Keep | k.sj.

1.

Seoul's snow.

It falls timid against the already blanketed ground. So pure and untouched until decorated with footsteps from the passerby indulging in their spoils of this season. I enjoy watching them from my window, but my entertainment will only last for the moment. I have to prepare for a holiday party and I'm meeting my parents at their house so we can arrive together. My hands quiver as I apply my lipstick, eyes glued to the mirror as they tear from staring at my appearance.

The party was not the reason for my worry, but who will be there it what spiked my anxiety. A long-time friend I only see sporadically will be there and after our last meeting, I'm not sure where we stand. He has a complicated job, and an image to uphold. When you're an idol here, it's a different life. They work very hard to keep their private life out of the scene, even if it meant dismissing someone unintentionally. This happened a few times with him.

He's pretty important here, and it's intimidating. Fans showed their passion toward them and, in return, his group is nothing but sweet and humble with them. I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I enjoy their work. My friends, however, gush over them constantly. Never will I tell them I'm acquainted with one of them.

I gather my purse and coat, bundling up from the night air, and proceed from my apartment on the outskirts of Seoul. My father sent a car for me as it stood parked against the curb. I stepped inside, surprised to see my parents already inside, my dad pouring champagne and getting in the mood. I greeted them and smiled.

My father worked for Samsung. A man with a love for languages and culture, received a promotion in the company and took the position here in South Korea working for the corporate office. After my mother died, worked seemed to be his escape, and I wondered often how much he mourned her. While here, a met a beautiful Korean woman who he's married to for three years now. She's also a widower-I guess this was the connection between them. She has a son from her previous marriage, but he is in the military.

I didn't expect them to welcome me, but they did, and with open arms. I've developed a close relationship with my stepbrother. My father taught me formalities in my new horizon, but my stepbrother taught me informal. He's only a year or two younger than me, but I made him cringe at my formalities. We laugh at this now. I miss him, and I can't wait to see him again.

We arrived at my stepmother's friend's house. It's a beautiful home inside and out. Her friends are handsomely wealthy, but humble. We stepped out of the car and walked inside, greeted by the hosts and their guests. It's Christmas time, so there was a grand Christmas tree standing in the corner of the party room decked in red and gold. A glimmering decorative piece accenting the holiday affair. Holiday tunes filled the air, along with laugher and camaraderie of the guests. My parents glanced at me, signaling my cue to dress in my social smile and mingle with their friends. Lucky for me, there were others there my age.

I scoped the room on countless occasions, nervous while expecting my gaze to meet with another; but he wasn't anywhere to be found. There was the chance he was still with his bandmates and this was one occasion he would miss. However, in the last three years I've attended this party, this hasn't been the case yet. My heart skipped a beat, wondering if this would be the first. I didn't like the way it felt.

He displayed himself as the life of the party, the jokester and the one to always keep a smile on someone's face. True, this is, but around his family, he's quaint and reserved in an old-fashioned sort of way. His family seemed quite traditional and so does he. A reason I often wonder what drew him to the likes of me.

I sauntered over to the buffet table, gathering small eateries on my plate. I overheard his name called and said he had only arrived a few minutes ago. Its music award season here in South Korea and his schedule surpassed overloaded. I wondered if he would make it here, but I guess time was on his side. I lingered around the buffet a little longer before ending up in the corner of the room. As the music played, guests were coupling up to dance, my father and stepmother being one of them. I couldn't help but admire them. My heart warmed seeing them together. My dad seemed happy with my stepmother, and she was with him. I often wondered if there was a love like theirs for me.

While watching them, I lowered my plate down, my appetite falling lost with the butterflies swirling in my tummy from my imagination. A warm touch brushed against my hand, seducing a gasp from my lips as they parted. I lifted my gaze to the invader of my privacy and gasped again. His succulent lips stretched into a charming smile while the butterflies in my tummy erupted in a tornado.

His unlined, breathtaking features reminded me of the newly fallen snow on the ground, pure and untouched. A scent lingering from him, masculine yet mesmerizing to the senses, crawled around us as if it created a barrier between us and the attendants of the party. He took my hand and led me out onto the floor with the others, bowing with grace, and I did the same in return. One hand rested on my hip as he tugged me closer to him. We fell into position and he led us into a sway along with the music.

Of all the gorgeous women flaunting among the crowd of this party, some who secretly hoped to have a moment with him.

He chose me.

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