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The first time Mizi ends up in the bookstore, she’s only there to get out of the rain.
It had been sunny all morning, so she assumed there was no reason to bring an umbrella with her to campus today. But as the afternoon wore on, clouds began to gather, and then in the middle of her walk home, the downpour started. So she ducked into the first open shop she saw, and it happened to be a bookstore, and now she’s here.
It’s warm and cozy inside, and—most importantly—dry.
She looks around, taking in the shelves upon shelves of books before her, trying to determine if she should actually peruse their selection or if she should just linger by the door and watch for the rain to slow. Maybe she should check the radar on her phone?
She pulls it from her pocket, only to be met with No Service.
A frown tugs at her lips.
Before she can check to see if maybe this store has wi-fi, a melodic voice interrupts her thoughts: “Are you looking for something specific, or just here to hide from the weather?”
Mizi glances up, and her breath catches in her throat. Because standing a few meters away from her, having paused shelving books to speak to Mizi, is the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. She’s mesmerizing, with round eyes and porcelain skin and dark hair that cuts off just above her shoulders. The nametag pinned to her shirt says SUA, and even that is like a lullaby as it settles in Mizi’s mind.
“Um,” she stammers. “Well—”
Sua giggles. “It’s supposed to rain off-and-on all evening. You should catch a break here in ten minutes or so.”
“Right,” Mizi agrees, her voice sounding strained. Sua turns back to her work, which some part of Mizi’s mind deems immediately unacceptable, because she calls out, “Wait!” without even thinking about what she’s going to say next.
Sua raises an eyebrow.
Mizi wants to be within her sights forever.
She swallows down that thought. She’s only just met Sua, and she’s been told she falls in love too easily. Though there is a difference between what the world sees as love and what Mizi sees as love, and she knows this is not the same as when she lets Till paint her face or when she falls asleep slumped against Ivan’s shoulder. This causes a sharper tug at her heart—a longing she has never felt for Till or Ivan. It’s…
“Did you need something?”
“I—” Mizi stamps down her spiraling thoughts. Sua works here, and if she asks for Sua’s help with something, she’ll have to pay attention to Mizi instead of her job. Only because helping Mizi is also part of her job, but—whatever. It’s the only plan Mizi can come up with on the fly like this. “I wanted to look around a bit too, while I’m here,” she lies. Most of the books she’s read recently have been for class, and before that, back in high school, she’d stick to silly YA romance. But Sua looks smart, so Mizi asks, “Do you have any poetry recommendations?”
(She cringes internally as soon as the words are out of her mouth. Ivan would criticize her for how she worded it, citing that they’re called poetry collections or something. Probably. Mizi actually doesn’t know much about poetry at all.)
But Sua smiles warmly at her. “I do. Give me a moment to finish shelving these, and then I can show you.”
It’s not exactly what Mizi wanted, but it’s a reasonable compromise. So she nods emphatically. “Okay! Thanks so much!”
“Of course.”
Sua turns away from her again, and this time, Mizi takes the opportunity to shamelessly stare at her. At the way her hair sways with each movement she makes, and the grace with which she stacks books on the shelf, and the soft lines of her waist. She is beautiful like the first snowfall of winter, like a snowflake beneath a microscope, and Mizi wonders if her skin would be cold as ice or if it would be deceptively warm.
She wants to know.
She wants to learn—about every last millimeter of Sua’s body.
(But she knows better than to say as much aloud. She knows better than to let her desires see the light of day, because she knows what it is to be seen for only surface-level beauty and she knows she would not wish that on anyone.)
It takes Sua only a few moments longer to finish her current task. Mizi looks away the moment before she turns back around, so she won’t be caught staring. And then, she lets Sua lead her to the poetry section.
The bookstore isn’t big, but the shelves tower over both of them, reaching all the way to the ceiling. They pass by a ladder, which Mizi assumes is used to retrieve books from the top shelves. Idly, she wonders if Sua would offer to get a book down for her. Would she ask Mizi to stand by the base, in case she were to fall?
If she were to land in Mizi’s arms, would she blush, or would she be able to retain her professional demeanor?
“Here we are,” Sua says, tearing Mizi from her fantasy. She gestures to the shelf they’ve stopped in front of. “Do you have any favorite poets? Personally, I enjoy Kim Hu-ran-nim’s work.”
Mizi nods. “I like her too.”
