Love Affair | kth

3

K-chk. Taehyung's camera was loud. You watched him as he slowly dropped into a crouch, his shoulders slumped, arms steadily bringing the camera back up to his face. He was careful to position it just over his eye. When he closed an eye to take the photo, the whole side of his face scrunched up, his eye squinting. K-chk.

You tried to get a good look at what he was taking a photo of, but all you could see was a bush. It was one of those well-trimmed bushes, wedged right next to the park bench you were sitting on. Your own camera was slung from your neck: small and pocket-sized, a single strip of old pink washy-tape aligning its side, marking it as yours. Taehyung's camera was bulky and black. It was the kind you saw people who took photos for money using all the time in public places, like wedding photos in a scenic area.

K-chk. Taehyung was still for a moment longer. Then, he lowered the camera, his head hanging to his chest as he stared at what he'd gotten. He slowly stood from his squatting position.

"Taehyung."

"Hm?" he replied, without missing a beat; without looking away from the camera.

"That thing is huge!" Camera.

"Why, thank you." His voice was warm and muffled, a gentle murmur. You watched as he continued to stand there, working through the photos he'd taken, like it was nobody's business. His face was hard at first, expression drawn into a small frown. As he spent longer time staring at it, his frown deepened. The corners of his lips drew into a pout.

You couldn't help it. You laughed.

"What's so funny?" He demanded, refusing to look away from the camera. But he was circling back to meet you at the bench. He finally tore his gaze away from the screen and his eyes landed on you. All at once he was curious, questioning, skeptical! His eyes were a deep, deep brown; pools of the darkest liquid, alcohol almost. They looked like reflections.

You cleared your throat, "Well, if you insist, it's really your face. You were like—" you demonstrated what he'd looked like in an exaggerated manner.

Taehyung watched you. Immediately, his face broke into a smile. He kept staring at you.

"Really? I looked like that?" He half-scoffed this, half-laughed it. He took a step closer to you, arms folding over his chest. He was wearing a cream-coloured, silk button-down, the top few buttons undone. "Are you telling me you think I look funny?"

"I—sorry, what?"

"You think I look funny, then?" It took you a moment to register his words. He was obviously joking with you. His eyes had set in amused challenge, but, somehow, they were warm. "Come on, answer the question. Do you think I look funny?"

"I don't even know what you mean by that."

"I mean what I mean... you don't like the way I look?"

"Oh, shut up."

He chuckled. His arms were still folded over his chest. He unfolded them now, wandered relaxedly over and sat down next to you. This surprised you—but only the first second. The next thing you felt wasn't surprise, but was something entirely different. A surge of something rushed through your blood. It mingled with this warmish sensation that you didn't remember ever feeling before. Not like this, anyway. Taehyung reclined back, out of your sight. You stayed sitting upright, elbows resting on your knees, folded hands in the space between. You felt suddenly like you needed to fidget with something, but at the same time you were absolutely numb. So you did nothing.

"I just wanted to know if you think I look funny," he nagged stubbornly.

"I said shut up, Taehyung." Taehyung. His name on your tongue was the most alien and homely thing. "I-I don't even know what you mean by that."

There was a beat of silence. His next words were wrapped in arrogant amusement, "Are you blushing? Is [...] really blushing? G*ddamn, I'm good! ...did I really make you blush?"

Oh my l*rd. "I said f*cking shut up already!"

He laughed long and loud. His laugh was this thing, this train of unprecedented emotion. It carried on, almost in monotone, but you found yourself hearing it, listening to it. Kim Taehyung's laughter... you found yourself wanting to keep listening to it and you didn't know why.

When his laughter eventually died down, a gentle quiet remained. The truth was, you couldn't hear anything over the rattling, screaming train of your thoughts. You were absolutely blushing now. You couldn't look Tae in the eye.

After a moment, he spoke, "I asked because, I don't think you look funny."

This was what he said, finally. This was what he'd meant to say. You snorted, a mockingly bitter laugh following. You raised your chin slowly, staring into the park ahead of you, "Yeah, okay. Thanks. That's, that's good to know."

"No, really—I mean it."

"Oh, yeah? Then what do you think?"

You'd already began to notice how deep and rich his voice was, but this thought further drilled itself into you as he spoke next. He spoke surely, but not slowly. Not carefully. But he said it. "I think you're cute."

For the longest minute, you didn't know how to respond. It was because you didn't know whether or not you could take him seriously.

You whispered, "Cute?"

"Yes... cute," his voice changed. There was something in it now, something you had never heard in him before. It was raw, deep... surreal. He cleared his throat. "Most of the time, anyway. Y'know, when you're not being a dick."

"What about the rest of the time?" You didn't realise what you were asking for.

A second beat of silence passed.

"Well.." he gasped a chuckle. "A lot of the time, I also think you look pretty. So, cute and pretty."

"Cute and pretty," you repeated.

His words resonated with you, stilling a single warm feeling in the core of your stomach. It wasn't only his words, it was his voice. His face. His smile. You sat there, silent, for a while longer, trying to get a handle on your thoughts. The silence brewed between the two of you, steady and frothing. From the corner of your eye, you watched him move slowly from his reclined position, so that he was sitting similarly to you, elbows resting on his knees. He suddenly felt so close. If he was sitting just a little bit closer, there would be multiple contact points. You were sure his skin was warm.

"Cute and pretty?" You said.

"Cute and pretty," he whispered.