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Our tale—our story—is one story in which I wish I could change because one single choice could've probably changed our fate together forever.
Maybe, in an alternate universe, you and I ended up together.
But, I wish, in every universe, you remain happy.
We met about eleven kilometres in the air, on a trip to Paris. The aeroplane was filled with rowdy jazz band students excited to be leaving South Korea and escape from high school for two weeks. You were a saxophonist and I was a guitarist.
"Hi, I'm Jeon Hyejin."
You looked up from peering at the window from your seat. Earphones stuffed into your ears that slightly stuck out from your head, widened eyes covered with thick lenses as the frame of your glasses masked your face. Black hair swooped over your forehead before you nodded, running your hands through your dark hair. Silent.
Slowly, your lips curved into a soft smile. You were like the dawn's golden sunlight streaming through the blinds on an early morning, like stolen glances through a bookshelf, the smell of lavender, the sweet taste of hot chocolate on a cold afternoon, traversing through a field of flowers. You were like morning pillow fights, a bouquet of sunflowers, the subdued blue sky on a spring day, staring at the stars from the roof wishing for fate and true love.
"Hi, I'm Kim Taehyung."
And that was the start of everything.
You were like an artist, painting the world with colour.
And you painted me.
You painted me with colours and shades. You have painted me green with envy. You have painted me blue with sadness and red with anger. You have painted me purple with joy and black with loneliness, and more.
And you have painted me bright pink with love.
I fell in love with you in the city of love and romance.