Sua hums, apparently convinced by the lie. “In that case, I would recommend Huh Young-ja-nim. They’re both considered to be lyrical poets, and Huh Young-ja-nim’s works explore themes of various types of love and what all can be encapsulated by that one word, which seems like something you might enjoy.” She pulls a book from the shelf, and holds it out to Mizi. “The scourging is my favorite in this collection.”
Mizi takes the book gingerly, carefully avoiding brushing her fingers against Sua’s. She runs a hand over the smooth cover, and though she’s never truly been interested in reading poetry, she can’t deny the book itself is beautiful.
Themes of love, Sua had said. And how love can be different, but it’s all still love.
“I’ll take it,” Mizi says, before she can comprehend she’s even made the decision to buy it.
Sua’s eyes light up, and Mizi decides she would go broke buying every book recommended to her, if it would grant her such a sight each time.
Mizi follows Sua to the register, holding the book close to her chest, to protect it from any harm. Once she’s paid, she carefully slips it into her bag.
“Just in time,” Sua notes. When Mizi gives her a confused look, she gestures towards the door and windows at the front of the store.
It’s stopped raining, and the sun seems to be peaking through the clouds.
“Oh!” Mizi exclaims. “I’d better hurry before the rain starts again. Thank you so much, Sua-unnie.” She waves, and then rushes out the door. She’s a block away from the store before she registers that Sua’s cheeks had colored slightly upon Mizi saying her name.
She grins to herself as she runs down the sidewalk.
She’s already making plans to return to the store as soon as possible.
—
She finds Ivan in between classes the next day, eating lunch with Till at one of the dining halls on campus. She sits down with them and immediately tells Ivan, “I need a crash course on literature.”
Ivan blinks at her, slow, like a cat.
“What?” Till demands. “Since when do you care about reading?!”
“Since yesterday.” She pouts at Ivan. “Please?”
“You’ll have to be more specific. What kind of literature?”
“Oh! Umm…” Mizi pulls the poetry book from her bag, holding it up so Ivan can see. “Anything like this!”
Till cranes his neck so he can see the cover too. “Is that—?”
“Poetry?” Ivan raises an eyebrow. “I’m afraid my expertise is in novels and novellas, though I may be able to offer a bit of help. I’ve never heard of that author, though. Why the sudden interest?”
Mizi flushes. “Well— I just…picked this book up yesterday, ‘cause I thought it looked pretty.” She smiles sheepishly. “But I’ve never read poetry outside of school before. Should I just go through it like a normal book, or…?”
Ivan nods slowly. “Poems in a collection are typically ordered purposefully, so I would recommend reading them in order, yes. Be prepared for it to take more time than the books you’re used to, though. Often, poems require two or three readings before the full meaning is clear.”
Mizi slumps. That sounds like so much work.
She slides the book back into her bag, chewing on her lip. She wants to go back to the bookstore right away, but she figured she should probably read at least some of the book first… But she also has homework to worry about, and her classes, and an exam coming up, and— ugh.
“You seriously just bought that book on a whim because you liked the cover?” Till asks.
“Yep!” Mizi stands. “Anyway, I’m gonna go get food for myself now. Have fun, you two!”
She makes herself scarce before either Ivan or Till can question her further.
—
Ivan does humor Mizi, texting her some of his favorite poems and poets, and what he likes about each of them. He also gives her some tips for reading poetry, which Mizi mostly ignores. As soon as she has a free moment over the weekend, she speeds through the first ten poems in the book before deciding that’s good enough.
So, on Monday after class, as a reward for making it through the first day of the week, Mizi stops by the bookstore on her way home.
It’s busier this time, but Sua looks up as soon as Mizi enters and greets her with a smile. She’s even more beautiful than Mizi remembers, and she finds herself frozen in place even after Sua has turned back to the customer she’s currently helping. Mizi simply watches, eyes raking over Sua, ashamed of her longing but not enough to stop.
Then someone nudges her side, and Mizi breaks from her stupor. She turns to find a tall woman with dark skin and darker hair smirking at her. She’s wearing sunglasses, despite the fact that they’re inside, and a black tank top that shows off her biceps.
Mizi focuses her gaze on the woman’s nose instead.
“She’s pretty, huh?” the woman asks.
“I, um—” Mizi stammers, “I don’t— know what you’re talking about!”
She turns away, before the woman can see the blush painting her cheeks. “I’m just here for the books.”
