the theory of love

01 | poor lost seoul

The biting wind blew harshly at Yeon-seok's cheeks, turning them redder than they already were. It felt as if there were a million shards of ice slowly chipping away at his skin, skin cells freezing off his face.

What a warm welcome to Seoul, he thought sardonically.

He had enrolled in Seoul Institute of the Arts for one reason alone, and that was that the only cousin who was his age, Seo Myungho, had applied to go there the year before. Having made an unexpected decision not to go into Neurosciences like the rest of his friends, Myungho found himself blissfully alone and afraid to apply to the university. He hadn't been planning on going alone, yet he desperately wanted to get in, so he had decided to turn to Yeon-seok for assistance.

That was the first time Yeon-seok had heard Myungho admit that Yeon-seok was his favourite cousin (he probably wasn't). Yeon-seok had been on the other end of the spectrum at the time, completely unsure what direction he wanted his life to continue in. He had had no idea what to pursue, and had hence decided to make an impulsive decision to apply to Seoul Institute of the Arts with Myungho.

To be very honest, he hadn't expected to get in. It was a spur of the moment decision, and SIA was an extremely prestigious university. Yeon-seok's background in visual arts was minimal, so he had mostly been relying on his extensive dance history to carry him through it.

Unfortunately for him, it worked. This was how he ended up on the plane to Seoul a year later, his regret almost as bitter as the cold when he thought about how lonely he would be.

Yeon-seok's grasp of the Korean language was minimal, and he hated how the phonetic sounds differed just slightly, enough for him to get it wrong but not for him to understand why.

It was forgivable when he lived in the United Kingdom, because there he only had to say a few words in Korean to impress his non-Korean relatives. Privately, Yeon-seok's mother had taken him out of the Korean international school when she saw that his Korean hadn't improved in the slightest.

In Korea, Yeon-seok would be disadvantaged both by the language barrier and his lack of passion for his major. Besides, if the weather continued to be as cold as it was at the moment, he might as well have stayed in England. At least there, one could romantically share an umbrella with someone in the dreary rain. What could he do in Korea, huddle with someone while running from building to building as a flurry of white snow fell from the sky? How pathetic.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Yeon-seok's feet carried him mindlessly through the steps towards the arrival area. He struggled and stuttered his way through immigration with broken sentences and flimsy gestures, finally making his way to the taxi stand.

He was mentally preparing himself to exit the warmth of the airport and face the freezing temperatures when he heard his name, face turning towards the direction of the familiar voice.

Myungho ran up to Yeon-seok, the soft smile gracing his face as close to a wide grin as one could get from him. He threw his hands around Yeon-seok, hugging him tightly, and Yeon-seok collapsed into his warmth, relieved that he was there. Maybe Seoul wouldn't be so bad after all.

When Myungho let go of Yeon-seok, composing himself, Yeon-seok took the time to scan the new faces. Myungho hadn't come alone; he had come with two other friends, both of which were looking at Yeon-seok expectantly with welcoming gazes.

"I'm Ha Yeon-seok," he told them politely. "Myungho's my cousin; my mother and his father are siblings." With that, he ran out of things to say, and he stared at the group with an awkward smile as the silence turned thick with hesitation.

The silence was then broken by one of Myungho's two friends, a rather cheerful individual. "Shall we go? It's late, and I'm sure you're tired from the long flight. We'll take a taxi back to the dormitory and show you your room. You and Myungho are staying together, right?"