jackets bouncing off each other.

"That's so dull," he says, his nose scrunching as he observed my painting. "You know if I was your professor, I'd not accept that and send you back to Korea instead."

From our month-long acquaintanceship, I have learned that he is Kwon Soonyoung, a fourteen-year old 9th grader and exchange students from South Korea the same as I was. Tho he was eight months older, we were in the same grade in high school. Different schools, different line of study. We were both arts students but his was performing arts.

"Okay, professor Kwon, what shall I add to make it more interesting?"

He stared intently at my canvas and I took that chance to admire his classical features — his chinky little eyes that disappear whenever he laughs or smiles, that pointy little nose that scrunches whenever he finds something interesting or amusing, those fluffy cheeks that rise whenever he laughs and those thin red lips that I badly want to kiss.

"I know," Soonyoung snaps me out of my daydream.

"What is it?"

I waited for an answer — a verbal answer — but he just stood, running towards a pile of snow, scooping them up with both of his hand and, throwing them in the air while facing me. I stared at him, in love and confused, before I realised what he wanted me to do: paint him as he played with the snow.

Later that day, as I finished my painting and as he played all throughout it, I decided to invite him to my apartment for dinner.

"What's your most unforgettable moment with me so far?" Soonyoung asks as he swung his kimchi stew in my face.

"When you stole my maple leaf."

"Ha-ha! Me too," his laugh sounded so melodious in my ears. "But there's something more specific than that. You know, that moment, but more specific."

"Should I give you a shovel so you can dig that hole a little deeper?"

He laughed once more. "The look on your face when I lifted the leaf and showed it to your face."

My face flushed. "A little deeper . . . and more specific . . . please."

"I didn't know what it was but it could be love at first sight, you know?" he winked at me teasingly.

I remember from that day, my heart was pounding so hard in my chest and the only thing running in my mind was the question What if he figures it out and rejects me? From my seat, I just stared at him and admired everything that I loved about him as I swallowed my fear of rejection.

"Soonyoung," I called.

He looked at me. "Yes?"

With all the strength I gathered, and trying my best not to stammer, I said, "The look on my face that day . . . it was love at first sight."

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