But Most Of All I Loved It - Tumblr Posts

♡ soul with hyunjin

"We're both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We're connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me."

↳ summary: ever since you were a child, you’ve had an image of a woman's portrait in your head. you don’t know who she is and why you feel sad when you think about her. hyunjin, however, lives in agony over the woman. your quest to find the person behind the painting leads you straight to him.

↳ posting date: April 12th

↳ hyunjin x fem!reader ↳ word count: 26.6k (i'm sorry) ↳ genre: non-idol!au, reincarnated lovers, artist!hyunjin, florist!hyunjin, a lot of angst, strangers to lovers, smut ↳ warnings: mentions of a past life, pregnancy, and children; mentions of suicidal thoughts in a past life; smut (warnings under the cut); hyunjin remembers, the reader doesn't, so he kind of lives in pain for a long while ↳ masterlist ♡ read on AO3 ↳ fic playlist ↳ this was written for the sweetest @hynjnhwng, my favorite hyunjin stan! i hope you'll like this 'little' gift ♡

↳ smut warnings: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected intercourse, creampie

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here, and let me know what you thought about the story here. thank you! ♡

For as long as you can remember, you’ve wanted a tattoo. Strangely, you’ve had the image of it in your mind, knowing exactly what it should look like, even if it’s something you think you’ve never actually seen before.

It looks like a side profile, like a pretty portrait that the artist accidentally ruined, adding weird shapes to it. When you close your eyes and think about this image you see, the outline of someone’s face is clearly visible on it, but something that looks like a splatter of paint ruins the soft edges, spilling over them.

You can’t remember the colors of it, so you choose to fill it all with black in your mind. But, you have trouble getting it from your head onto the paper. You’re not good at drawing or painting or anything like that for that matter, so until someone invents an app that can take a screenshot of what you have on your mind and print it, you’re not getting the tattoo on paper.

That is, until you graduate from university and get a job. Overworked, stressed, and overwhelmed with projects, you decide to join your best friend at one of those paint-and-wine events, even if you can’t paint for shit. You were there to have fun, nothing more.

Somehow, you painted some crazy shapes that ended up resembling the tattoo you’ve wanted ever since you were a kid. So, you continued painting, even if it looked terrible. You felt like the woman was right there, trapped in the paper, and you had to free her by outlining her shapes, let her get out, let her be free. It was dramatic, but the stress and wine had a lot to do with it.

When the paint dried, you asked for a pencil and drew the outlines of her profile, just like the one in your head. The finished product wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t the image you’d had in mind for years—nothing was. You’ve never seen anything like it.

The person who ran the event, the gallery owner, came over and patted your back, complimenting your work. “Is it a self-portrait?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of the canvas.

“No, I… Don’t know what it is,” you admitted with a sigh, eyes glued to your work. “I think I’ve seen something similar somewhere, but I can’t remember where.”

“It looks just like you. It’s a bit abstract, but it looks like you from the side,” she told you, cocking her head to the side as she looked at the canvas before she looked back at you. “There’s this one artist from the city that gave me a couple of paintings that looked exactly like that, maybe you’ve seen some of his work around.”

“There is?” you asked absent-mindedly, not really caring about anything else other than this newfound resemblance between you and the lady in your head. You don’t really see it, but it must be there, right?

“Yeah, I’ve sold a painting or two of his in my gallery, so I must have his number somewhere. Hey, when did you see it?”

“When I was a child, I think?” you suggested, now taking the time to look at the woman, but she was too busy staring at your work to look at you.

“Oh, it can’t be this guy then. He’s somewhere around your age, I think. Definitely wasn’t getting his work out at that age,” she hums, patting your back. “Anyway, great work. I think it looks just like you.”

Somehow, her words irked you, but you didn’t know why. The lady wasn’t you. She was someone you’ve probably seen somewhere, a work of art you could have seen on the pages of magazines or art books you shuffled through as a bored kid, nothing more. It wasn’t a famous painting or photo or anything like it because other people didn’t seem to know what you were talking about.

But, you took the painting with you, letting it sit behind your closet for a long time.

For your next birthday, you treated yourself to a tattoo. The one benefit of working your ass off in your industry is money, which meant you could afford the best tattoo artist in town.

You showed him the painting and did your best to explain you wanted that image but so much better and clearer, and he delivered.

It’s not the exact same thing you see in your head, but it’s similar, and you love it. Now it’s on your wrist forever, and you have no regrets about it—she’s been with you all your life, somewhere in the back of your head, calming and loved. When you think of her, you feel some kind of familiarity, peace. At the same time, thinking about her always ends with a slight pang in your chest, an unidentified pain, longing you can’t put into thoughts, let alone words.

﹋﹋﹋

Hyunjin, on the other hand, knows everything there is to know about the woman in your head. She’s the source of all inspiration, the face he manages to find in each one of his canvases, even when he’s not trying to paint her, draw her, make her come to life through his art. She’s all he can think about.

He’s painted the same thing a million times by now, always adding something new to it, always adding a different pattern. Sometimes, it’s a paint spill. On other days, it’s paint splatter. When he’s feeling like he wants something new, he adds shapes with different objects, like wood, leaves, and branches. He has one that’s gotten close to the real thing, and it’s stored in his apartment safely, far away from prying eyes and fingers, as it should be. It’s Hyunjin’s to marvel at, his to cause him pain and make him miserable, his to cry over.

Still, not even that almost perfect copy is ever going to come close to the image he painted in his past life or the shapes that were added to it later. Just thinking that sounds insane, which is why he’s never said it out loud—but Hyunjin knows it’s true. He has been reborn, he remembers his past lives well, even though some details remain out of his reach.

Still, he remembers the day the image you have in your head was painted.

Hyunjin took his lover to the lake that day. They lived together in a little house near the lake, surrounded by nature, and lived off his commissions and the food she grew in the garden, paired with his inheritance money. They weren’t well off, but they felt like they were because they had the sun, the water, and each other, and that was all that mattered.

That day by the lake, Hyunjin painted with a new zeal, having just found they were going to expand their family of two. It was official. A doctor from the village came to check up on his partner and told them that they were going to become parents. Since his heart was filled with joy, Hyunjin painted and painted, asking his lover to sit on the blanket he placed on the grass and just enjoy the sun rays on her face while he paints.

It was perfect, his work of art, perfect. It was the first time Hyunjin had managed to trace the outlines of his lover’s face perfectly, the longing in her eyes so visible through the canvas, her slightly open mouth inviting him in. A work of art, indeed.

The canvas, like many others, ended up hanging on the walls of the small house. No matter how much Hyunjin painted or drew, his lover always managed to find room for more. It was the type of accepting and supporting love Hyunjin’s never felt since. Even today, when he’s doing well by society’s standards, is an artist, has people who buy his art, has women who really like him, Hyunjin hasn’t felt as close to someone, as loved by them like he did back then at that cottage.

And then, the child came and changed him into a better person, someone who only wanted to make his family happy. The canvases were replaced by the child’s artwork, supported by his doting father and supportive mother. But, the one piece of art his lover adored was the one he painted by the lake that day, when they found out they were going to become parents.

Despite always keeping it safe and sound, the canvas got ruined. Well, not exactly ruined, but it definitely wasn’t what it used to be after the child got its hands on it and spilled paint over it—and not just in one direction. No, three different colors were spilled, completely ruining the outlines of his lover’s face.

Hyunjin was the one to walk in on the child ruining the painting, his heart almost stopping at the realization. He could paint an even better one, sure, but nothing was going to measure up to that one, the one that changed their lives forever.

So, he took the child in his arms and stared at the painting, wondering if it was all his fault. After all, Hyunjin was the one encouraging the child to throw paint on canvases and explore, draw, and do artistic things. “This was mom’s favorite one,” Hyunjin told the child, kissing its temple. “Let’s hope she doesn’t get sad over it.”

When his lover walked into the room a mere couple of minutes later, her eyes went straight for the ruined canvas on the floor. Hyunjin expected sorrow or maybe a tiny bit of anger, but her eyes flew straight to the child who still had paint on his hands, clutching onto Hyunjin’s shirt with a big pout. “Oh, baby,” she said, walking over to peck its cheek, one hand cupping Hyunjin’s face. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” the child muttered, feeling sad despite the kindness shown.

“Don’t be sorry!” She took the child from Hyunjin’s arms into her own and got down on her knees, taking the glass of water from the nearby table and spraying some of it onto the canvas, which caused the paint to drip in even stranger directions. “Better?”

“Better!” the child laughed, stomping their little palm all over the outlines of the shapes of the face on the canvas, ruining the soft edges completely. Hyunjin, the artist, crouched behind his lover and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the side of her face. “I’ll paint you a new one. I’ll paint you forever and ever, my love.”

﹋﹋﹋

Were those the words that cursed him forever? Fated lovers, is what the woman told him it was called. It was funny because Hyunjin remembered the lake life when he was a child, retelling it to his parents, who thought he simply had a wild imagination. Nobody else throughout life seemed to believe him either, so he stopped telling people about it, the fear of getting ridiculed stopping him from sharing something so dear to him.

At the same time, this memory dragged Hyunjin down. The love he felt for his little family was too strong, even in this life, and he couldn’t love anyone else that way, which didn’t mean he refrained from indulging in vices and women. Still, nothing ever came close. The memories dragged him down, but nobody could see it—not until some of his friends took him to some old fortune teller, and she read right through him.

“You’re looking for her?” the old lady asked poignantly, out of the blue, the second Hyunjin sat across her and looked into her eyes. “After all this time?”

“Yes,” Hyunjin admitted. It was strange to agree with her, but in an instant, he knew that the old lady knew what she was talking about. The question was specific. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Oh, dear…” She shook her head to the side with a long sigh, looking at him sympathetically. “You can’t find her. You shouldn’t. You’re fated lovers.”

“W-what… What does that mean?” Hyunjin leaned in, eyebrows furrowing over his face. Did that woman really know what was going on in his head? Did she see his past life too? Did she know?

“It means you remember, she doesn’t.”

“But she’s, uh, alive?” Hyunjin dared suggest. That’s what he didn’t know—was his lover reincarnated too? In what form? Would he ever find her, get to be with her?

“Oh, yes,” the woman nodded, reaching out to cup Hyunjin’s hand with her own. “She’s been going through lives thinking about you too. Well, not you specifically, but she’s been wanting to find what you two had. She hasn’t managed to so far.”

“Will she?” Hyunjin couldn’t help but ask, his heart beating loudly.

“She will,” the lady explained slowly, “but you have to let her take her time and be ready. Don’t seek her out. Even if you do see her, don’t approach her, don’t say a word. And don’t, for the love of God, try to tell her about your past life. When she seeks you out and finds you, when she’s ready for the life you two had together, she’ll remember all of it, without you having to explain.”

“Is that what fated lovers means?” Hyunjin inquired, wondering if he would be able to stop himself from approaching his lover if he ever saw her again, especially after all this time.

“Yes,” the lady hummed. “Your fate is to let her find you. If you find her, nothing will happen. She will not remember you, and life will go on like this until you get your chance in the next one again.”

It seemed funny to Hyunjin back then, and it still does, after all this time. Was he really fated to search for his soulmate forever? Even if he finds her, he’s been told he shouldn’t approach first, shouldn’t try to make her remember him, their life, all they had… It was a curse, not fate.

﹋﹋﹋

Ever since you got the tattoo, the image became clearer in your head day by day. The feelings that come with it also become stronger. As that happens, your desire to find the person in this image grows too, slowly consuming your every thought. It is insane. Nobody understands it, of course. Why should they? It is crazy.

You have a job, you have friends, you have a life, yet all you can think about is this tattoo and the meaning behind it, an image that someone, somewhere has put in your head for some reason. Where did you see it before and why did it resonate with you so much that you had to get it tattooed?

When you go back home, you show it to your parents and ask them if they’ve ever seen anything like it before. Both of them respond negatively, even though you beg them to try to remember. You ask your grandparents too, receiving the same response. You’re so desperate that you ask aunts, uncles, cousins, even old neighbors—anyone who might have shown that image to you back then, but you don’t get far. Nobody seems to know what or who you have tattooed on your wrist.

You take a picture of your tattoo and post it on social media, asking people if they’ve seen anything like it. You do get a couple of responses, but it’s always something similar to the image in your head, but never even close for your liking. Nothing’s close to that image.

Suddenly, you remember what the gallery owner told you—there was an artist who painted in a similar fashion. He is too young to have painted the one you remember from childhood, sure, but what if he got inspired by the same thing you saw? Maybe that will help you find out.

So, you seek out the gallery owner, asking her to give you the man’s number or a place where you can find him or, more specifically, his work. At first, she tells you she has to look for it, leaving you almost no hope she’ll actually give it to you.

Life goes on for a while, as it usually does, but the tattoo doesn’t give you a minute of rest, leaving you to long for something you don’t have. Why did you need to find the source badly? Who cared? It will probably end up being from some old movie or a magazine. And then what? Your questions will surely be left unanswered, and you had to come to terms with that instead of letting this insane desire engulf you.

The gallery owner texts you the number ten days later, apologizing for being so late.

Ms. Kim: This is Jeongwoo’s number. He’s having an exhibition downtown this Friday at 8, so you can check out some of his work!

﹋﹋﹋

Like a fool, you come to the exhibition, wondering if you are crazy. The exhibition is too fancy for you, clearly, but you don’t let it show. You wear your favorite dress and expensive jewelry and hope you don’t seem completely out of place. Where is this Jeongwoo, though?

All you want to do is find the guy and ask him if he knows more about the painting, that’s it. It will be weird, for sure, and he’ll probably think you’ve gone mad, but you just need to know.

You enter the next room, admiring the art—though you have to note it’s nothing like the tattoo—you realize there’s a tall, dark-haired man surrounded by a bunch of people who seem to be in awe of him. Must be the artist himself. You lock eyes for a second, but it flees, and he continues talking with the admirers. Tall, dark, handsome, and seemingly talented. A real catch.

You wander around the gallery, looking at the works of art, wondering how much they go for. Surely, a lot more than you can afford. You wouldn’t even buy any of them, anyway. You are there for just one image, and you hope the artist could help you figure it out.

As time passes, you get more restless, wanting to follow the artist around until he’s alone so you can just show him your tattoo and ask if he’s seen anything like it before. The gallery owner said she’s sold two of his paintings, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would Jeongwoo need her to sell his stuff when he’s clearly doing great? People are eating him up.

Maybe she’s helped him in the past. Maybe these portraits were something he did before he made it big. You hope you’ll find out soon. Suddenly, you get a feeling you’re being watched, but when you turn towards the door, no one’s there. There are a couple of more people in the room, but none of them are even looking at you.