“Right,” the woman replies, disbelieving. But she doesn’t say any more as Mizi hurries away. She weaves through the shelves, back to the poetry section, because that’s the sort of thing she told Sua she likes. So that’s the sort of appearance she has to keep up.
She pulls up Ivan’s list of recommendations, but her head starts spinning as she tries to scan the shelf and keep the names in mind, so she ends up just grabbing another book with a cover that catches her attention. The spin is dark purple, similar to Sua’s eyes, and there’s a painting of a blooming flower on the front.
She flips through the pages quickly, to confirm that it is, in fact, a poetry collection and not some other sort of book that ended up in the wrong section. As long as it’s poetry, it’s good enough for Mizi. Most poetry sounds the same anyway, right?
(No, she chides herself. Even if she thinks that to be true, she can’t let Sua know, because a true poetry reader would be able to pick apart the various nuances of each author. Like Ivan can.)
She tries to recall some of what Ivan’s messages said—but he talked about metaphors and imagery and formatting and syllable count and a bunch of other stuff that just went straight over Mizi’s head. She should have tried to understand it better, probably. But given that her feet are already carrying her up to the register where Sua is, it’s a bit late for that now.
She’ll just wing it. That worked fine last time!
When she reaches the counter, she finds the woman from earlier seated in a chair beside Sua. She’s scrolling through her phone, and now that she isn’t practically on top of Mizi, she can see the woman has a prosthetic leg, the metal joining skin just below the hem of her shorts.
Mizi turns her gaze back to Sua, not wanting to be rude in her staring.
“Hi,” she says shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s the sort of thing boys always called her a tease for, even though she isn’t trying to tease them or even make herself appealing to them at all. But with Sua, it’s different.
With Sua, she hopes her beauty can truly be used to her advantage. She wants Sua to like her, instead of all the boys who she’s had classes with over the years. Sua dragging her gaze slowly over Mizi doesn’t make her want to run away or hide or vomit. It makes her want to sink beneath Sua’s skin so they can be together forever.
“Hello,” Sua greets evenly. “I didn’t think I would be seeing you again so soon.”
“Oh, it’s the hottie from earlier!” the other woman behind the counter exclaims, and Mizi flushes at the compliment, but it’s still not like when boys do it. “I don’t think I got your name. I’m Hyuna, by the way.”
Sua shoots a glare at Hyuna, who only continues grinning at Mizi.
“I’m Mizi,” she replies, locking eyes with Sua instead of Hyuna. She doesn’t mind if Hyuna knows her name, but she’s sharing it for Sua’s sake, mostly. She wants to know what it would sound like falling from her lips—if it would be a song to rival all the greatest idols, if it would sear itself into Mizi’s memory forever.
“Mizi,” Hyuna repeats. “Cute!”
“Hyuna-unnie…” Sua complains. Her lips curve downwards, in a slight pout, and Mizi wants nothing more than to kiss her until she smiles again. She imagines Sua’s lips would be cool to the touch, and that she would kiss with all the meticulous consideration of one painting their next masterpiece.
Hyuna holds her hands up in defense. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to it. Luka’s expecting me soon anyway.” She stands up, ruffling Sua’s hair before striding away.
“Sorry,” Sua mumbles, still looking mildly upset.
“Oh, it’s no problem!” Mizi returns brightly. She places the book she found on the counter. “She seems…lively.”
Sua rolls her eyes. “That’s one way to put it. She used to work here, before graduating last semester. Now she stops in to say hi and annoy customers every once in a while.” She shakes her head slightly, and her expression softens as her eyes meet Mizi’s. “Did you find everything you were looking for?”
“Yep!” Mizi says, without thinking. Immediately, she backtracks. “Er, well, I wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. I just loved the poetry collection you recommended so much that I was inspired to come back and get another one! And this one piqued my interest, soo…” she shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “I’d be happy for more recommendations from you, though. If you have any.”
“I—” Sua’s gaze catches on something behind Mizi, and she frowns. “Maybe another time? It’s a bit busy today, and I’m the only one working for another hour.”
“Oh! Right, of course, that’s fine.”
(It’s not—Mizi can feel jealousy flaring in the pit of her stomach.)
(But she swallows it down, and smiles at Sua, because she knows how to keep her sunny exterior on display through any bout of negative emotions. It’s a blessing as much as it is a curse.)
