Boyce Avenue - Shallow

Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler - This Is How You Fall In Love

James Arthur - Falling Like The Stars

The time after that summer was the loneliest for me.

It was as if pages in the book of my life had been torn out. You could still see through their spiked ends that they were once there, but what was written on them was meant for me alone.

What words had once been there? What sentences that I had not been able to say were written there?

Would Minho still get the chance to discover them? Would I ever be able to read them to him?

Day by day I lost more and more pages. My binding became thinner and thinner.

The pages were floating on the high seas, but they were no match for the storm. The once colourful sheets floated in the raging sea and lost all their colourful ink until they were nothing more than a blank, wet sheet. Broken, unable to be written on. No longer usable.

I was not complete without those pages. I was ripped apart.

I felt alone. Suddenly I had no one to talk to, no one to hold on to when I felt powerless. With whom I could share my world without being judged, without being hurt.

It sounds stupid and naïve, I know. But to this day, even as an adult, I can still clearly feel the emptiness in me that this time brought with it.

Of course I had my father and I also got along well with our staff. Our guests always told me new and exciting stories, but all of that was blurred. It was as if the full colour of the world had been turned down. Nothing sounded as fascinating and gripping as the time before that wonderful summer.

I tried to lose myself in my books. With all my might I concentrated on the written words. But every time I found an engaging sentence and wanted Minho's opinion on it, I only looked at the empty seat where he once sat.

With his gaze focused. Eyebrows branching close, staring into the distance, intent on taking in each word individually and really grasping it. To really understand its meaning.

But Minho was not there.

And even though I could no longer read my books with so much verve and joy, I didn't let it go. Every day I went into my world and read. I read on and on and on. I marked every interesting passage and wrote down my thoughts about it. I wanted to have read as much as I could as soon as Minho came back. So that I could tell him more about the books. That I could tell him about what I had read, tell him my thoughts about it and then he could decide what I would read to him here in our world. Then we would talk about it again, look into each other's eyes and....

This thought gave me hope. It made me go on. Minho had promised that he would come back. Every single word in my letter was meant seriously. I was not a great writer. I had read a lot in my life. But reading words and putting them on paper myself are two different things, I realised as I wrote down my farewells and feelings with a trembling hand. Every day I wondered how Minho had reacted when he read my words. Did he feel the same way about me as I did about him? Was he happy? Was he sad to have to leave? Or was it all just friendship and I had only imagined our close intimacy?

I would check our mailbox every day, but there was never a letter for me.

I excused it by telling myself that Minho was living a life on the high seas with his father. He probably didn't have the time, not the head with to reply. And there are no postmen at sea.

As soon as Minho would be back here, he would tell me everything. He would explain to me and apologise for not writing back. That they had stayed on the sea for a long time and lived from fishing. That they had gone ashore by a distant place and that it did not send letters abroad.

He would explain.

As autumn dawned I looked out of my bedroom window at the restless waves with trembling eyes.

The surface that once held warmth and glitter was now attacked by thunder and windy turmoil. As if you goaded an animal and it fought back, it would attack you as soon as you got too close.

The rainy storms balled the waves into high mountain peaks and showed me once again how small and insignificant I was as a human being. How powerless.

With every thunder that struck and with every grey cloud I became more and more afraid. But to think that he had not written me a letter back because of that, I never wanted to finish that thought.

This thought frightened me more than anything else.

I kept trying to remind myself that Minho, even at his young age, was an experienced sailor. He was strong enough to brave the violent blows and was able to tame the waves.       

Eventually, however, the tumultuous autumn passed and the icy cold of winter overtook us and our little town.

The first snowflake of winter settled on the grey asphalt as I looked out of the restaurant window while collecting dirty dishes. Crystallised ice laid layer upon layer on the floor, covering it in all its pure and soft mass.

As I watched the flakes in fascination, I caught sight of a moving van from a distance. It was a mystery to me why anyone would move in winter. It was so cold and slippery. But the thought lingered only briefly in my mind, for snow covered not only the autumn plucked leaves but also my heartache.

Only two more seasons would separate me from Minho.

The boys from the neighbourhood had traded their football for skates and sledges. Their once colourful shirts had become several layers of vests, shirts, jumpers and jackets. And the girls had also found a new enthusiasm as I noticed.

But unlike Minho, his smile seemed genuine to me. However, it was not the smile of a young man who enjoyed being the focus of female pheromones. He was not out to wrap the girls around his finger just to have a good time with them. It was the smile of a warmly good person who wanted the best for others, more than for himself.

I had never seen a smile like that before and never again after.

The first time I saw him was when he was carrying large boxes from the moving van into his house. He had short, light brown hair. His eyes, also brown, were like horizontal drops of water, large and round at the nose and narrowing towards the end. He had big eyes that held a lot of warmth. His straight stature showed me that he was well behaved and respectful of his people.

I must say that I liked the fact that he was more concerned with his comfort than with looking conventionally attractive. He always hid his body in far too big jumpers and simple jeans. But that's what made Lee Jinki so interesting to me. In a soul-pleasing way, he didn't care what others thought of him.  

At that time we had nothing to do with each other. There was never any reason for our paths to cross. He had now moved to our sleepy town and I was working in the local resort.

It was after the new year had dawned that I would exchange my first words with him.

Our hotel was only filled with a few guests. We were fully booked in the summer or at other times of the holidays. But the new years had always been manageable, for which I was very grateful. I didn't want to come into the new year stressed or even miss it when the clock struck 12.