And then, you wander to the next room and see it—an image similar to the one tattooed onto your wrist. Of course, the face is not the one you see in your head, but the style is similar. Everything fails in comparison to what you have in your head, but this one is pretty close. So, Jeongwoo must be behind it. He might help you figure out where you saw it first.

﹋﹋﹋

Finally, you see the man of the hour alone two hours into the exhibition, when your hopes are just beginning to falter. In fact, you were just wondering if you should give up and go home, come back to his gallery some other day when you spot that he’s finally on his own.

You make your way over to the man quickly, before anyone else can hog him for another hour or two. “Hi, Mr. Park!” you greet him politely, offering him a hand to shake, which the man does firmly. “Your exhibition is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Ms.?” he looks at you questioningly, so you introduce yourself, letting him know who you are.

“We haven’t met before, but Ms. Kim from the Main Gallery told me I should look for you,” you explain, hoping the mention of the gallery owner’s name will get you on his good side, at least enough for him to let you ask him a question. “I’m sorry if this is a bad time.”

“Ms. Kim? Of course. What can I help you with?” Jeongwoo spreads his arms and grins widely, not seeming even a bit annoyed with a random stranger bothering him in the middle of his very successful exhibition.

You show him the tattoo instantly, wanting to cut to the chase and stop wasting the man’s time. “Have you ever seen a painting like this? A portrait? It seems a bit abstract, I kn—”

“Yes, I have,” Jeongwoo responds immediately, humming as he nods, eyes fixated on your wrist. A weight is instantly lifted off your shoulders. “I gave Ms. Kim two paintings similar to that to sell in her gallery, I’m certain.”

You nod since that’s exactly what she told you. Finally, you’ve found the source! “I saw one very similar in the fourth room,” you point out, reminding him of the painting.

“Yes, the ones I gave her were similar too,” the man agrees with a grin. “How can I help you, though?”

“What is the inspiration behind them?” You beat around the bush with this question, but you don’t want to sound as crazy as you’ve felt for a long time now, the tattoo seeming to have a mind of its own, taking yours over.

“Oh, I didn’t paint them,” Jeongwoo admits with a sigh. “I bought them to resell.”

You could never hide your feelings well, so you’re certain Jeongwoo sees utter disappointment on your face. All this effort for nothing, again. You’ll never get to the real person behind your tattoo, to the person who’s been calling for you through it, you’re sure. It’s all in vain. “Oh, I see. D-do you know who did?”

“Yes, a young artist… People throw that word around so lightly these days, but this young man’s really an artist with the canvas, let me tell you!” Jeongwoo sounds passionate as he talks without pausing to take a breath. “I’ve bought some of his paintings and gave some of them to my gallery friends to sell. More people need to learn about his work. It’s exquisite! He was just here, actually! He’s such a—”

You agree that the paintings are different, in a good way, but that’s not your main focus right now. Before you can think about manners, you interrupt Jeongwoo with a question of your own, “He was? Is he still here?”

He clears his throat and looks around. “I could swear I saw him a minute ago, in this very room,” Jeongwoo tells you, motioning for you to join him as he walks over towards the door, which you quickly do.

Just when you step outside the door into the lobby, you spot a tall, dark-haired man leaving the building through the revolving door. All you can see is his broad, coat-clad back, but you know it’s him. It’s insane, the idea that you could tell it’s him because you’ve never even heard about the guy, let alone seen him, but you know—you just do. For someone who’s tattooed some image they’ve been seeing in their head since they were a kid, that’s not as insane as it seems.

“Is that him?” you ask Jeongwoo, looking towards the door after the man.

“Yes,” he tells you softly before raising his voice, calling out for the man. “Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin. So that’s his name. For some reason, it resonates with you, makes your heart start beating faster for no reason. You don’t even know the guy.

The man, Hyunjin, doesn’t hear Jeongwoo calling after him. He keeps walking and raises a hand when he steps onto the sidewalk, successfully getting himself a cab. For some reason, your legs start walking faster towards the door, so Jeongwoo follows, even if he sounds confused. “Y-yeah, good idea, let’s catch up with him.”

Hyunjin opens the cab door and gets in swiftly, shutting the door with a loud bang just when you two step onto the sidewalk.

Your eyes meet, and you feel like your world turns. Who is this man and why does he make you sad? He looks sad too, especially when he turns his head to the side as the cab drives away, breaking eye contact.

“Oh, shoot!” Jeongwoo sighs loudly. “Listen, if you want to talk to Hyunjin about his work, I’ll give you his work address, so you can look for him there.”

﹋﹋﹋

Hyunjin’s never felt worse in his entire life—all of them, actually—than he does as the cab drives away, increasing the distance between him and his lover, driving him away from the only happiness he’s ever known.

As soon as he steps out of the cab, he breaks down, crouching in the middle of the street, sobbing like a child. What if the old lady was mistaken? What if he’s just let you walk out of his life again, lost you for good in this life too?

He went to Jeongwoo’s exhibition, like always. The man was one of the rare people who understood Hyunjin’s love for the craft and saw his art for what it was. He was also one of the people who bought his work and helped him stay afloat.

Out of all the places in the world, his lover arrived there, her legs taking her to the painting he painted, so similar to the one he painted all the way back when life was simple, when you two had each other, when new life was about to enter this world. Hyunjin missed it, all of it. His heart hurt, and now his head did too from all the crying and the thoughts that swarmed his head.

He missed you, he missed your family, and he missed himself. Who Hyunjin was today differed greatly from the man he was back then, mostly because he’s become so bitter and hopeless, lost in despair, trying to relive his old life through paintings. He even saw a therapist who thought his thoughts of a past life were concerning.

Don’t seek her out. Even if you do see her, don’t approach her, don’t say a word. The words replay in his head as he gets up from the crouching position and walks up to his apartment, tears running down his face and staining his shirt. He’s sick and tired of life by now, but there’s no point in ending it—he’ll just get born again, sentenced to another lifetime of looking for you.

After a shower, Hyunjin feels a bit better, but the pain in his chest is never really going away, he knows. He’s tried to drown it before—in alcohol, in drugs, in parties, in other partners, but nothing came close. It’s like a whole lifetime is missing, not just a piece. You were never just a piece of the puzzle to Hyunjin.

Even back then, he knew you were the one for him from the second you two met. Your parents were against it—his because you were lower class, yours because they saw him as a spoiled rich kid who didn’t have an honest day of work under his belt. Your father warned you that he wasn’t a man who could secure a roof over your head and keep you fed and warm, and Hyunjin’s parents thought he’d get bored of you soon, that you weren’t presentable for their friends, and definitely not someone who should be brought to their home to meet them.

Still, you two made it work. Hyunjin’s uncle left him the house by the lake, the house where his only good memories were made. You lived there until the end, he knows. He’s not sure how long it lasted or how you two died back then, what happened to your children after, but he knows you’ve lived a good, happy life together, filled with a lot of happiness and comfort, and only a bit of tears. Even they turned happy after a while.

So, knowing all that, how can he ever erase you from his memory? Of course he paints you over and over again, of course you’re the only thing he can think about. How can he not? You consume Hyunjin’s every thought. His apartment is filled with your portraits, starting from the hallways.

The image—or the best replica of it to this day—hangs in his bedroom, right across from his bed. When Hyunjin wakes up, it’s the first thing he sees. When he goes to bed like he’s doing now, your face on a canvas splattered with paint is the last thing he sees, and that comforts him.

Back then, you’d go to bed together, the child lying between you so it doesn’t fall out of bed and get hurt. Hyunjin appreciated what he had even back then when he was living it, but he appreciates it even more now that he doesn't have it. He’d give anything to have you in his bed again, the child to latch onto you and kick him in the back with its tiny feet, wake him up from his slumber. He’d give anything, but even that wouldn’t change a thing. It’s a fated love, a cursed one.

﹋﹋﹋

The next day right after work, you’re standing in front of a small flower shop, holding your phone with a shaky hand. You’ve felt like you’re on edge all day at work, especially after a night like that.

You didn’t get a wink of sleep, strange thoughts kept you tossing and turning in your bed, your mind telling you to look for Hyunjin. It was an obsession like the one you had with the image, and that scared you.

You didn’t know the man, you’d only seen him for three seconds before he looked away, but something strong attracted you to him, made you want to think about him. If you don’t go look for him, you’ll keep thinking about Hyunjin and go crazy, and you were already going crazy about the damn tattoo.

He is the answer to all your questions. Well, to the only one that really matters, the one that's been with you all your life. Where did that image come from? Who is she? What happened to her? Where have you seen her? You have to know.

You double-check the address Jeongwoo gave you since a flower shop makes no sense, but it matches the address you’re at. Wasn’t Hyunjin an artist?

Despite being confused with the address, you take a deep breath and enter the small business, getting greeted by a smiling assistant. “Hello there! How can I help you?”

You wonder if you should pretend to be interested in flowers or if you should just ask what you came here to ask. After taking a deep breath, you opt for the latter. “Is, uh, i-is Hyunjin here, maybe?”

“Hyunjin?” the woman repeats and then sighs. “Uhm, yes, he’s doing arrangements in the back. Is this personal? Do you want to go back there?”

“Uh, it is personal,” you start, realizing you’re already digging a hole for yourself, “but we haven’t met, so I’d rather not go in there.”

The man will think you’re bat-shit crazy if you barge into his back room to talk to him about a painting you’ve seen at an exhibition you’ve followed him out of last night. Classy. Also not crazy at all.

“Just a second, please,” she tells you before disappearing somewhere to the back, leaving you alone in the small space filled with the most beautiful flower arrangements you’ve ever seen.

It’s flowers you’d never think of putting together, but somehow it works, each little arrangement, each little bouquet more beautiful than the next. A purple one catches your eyes—hyacinths, your favorites—so you pick it up and stare, wondering if you’ve ever seen one like it before.

Just then, someone clears their throat from the other side of the room. “C-can I help you?” Hyunjin asks, looking around nervously as his colleague goes behind the counter, minding her own business as she pretends you two aren’t even there.

You take a good look at him, taking in his features, noticing how his parted hair frames his pretty face nicely, how he’s a bit sweaty, which causes some of the hair to stick to his face, how his fingers are fiddling with the strap of the work apron he’s wearing, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

The man doesn’t even want to look you in the eye, which is kind of disheartening seeing as you haven’t stopped thinking about him during the last 18 hours, but you’re not here to meet a guy you want to date. You’re here to find the source.

So, you take a step towards him and wonder if you should offer him a hand to shake, but it seems too formal for the situation you’re in. You opt for a slight nod as you give him your name. “I was at Mr. Park’s exhibition last night and saw this amazing painting. He told me you were the artist, but you had just left, so I didn’t get the chance to meet you.”

Hyunjin nods but doesn’t look at you, eyes focused on the purple bouquet you have in your hand. “And?” he simply asks, making you feel so dumb, especially since there’s another person in the room with you listening to this embarrassing conversation.

You haven’t felt this nervous around a man in years and you don’t even know why. There’s nothing threatening about the guy, and you’re not here to win him over. You just need an answer from Hyunjin, even though your heart’s beating erratically and you want to reach out and touch him to make sure he’s real. You don’t understand this insane urge.

“I, uh,” you pause, clear your throat stupidly, and continue, “I was wondering where you’ve seen the portrait you paint before. I mean, the person, and that specific shape, with the splatters.” You don’t know how to explain it well, but since he’s the artist behind it, he should understand.

“It’s… It’s someone I know,” Hyunjin responds curtly, not offering you an explanation.If it’s someone he personally knows, you couldn’t have seen it when you were a kid because he was a kid around the same age.

“So it’s not from a book or a magazine or TV or something?” you ask, knowing you look and sound disappointed, but he’s still not even looking at you. His eyes are narrowing and focusing on the flowers in your hand instead of at your face.

“No.” He’s even less talkative now, and even though you should regret coming here, even though you should just walk out of there and never come back again, your feet don’t want to listen. You stay in the middle of this little flower shop, with one assistant looking at some receipts, and the other refusing to face you even though you’re speaking directly to him.

“I have the tattoo,” you tell him, offering an explanation he didn’t ask for and probably doesn’t care about. As if that’s not enough, you pull back your sleeve a bit to show him the tattoo, and Hyunjin finally looks away from the bouquet, staring at the tattoo. His mouth is slightly open as he stares, head cocking to the side as he inspects it from a safe distance. “I just don’t know where it’s from. I’ve seen it before, and I don’t know where, which is why I came here to ask you that. I had to get it, but I… I’m not sure why.”

Unexpectedly, the man takes three big steps and he’s suddenly towering over you, his head bent down as he looks at the tattoo, moving his head from side to side to inspect it. To help him, you bring your wrist a bit up, and Hyunjin reaches in to grab your hand, but stops himself right when he is about to make contact with your skin. Both of you sigh when he does so, but you don’t know why.

Then, he sticks his index finger out and ever so gently traces the outline of the tattoo, which makes you gasp. You really need to date again, you realize as Hyunjin’s touch sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps instantly pricking your skin, your eyes watering.

Warmth spreads all over your body, and that feeling you have when you think about the image gets ten times worse, threatening to swallow you whole right there in the cozy little flower shop.

“I’m s-sorry,” he tells you, clearing his throat as he moves his finger away, a bit too late—he’s already made your body react to him in a completely strange, new way. “It’s from real life. Someone I… A lover. It’s gone now, the original.”

Lover… How romantic that sounds, you can’t help but think, wondering what it felt like to be this man’s lover. Everything about him seems angelic, ethereal even, every feature of his perfect, like he was crafted by God himself. It’s a silly thought, especially when you’ve known the man for less than five minutes, four of which were spent by you making a fool out of yourself. It’s ridiculous, but the feeling’s real just the same.

“Oh… So I couldn’t have seen it before,” you say disappointedly, realizing that it is all in vain. You’re never going to find the image. “I just wanted to find it.”

“The original?” Hyunjin suggests, cocking an eyebrow up, his gaze still locked onto your tattoo.

“Yes,” you respond, whispering now, even though Hyunjin’s coworker has gone to the back during this conversation, unnoticed by you two.

“Why?” he asks softly, eyes flying to the flowers again.

He’s so close to you you can smell him—a mix of paint, sweat, flowers, and cologne so enticing you want to move your head in slightly so you can inhale it and keep it with you. That thought alone should get you locked up. You can’t believe you’re thinking that way about a random guy you’ve sought out because of a painting.

“I… I just have to find it,” you respond, sounding and feeling stupid, your hand moving up to cross your heart. “It’s eating me up. I know I have to see the original to understand, but now you’re telling me it’s impossible, and that’s… Devastating.”