Sua scans the book, and Mizi pays. She thanks Sua emphatically, half-stumbling over her words, and then makes an escape before she can embarrass herself any further.
But the entire walk home, she can only think of Sua’s gentle smile, and how it wraps around Mizi like a fluffy blanket on the coldest winter day.
—
She makes a habit of returning to the bookstore, after that. She spends a lot of time pretending to peruse the shelves while she’s really attempting to catch glimpses of Sua, and then looking away as Sua turns her gaze onto Mizi. It burns like the sun to be subject to Sua’s attention, but Mizi craves it like the oxygen in her lungs. She wants Sua’s eyes on her and her alone, and she sort of hates herself for it, because she knows what it’s like to be the victim of unwanted longing.
But Sua—
Sua doesn’t act as if she is Mizi’s victim.
She smiles at Mizi, whereas the rest of her customers are met with frowns. She lets their fingers brush when Mizi hands over her card to pay for a new book. She softens her voice and she leans into Mizi’s space and she does not act as if Mizi owes her for simply existing as she is. She lets Mizi talk and fluster herself, and she laughs lightly—in a way that makes Mizi’s heart flutter rather than fall.
Sua is unlike anyone Mizi has ever met before.
She lets Mizi observe, never asking for more. And Mizi drinks down all that Sua allows her as if she is coming out of years stranded in the desert.
—
Mizi doesn’t exactly mean to follow Sua when she gets off work. It’s just that she was running behind on her weekly trip to the bookstore, because she was working on a group project, so she only makes it to the store shortly before closing. And then Sua turns to walk in the same direction as Mizi’s apartment, and Mizi figures it would be weird for them to walk together, so she starts in the other way.
And then circles back, and ends up trailing behind Sua. And when their paths diverge, Mizi just…
Follows Sua instead.
She’s curious, okay! She doesn’t know much about Sua, because she flusters herself each time they talk, while Sua is always so cool and calm and collected. She’s like an untouchable marble statue, and Mizi is the silly child flouncing around her, imagining what it would be like to climb on top and reign from her perch there forever.
She wants to observe Sua outside of the environment of her work. She wants to know if she is so ethereal everywhere, or if she is only nice to Mizi out of obligation. She isn’t stalking; she’s merely observing. Like she’s been doing for weeks. Just not at the bookstore this time. It’s totally fine.
Sua walks with all the regality of a princess, treading lightly against the sidewalk, almost as if she’s floating through the crowds. She weaves effortlessly through other people, and when Mizi catches a glimpse of her face, a frown is etched into her features. As if she’s displeased with the entire world. But she is still so, so beautiful.
Mizi imagines a world where she is allowed to close the distance between them and run her fingers over the wrinkles in Sua’s brow, smoothing them out until she is smiling once more.
She follows Sua until Sua ducks into a coffee shop. Going in after Sua would make it obvious what she was doing, so she elects to turn around and head home for now, with a plan forming in the back of her mind.
—
One week later, Mizi is seated at a table in the coffee shop she saw Sua walk into, sipping on a smoothie, with one of the various books she bought from Sua’s place of work propped open in front of her. She’s sort-of kind-of trying to read it, but she keeps getting distracted looking up each time the door opens. She’s taken to playing a game with herself, guessing what each person will order, and that’s proving far more entertaining than the book of poems she doesn’t really understand.
If she hadn’t decided to put on a smart person front whenever Sua is nearby, she would ask Sua to explain the poetry to her. She’s sure the words would sound much more lovely falling from her lips than when they can only bounce around inside of Mizi’s own head. But she has a persona to keep up, so she just has to keep powering through the jumbles of words on her own.
She’s beginning to lose hope, wondering if last week was an exception and not the rule for Sua’s schedule, when the door opens again and the exact person Mizi is waiting on steps into the shop.
Mizi bites back a gasp, returning her gaze to the book, trying her best to look invested. Belatedly, she wonders if she should have ordered tea or coffee instead. A berry smoothie doesn’t seem like something a true intellectual would order. Is that going to give her away? Or will Sua not care?
Her worry is cut off by Sua’s voice, sounding closer than she’d expected: “Mizi?”
Mizi takes that as her cue to look up, smiling even as her cheeks warm. “Hi!” she greets, and then anything else she might have wanted to say gets caught in her throat. It may be for the best, so she doesn’t accidentally spill the fact that she saw Sua come here last week.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in her before,” Sua comments. “Do you live nearby?”
