TXT Imagines

THAT SUMMER IN NEW YORK (OT5)

I honestly don't know how it happened. What led to everything that has transpired in my life these past two months. I remembered I was just looking for a dorm or apartment to shelter me as I started my freshman year at New York University. My brown curls curtains the small of my back albeit it was pretty hot, and I was wearing a peach colored sleeveless crop top partnered with white fitted pants, which my mother had chosen for me.

It was just the start of summer, thus I met several schoolmates as my mother and I strolled around the area of NYU. I told my mom I wanted my lodging to be simple — I wouldn't mind having a roommate as long as it was only a minute away from the university. I tried cajoling her into listing me in this two-storey apartment. The bedrooms were small and the hallway was crowded — we could hardly squeeze through, yet it got my interest, especially when I found out it was just outside the premises of the campus. It saves me time and effort, I said.

Nonetheless, my mom insisted I have a huge space of my own — mainly because I know she'll want to come by probably thrice a month to check on me.

We constantly argued that day, the kind of squabble only a mother and daughter could have. There were exasperated and tenacious statements, but it wasn't a fight that would lead to us giving each other the silent treatment.

It was almost the late afternoon when we stopped in this vast and expensive looking apartment. It had three floors. The exterior was clean white, accompanied by sleek contemporary design. The palette inside was a mixture of ceramic flooring, wooden elements, and fluted glass barn doors. Fastened to the furnished ceiling are symmetrical chandeliers, forming a circle with branches that exude an explosion of light from a center point. There are various canvases hanging from the walls; some are abstract paintings, while some are vividly Van Gogh inspired.

One word to describe the place: luxurious.

My head jerked to my mom, about to tell her we should go check another place, but her amber irises were practically glowing.

"Mom—"

"Excuse me!"

I recalled being annoyed at how my mother had unintentionally dismissed me. She ambled to a guy who had obviously just sloshed out of the bathroom. At first, I thought the lad was a model — an actor even — by how tall and handsome he looked. However, something about his soft features screams familiarity. I stared at him as he ironically stared back.

My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when realization dawned. I could apprise Soobin had also recognized me by the way his face broke into a smile. The smile that showcased his deep dimples, the smile that always makes my 12-year-old heart flutter.

It was the smile of the first boy I ever loved.

Holy shit, there is no way Soobin Choi is living in this apartment. There is no way he is standing right in front of me in all his glory after all these years that I haven't seen him.

"Soobin? Is that really you?" My mother gasped, clamping a hand into her mouth.

"Mrs. Y/L/N? Wow, it's so nice to see you again!" Soobin exclaimed, averting his gaze to my mother and engulfing her frame in a hug.

"You've grown so much! Oh dear, how long has it been since I last saw you? 4, 5 years? You're such a fine young man now!" My mother gushed. She invariably has a soft spot for the latter.

My heart nearly tore through the flesh and bones when Soobin's attention drifted back to me. The look in his eyes made my knees buckle, prompting me to suck a deep breath.

He had never looked at me that way before....

He had never looked at me as though I am the most intriguing masterpiece in a museum. He likes museums. Everything that has to do with arts and history — he's fond of all of them.