Your words sound ridiculous, overexaggerated, and like something coming from someone who needs immediate help, yet Hyunjin doesn’t even bat an eye. Instead, he looks at you for the first time since you’ve stepped into the flower shop, and sparks fly instantly. His eyes make him ten times more beautiful than you already thought he was, but they are so deep and sad that they make you want to hug him and keep him close. Insanity.

“I have a copy of the original. An almost perfect replica,” he informs you, “but it’s in my apartment.”

“Can I see it?” you ask shamelessly, as if you’re not telling this stranger you want to go to his place. That’s how people get hurt.

“If it will help you, yes,” Hyunjin responds. “I can just take a picture and send it to you, too, if you don’t want to come all the way there.”

That sounds like an easy way out, but it also means you won’t get to be alone with him in a room with a bed, that you won’t charm Hyunjin into falling into that bed with you, into letting you hold him and kiss him all over, into having you.

Still, it’s the right thing to do—it’s the safe and normal thing to do. You can’t be obsessing over this image and this guy at the same time. “That would be great.”

“My number’s on this,” Hyunjin says as he pulls the flower shop business card out of his apron pocket and hands it to you, eyes moving around the room once again as if he just doesn’t want to look into your eyes. You hate that, mostly because you could stare at him forever. “Text me, and I’ll send you the picture when I get home.”

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” you tell him, holding onto the business card for dear life, afraid of losing it and never talking to him again. The card gets tucked into your pocket safely and then you face the man again, just to find him looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for you to leave.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearing his throat, and you take it as your queue to leave after thanking him again.

You turn around and start walking towards the door, feeling his eyes throwing daggers at your back. Suddenly, you realize you’re still holding the flowers and that you’ve almost committed theft by walking out without paying. Too embarrassed to go up to him and ask him to charge you for the bouquet, you go to return it where you found it, feeling a bit sad you can’t take it home with you—the colors are so vibrant, the lively purple and dark colors of the greenery clash perfectly with the white sweet pea flowers.

Hyunjin calls your name, and you shiver at the tone of voice he uses, one a lot more confident and louder than before. Funnily enough, it sounds familiar, like you’ve heard it many times before. “Take those, please,” he says as he looks at the flowers, still keen on ignoring you. “They’re for you.”

﹋﹋﹋

The second you leave the flower shop, Hyunjin gasps and places his hand over his heart, feeling sadness hit him at once, eyes watering instantly. Your scent is still as enticing as ever, even if you’re wearing perfume he’s never felt on your body before. Still, you smelled like you, the lover he’s known in his old life, like home and comfort and love.

Did he do too much? He shouldn’t have invited you to his apartment—no normal person does that when they meet someone interested in their work, especially not at their place of work, but Hyunjin couldn’t help it. You looked so sad and lost in your quest to find answers that he just had to help you, even if it meant more pain for himself.

When he walked out from the back room and stepped into the flower shop, Hyunjin expected you to remember, like the old lady said you would. Wasn’t that it? Weren’t you there to seek him out, to find him? She said Hyunjin wasn’t supposed to tell you anything about your past life. Instead, he should let you look for him, and you’d remember everything.

So, his heart leapt up when he spotted you standing in the flower shop, waiting for him. Instantly, Hyunjin noticed you holding the bouquet of hyacinths, your favorite flowers. Were they still your favorite? Did you still like flowers, did you like gifting them? His heart grew a size when he saw you holding the bouquet he’d arranged with you in mind, as with most of his work.

Back then, your little house by the lake was surrounded by flowers. They were your passion like painting and drawing were his. You grew fruits and vegetables, but what you liked the most were flowers. Your house was always filled with the prettiest ones, some of the smaller ones would end up tucked behind your ear sometimes or tangled in your hair, and some would get gifted to people you loved. All the bouquets in the flower shop were similar to the ones you used to make, which is why Hyunjin was now making them. He was replicating his and your past life, wanting to live through these two crafts since he couldn't have his life back.

They were just ways for him to fill the big hole in his heart where you and the children used to be.

The old lady told him everything would work out if you looked for him and he kept his mouth shut. You found him, and nothing happened. It was all a lie. Still, Hyunjin’s feelings for you weren’t a lie. His heart hurt from the second he realized you still didn’t know who he was, that you thought he was just a stranger, a person you were asking for a favor, and not the man you used to love, the man you promised yourself to, the man you shared a life and children with.

Thinking about that made it hard for Hyunjin to even look at you without crying, without wanting to hug you and kiss you and never let you go again. But, you were a complete stranger in this life, your soul didn’t remember his, so he couldn't do any of those things.

Instead, Hyunjin looked everywhere but at your face, hoping the conversation would end soon before your vicinity hurts him even more. Every word spoken to him as a stranger shot a pang of pain through his chest, made his voice shiver, and his insides turn. Hearing your voice for the first time in lifetimes felt so sweet, as melodic as he remembered it, even though you didn’t sound happy. At the same time, it was melancholic to listen to you talk and know you don’t recognize him.

It wasn’t just your voice that sounded somber—you didn’t look happy either. The spark in your eyes Hyunjin adored was no longer there, replaced by something he couldn’t figure out. After all, he didn’t know you in this life. Who you were back then didn’t have to be who you are now, and that was something Hyunjin had to deal with somehow.

And then, you showed him the tattoo, and Hyunjin rushed towards you, his legs taking him to you before he could even think about it. You remembered! You had the painting he made for you tattooed on your wrist, and against his better judgment, Hyunjin touched it, traced its outline with his fingers, his skin reacting to yours. Of course his body reacted to having the only body he’s ever loved under its fingertips again. It felt like fire and wind at once, bigger than he imagined it to be, roaming inside his chest at the one-second contact with you.

As if electrocuted, Hyunjin pulled his hand away from you, not wanting to torture himself further with what he simply couldn’t have. His mind was overwhelmed with love as he watched the little image permanently etched into your skin, a reminder of what you two had, of the first child you had. It was the second version, the result of your child getting too carried away and splattering paint over it.

You didn’t remember it, but some part of you clearly did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a tattoo of something you haven’t seen in this life. Something inside of you was telling you to look for the source, but Hyunjin couldn’t tell you about it. If he did, you’d never remember, and that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. The old lady warned him against it, even though it looked like you were hurting.

Hyunjin wasn’t sure which was worse: to remember and live in the pain of having lost it every day or to not remember and have melancholy pull at your heartstrings as you miss something you can’t even remember. Both seemed equally cursed.

You were so different from the past life now—different hairstyle, different hair color, different length, a different way of dressing—but underneath all that, you were the same, and so was he. Hyunjin still felt the same about you after all these years, so seeing you sad brought out something in him, urging him to invite you to his place so he could show you the image, wondering if that would make you remember.

It was the only thing that could make you remember. If that didn’t work, nothing would since that tattoo and the painting on his wall were the only things connecting you two in this life. Without them, he’d lose you.

﹋﹋﹋

When Hyunjin texts you later that night, you think you will pass out. The tattoo’s been burning ever since he touched it, metaphorically speaking. The man did nothing to your tattoo or you, but you can't stop thinking about him, about his lips, his voice, the tone he used with you, or how gentle his touch was. The shivers Hyunjin sent down to your spine reoccur whenever your mind runs back to his touch, which is practically all the time, body buzzing whenever you think about him. It is surreal.

Seeing his name flash across your screen makes you freeze for a second, excitement rushing through you as you grab the phone and read his text.

Hyunjin: I’m sorry it took me so long. Here’s my replica.

Hyunjin: img.png

When you open the image, you’re at a loss for words. You’re sure a phone picture can’t do the original justice, but his painting looks perfect, just like the one in your head. Maybe even closer to the original image, which is out of your reach still, your mind refusing to take you to it.

You’re not sure how or where you’ve seen the original, which Hyunjin’s painted for a lover, but this painting he has is eerily similar to the image you have in your head. You just don’t understand any of it. He seems to be around your age. If he painted something for his lover a while back, how come you’ve been thinking about it since you were a child?

It makes no sense. Even if he’d painted it when he was a kid, you couldn’t have seen it before. Yesterday at the exhibition was the first time you’ve seen Hyunjin, even though you couldn’t fight off the feeling that you knew him. It was nonsense, though. He would remember meeting you too, in that case, but he hasn’t said a word about it.

In fact, he seemed to want to get you out of his hair. When you suggested you should come over, he came up with the idea of sending you a picture of the painting instead just so you wouldn’t show up at his apartment. Did he think you were a creepy stalker? Probably. You did act weird today, stuttering and going on about an image you see in your head and the tattoo you had of it, like it was any of the man’s business.

Besides, you almost stole the beautiful flowers which were now in your bedroom, right by your bed so you could keep looking at them all the time.

You: thank you for sharing it with me, hyunjin! it’s beautiful, you have real talent. i’m sure you’ll do great things with it

You think the text was appropriate for the situation you’re in. You’re not going to ask to see it in person, no matter how badly you want that. After all, that would just be an excuse to go there and drool over the man who seems to find you strange. But, you aren’t lying when you say he’s talented—you could stare at his work for hours, including the bouquet, which you forgot to thank him for, so you text again.

You: also, thank you for the flowers, you really didn’t have to! they’re beautiful too

Hyunjin takes a while to respond, and you don’t even expect him to. What’s there to say? He indulged this weird whim of yours, and it amounted to nothing.

Hyunjin: Thank you for thinking that. I hope the picture helped you find closure!

You: i’m sorry for acting strange today. i wish i could remember where i first saw your painting. everything would make more sense then.

You: thank you for going out of your way to help me even if you didn’t have to. i appreciate it!

﹋﹋﹋

After the strange two days you’ve spent chasing Hyunjin, you don’t see or talk to the man in months. You don’t forget him, of course. Every time you look at your tattoo, your mind screams ‘Hyunjin!,’ making it difficult for you to think about anything else.

It’s strange that you think about him as much as you do, but you tell yourself it’s because he’s probably the most handsome man you’ve ever met and you’ve made a total fool out of yourself in front of him, so your mind makes you remember it as a humbling experience.

You open the picture he’s sent you daily, gazing at it, wondering where you could have seen anything like it before. You’ve sent it to all your friends and family, hoping someone could point you in the right direction, but nobody was able to. The only person who knew the painting existed, that it wasn’t a figment of your imagination, was Hyunjin, who seems to think you were crazy, which isn’t exactly working out in your favor.

And then, you are in a different part of town after going out to a work meeting, and you walk by his flower shop. It is the longer way to the subway stop, but your feet take you there, and you only notice where you are when you see the flower shop’s name on the sign above your head.

You decide to enter on a whim, hoping it won’t seem weird that you’re there again. But, you haven’t been there in months, so you’re sure you won’t seem like a crazy stalker. Besides, it’s a flower shop, and you loved the hyacinth bouquet, so you can just walk inside and get one. If you see Hyunjin, that’s great. If you don’t, you’ll get your flowers and get out of there.

As if fate is playing with you and purposely putting you in embarrassing situations, Hyunjin seems to be the only person in the flower shop. When you open the door and walk in, you find him putting together a small arrangement. His head instantly snaps up, voice greeting the customer before he even notices it’s you.

When he does, Hyunjin’s smile turns into a frown, even though his eyebrows cock up. He says your name, stuttering, and everything stops for a second. You weren’t expecting him to even remember you, let alone your name, which you’ve only told him once, and your mind isn’t letting you brush over that so quickly.

It’s weird how you always forget to speak or act properly around the man, as if he has some kind of a hold over you, which is ridiculous to even think. This time, he’s staring right back too, but he has every right to—you’ve walked into the shop and went mute, eyes locked with his.

“Ah, uh, h-hi, Hyunjin,” you say, clearing your throat and closing the door behind you, using it as an excuse to look away. Deep breaths, you tell yourself. Just get the hyacinths and get the hell out of there. “Hyacinths.”

Hyunjin looks at you like you’re talking nonsense, which you are. His mouth opens slightly as if he is going to say something, but nothing happens, and you just stare at his plush lips, wondering why you think you’ve kissed him before. Did you hook up with him during your wild phase in college? No, you would remember hooking up with a man that looked like a Greek god, no matter how wasted you were at the time.

“You w-want some?” he asks, strong eyebrows furrowing over his sweet eyes, and you nod, gulping loudly.

“Yes, please,” you manage to mutter out, but he’s no longer paying attention. Instead, Hyunjin’s making his way over from behind the counter, rushing to the section with purple flowers—everything is a color-coordinated dream in this place.

You watch Hyunjin as he picks out a couple of bouquets with hyacinths before he turns around to face you. “Do you like any of these?”

“Oh, they’re all beautiful,” you say excitedly because they are. You can’t even decide which one you want since they’re all so perfect, each one of them has something special about it. He’s really an artist with his work, like Jeongwoo said. “Maybe this, this one?” You point to the one on the far right, and Hyunjin nods.

“Thank you,” he tells you as he places the other bouquets down, and walks behind the counter again.

He wraps your flowers in pretty paper so you don’t get wet before handing it to you. “Thank you,” you say meekly, trying hard not to look at him. Blood is rushing to the tips of your ears as you feel Hyunjin’s gaze on you. “Uh, how much do I owe you?”

The man sighs and then speaks softly, “It’s on the house.”

Again? You can’t take it. He might feel sorry for you. Maybe he thinks you only came here to see him, which you kind of did, so he’s giving you this for free because he pities you. “Oh no, the last one was on the house, I can’t possibly take that!” you protest, shaking your head, and getting some money out. “Please, let me pay. I appreciate the offer, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s really nothing,” Hyunjin responds, looking kind of sad all of a sudden.

“It’s great work!” you point out, looking at the flowers. “You do a great job with these, I can’t take another one for free. I really want to pay you for this one.”

Hyunjin nods, seemingly giving up as he turns to the register and gets you your receipt. You give him more than enough money, waving your hand at him when he reaches out to give you your change. “No, please, keep it…”

Hyunjin says your name sternly, making you look up into his eyes again. “If you won’t take it for free, then at least take the change.”

You feel stupid instantly, like you’re making a scene after you’ve turned down his kindness, so you sheepishly stick your hand out and let him place the change in your palm. When Hyunjin does that, his fingertips brush against the inside of your palm and stay there for a second or two longer than necessary, your eyes interlocking.

You’re looking at each other like you have a secret, but there is no secret. You’re just two strangers who don’t know the first thing about each other, except that the one is extremely good-looking and talented, and the other seems kind of deranged on her quest to find the source of a random image she has tattooed on her wrist. The only secret is that you’re insanely attracted to this man who probably thinks you’re stalking him.

