Love In The Time Of Coffee | Yunho [Ongoing]

13 | beauty and the assistant

"My photos taken without my consent," I said. Had this been a debate, I'd have lost by now. Since walking in here and having all my resolve weakened from the first second our eyes connected. When Yunho was busy switching from ireful to exultant.

"Tell the truth, it's a guilty pleasure for you that I do. Now smile for real, my savage firebreather." The weight of his arm dropped on my shoulders. That alone had left me knocked silly and moveless. Of course, I would take flight rather than listen.

We were physically closer than we'd ever been.

I was suddenly describing fish out of water.

Click.

"What?"

Yunho removed himself to review his handiwork (perhaps to get away from me in case resorting to violence had crossed my mind). "The eyes will always find the shutter," he commented with a type of awe. Yunho glanced up at me, his uncooperative specimen whose eyes had still managed to find the shutter in a brief moment of brain-deadness.

"Delete it," I said.

Matching my gaze, he went on to lie: "Deleted."

"I'd like to see—"

"Oof. Spoke too late. I turned it off already." He brought the blank screen up for proof.

"You don't want to mess with me, Yunho." My weak threat led me to a reflective trance: Will he ever take me seriously?

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Now, how may I help you." Setting the gadget down, he leaned against his desk to indulge me. "Except you came just because, then without a doubt I am—" hand over heart "—touched, Yong."

Sauntering over, I dropped the stack of magazines dating back a couple years to present next to Yunho. He picked one. "Director Hwang thinks you should take a look at these. In case there is such a thing as a photographer's block, given you haven't done this in a while. She hopes it helps resuscitate your creativity; give you an idea of what you're working with. In any case, she said the both of you will meet up to discuss in detail. That's all I know."

Yunho leafed through the pages, braking along the center spread and hesitated long enough to call my attention. I snuck a glimpse and wished I hadn't. In my belief, the only thing that can be said when you stumble upon your ex waxing elegant on years-old content, and your senses can't seem to fashion the right reaction to it, is that you miss them. Right now, Yunho was scrutinizing print-form Yeonah and wishing it didn't defy natural laws to un-ex her with the snap of his fingers. Then he slapped the publication closed, with a force that shouldn't be seen as hostile (because it's him). He returned it to its peers, inhaled and exhaled deep audible breath, crossed his arms over his chest, comprehended my presence seconds later but by then I had died ten deaths and still felt so out of place, the best thing to suddenly happen to me would be finding myself on the other side of the planet. If it did anyone good (but not me), he didn't bother to phoney up the usual easy-going grin of: just a random guy passing through life unperturbed. It's good anyway. Life.

"A break in continuity doesn't automatically mean you lose your touch, does it?" he was asking. Never has a person regarded me like I held the truest truth that can be surrendered.

"Depends on the damage incurred during said break," I said, with the lurking fear of saying the wrong thing. As free-spoken as I hoped to sound off in his ears, I wanted Yunho also believing he could put his trust in me. Sometimes we talk and I get that vibe from him. Here, from what I'm receiving, Yunho hates being the personification of a glorified egg. This discovery was influencing my decision to abandon every inner distress (which still came back around and related to him) and cry out to Yunho that he never needs to second-guess when it came to me. I won't be a vociferous supporter. "In Hwang's defense, she doesn't mean to upset you. It's part of her charm, she looks out for everybody."