“Oh, no, not really.” A nervous laugh bubbles up out of her. “I just— wanted a change of scenery!” She holds up the book in her hands. “I wanted to do some reading, and… I found this place online! So I figured I would try it!”
Sua hums, a smile playing at her lips. “I see.” She bows her head. “It was nice to see you.”
Mizi’s stomach drops. Is this really all she’ll get? Sua can’t stay to chat for even a moment longer? Is it because they’re not at the bookstore, so she has the option to leave now? Should Mizi give up chasing her dream? Or should she only limit her attempts to find Sua to the bounds of her workplace?
She’s careful not to let her disappointment show on her face when she replies with a pleasant, “It was nice to see you, too! Hopefully, I’ll be able to stop by the bookstore again soon.”
Sua’s expression softens. “I look forward to it.”
Mizi’s heart leaps into her throat. As Sua turns away, heading to the counter to order, Mizi sets her book down and simply watches. And when Sua finishes ordering, she looks right back to Mizi, eyes widening when their gazes meet. Mizi’s heart hammers loudly in her chest, but she doesn’t look away.
Neither does Sua.
So, after Sua gets her drink, it doesn’t come as a surprise when she comes to sit down across from Mizi. She ordered tea, and she takes a long, slow sip of it before setting the cup down and asking Mizi, “Why are you really here?”
Mizi frowns. “What do you mean?”
Sua gestures towards her book. “You don’t seem to be doing much reading.”
Before she can think better of it, Mizi blurts out, “Well, the current clientele here is a bit distracting.”
“Is it now?”
Mizi nods. She doesn’t know where she’s going with this, but she barrels on anyway, emboldened by the fact that Sua chose to sit with her when there are plenty of empty tables available. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to focus on reading poetry when the best poem in the world is sitting right in front of me.”
Sua’s face, always porcelain pale and flawless, flushes pink.
It’s a sight to rival every sunset and sky full of twinkling stars. It’s more captivating than any spinning galaxy or dazzling constellation. Sua blushes, smiling shyly, and she becomes Mizi’s entire universe in that moment. There is no one else for Mizi besides Sua—she knows this without a doubt. She will orbit Sua forever, hoping and praying that they can be a pair of binary stars ruling over their solar system together rather than Mizi being nothing but a measly dwarf planet Sua could never have the time to care about.
“Mizi,” Sua whispers like a prayer. She reaches out, taking one of Mizi’s hands in hers and bringing it to her lips. She kisses the tip of each of Mizi’s fingers, touching her as gently as she would the petals of a flower. Against Mizi’s palm, she murmurs, “You are my warm and dear pink flame.”
And Mizi’s face flames pink to perfectly match Sua’s words.
—
They sit in the coffee shop and talk for a while longer, and when they leave together, Mizi links her fingers with Sua’s. Sua offers to walk her back to her apartment, though it’s in the opposite direction, but Mizi finds she can’t bear to say no and part from Sua quite yet. So she tugs Sua through the crowded streets in the direction of her home, grinning all the way.
It isn’t until they’re almost back that Sua says, “You don’t really like poetry much, do you?”
Mizi freezes.
She plasters a smile across her face before turning to face Sua. “What do you mean?”
“The first day we met, I suggested a poetry collection to you, and I mentioned my favorite poem in it. The scourging by Huh Young-ja-nim.”
“Yeah, I remember! It was a really touching—”
“Mizi,” Sua interrupts. A smile is playing at her lips, but mirth gleams in her eyes. She cups Mizi’s face. “So life too, / that painful, shameful / scourging, // seen in distant days / may prove a flowering cumulus? / Or a warm, and dear, pink flame?”
Mizi’s lips part, and a quiet, “Oh,” falls from her mouth.
A warm and dear pink flame—that’s what Sua called her back at the coffee shop. And Mizi had made no comment on the fact that it was from the first poem Sua ever recommended to her.
Sua giggles. “I’m very good at reading people who come into my store. I knew something was off when you claimed to like poetry, but I wanted to see what happened, so I played along.” She looks away. “And I must admit, I’m glad I did.”
Mizi’s heart skips a beat. “You are?”
“Of course.” Sua meets her gaze once more. She leans in, lips brushing against Mizi’s cheek. “I would be fooled by you a hundred times over if it led me here.”
Mizi giggles.
“And I, you,” she vows.
She seals the promise with a kiss.