﹋﹋﹋

The next time you see Hyunjin is months later at Ms. Kim’s exhibition. You didn’t think he’d be there, but you were kind of hoping for it, which was ridiculous considering you’ve only seen him three times, one of them in passing, and he was clearly not interested in you. You’re there alone, wanting to support the gallery owner whose paint-and-wine events have become the pinnacle of your social life these days.

The agony you’re feeling over the tattoo and the source of the image keeps you awake at night, but you’re trying to tell yourself you’re never going to see the original, you’re never going to know. You have to make peace with that instead of letting this obsession consume you. However, when you see Hyunjin, you realize you might be developing another obsession.

You find it hard to keep your eyes off of his slender figure—Hyunjin’s wearing dark suit pants and a white linen button up, the first couple of buttons undone, allowing you a peek at his firm chest and a golden necklace that adorns his skin perfectly. He’s there alone, it seems, admiring the exhibited work.

Of course, as if he feels someone creeping on him, Hyunjin turns in your direction and catches you staring. You feel like screaming when he raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his glass, as if he’s challenging you, which he’s never done before. Your gaze immediately flies to his lips again, so you look away and take a deep breath before walking over to him to greet him. The other option is pretending you didn’t see him, but that would be too embarrassing.

“Hey, Hyunjin, it’s nice to see you,” you say, sounding fake and weird, as always around him.

“Nice to see you too,” he’s quick to respond. A tinge of color in his cheeks tells you he’s had a bit to drink, and so does the fact that Hyunjin is actually looking at you, for a change. “Enjoying the exhibition?”

“I just got here,” you explain with a sigh, remembering the horrible dinner date you’ve just ran from. Hyunjin just looks at you, so you feel like you owe him an explanation, which you don’t. He didn’t ask and he doesn’t care, yet you go on, “I was just on a date, but that didn’t go well, so I finished early and was able to come to support Ms. Kim.”

“Date?” Hyunjin’s voice shakes a bit when he asks that, but you don’t even think about that, too busy wondering why your heart is beating so fast now that his attention is on you. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I… It’s fine, really,” you say with a shrug, taking a big chug of your wine, showing the man just how unclassy you are. The situation was already dire and it’s only getting worse the more you talk, so wine is definitely a necessity at this point. “Dating is not my forte.”

“How come?” he asks quietly, still staring at you, which is the longest he’s looked at you since you’ve met him. You don’t even question why the man wants to know this, why this is the question he asks out of all the ones he could ask, but you indulge him nonetheless.

“I… Don’t know,” you breathe the words, nervousness getting the better of you as you try to come up with something to say. “Can’t find what I’m looking for.”

“I understand,” Hyunjin says with a nod, and you kind of have a feeling he’s telling the truth. “It’s the same for me.”

You two just look at each other for a while. Every second of the staring contest you two are in seems like an hour, eyes never wandering away from the other’s face. It’s hard to look away when the man is so gorgeous, every feature of his prettier than the other, eyes so deep and sad the look he’s giving you tugs at your heartstrings.

“Let me show you around,” Hyunjin offers, breaking the silence. “If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love that,” you stress the word, hoping he knows you mean it. There’s nothing else you’d rather do, and you know that is a bit crazy, at least.

You two walk around the gallery, stopping at every art piece to read the little note under it, to see what it means, try to see that in the work you’re staring at. Sometimes, you comment on it. Other times, you keep your comments to yourself, and so does Hyunjin, but having him walking with you, being next to you feels comforting even if you don’t talk. You drink your wine in silence and admire the pieces, happy that Ms. Kim is doing so well.

And then, you see it, a painting you know is the work of Hyunjin’s hands before you even read the note. Your mouth hangs open as you spot it from across the room, heart threatening to burst as you take in everything on the canvas.

It’s the same exact side profile as in the image, the same face outlines. It’s the same person, you’re sure. But, this time, it’s not paint splatters and water drops that are ruining the perfect shape of the outlines—it’s hyacinth flowers, purple and vibrant, making the face even more attractive to you. It’s enticing, calling you in, pulling you in closer.

As you walk over to it, Hyunjin’s right behind you, sighing when you stop in front of the painting. You stare at it in awe for a while, completely speechless. You know the man is probably waiting for you to compliment him, as all artists would, but you’re at a loss for words. You’ve never seen this painting either, and it doesn’t ring any bells, but the side profile is the same as the one you have in your head, which means they were both painted by the same person.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you read the note out loud, voice almost faltering. “Painted in April of 2022. A Familiar Stranger.”

“Do you like it?” he asks, finally saying something, reminding you he’s right there behind you.

“I love it,” you say with eyes still glued to the canvas. “It’s… Beautiful. Enchanting, even. I can’t stop looking. You’re… You are wonderful at this. It’s really a work of art.”

“It’s you,” Hyunjin admits in a low tone, practically whispering as if he wants to keep it a secret.

His confession makes your head snap in his direction. “W-what?” The words are stuttered at him, your lip quivering as you try to take it all in. You?

“A Familiar Stranger,” he repeats the title, nodding slightly as if that explains anything to you. “It’s you and the hyacinths you like.”

“I, I don’t know what to say,” you speak up after what seems like a full minute of silence during which you simply stare at the man, wondering if you’re making things up. “I… Am honored. This is so much prettier than me, though, but I… I don’t know what to say. It reminds me of the image I told you about.”

With that, you turn to face the painting again, taking in all the details. Every stroke of the brush seems to have been made with love and care, the end result a masterpiece. It’s like you’re staring at a better version of the image you’ve been carrying with you for so long, and it feels freeing to see it out in the open, showing you you’re not crazy or obsessed.

“It reminds me of it too,” Hyunjin tells you softly. His voice sounds like honey, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard it before you two met, but you just know you have. That voice has told you things before, sweet things, you remember. Did you have weird dreams about the man? Seeing how handsome he is, probably. “That’s why I wanted to recreate it. For you.”

“Familiar?” you repeat the word, wondering what he meant by that. Did he feel the same weird familiarity you felt around him, like he knew you? He couldn’t have. Hyunjin seemed to be normal, unlike you. What even is normal these days? You don’t really know, but your obsession with this image is definitely not it.

“Yes. This feeling between us.” Hyunjin says the words so lightly, so easily that you take it for the truth and accept that he feels this strange, inexplicable connection too. You don’t want to question it, you don’t want to counter, you don’t want to find reasons why he could be lying to your face.

“Ah…” you practically sigh as you turn around and look at his face, feeling the urge to hug him.

“I’d like to take you out sometime, if you’re ready to date again,” Hyunjin adds, completely unrelated to the previous conversation, taking you aback.

You almost gasp as you take the meaning of his words in. It seems surreal, the fact that Hyunjin wants to date you, but you say yes nonetheless, deciding to leave the worrying for another time.

﹋﹋﹋

Hyunjin knows he’s playing with fate here. One word too many, and he risks losing you forever. If he is being honest with himself, he doesn’t know why he did it—other than the fact that he loves you. The old lady was pretty clear when she told him he should never seek you. And he asked you out!

After hearing you’re dating other people, something just took over him. Of course you are dating other men—you don’t know who Hyunjin is or what you two had. He’s dated people before, but nothing could compare to you since he remembered everything. You, on the other hand, didn’t remember a thing, and that scared him.

What if you fell in love with some other man and never looked for Hyunjin again, never remembered him? He’d be destined to live in agony without you again. Even worse, what if you dated other men and they treated you badly? What if something bad happened? What if someone hurt you, and he wasn’t there to protect you? Hyunjin wasn’t used to functioning without you, to letting you fend for yourself, even after all the lifetimes you’ve spent apart. The memory of your life together was too strong to let go.

So, when he heard about your failed date, Hyunjin blurted the question before he thought about the consequences.

He tells himself it’s fine. The lady said he shouldn’t seek you out first or tell you about his past life. You’ve looked for him, and he hasn’t said a word about you two and your connection. Therefore, he’s safe.

Besides, maybe you’ll remember the past when you two start dating, when you talk to each other some more. Could you really forget a whole life with him, your children, growing old together?

Maybe you won’t ever remember, but you two will get to be together if you like him back. Hyunjin loves you just like he loved you then, so he knows he’ll do everything he can to make it work with you, even if you think you two have just met. Wouldn’t that be just as good? Hyunjin will keep your past a secret, locked away safely in the special place in his heart, going on to create new memories with you. That would be just as good. It’s still you. That’s all that matters.

He’s still hurt that you don’t remember him, that you don’t remember anything even after he paints you again, this time even more perfectly than ever before because he finally got to see you again, got to relive every memory in his mind, engraving your face into his brain. The painting is more alive than any one of his works before, the hyacinths making it even more painful for him, the two memories of his lover.

You loved it. You thought he felt familiar too. That is something. Hyunjin just hopes it will work out, one way or the other. Even if you don’t remember, maybe you’ll fall in love with him like this, too, maybe you’ll learn to love him as a man again. In the meantime, he’ll keep painting you over and over again, trying to bring you to life again in the role of his lover, and not just a stranger he loves.

When he goes to bed that night, Hyunjin stares at the painting in the dark. Enough light comes through the curtains for him to see the shapes of it, and he knows the rest by heart. It’s a product of the three of you—Hyunjin, you, and your child.

Will he ever have children with you again? Would they be the same children? If you two stay together and have a child, will it be your firstborn again, the one that played with your portrait and turned it into the most precious thing you’ve owned, the thing that stayed ingrained in your mind even after many lives, the thing that haunts you so much you had it tattooed? It led you straight to him, this painting, so Hyunjin knows you have to feel it too.

He just wishes you’d remember. It’s been a lifetime—well, many of them—of misery and loneliness. Nothing can ever fill the hole in his heart left behind by you and your children, the life you all had together. He misses you all too much for words. He has no one to talk to about this. How can he tell people he misses his wife and children from many lives ago? If he said that to the wrong person, Hyunjin would get locked up.

Unlike you, he never doubts his reality or wonders if he’s insane. No, Hyunjin knows it’s all true. He’s lived it with you, this perfect life. There were bad days, sure, but they faded in comparison to what you had. And now, he misses it even more. Every second he spends with you reminds him you’re not his lover, you’re not his wife or the mother of his children, not the woman he grew old with, he painted until he couldn’t hold a pencil in his hand anymore. It’s not you because you don’t remember.

There are no children. Your child, the one that brought you two so close together you felt as one, doesn’t exist, and it probably won’t, not in this life at all, and neither will its siblings. Hyunjin won’t get to hug it in the next 50 years or so, at least.

A hot tear slips out of his eye and wets his cheek on its way down his temple, disappearing into his dark hair. Another one follows as the hole in his chest grows wider and wider until it consumes him, leaving him crying out, embracing himself, hoping for all of it to be a bad dream. Hyunjin wishes he’d wake up in the old lake house with you by his side and the child between you, and that you’d pat his cheek gently, wiping away his cold sweat, telling him it was all a bad dream.

﹋﹋﹋

Don’t make a fool out of yourself, don’t make a fool out of yourself, don’t do it. You repeat the words to yourself over and over again as you walk up to the park where you and Hyunjin have agreed to meet. He said he’d like to walk by the lake and hang out in the park with you. A casual date, he texted, let’s get to know each other more.

The thought of being alone with him in complete silence with nothing you can use as an excuse to look away makes you nervous. You don’t want Hyunjin to find you strange, and he will once he realizes you keep staring at him. You can’t help it—you just can’t fight off the feeling that you know him, that you’ve touched his face before, kissed his lips. It’s crazy, and definitely not something you should ever tell him.

When you spot Hyunjin, you realize you’re both 20 minutes early, and that makes you feel a bit lighter. You’re not the only overzealous one, apparently. Neither one of you goes in for a hug or kiss, thankfully, because you have a feeling you’d never want to let him go if he kissed you.

“These are for you,” he tells you, giving you a beautifully arranged hyacinth bouquet.

“I… Thank you, Hyunjin,” you say, unable to stop staring at his work. It’s just flowers and greenery, but he makes it look like art, like something you should frame somewhere, just like his paintings. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he nods and starts walking towards the lake, hands in pockets. “I wanted to.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you. I don’t have anything for you,” you tell him, feeling a bit stupid for not bringing even just some candy to show him you appreciate him. The man’s given you flowers three times now, and you’ve given him nothing but stares. “I’m sorry.”

“You are going on a date with me,” he points out with a chuckle, eyes focusing on the clear water ahead. “That’s more than enough.”

Just as you thought, Hyunjin is a gentleman. He keeps his distance, doesn’t try to make a move, doesn’t gawk at you or ask any sexual questions. Instead, he lets you talk, and you talk a lot when nervous, not wanting silence to ensue. Maybe you even talk too much, but Hyunjin seems to be listening, throwing in questions that make you go in deeper. He seems to want to know you on a deeper level.

You don’t expect a “and why did that make you feel that way?” question on the first date, when mentioning something that happened at work, but you get it, and you are honest when responding. By the time you two are done discussing the topic, you’ve already circled the lake once, both kind of out of breath.

“Do you want to sit down and feed the ducks?” Hyunjin suggests happily, and you just can’t say no, even if you’ve never done that.

You two sit by the lake one next to the other, and Hyunjin pulls out some old bread from his bag, handing you half of it. “You’ve never done it before?” he asks when he notices you hesitating.

When you nod, he chips away a small part of the bread and throws it in. When he does that again, a duck moves over, eating it up. Soon enough, you’re both throwing in little pieces of bread, and there are a lot more ducks you’ve ever seen in one place. Still, it’s peaceful, and it feels like you two are alone.

Once all the bread is gone, you continue sitting there and just talk. Hyunjin tells you about his work, both painting and the flower shop, telling you he creates stuff because it helps him cope.

“It’s therapeutic for me,” he explains. “I’ve tried therapy before, but this works a lot better.”

“I’m glad you found something that works,” you say, even though you want to say a lot more. He’s such a gentle man, and that’s something you’ve never experienced before. It’s like he walked straight out of an old romance book—tall, dark-haired, handsome, sensitive, kind, artistic… Hyunjin’s too good to be true. “And you’re creating something beautiful in the process. I love everything I’ve seen from you.”

“Wow, thank you…” This time, he looks at you, palms pushing into the ground behind his back, head cocked to the side as Hyunjin inspects your face. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do. Especially the painting.” You lift your wrist and look at the tattoo, wondering how it all connects. “I’ve never seen anything like that before, but I must have.”

“You must have,” Hyunjin agrees with a sigh, reaching in to touch your tattoo again, but he pulls his hand away before his fingertips touch you, as if he’s just remembered he can’t just touch you.

“No, it’s okay.” You surprise yourself by gathering the courage to tell him that, but you don’t mind his touch. You didn’t mind it back then, and you mind it a lot less now after spending what seems like hours in his comforting company.