I gave the first thought of the new year to Minho. I thought of his black, wavy hair. I thought of his strong arms that held me protectively. I thought of his deep, dark and sad eyes. Eyes into which I would soon be allowed to look again.

Now I would not see him again next year, but this year. Knowing this calmed me and made my heart beat faster.

Even though we weren't fully booked, my dad had miscalculated a bit and asked me to get more fresh buns as we had run out. It was still very early and the sun had not yet welcomed the day when he woke me up. Many older guests were already sitting at the breakfast tables. I just stretched myself and nodded sleepily when I understood my father's words after a few moments of drowsiness.  

In the morning darkness, I drove through the freezing cold, wrapped up in a thick layer of clothes. My dad had called the bakery that had just opened and had already ordered numerous rolls and different breads for us. It was still so early that only the lights of the bakery in town were illuminated. The doorbell rang as I opened it and the warm smell of freshly baked pastries rose through my nose. The cold had driven the last of the tiredness out of my body, but the warm and cosy scent that then floated around my nose gave me a comforting feeling in which I would have liked to lose myself.  

"Good morning!" I already heard shouting to me from the back area. But not angry or grumpy. The 'good morning' was full of energy and warmth.

Lee Jinki blinked once in confusion, as did I, but quickly found his loving smile again. He had been expecting my father, and I his.

"The buns will be ready in a minute." He said and came towards me. He cleaned his hands on his flour-covered apron.

"Thank you." I said a little reluctantly. I felt my cheeks flush a little, but I shook it off with the fact that it was still the frostiness that was creeping up my face.

"I'll help you load the first ones into the car." He said and took one of the boxes filled to the top with the crispy delicacies.

At our very first meeting, Lee Jinki immediately showed me who he was. Lee Jinki was warm, hard working, friendly, and always eager to help others. To this day, when I notice the smell of freshly baked pastries, I think of him and his enchanting smile.

One day I was woken by the chirping of birds. For a moment I saw him, he looked into my eyes and I into his. They were dark and deep. So deep that I would have lost myself in them if I looked into them for too long.

I clearly felt the warm rays of the sun on my face.

For that one brief moment, I was with Minho on his boat. We lay on the hard deck, snuggled into each other and the thick brown blanket. 

The chirping grew louder and lasted for a long time. But even though I didn't have to get up yet, I wasn't angry about this wake-up call. As I looked out of my bedroom window, my heart beat fast and a smile curved around my lips. Spring had officially arrived. The last of the snow had melted, taking the cold with it. It had made way for the lush green and bright colours of spring.

It was hard to go to my world when the white blankets had spread throughout it. But then I could go there again. The green shone stronger than ever before when I visited my world again. The air was full of warmth. Somehow time had passed faster than I had thought in autumn. I found my passion for the written word again and could hardly wait to tell Minho where I had travelled to in my imagination.

Not long now and I would finally be able to read to Minho again. We would talk and ponder about the characters and their decisions. We would look into each other's eyes and hold each other.

I didn't want to spend the warm summer nights alone anymore. I wanted to spend every free minute with this ambivalent man.

This summer I would not make the same mistake again. This summer I would kiss him. I would tell him how I feel. And I wouldn't let him go again.

Who knows, maybe I could persuade his father to let Minho stay. In my youthful foolishness I had really believed that I had the power to do that. That it was up to me to decide how Minho should lead his life. I thought he could work at our resort. We could get a boat and then explore the world together. He would show me all the places he had seen. I would learn about new cultures, foods and languages.

All this with Minho by my side.

It was stupid of me.

But it was carefree.

May opened its doors with a festival in our town. The large square between the local harbour and our resort was filled with music, laughter, dancing people and delicious smells of different delicacies.

Everyone had contributed something. My father was able to offer many tables and chairs for seating. Hobby musicians played happy music on a small homemade wooden stage and Jinki's family had baked a lot.

Small cupcakes, sweetly decorated with different colours, were generously spread on each of the tables.

I sat down on one of the long wooden benches and picked up one of the little cakes. The golden brown base felt soft. Like a little sponge, so delicate and fragile. The head fanned upwards in a perfectly formed swirl and shone a rich, bright shade of blue. As blue as the sea.  

My gaze lost its focus from the delicious pastry and shifted to the background to the calm water in the distance. Its surface glistened bright and inviting in the rays of the pleasant spring sun. I had to sigh. At that moment, I had only one wish.

"You're the first person to react like that to my cupcakes." A friendly, joking voice brought me out of my thoughts.

I looked up abruptly and a smile formed around my lips. I don't know why, but I felt all my body tension drop the moment Jinki and I shared a smile. My shoulders relaxed and my posture was no longer tense.

"It's probably because I might have wished for a purple crown." I couldn't think of anything better to say, but Jinki didn't seem to notice my unease. He sat down with me.

"Is that your favourite colour? Purple?" he wanted to know. I nodded slightly. It was true, but still I found my answer anything but witty.

Although I preferred Jinki to perceive me as being witless instead of sad. 

"Mine is yellow." He said with a determined nod.

"Not many have yellow as their favourite colour." I said, thinking back to all my childhood conversations where you still decided who you were friends with by their favourite colour.

"That's why." Said Jinki. I laughed slightly but also gave him a look that said I didn't quite understand.

"Well, imagine how yellow must feel. Everyone loves blue or green is also very popular. But yellow almost nobody likes. I don't want the colour to feel unloved, after all it's an important colour." He explained. There was no joke or comedy sounding in his words. He meant what he said