Chapter Text
It was early in the morning. The air was cold but not enough to make me want to cover myself until I looked like a bag of clothes. It was more like a chill temperature, the one that give you goosebumps and then you don’t kind of feel it anymore, unless a cold wind passes by. The sun was slowly rising, letting its rays be seen from above the buildings blocking him. There wasn’t much noise, only a few birds flying gracefully above. I was standing at the bus stop, waiting for the first bus to arrive. There wasn’t much people either, just two old women beside me and a few cars going to god-knows-where.
I’ve always loved getting up really early in the morning during vacations or free weekends to go on a lonely journey across the country to find inspiration. I mostly decided which city I wanted to visit and then go. This time I was making my way to see the morning ocean at Busan. I had heard from my fellow students that you can have the best views of the ocean at Busan. And I wanted to go there and paint something, because I hadn’t in a long time.
Even though I practiced every day I didn’t feel that as painting, since I didn't feel anything while doing it. To my eyes, it was just tracing lines on an empty canvas, no more than that. And it had been a long time since I had a free weekend and had felt inspired by something. So I thought it would be a good idea to go and paint whatever thing that really made me feel some kind of emotion.
After ten minutes or so, the bus arrived and the doors opened. I climbed up, paid for the ride and greeted the chauffeur with a small bow and a smile. He smiled back and I sat beside a girl with a crazy hair colour.
Her hair was so cool. And her grown-up-like features made it look even more awesome. The thing was that her hair was white, but it had stains of many bright colors. There was blue, pink, red, orange, green, yellow, and purple, even black and grey. All of that together. It actually looked like an abstract painting in which there are splatters all around. But this time, it looked even better in her.
As I sat the girl muttered an “Annyonghaseyo.” Which I replied the same way, trying to hide my enthusiasm with her beautiful hair colour. I kept silent and started to feel bored so I took out my sketchpad and pencil with the intention of drawing whatever came into my mind. But I was stopped by the girl’s hand offering an apple.
“Do you want some? You look like you haven’t had breakfast yet.” I took my eyes away from the yet-drawn paper to look at her. She smiled once my eyes met hers, making a gesture for me to take the apple. How did she know I hadn’t had breakfast, I don’t know. The only thing I know is that ignoring the fact that I was surprised, I took the apple.
“Kamsahabnida…” I said as she started to talk about art because she had noticed my sketchpad. She talked about how much she loved it and the things she had once done and painted. But the thing that fascinated me the most was the fact that she had dyed her hair by herself because “Art can turn out many ways, and my hair is one of those.” She had plastered her love for art and her talent on her hair. Something I had never seen before, and I really liked it.
When we arrived at the train station we had to part different ways and was just then when I realized that I hadn’t asked her what her name was. I had been so concentrated on the conversation that I forgot about the fact that she had a name. It’s funny because I guess she also forgot to ask mine. I can’t judge, she was as much into the conversation as I was myself.
I wanted to take the first train to Busan, but it was just about to part. I had to run with my not-so-light things all the way to the train. Spend all that trouble just to find the train about to explode because of the excessive amount of people. I don’t know how I did it, but I managed my way inside. As I had expected, there wasn’t any free seats, so I had to get a grip on the upper bar. The only problem is my height.
Being a short 152cm tall girl has its own advantages. Some like: Hiding in places anybody else can, fitting in rather small places, passing through people without bothering anyone, finding a partner or a crush that will always be taller than you…I can keep saying things about how good it actually is to be short. But the same way I can mention things that make me an advantaged person, I can say things that aren’t really pleasant: the constant stupid teasing, having tall people in front of you at the cinema or concert or exposition so you can’t really see anything, not reaching things that are on top of a high place, the entrance of some rollercoasters (which I love with my heart), that awkward moment when people confuse you with a little kid at first sight; but one of the most I hate is having to stand on the tip of my toes to grab the freaking bar in the train. It is just so painful!
In this case, I had to do what I hate the most. ‘I hope somebody offers a seat.’ I practically cried inside. I knew I would have to wait until the train stopped at the next station and someone left a free seat because I knew that the ‘someone offering a seat’ was practically impossible unless you are an old lady.
I stood there, hand tightly wrapped around the bar, eyes squeezed shut, the tip of the toes hurting. I was really trying to keep the pain inside and not show it to other people, you know, maintain it very intimate. But someone surely noticed my efforts on maintaining the posture and had the audacity to laugh.
I heard a quiet chuckle beside me. I opened one of my eyes to see who it was. And I found a boy sitting on the seat beside me with a hand covering his mouth, maybe trying to hide the fact that he was actually making fun of me. ‘Hmm, stupid boy.’ When he realized I was looking at him he suddenly stopped laughing.
“Are you practicing ballet?” He joked, giving me a raised eyebrow. I narrowed my opened eye at him, with the intention of glaring. “You can have my seat if it’s painful. Well, it does looks painful.” I looked fully at him with a face of disbelief. I couldn’t believe that after making fun of my ‘height problems’ he was actually offering his seat. The boy gave me a cute smile. It showed his teeth, that kind of smiles that make the eyes smile as well (if you catch the idea).
“Annyeo!” I shook my head, "I'm good.” I lied, not even knowing why I was rejecting the thing I was previously praying for.
“Seriously, take it. At least it’ll be easier for me to stand there.” He stood up, grabbed the bar with one of his hands and with the other took mine off by the wrist, sitting me down.
“Um... Thanks.” I told him, bowing. He smiled at me once again, and it did amuse me. The boy turned his head slightly to the side to talk to a boy, his beautiful smile not disappearing even once. I felt the urgent desire to pull out my sketchpad and draw.
I had felt inspired. I had felt inspired by that stranger’s smile. I had felt inspired by a person for the first time in my life. I didn’t know why but that smile of his made me feel him even more alive than all the people I had meet at the moment. I sensed him differently, he was different. He reminded me so much of a child's innocence. He made me feel so many emotions and reminded me of so many things that I can’t even remember now. All I know is that he had totally inspired my soul.
“What are you drawing?” His sweet quiet voice made me jump slightly on my seat. I had been so concentrated on giving the drawing the final details that I forgot I had a whole world around me.
I hesitated at first, trying to hide the drawing from him since I thought he would be uncomfortable or think I’m a stalker or a freak. But I saw his pleading face and decided to show him, looking instantly at my lap, where my hands were making strange, nervous shapes and movements. “Oh! Isn’t that me?” The boy didn’t look away from the drawing, frowning a little. When I saw that I panicked.
“I’m sorry. But I felt inspired and I couldn’t help-“
“I love it…” He suddenly interrupted me. “You draw awesomely.” His fingers brushing the page.
“Really?” I gave a relieved sigh, “Thanks.” A giant smile appeared from between my lips.
“But do I really look this… Ummm, I don’t know how to describe it.” My smile grew wider. Since I finally had the chance to explain myself.
“Alive…” I simply said, receiving a confused look from him. “You looked really alive…”
He looked at me once again, smiled gigantically and nodded his head slightly. Finally understanding what I meant.
“Jeon JungKook.” He stretched his hand to me.
“(Surname) (Name),” I said, taking his hand.
That was the way I met the fourteen years old JungKook, the boy that would become the best friend I have ever had and the one who got away as easily as he came.