Hyunjin runs his thumb across the tattoo, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You wonder how you’re already on edge, staring at his finger as it grazes your skin. Then, Hyunjin traces the outline with his pointer finger, each swipe of the digit making you hold your breath, your core turning with excitement. It’s insane that a simple touch can make your body act that way, but it’s happening.

“It’s pretty,” he compliments you after touching the tattoo for a lot longer than necessary, but you don’t even react to it, not when you enjoy being this close to him.

And then, Hyunjin leans in, and you think he’s going for a kiss. Instead, he lifts your chin using his pointer finger, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He does it so softly you think you’ll cry. No man has ever touched you like that, like he loves every feature of yours, but that’s impossible. Hyunjin doesn’t even know you. You’re just a random girl that’s barged into his place of work, going on about a painting he created. That’s it.

Despite that, Hyunjin continues caressing your cheek before his thumb moves down and swipes over your lips, which makes you gasp slightly. The feeling is so warm and soft and comforting but arousing at the same time. It’s like you two are the only people in the world, naked and connected, and yet you’re fully clothed in public, not even doing anything inappropriate. It’s simple face touching, nothing more, you remind yourself.

“You are very beautiful,” Hyunjin compliments you as he looks right into your eyes. He looks confident saying it, like he’s not embarrassed at all about being that straightforward with someone he’s gone out with for the first time. You, on the other hand, look down, ashamed to hear something like that said right at you. “A face perfect for painting. I could draw and paint you forever. I could look at you forever.”

“Ah… T-thank you,” is all you can breathe at him, too afraid that if you speak, he’ll move his hand away, and you really don’t want him to. His compliments confuse you, even though they make you feel good. “You are too.”

Hyunjin grins at that, eyes narrowing into slits as the smile takes over his face. The way he grins at you makes you smile right back. There’s nothing fake about Hyunjin, and it’s like a breath of fresh air. ”Everything about you is beautiful, even your voice sounds comforting.”

You want to tell him that his does too, but you’ve just said the same thing as he did, and it would sound weird. “Are you always like this? With women, I mean?” It’s a question you have to ask in case you need to build a wall between you two. You know he can easily lie to you, and you’d never know, but somehow, you trust this stranger. His thumb is still caressing your face like it belongs there.

“Never,” Hyunjin responds without even having to think about it. You want to believe him. “It’s just you. I don’t paint the people I date, not at all. Don’t paint anyone, don’t draw real people.”

“What about the painting?” you ask, completely ignoring the breathtaking compliment he’s just given you. Your heart doesn’t ignore it, though—it skips a beat, but you don’t let yourself get your hopes up. Instead, you focus on the painting that started all of this. Hyunjin said it was of a former lover.

“Ah… That’s not… It’s complicated,” Hyunjin says with a gulp, looking uncomfortable for the first time in a long time around you. Whatever it is, it sounds like an old wound he doesn’t want reopened, and definitely not on a first date.

So, you offer him a way out, feeling embarrassed about even asking something like that. “I’m sorry for prying. It’s none of my business.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Hyunjin says as he caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers slowly, gently, as if he’s touching something that could break any second. His fingers move into the hair above your ear, pushing it back, fingernails grazing the scalp just slightly, enough for you to shiver. “You can ask me anything. I’m an open book for you.”

You’re too busy trying to calm your breathing so you don’t look too excited over something as simple as this so you fail to notice that Hyunjin’s breath is shaky and that his hand is trembling as he touches you. You wouldn’t understand it anyway.

Since you don’t have anything to say to that, you just look at him, breathing as calmly as you can, taking everything in—the little mole that makes him seem even cuter, the deep eyes that don’t move from yours, the slightly lifted eyebrows that perfectly shape his face, the wayward strands of hair that fall right next to his eyes, the plush lips his tongue wets. You half-expect him to kiss you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, Hyunjin pulls his hand away and chuckles nervously, which is unlike the man who’s just told you you’re beautiful while staring right into your eyes. But, you chuckle too. “Do you want to walk some more?”

“Maybe I should walk you home?” he suggests. “The sun is starting to set, and I’d hate to keep you out longer than you planned.”

Hyunjin is right—you’ve been there a lot longer than you expected. In fact, you thought you’d do a lap around the lake and, if it’s awkward or forced, you’d excuse yourself and go home. An hour, two max. It’s been four, and it’s still not enough, which is strange for you. “You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“I’d love to,” Hyunjin practically cuts you off, giving you a smile. “If you want to walk, of course.”

You do, so you two walk together slowly. The streets are practically empty since it’s summer and everyone’s trying to stay out of the sun except the two of you. When Hyunjin’s hand brushes against yours, you can’t help but smile, feeling a weird warmth take over you. When that happens again, he mutters a quick ‘sorry,’ but you assure him you don’t mind.

And then, you feel his hand slip under yours, soft and warm, his eyes looking at you from the side to inspect your reaction. When you intertwine your fingers with his, Hyunjin hums happily and continues walking, holding onto your hand tightly. It feels weirdly normal, even though you hate any form of PDA and never hold hands with guys on first dates. It seems weird, somehow, yet normal with this specific guy.

“Something worrying you?” Hyunjin asks, practically whispering, and you turn to face him, wondering why he thinks that. “You have this thing, you kind of frown a little bit when something’s bugging you. I think it’s really cute.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks when he calls you cute like that, without skipping a beat or looking away, and you feel stupid for worrying about it in the first place. Maybe things feel this good with Hyunjin because he is a good guy. There doesn't have to be a catch, not every time. “I’m just wondering if you’re real.”

Hyunjin stops walking, pulling you back using the hold he has on your hand. “You don’t believe what I’m saying?”

When faced with a question like that, you feel even more ashamed. It’s one thing to be doubting a guy, to be telling yourself not to fall for his kind words while being so attracted to him it hurts, and a whole other to say that to his face. “It’s not that I don’t believe. You just seem perfect.”

“Do you deserve anything less?” he asks as he moves in closer, now standing right in front of you, looking down at your face. “I’m not lying. You’ll see that with time.” With that, Hyunjin brings your intertwined fingers up to his heart, pressing them against it. “There’s no rush.”

“You’re right,” you say, nodding and starting to walk away, which causes him to let go of your hand and frown slightly. But, he doesn’t say a word and lets you walk.

Why are you doing this? You’ve had an amazing four hours with the guy. He’s been perfect every step of the way. Why do you have to overthink it and doubt everything instead of letting yourself believe someone can be interested in you? Frustrated with yourself, you turn around on your heel and take a step towards him, opening your mouth to say something, but you don’t have an idea of what you want to tell him.

Your eyes move down to his mouth, and so do his. Hyunjin leans in until your noses practically touch, and you feel his breath on your face, his presence comforting instead of scaring you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and you practically melt at the question. You respond by leaning in and closing the gap between your lips, which causes both of you to hum at the same time, as if you’ve been waiting for this for a long time.

It’s funny because you haven’t known him for a long time. Well, you have, but you haven’t. Seeing him two times didn’t count as knowing him, yet all this time you’ve wanted to get closer to him. It had something to do with the image, but it was more than that—it was about Hyunjin, and not his work. His lips feel just as soft as they look, and when he moves away a bit, you chase them with yours, not wanting to be apart, which makes him chuckle.

“Sorry,” you say, feeling a bit too eager, but Hyunjin shakes his head.

“No, I think you’re cute,” he announces before leaning in again, this time pecking your lips. “I want to kiss you more too.”

So, you kiss, in the middle of the street, like no one’s watching. Nothing inappropriate is going on—your hands are on Hyunjin’s chest, his are cupping your face, lips connected, but it’s still not something you’d do with a guy you don’t know, especially not in public. Somehow, you don’t even think about the consequences or what other people think.

When you close your eyes and give into what you’re feeling, you’re overwhelmed to the point of trembling, every move of his lips against yours makes you get dizzier and grab his shirt tighter. He smells, tastes, and feels so familiar, like you’ve had him before, like you know him through and through, like you should trust every word he says.

﹋﹋﹋

“Let me get this straight,” your best friend, Jiwoo, says slowly, resting both hands on the coffee shop table right next to her coffee. Her tone lets you know she doesn’t really approve of what you’ve just told her. “This gorgeous man said he’s created this painting of you for you. He’s asked you out. He’s taken you on the best date you’ve been on in years, probably ever. He’s been nothing but respectful, has kissed you, been sweet to you, complimented you, and held your hand as he walked you home. Even though he could have, he didn’t invite himself in. He kissed you respectfully, and told you he thinks he’s in love with you. And you told him you don’t want to see him again. Girl, what is happening?”

Jiwoo makes it all sound so ridiculous when she summarizes it like that, but there’s a lot more to it than just that. While it was technically all true, she missed points that caused you to make that decision. “Yes!” you cry out, shaking your head out of frustration. Will no one get you? “I know it sounds insane, but I… It’s too much. He’s too good to be true.”

Jiwoo gives you a sympathetic nod. “I know men suck in general, but there are some good people out there. You just have to believe and actually try to meet someone.”

“I do believe, which is why I’m still dating and giving men a chance, but I think there’s something wrong here. Something’s off,” you lower your voice for some reason, as if it’s a secret. “I have this weird attraction to him which stops me from seeing things clearly.”

“Only you would take your attraction to someone as a sign of them being wrong for you!” she points out knowingly. “You’ve told me about it, and I understand that you have a lot of feelings that scare you, but listen, maybe it’s destiny! Fate and all that. Some people do fall in love right away, and they make it.”

“Please!” You can’t help but scoff at your friend's romanticism. Is she really trying to convince you that fate is connecting you and this attractive stranger who seems to be everything you want? It’s freaky, and not in a good way, the feeling he gives you. “Yes, this insanely gorgeous guy instantly fell for my charms and is head over heels in love with me! Definitely. Please! There’s no such thing as fate.”

“Okay, you don’t have to believe it, but here’s what I don’t get,” she leans in and sighs, “you like him, he likes you, so you turn him down instead of dating him? Go on another date or two and see if anything changes, especially if he’s as nice and attractive as you say he is.”

That’s the normal thing to do. Anyone would want to date Hyunjin. He hasn’t done a single thing wrong, hasn’t made a bad move, and wasn't pushy. Quite the opposite, he was sweet and asked for permission before touching you, kissing you, holding your hand… You’ve never had a man treat you that way before, and yet, something felt off. It was like he was saying everything you wanted to hear, and that just seemed like manipulation.

“I can’t explain it, but… He’s perfect. Like… everything I want in a guy,” you explain. Once you start talking, it seems like you just can’t stop. “He knows everything I need and he’s said it all to me on that date. It sounds like he’s been listening in to every conversation I’ve had and is now repeating them to me and hoping I won’t notice. I know he didn’t do that, but it scares me that he knows these things, that he feels the same way. Plus, he can’t be in love with me. He doesn’t know me.”

“That I agree on, but men suck at feelings. The only thing they’re sure about is when their dick is hard, but that’s about it. He probably likes you a lot, and the only thing he can connect it to is being in love. It doesn’t mean he’s lying. Besides, why would he be lying? If his goal was sex, he could have taken a completely different route.” Jiwoo does make things seem rational, but you can’t escape the feeling you have when you’re around Hyunjin.

“That’s why it’s all so strange. It feels like someone’s implanted this man in my head, and I don’t like it. It scares me. I have a tattoo of his painting, for fuck’s sake,” you stress, hoping she understand how fucked up that is. It’s a painting you’ve never seen before, at that. “I have never seen him before I went to the exhibition that night, and now he’s everywhere. Don’t you see how weird that is? Plus, he’s telling me he loves me the third time we’ve seen each other, after the first date we’ve had.”

“He’s an artist, they’re all a bit emotional, right?” Jiwoo suggests with a cocked eyebrow. “Maybe he does feel like that. He painted a picture for you, maybe he sees you as a muse.”

“But that’s not real, either,” you point out, knowing you are right about this. Your gut feeling is telling you something is off, and you’re just too blind to spot it because you’re too focused on how gorgeous and amazing Hyunjin is. “I don’t want to be an object to anyone.”

“I get your point, but I don’t get cutting him off instantly. You usually go out with guys two or three times and try to make it work, yet he’s someone you actually like and you don’t even want to see him again.”

“Jiwoo, have you ever felt like crying when someone confessed to you?” you ask, making her open her mouth and stare at you. It’s a weird question, you know.

“No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, that’s how I felt when he told me that in front of my apartment,” you practically whisper at her, your rib cage feeling like it was about to burst as you thought about the night Hyunjin kissed you and told you he was in love with you. “My heart hurt for no reason, and I felt like I was about to break down. I got this strange, overwhelming feeling of sadness, and it felt like I just had to run away from it. So I thanked him, went upstairs, and bawled the entire night. I couldn’t sleep or think. Just kept crying all night. It’s not normal. So, I texted him in the morning and said I didn't want to see him again. I don’t want to feel that way.”

“Listen, I’m not gonna tell you to keep dating the guy if you feel like crying after seeing him. I just thought he didn’t sound that bad when you told me about the date, but that was before I knew about the crying,” Jiwoo says gently, reaching out to place her palm over yours. “I’m sorry that happened, it sounds stressful as hell.”

“It was, and I don’t get why!” You sound like you’re whining. At this point, you’re desperate. “I like him, but I can’t date someone who makes me sad by telling me nice things. It scares me. I can’t do it, even though I want to.”

“Then don’t,” Jiwoo offers a way out with a grin. “That’s the beauty of saying no! You say ‘no’ and get to walk away.”

It sounds easy, just walking away, but it’s not that simple. Even though it’s been a week since your date with Hyunjin, you’re not over it. “But… I feel something for him. That’s why I don’t want it.”

Jiwoo chuckles, shaking her head at you. “You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Well, imagine how it feels being in my head,” you quip, feeling a bit desperate. No one can understand the mess you’re feeling, one you’ve created yourself. Why go look for this guy in the first place? Ever since you’ve found him, you’ve been acting weird and feeling confused, overwhelmed with feelings.

“I could never!” Jiwoo jokes, but doesn’t laugh—she can see you’re out of your element today. “What do you mean, you feel something? What exactly?”

“I feel like I know him,” you confess. You know it sounds stupid and ridiculous, and that you are being dramatic. “I feel like I love him. I can’t love him, Ji, I can’t. I don’t know him. It’s not real.”

“Isn't that what he told you he feels about you?” she asks, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, but it’s insane. It’s not possible to love someone you don’t even know,” you explain your stance on it. It’s not, it’s just not. Hyunjin can’t hang out with you for five hours and decide he loves you because you two got along. It’s just a couple of hours! It’s scary to think he’s the type of guy who gets attached so easily. Aren’t those guys quick to drop the object of their affection as fast as they fell for them? That’s what scares you. “Whatever he’s doing to me is working because he’s made me think I love him.”

﹋﹋﹋

Hyunjin’s miserable. He thought that’s how he felt all this time without you, but finding you and losing you again introduces him to new pits of despair. It’s like he goes through fiery hell every day when he wakes up, sees the painting of your face hung across his bed, and remembers you slipped through his fingers again. He let you.

It’s because Hyunjin didn't stay away, because he asked you out, because he kissed you, because he told you he’s in love with you. He is, he’s been in love with you for longer than he thought possible, the memory of your body on top of his forever ingrained in his brain, refusing to leave his mind, the echo of the touch of your hand against his face still sends shivers down his spine. But, those feelings are not something you would understand, and he shouldn’t have said any of it. He should have acted like he’s just meeting you for the first time.

Now it’s all gone. The magic is gone, the spell is broken, and you’re never going to remember your life with him. Not only that, but you never want to even see him again. You were firm in your text, which came out of the blue for him. Well, Hyunjin did notice that you looked uncomfortable when he told you he’s in love with you, bidding him goodnight in the next minute or so, giving him a quick hug before disappearing, but he wasn’t expecting you to cut him off.

The next morning, he read your text, and his heart sank to his feet.

You: i’m sorry, hyunjin. i had a good time with you, but it seems you feel a lot more for me than i do for you. i don’t want to lead you on. i think we shouldn’t see each other again. thank you for everything, i am sorry!

Hyunjin didn’t respond to you, he couldn’t. He broke down when he read the text, feeling like his entire life was taken away from him again. You were right there and then you weren’t. Hyunjin refused to say goodbye over text or at all. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, ever.

If he texted you and tried to explain he loved you, you would block him, and he’d never be able to contact you again, even if he needed you badly. Goodbyes seemed final, so he never said a thing, letting you have the last word, removing himself from the situation gracefully. Thankfully, you couldn’t see him cry his heart out that morning or that afternoon, or so many nights after that, when he’d stare at the painting and cry over you and everything you could have had.

This time, it hurt even more because he’s had you. Granted, it was just for one meager afternoon, but Hyunjin had you in his arms, under his lips, and let you slip away. It was worse than anything he’s been through. Before this life, he just thought about you a lot, cried about you, missed you, was desperate, but he never got this close to you, other than that life, the one he wishes he could have back.

Going on with everything after he received the text felt terrible, but Hyunjin had to do it. He could have ended this life, but he’d just get woken up again, cursed with the need to find you all over again, to live life knowing you’re somewhere around, but out of his reach. He’d learned that the hard way in a past life when he thought that was the only way out. In this life, Hyunjin at least managed to get close to you again, even if for only a couple of hours. That’s the closest he’s been to you in a long time, since the life at the lake house.

His days drag on for a long time, every day the same. Hyunjin stops having a social life, even though it’s never been that great. He can’t go out and pretend it is all good when he feels a part of him died when you turned him down. You, the love of his life, of all his lives! All Hyunjin does is work and paint on the side, all the while thinking about you. It is torture and pain, and he just wants it to end.

All faces seem the same, all things seem boring and mundane, nothing feels as real as you do. The pain makes him draw and paint a lot more, but he’s not happy with anything. Nothing he paints is as beautiful as you, nothing he draws can come close to the real deal, nothing evokes the same emotions. Soon enough, his apartment is filled with paintings and drawings of the only face he ever turns into art, but none of it is enough.

And then, in a crowd of unfamiliar faces, Hyunjin sees yours and instantly lights up, even if you hate him and don’t want to see him again. It’s a busy farmer’s market, and you’re there with a friend picking out flowers when your eyes lock. For him, it’s like time stands still as he smiles at you, feeling as if the sun’s finally out after months of rain, like he can breathe freely after being underwater.

You, on the other hand, don’t smile at all. Instead, you look taken back, so much so that you drop the flowers you are holding and quickly scramble to pick them up, apologizing to the vendor and paying. Hyunjin watches from the side, pretending he’s buying something too.

When you and your friend walk past him, Hyunjin looks down in shame, knowing you two probably think he’s some obsessed weird man who tried to talk you into something you didn’t want, or even worse, that he’s someone who says those words to anyone he meets. The joke’s on you though, because you’re the only woman he’s ever said them to, in any life, but you don’t know that—you can’t.

Hyunjin looks down and hopes you two have walked off, but when he lifts his head, you’re standing a couple of meters away, looking right at him. Your gazes meet, and his eyes water at the sight of you, so pretty and carefree, happy. Meanwhile, he’s the saddest he’s ever been, body yearning for your look, let alone touch. Hyunjin should look away and save himself some dignity, but he can’t. You always radiate like the sun and pull him in.

“Hi,” you tell him softly, practically inaudible since you’re at a busy place at a busy time of day. You’re standing meters away from Hyunjin, but he hears you loud and clear. Nothing else exists for him, anyway.

“Hey,” Hyunjin greets you back, forcing a small smile despite being sad while your friend looks at you both questioningly. He wants to tell you how beautiful you look, how happy he is to see you, how much he’s missed you, but none of those are appropriate.

Neither one of you moves as people continue walking around you, too busy staring at each other for a while. He notices your eyes widening, your nostrils flaring like you want to say something, but you don’t. Instead, you just nod and grab your friend’s hand, signaling it’s time to go.

Soon enough, you’re walking away, and Hyunjin’s left there to stare at your back once more, wondering how he’s losing you all over again.

But, you look over your shoulder and find him looking right back, heart shattering into pieces at how sad you suddenly look. A fleeting moment of happiness is all he can get, but isn’t that better than being cursed and miserable forever? Hyunjin goes home a bit happier than he was before, but that’s not saying much.

That night, you text him, and he sits down to read the text, fearing another rejection or something that would hurt him even more.

You: hey… can i come over to your place to see the original?

It’s a strange text. It’s definitely not something you ask of a man you’ve turned down so coldly after he confessed his feelings for you, the man you’ve ignored for months. A guy with self-esteem wouldn’t give in easily, he’d make you work for it.

But, Hyunjin is yours, always has been, so he texts you his address and tells you to come whenever you want, meaning it. He has a feeling it’s a booty call. It sounds like one, too. If some other person texted this, he’d think they just want sex. It’s you, so he doesn’t, but Hyunjin reminds himself you’re not you from your past life now. Maybe all you want from him is just sex, but he’s fine with whatever you want to give him, even if it leaves him ruined.

﹋﹋﹋

You’re nervous when you knock on Hyunjin’s door, to put it lightly. Your palms are sweating, even though you’ve had three shots earlier to calm your nerves. You’ve seen Hyunjin before, you’ve let him hold your hand, kiss you, caress you like he’s done it a million times before. You’ve also dumped him after the first date and pretended he stopped existing, until you saw him the other day and just had to contact him. All of that makes you nervous.

Your heart turned into a black hole the second you spotted his face in the crowd. He looked sad, but when Hyunjin looked at you, his eyes sparkled, mouth forming a small smile despite you treating him so poorly when all he’s ever done is be kind towards you. The flowers, the painting, the date, the kissing, the confession… He’s shown you nothing but care, and you ran away the first chance you got because you felt too in love with him seeing as you didn’t know him.

You still don’t know him, but you’re willing to take that chance, which is why you knock again. You did announce yourself by text, telling him you’d stop by nothing. You had to come here tonight after seeing him. Nothing has changed since you've last seen him—your heart still beats faster when Hyunjin’s around, and you still feel the same way about him despite avoiding him for months.

Not even a second later, Hyunjin opens the door for you, dressed casually, which makes you feel like you overdid it with your dress and heels. You look like a try-hard and probably overly desperate because you practically gasp at the sight of him looking as perfect as always.

“Hey,” he greets you quietly, eyes sparkling as he forces a small smile. Hyunjin opens the door and motions for you to walk inside. When you do, you get to breathe in his scent again, and that makes you want to kiss him again. Instead, you take off your shoes in silence, and Hyunjin offers to take your coat, so you let him.

Then, you look at each other awkwardly, and you feel like you want to cry again. Can you miss a guy you’ve spent four hours with alone? Is that real? Or is he just another obsession? The whole painting thing is already crazy enough—you can’t let yourself obsess over this man, no matter how gorgeous he is, no matter how nice and sweet he seems, no matter how much you want him.

“So…” you let your voice trail off, which makes Hyunjin clear his throat and nod a couple of times as if he’s just remembered something.

“The original, yes,” he says and starts walking towards a room, so you follow, breathing in his scent. “I mean, the replica. The original is… gone.”

You wonder what Hyunjin means by that. You’ve just accepted that you’re never going to see it, but you don’t know what happened to the original. Did his ex take it? Did she ruin it? Did he? And where have you, of all people, seen that painting before?

“Here it is.” Hyunjin walks into his bedroom and you follow closely by, admiring how neat and tidy everything is, flowers in every corner of his apartment, including the bedroom.

The place smells lovely, like a big garden you could get lost in. Hung on the wall across the bed is the painting, looking even more beautiful than it does in your head or the picture he sent you of it. No picture can do this canvas justice, no medium can make it as vivid and poignant as it is right now.

Every line is perfect, every paint splatter in the same place as in your head, your heart leaping up at the sense of familiarity that rushes over you. It’s the same thing as the image you have in your head, the same exact painting, except this one is real, painted by the man whose apartment you’re in who seems to be around your age. So, you couldn’t have seen this painting when you were a child—it didn’t exist back then.

Instinctively, your legs take you to the painting, bare feet walking over his plushy carpet until you’re face to face with it. You feel Hyunjin’s presence somewhere behind you, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he lets you stare at his work, which is all you do.

You know you must seem crazy, but you can’t say a word. All you can do is stare at it, take every centimeter of it in, mind drawing blanks as to where you’ve seen it before. Despite that, a sense of familiarity and warmth rushes over you, shaking you to the core. You think of an old house with creaky floors and a lot of light, and see the painting hanging on its walls, wondering where you’ve seen it before. Whose house was that? Some old family friends your parents were no longer close to?

You tremble slightly, goosebumps prickling your skin when you look at the face in the painting. Who are you? She seems familiar, but you don’t recognize her. You’re sad for her, but don’t know why. She doesn’t seem sad in the painting, not at all. All the paint splatters in radiant, warm colors make the woman seem even happier than Hyunjin painted her. So, why does looking at her make you want to cry?

Without asking, you reach in and trace the outline of the woman’s face. Your finger freezes in place when you realize what you’re doing—touching someone’s art without getting permission. The artist, however, doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he calms you down as if he can read your thoughts. “It’s okay… You can touch it,” Hyunjin whispers.

Without saying anything back as if you’ve forgotten all your manners, you continue to trace the outline. You want to remember her, but you don’t. She looks happy and peaceful, and you’re not sure how Hyunjin managed to do this to a portrait consisting of simple lines and paint splatters.

You don’t even realize tears are streaming down your face until one falls down to your exposed cleavage. Your hands fly up to your cheeks, patting them to check if you’re really crying, finding them both wet. You take a deep breath and try to say something, even though you don’t know what could possibly describe what you feel, but your words die down as a sob takes over.

You want to stop crying, apologize, and get the hell out of there, spare yourself any further embarrassment, but your body doesn’t listen. Tears keep streaming down your cheeks, a sob turns into two, shoulders trembling as you cry, eyes still glued to the painting. What the hell is wrong with you?

Hyunjin doesn’t ask that, but he moves in and hugs you from behind without asking. It seems like he’s forgotten his manners, too, but you’re crying in the middle of his bedroom after inviting yourself over but not before you ignored him for months because he confessed his feelings too early on for your liking. It’s a messy situation, so you can’t blame him for touching you.

His hands are wrapped around your torso, the side of his head pressed against the side of yours as you both look at the painting together. You’re sure his cheek is wet, your tears falling on it too, but he doesn’t say a word, just lets you cry. Your hands move up to cover his, his warmth comforting. It shouldn’t feel that way, letting a stranger hug you, a stranger you’ve turned down for such a stupid reason, a guy who shouldn’t be giving you the time of day at all.

After a while, Hyunjin moves his fingers up to your face, wiping away your tears as his soft lips press a kiss to your cheek from the side, body towering over yours from behind, gazes still fixated on the painting. It’s warm and comforting, Hyunjin’s embrace, almost as warm as his lips on your skin or his breath on the side of your face.

The painting is something new. You don’t remember when you first saw it, but you know you love it and that you’ve loved it before. Eerily, you have the same feeling towards Hyunjin—you loved him and you do now. And that makes you sad somehow. You can’t love this man, you barely know him. You can’t care about him, even though he treats you so well, and is always considerate. Even now, when he should be weirded out by you staring at his painting and crying, he doesn’t show it and is instead focused on comforting you.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you tell him when your breathing calms down, struggling to even speak. “I’m just so… sad here.”

Hyunjin’s voice is soft and calming, as always, no judgment coming from him, even though it should. “It’s fine, I understand. You’re looking for something and it’s eating you from inside, but you can’t find it.”

Instead of saying something, you stand there for a second, surprised at how well this stranger understands you. So, you turn around and look at him, taking his features in yet again. His eyes are sparkling as if he enjoys being close to you. “I hate seeing you cry,” he tells you, and somehow, you know Hyunjin means it. He winces when you sniffle. “I wish you never had to shed another tear. I also wish I could help you find what you’re looking for, I really do.”

You don’t respond. It’s not necessary when you know he means it and he knows you’re thankful. Instead, you quietly nod and just look at him. Without asking, Hyunjin reaches for your face, cupping your cheeks as his eyes inspect yours, a slight frown on his face. “I don’t want you to be sad around me. I’m the furthest thing from sad when I’m with you.”

Despite wanting to say the same thing, you can’t, but only because your voice dies down in your throat. The only thing you can do is look at him, let Hyunjin wipe away the tears from your face, his big, warm palms comforting you. “I… It’s not you,” you say before gulping, struggling to explain yourself. “It’s the painting, not you.”

“I know, darling,” Hyunjin hums, but the nickname he uses makes your eyes snap open, gaze meeting his. Has he ever called you that before? It felt like a Hyunjin thing to say, like he’s said it before. “Maybe you just can’t get the answers now. You will eventually. You found the painting after all these years, right?”

You nod because he is right. You’re a lot closer to it now than you were a year ago. God knows where you’ll be in a year. Maybe Hyunjin doesn’t have all the answers either, maybe no one does. Does any of it matter? He is the man that painted the painting you’ve had in your head since you were a kid. He is the key, somehow. Hyunjin is the beginning of the whole thing, but could he be the ending?

You’re not completely sure about what you’re doing, but you feel the need to thank him for everything he’s making you feel, so you lean in and press your lips against his, skin getting goosebumps all over, breath caught in your throat. It’s even better than the last time, even softer, more sensual, probably because you were so sad and hurt, and now you no longer feel that way, all thanks to his touch, his hands on your face, his body close to yours.

Hyunjin seems reserved at first, letting you take charge, allowing you to kiss his lips while he stands in place and kisses back. When your tongue swipes across his plush bottom lip, it’s like all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly, Hyunjin’s pulling you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, breathing in deeply when he pulls away for a second, looking down at you with widened eyes, a smile spreading across his face. His hand stays on your cheek while the other one moves down to your waist, fingers digging into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he hums, lips once again so close to yours.

“No, it’s—it’s fine,” you whisper back, eyes glued to his. You can’t look away, even though he’s so close to you and you should just close your eyes and kiss him. “I want to kiss you.”

Your statement makes Hyunjin chuckle softly, expression softening as he pecks your lips. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

With permission, you kiss him again, starting slow. There’s no rush. Hyunjin kisses back just as softly at first, hand moving to the back of your head. With each kiss, you are a bit closer, lips pressed together longer. Soon enough, both his hands are holding the back of your head, making you lean back so he can just press kiss after kiss into your lips. You’ve never been kissed that way again, like someone is just happy to kiss you, like he wants to give you a million little pecks while you relax in his arms.

You’re the first one who uses tongue again, and this time, Hyunjin reciprocates instantly, his muscle making its way into your mouth with ease, swiping across yours while he gently grunts. The sound makes you grab his forearms and hold onto him tight as if you’re afraid of him moving away, of him leaving. It’s funny since you’re the one who walked out on him back then and pretended he didn’t exist, yet Hyunjin is still here, indulging your whims.

When he pulls away, you’re practically breathless, staring at him as your chest heaves up and down, lips wet and open. Hyunjin’s thumb swipes across them gently, his eyes turning into crescents as he smiles at you from above. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Hyunjin,” you tell him, even though you know you can’t mean it. You’ve gone out with him once, and that’s it. You can’t miss a guy you’ve spent five hours with, tops. Yet, you do. Your heart tells you you do, the fact that you’re so happy around him points to the same conclusion.

He smiles at your compliment before planting a soft kiss to your forehead, hands wrapping around you, pulling you into his chest. Hyunjin smells wonderful, and you never want to move away from him. It’s overpowering, this need to have him, and your mouth kisses its way from his neck to his lips, which is when you feel his body shudder against yours.

Before you know it, his tongue is inside of your mouth, and it sends shivers down your spine, your core clenching at the very idea of getting to have Hyunjin, getting to touch him and feel him over, having him inside of you. It’s not something you two have discussed. In fact, you’ve not talked about a single thing since you got here.

Hyunjin didn’t ask you to explain your decision to never see him again nor did he ask for an explanation of you texting him out of the blue, wanting to see him, and somehow, you’re glad that he didn’t. If you start talking about feelings, you’re not sure where the night will take you, and right now, you want it to take you two a meter or two away to Hyunjin’s bed.

“I could kiss you all night,” Hyunjin tells you, making you think that he can actually read your mind. He’s always a step ahead, it seems.

Something takes over you and you tease him, “Then do it.”

A second later, his lips crash against yours, tongues teasing instantly, strong hands moving down to your waist. You’ve never felt more attracted to a man than you do now, never wanted to eat someone up with your eyes as much as you do Hyunjin. Your hands work on unbuttoning his blouse while your tongues clash, and you realize you haven’t even asked him if you can touch him like that. “Is this okay?” you ask, stopping yourself before you continue with the buttons.

“Everything is okay,” Hyunjin responds, placing his hands on yours, nudging you to go on. “Touch me all you want.”

When you do, he kisses you again, his nails grazing your ass over your dress, moving up and down until he has both your cheeks in his palms, cupping them gently, giving you a light squeeze, which makes you grunt into his mouth. You’re so weak for him already, and he’s barely touched you.

To stay in control and not completely melt under his touch, you grab his shirt and push it down his shoulders, helping him get out of it. Then, you push Hyunjin backwards gently and continue doing so until his calves touch the bed, which is when he sits down, eyes eagerly looking up at you through his lashes, mouth slightly open as he watches you pull your dress over your head, tossing it on the floor.

“You’re gorgeous,” Hyunjin compliments you as he places his warm hands right above your hips, fingertips caressing the skin. He’s staring into your eyes from below, a grin spreading across his face when he notices you smiling. “I am so happy you are here.”

“I am too,” you admit, completely honest. There’s no place you’d rather be than right here with Hyunjin.

The next second, you’re down on your knees, hands fumbling with his sweatpants and underwear. Hyunjin decides to help you, lifting his hips off the bed, and you’re soon met with his swollen cock. It’s hard and red, and you can’t wait to feel it in you.

Before that, you want to make Hyunjin feel good, so you take the tip of his cock into your mouth while you stare at each other.

As soon as he enters your mouth, Hyunjin grunts and grimaces, showing you how much he likes it. “You look perfect like this.”

You can’t respond, but you do take more of his dick in, swirling your tongue around the part of it that’s inside your mouth, eyes never leaving Hyunjin’s. When he moves his hand from the bed towards your face, you notice he’s slightly shaking, and that just makes you take all of him. The fact that he’s so gentle and responsive to every single touch just makes you want to reward him, make him feel good, and he seems even more lost when your nose touches his pubic area, cock shoved deep in your mouth.

Even though you’re sucking him off, none of it seems rushed or forced or accidental. You’re taking your time, and so is he, hand gently stroking your hair, moving strands of it to the side, tucking them behind your ear, fingers massaging your scalp. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to be in a rush to come or to fuck you, preferring to let you take things at your own pace. Despite that, he lets out small grunts every couple of seconds, hissing when you take him in your throat, moaning when you hum around his cock.

At the same time, you want it all. You’re going slow and enjoying every second of it, but you feel the need for this man consume you. You want to be one with him, want to treat him well, want to be close to him, and that’s an insane desire you can’t address right now, not even with yourself. So, you close your eyes for a second and focus on sucking, his balls now in your palm, which earns you a hiss from Hyunjin. “Ah, mh—fuck!”

Everything he says sounds melodic to you, and so do his little grunts and whines as you take more of his cock in, as you bob your head up and down, as you open your eyes to look at him just in time to catch his eyes roll to the back of his head. “So good to me…” he mumbles, fingers gripping your hair, but not too tightly, just enough for you to feel it. You’ve never seen a man look this pretty and angelic while someone’s sucking them off, and you feel like you don’t ever want to see anything else. “Treat me so nice, never want to stop.”

You want to tell Hyunjin you don’t have to stop, that you can keep going forever, that you don’t want to leave him again, but none of that is realistic, even though you feel it right now. So, you just hum and suck for a while longer until he warns you he doesn’t want to come yet. “Please, please… Not yet. Want to make you feel good first,” he hums, hand caressing your hair as his eyes look at you. His pleas sound sweet, so you pull away, not wanting to ruin all the fun.

“Here,” Hyunjin says as he offers you his hands to take, helping you get off the floor.

Hyunjin watches you stand up with a happy smirk, eyes moving up and down your body, staying on your face. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you in closer until his chest meets your stomach, his face right next to your chest. “You’re perfect. I mean it.”

“Hyunjin…” You’re not sure how to react other than to grin at him and cup his face, run your fingers through his dark hair, pet him. That’s all you want to do. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me tonight, but I like it.”

He chuckles at that, lips turning into a smirk before they press a soft kiss into the skin right above your breasts, creating goosebumps. “I’ll only do what you want me to do, okay? Nothing more, nothing less. Just me and you.”

“Just us,” you tell him, feeling that it’s real. Even if it’s too soon, even if you don’t know the first thing about the man, you want to believe it.

Hyunjin’s hands gently stroke your back, up and down, each glide of his skin against yours turning you on more, making your insides turn with excitement, heart leap up. And then, his fingers grab the back of your bra, unclasping it in a second or two. You let Hyunjin take it off of you while you stare at each other, his hands gently moving the straps down your hands, throwing the bra onto a sofa in the corner.

“So pretty,” he hums as he places his hands on your waist and moves them up gently, palming his way up to your breasts. When he reaches them, Hyunjin finally looks at them instead of your face, and you notice how his expression changes to something different, the soft lines of his face sharpening as he bites down on his lip. His thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, and you almost double over into his lap, every touch sending shivers down your spine. “Good?”

“G-great,” you say, wondering why your voice sounds so worn out. The night’s been a roller-coaster of emotions, and it’s nowhere near done yet.

Hyunjin looks at your body a bit more, hands gently massaging the flesh of your chest, thumbs occasionally rubbing your nipples while you stand between his knees, shivering. “Cold?” Hyunjin asks, placing yet another kiss to your rib cage, eyes looking up at your face.

“No,” you tell him, voice almost inaudible. You don’t want to be too loud and ruin the moment, let him slip through your fingers. “Just excited.”

Your confession makes him chuckle softly, lips moving in to take your nipple into his mouth while his hands move down to your ass, kneading it gently, softly, as if he has all the time in the world, as if he isn’t hard and doesn’t want to be in you. His mouth lets go of your nipple as Hyunjin looks away from your face just to look at the other breast and hum happily before taking the nipple into his mouth, this time swiping his tongue across it once it’s in his mouth, which gets you to groan.

It’s so gentle and caring, and you feel like your skin is burning, like fire is bubbling right underneath, getting released wherever he touches, wherever he places his lips. Usually, you’d be self-conscious about a man inspecting you like that, taking the time to look at your body, touching every inch of it like Hyunjin’s doing, but you’re not. Funnily enough, he’s definitely the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen, and you should feel embarrassed to have someone as gorgeous as him stare you down—but you don’t.

While you’re wondering why you’re so comfortable around Hyunjin, he starts kissing his way between your breasts, down your rib cage, his breath making your body shiver in anticipation, wet and warm against your skin. Meanwhile, his fingers hook under the strap of your underwear, gently pulling it down, eyes shooting up at you questioningly. “It’s fine,” you whisper and earn a low hum from Hyunjin, whose mouth is on your stomach.

The next second, your underwear drops down to the floor, leaving you naked in front of him, which he admires for a while, looking at you with a huge grin on his face. “You are… Just…” Hyunjin looks at you like he’s struggling to find the right words, and you wonder if your behavior has affected this. After all, he’s been honest with you before, telling you he’s painted that portrait in the gallery for you, telling you he cares about you, and you’ve said it’s too much and turned him down. Is he worried about that now as he tries to find a word to describe you?

To soothe him, you reach in and cup his face, unable to take your eyes off of it.

“Perfect,” Hyunjin finishes his earlier statement. “Gorgeous.”

It’s your turn to chuckle and look away, which he uses as a chance to get up on his feet, naked body pressed into yours from the front, leaning in to kiss you. For a moment or two, it’s like nothing else exists. You don’t hear the outside world under his window, you don’t think about the consequences, you don’t wonder about the painting that’s hanging on his wall. For a while, it’s just the two of you, and that’s all that matters.

Before you know it, Hyunjin’s hands are wrapped around you, one groping your ass, the other tangled into your hair, fingers gripping it gently so he can pull your head back and smile at you as he breaks the kiss. “Let me make you feel good.”

“You already are,” you tell him even though you know what he’s alluding to, and you’re not turning that down. You’d be crazy to.

“Mhm, then let me make you feel even better,” Hyunjin offers, sheepishness painting his cheeks a light shade of pink, innocent eyes looking down at you softly.

You nod and find yourself on your back on his bed not long after, Hyunjin between your legs, your own thrown over his shoulders, feet digging into the mattress. Oral sex is usually something that happens quickly in your sex life, something quick before the main course, something most men do so they can feel better about not making you come with their dicks. You don’t mind, though. You usually relax, close your eyes, and just feel what they’re doing.

Tonight, though, you’re taking a different approach, upper back propped up by Hyunjin’s pillow so you can look at him take a long lick from your hole up to your clit, tip of his tongue sliding between your lips as your eyes stay locked. You don’t like watching men in the eyes when they go down on you, but you can’t look away for some reason.

﹋﹋﹋

You taste the same. You smell different, use a different perfume, wear different clothes, but you taste the same. The second Hyunjin’s tongue dips between your folds and he feels your juices on it, he’s taken back to the past, to the countless times you’ve spread your legs for him and let him pleasure you, let him lick you so well you’d be screaming his name. Even that day by the lake, when he was finished painting you, you let Hyunjin lay you down on the blanket and pleasure you with his tongue and fingers, all alone by the lake, under the warm sun.

Things are different now, but you taste the same, and Hyunjin’s heart feels like it’s about to explode when he earns the first moan of his name from your pretty mouth. It beats even louder when you arch your back into his face when he sucks on your clit, never wanting to let you go.

“Fuck, Hyunjin…” Your hands reach down for your thighs, fingers digging into them as Hyunjin’s tongue moves up and down your slit, circling your hole then moving up to tease your clit, repeating the motion over and over again. He knows what you like—he’s done it to you so many times. He knows your body like the back of his hand, knows every single thing that makes you tick, knows how to get you right where he wants you.

Hyunjin reaches for your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you squeeze them, grunting even louder now. Physical touch. You’ve always found comfort in it, Hyunjin remembers, always wanting to hold his hand at least, have him pet your head, play with your hair, kiss and caress you. Oftentimes, he regrets not giving you more attention in the past life, not spending every single second of every day with you, but he’s getting a new chance now, even if it’s just for one night.

With that in mind, he digs in again, now focusing solely on your clit while holding your hands and looking at you as if he’s scared he’ll look away and you’ll disappear. His chin is pressed against your slit and he can feel how wet you are and just knows he’ll slide right in if you let him, get to feel you around him. “God, Hyunjin, just like that, please,” you moan for him again, squeezing his hands as your feet dig into the mattress, hips lifting off the bed slightly.

“Don’t worry, I have you,” he mumbles before going back in, holding his breath as long as he can to apply the right amount of pressure.

“You’re so, mhm, good at this,” you tell him, eyes glued to his, filling with tears. You like it that much? Hyunjin feels like he could cry from happiness. It all feels familiar, but new at the same time. It’s the same him and a new you. “I’m close… So close.”

When he hears that, Hyunjin acts like a man on a mission, using the tip of his tongue to flick it up and down your clit continuously, so fast your hips snap up into his face, thighs wrapping around his head. It doesn’t take him long to get him to fall apart under his mouth with a loud cry of his name, fingers digging into the back of his palms, leaving crescent marks behind as your high rushes through you, body writhing under him.

“Oh my God, how—fuck!” is the only thing you can say before continuing to moan as Hyunjin moves away from your clit and shoves his tongue in your hole, lapping up all your juices, getting to taste you even better. He knows he shouldn’t touch your clit after you come, but you don’t mind him using your cunt while you recover—it’s been a long time, but he still remembers it all too well. “Put it in, Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin doesn’t have a condom here, he thinks, but you’re not asking for one at all. So, he gets on his knees, wipes your juices off his face and mouth, and leans in to kiss you, body hovering over yours. You don’t seem to like that since you wrap your limbs around him, forcing him to rest his weight on you while you kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, and Hyunjin wants you to taste yourself on it, see how perfect you are for him. Your smell is overwhelming, taking him back to the past, to all the time he’s had you before, and yet not one time feels as rewarding as this one.

“You sure about this?” Hyunjin mumbles into the kiss even though everything in him is telling him to just put it in, like you asked. You want to have his dick like you’ve wanted to have it all those times before, and he can’t wait to make you fall apart around it.

“Positive,” you grunt back, tugging at his hair. “I want you.”

“I want you too, more than you know,” Hyunjin admits, feeling his heart hurt a bit at his own words. You don’t even know how much he wants you, and in what ways. It’s not just sex to hyunjin, but you’ll never know that. When you leave tonight, you’re taking a big chunk of what’s left of his heart with you, again. But he’s ready to give it to you. “Want to have you so bad.”

“You have me,” you tell him, hands rubbing his shoulders as Hyunjin pushes his hips away from you and reaches down to position his cock at your entrance.

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean, but he’s taking it. The tip of his cock circles around your hole, smearing your juices all over it before Hyunjin pushes it past your lips and up to your clit, giving it a couple of light smacks which make you buck your hips into him every time, eager for more.

His hand is shaking, and Hyunjin hopes you don’t notice. He’s just nervous because he hasn’t been with you in forever, and he’s scared of how his body will react when he sinks into you, when he feels you under him again, even if you don’t remember who he is or what you had. Despite that, Hyunjin guides his cock to your entrance and lets the tip push into you gently, palms helping him stay above you so he can look at your face and gauge your reactions.

“More,” you tell him not even a second later, spreading your thighs for him further, offering yourself to Hyunjin like many times before, even if you don’t remember all those times. He does. “Please.”

Hyunjin’s hand moves to your face, cupping it, the other one helping him not crush you. “How polite…” With that, he enters you all the way, staying lodged deep inside of you to let you adjust. Your eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing as he bottoms out, the stretch of his cock in you making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“So-so good,” you hiss, once again looking right into his eyes as your lips open so you can moan for him. You do that once more when Hyunjin pushes his hips back and then sinks into you again fully. It’s slow, excruciatingly so, but you love it, legs falling open as you allow him to come even closer. “Fuck!”

A part of Hyunjin is so turned on he wants to to kneel between your legs and just start pumping his dick inside of you until he makes you both come. However, he also wants to take his time with you, enjoy feeling every inch of you around him, looking at your expression change as he slides in and out slowly, hearing the pretty sounds you make. He might not get to experience this again, which scares him more than he can explain. What if you walk out on him again?

His worries are forgotten when you meet his next thrust with one of your own—as Hyunjin thrusts into you, you push your hips into his, causing a bit more friction between your bodies, which makes him grunt. “Want more?” he suggests, even though he wants it slow with you.

When you nod, he almost chuckles at your eagerness and the way you bite your lip right after as if you realized how needy you’re coming off. “Please,” you whisper, remembering your manners, hands gently moving up his arms, shoulders, neck, until you hold his head in place. “Just a bit faster.”

“I can go as fast as you want, baby,” Hyunjin breathes the words at you, wincing at the use of the nickname which you haven’t approved of, but you don’t seem to mind. To make you forget about what he said, Hyunjin starts moving faster, in and out.

He doesn’t push all the way in nor does he pull all the way out, wanting to keep his cockhead inside of you, rubbing your walls at all times, just the way you like it. Hyunjin knows you well, knows how your gorgeous body reacts to his kisses, touch, cock.

“You’re so good,” you grunt not long after, legs wrapping around his waist. “God, Hyunjin, don’t ever stop… So fucking good.”

You use the grip you now have on him to pull him into your body even more until he has to move down onto his elbows, chest pressing into yours, your warmth surrounding him. “You’re perfect,” Hyunjin says, feeling like he is about to explode, and not just sexually. He’s overwhelmed by the feeling of your naked body on his, by your walls around his cock, by your breath on his face, your eyes on him.

Hyunjin’s been waiting to have you for lifetimes now, lonely and miserable, thinking he was never going to see you again, let alone be this intimate with you, see you smile at him, hear you chuckle at his words or give him a compliment. And now you’re here, looking at him like he’s magic, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him in to kiss him.

“I love feeling you in me, Hyunjin,” you hiss in between pecks, and he feels dizzy with desire that rushes through him.

“Love being in you,” he retorts, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he speeds up a bit, and for a while, you kiss, the only sounds in the room the smacking of his skin against yours and the muffled hisses and moans coming from both of you. Hyunjin pulls away slightly so he can look at you. “Never want to stop.”

“You don’t have to,” you say with a giggle, hands tugging at the hair on the back of his head.

Hyunjin’s hands are soon all over the place, one holding him up, the other first holding your face as he fucks you and watches your eyes widen with every sharp thrust. Then, it moves over your neck to your breast, giving it a rough squeeze, which makes him grunt. “Not enough time to do everything I want to do to you.”

He means it more than you know, and it pains him that you just don't understand how deep this sentiment is. But, you chuckle and place your hand over his, which is still holding your breast. “We have time, Hyunjin… I’m not going anywhere.”

You mean tonight, you mean right now, not forever, but Hyunjin’s mind takes him there regardless, the feeling of love suddenly overwhelming him. You’ll see it on him, he’s sure, you’ll see he’s in love with you and you’ll run away from him again, so he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck to avoid your gaze. “Just want to make you feel good…”

“You are,” you say immediately as you wrap your hands around him, pulling him into your chest, his hips the only thing that’s moving as he fucks you. “You, ah!, do it so well, Hyunjin…”

In response, he starts kissing your neck, and your back arches, moans leaving your mouth the more his tongue plays with your skin. So, he sneaks his hands down between the mattress and your body, grabbing your ass and gently lifting it. When he does that, Hyunjin can finally start pushing himself into you the way he likes—hands holding your ass up, controlling the angle, while his hips snap back and forth.

“Oh my God!” you whine, walls clamping around his cock instantly. This is your favorite too, he knows, and he’s instantly reminded of that when your groans get overwhelming, fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as the other hand grabs the back of his neck, back arching.

Hyunjin can’t see your face because he’s hiding in the crook of your shoulder, but he knows what you look like when he fucks you like this—mouth open, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowing as your face distorts in pleasure, orgasm right around the corner. He grunts your name, jaw clenched as he fights to keep you up and fuck you the way you like it, even though he wants nothing more than fill you up. “Come for me… Let me feel you.”

As if that’s all you need, you relax under him, but your fingers dig deeper into his shoulder, fingers gripping his hair tight, hips pushing into Hyunjin’s. “There, there, there, fuck, there,” you hiss and mumble as it approaches, so Hyunjin keeps moving even faster, basking in the sounds you’re making for him. “Hyunjin!”

You cry out for him when he pushes you over the edge, so he keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm, enjoying the pain you’re inflicting to him as you lose control and pull his head back, digging your nails into his skin even further.

When your walls flutter around him, Hyunjin feels like he’ll lose it and just pump you full of semen for the millionth time, but he can’t. “Feel amazing when you come around me,” he grunts into your neck, still keeping the same pace. “So good for me.”

“What the hell was that?” you whimper, still holding onto his shoulder and hair, but lighter now as your body relaxes, even though your pussy is still clenching and releasing around his cock. “You can’t be this good at everything, Hyunjin.”

With a chuckle, you let your head fall onto the pillow, hands now running up and down his back, his skin on fire from the sex and your presence. “Leave something for the rest of the guys out there.”

As if your words spark something in him, Hyunjin lowers your hips down onto the mattress and pulls his hands to the side, planting his elbows right above your shoulders, looking down at you like he wants to eat you up, which he kind of does. “Fuck other guys,” he mumbles before thrusting into you hard. “Don’t want to leave anything of yours for them…”

You giggle when he says that, but the giggle turns into a cry when he bucks his hips into yours again.

“Want you all for myself.”

You don’t say anything in response but push yourself up so you can kiss him hungrily, tongue entering his mouth as Hyunjin keeps fucking you. You feel even tighter now and so warm for him, so sweet and pretty, moaning into the kiss you’re giving him, and his heart beats like crazy. His fingers intertwine with yours, keeping your hands right next to your head as he drives his cock into you, hips swiftly moving back and forth, leaving you out of breath.

“I’m right here,” you hum, lips brushing against Hyunjin’s as you speak, and he squeezes your hands tighter, never wanting to let go of you. You’re just saying that, he knows, but it means the world to him right now. “You have me, Hyunjin…”

Your bodies move together, naked and sweaty, your hips trying to meet the pace of his while you look at each other warmly. It’s not the type of sex people have the first time they sleep together, that’s for sure. But, it’s not your first time, and your body remembers too, even if your brain can’t.

Hyunjin, of course, remembers everything. That’s all he’s been doing all this time, remembering you and your life together, and now it’s all becoming reality again, even if only for a night.

“Can I come inside?” Hyunjin asks, knowing he shouldn’t do it.

You’re a stranger, and so is he to you. It’s irresponsible and stupid to do come inside of someone you aren’t even officially dating. What’s even worse, you’ve turned him down already, showing him you weren’t interested in him talking about his feelings about you, let alone liking him enough to do something as life changing as that.

Yet, you accept Hyunjin’s offer without hesitation. “Do it,” you tell him, not knowing what came over you to say it.

You’ve never done any of this before—let a man enter you without a condom, without any kind of protection, without you checking if he was clean. It was stupidity at its finest, completely reckless and dangerous behavior, but your body works against you, inviting Hyunjin in at every turn, no matter how hard you try to fight these feelings for him, feelings you can’t have this early on. You’ve never even done any of that, let alone allowed a stranger to come inside of you, but here you are, nodding enthusiastically at the idea of becoming even closer to him.

After hearing you agree to it, Hyunjin starts pumping himself into you faster, hands holding yours right next to your head as he continues moving in and out expertly, like you two have done this a million times before. He never goes too deep like he knows you hate the feeling. “So pretty,” he grunts at you. “Like you’re made just for me.”

Insanely enough, that's exactly how you feel about him. You can’t get enough of him, no matter how much you gawk at every inch of him. Hyunjin’s scent is overwhelming, luring you in even more, making you spread your legs for him. “You’re perfect.”

The man chuckles at your compliment, leaning in to peck your lips before he speeds up, his hips now smacking into yours. “Are you sure?” he asks again, wanting to be positive you want this too. When you nod, Hyunjin relaxes and tells himself to let go, his body following suit.

Soon enough, he feels semen spurting out of him and painting your walls, so he stays lodged inside of you, moving just a couple of centimeters in and out to help himself get everything out. You moan louder when you realize he’s coming, the mentions of his name sounding like cries, but you can’t help it—you love hearing and seeing him fall apart like this, inside of you.

“Ah,” Hyunjin grunts, saying your name too, his forehead nuzzling up to your face as he stays deep inside of you, “are you going to keep it inside? Give me a child?”

“A child?” you repeat, wondering why you’re not absolutely appalled by the idea. You should get up and run away from a man who asks you this after coming inside of you, you really should, but you don’t. Your walls clamp around him at his words, trapping him in, as if you’re agreeing to it.

“Yes…” he tells you, letting his head fall on the pillow next to your head, his lips pecking your cheek.

And then, Hyunjin says the name of your firstborn, the one you were carrying when he painted you by the lake as you giggled and admired his beauty while he kept telling you to stay still so he could capture the moment, pretending to be upset with you. He’d stop occasionally just to walk over to you and start tickling you so you’d listen to his instructions and stay still.

In an instant, memories come flooding back, and you look up at the painting, finally seeing it for what it was—you, in another life, happy because you have a caring lover and a child on the way, happy you’re with him and nothing else matters. You remember how your firstborn “ruined” Hyunjin’s work, but in fact just made it better, how the painting was your favorite thing your lover ever made, even though he’s gotten even better as he grew old. That painting signified a new, wonderful beginning of a life so great you just had to live it again.

And finally, it all makes sense. You remember your house always smelled like love and paint and your children were loved and happy, Hyunjin by your side. You remember Hyunjin, the only man you’ve had in that life and the only man you’ve ever really wanted to have.

In fact, that was and is the only life you’ve had that counts, the one by the lake with him next to you. You sigh with relief as if some curse is lifted, your heart finally freed from the cage of not being able to remember. Tears prick your eyes when you realize he’s right here with you and that he must have known it all this time, which is why he was acting the way he was, why he seemed to care about you. Your Hyunjin.

“My love,” you call out for him, wanting to look into his eyes even though his face is still in the crook of your neck. “I’m here. We’ll have it all again, together. You and me. I’ve missed you so much, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin wants to speak, but words don’t come out. Instead, you feel a tear falling down on your neck, quickly followed by another as he shudders. “It’s you? You remember?”

“Yes, darling, everything,” you tell him, which makes Hyunjin let out a sob of relief.

In return, you wrap your arms around him and squeeze him, lips finding the top of his head as you mention details of your life, the name of the town you lived in, the names of your children. With every name you say, Hyunjin sobs even more, tears dripping down your neck into your hair and the pillow, but none of that matters when you’re here with him.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop crying, not even when you hold him even closer, not even when he tries to tell you he’s been looking for you for what seems like forever, when he tells you he’s missed you and loved you all along, not even when you tell him it’s alright now. “I-I’ve-I—” he tries to speak through sobs, but can’t form a sentence. “Miss you… Forever—all lives—just you—and the children, I miss—ah—alone.”

It doesn’t make sense, but you know exactly what he means by it. So, you stroke Hyunjin’s hair and let him cry, knowing he’s been through worse pain than you have. Remembering it all must have been hell compared to not remembering a thing, yet he was still here, trying, holding onto hope that you’ll remember, and now he finally has it. Your heart beats so loud you think it will burst out of your rib cage, love overwhelming you. You don’t need anything other than Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin,” you call out again, hand holding the back of his head as you press kisses to the top of his head, finally realizing why he’s felt like home all along. “We found each other again. It’s all good, love. We’re not losing each other again.”

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