None of this was part of the plan.
The plan was simply to come to Korea, the place that you've been waiting for years to visit, attend some summer classes, take the tour of the city, maybe take a plane to Jeju island and spend a couple of days there, and simply return back home.
You were not supposed to be clumsy and drop your cell phone in the middle of the coffee shop to have someone, rather an incredibly handsome guy to pick it for you, and hurry across the street to return it to you.
You also were not supposed ask him how to get to Building 63, one of the major tourist spots in Seoul.
But you had no choice; forgetful you forgot the directions on top of your bed, right underneath your blue bathrobe.
He was not supposed to be so charming that you let him ask you out for a cup of coffee sometime later that week, which led to more cups of coffee, and ultimately dinner dates.
"How about a cup of coffee, sometime later this week?"
"Hmm why should I let you take me out?"
"I don't know...there's something about you ... I want to know you better."
"Is it because I'm black?"
"Not really...just something..."
"Hmm.... well I need a name to remember you by."
There was no way in hell that I would not remember this face.
He hesitated for a moment.
"Lee Chang Sun. And you?"
"Myla Carter."
There were moments where you doubted this could be happening.
You, a girl, an African American girl, nonetheless in a country full of people, whose skin color was on the opposite side of the color spectrum. There were about a hundred who looked like you, but compared to a country filled with millions of people, let alone in one city, that was a small amount.
As you two got to know each other, there were two things you could not help but to notice about him.
One, his attire.
Not that his fashion sense was bad or anything of that sort; it was very stylish, like he walked out of a fashion catalog. However, every time the both of you went out in public, he had his face covered in some way. Either it was a face mask or a scarf, carefully wrapped around his mouth, concealing his mouth and parts of his nose. But it did not bother you that much because it seemed like a social norm for people to cover up their faces.
And two, his health.
In the beginning, it seemed that he was very built. Embarrassing enough to say that you did happen to get a peek of his arms a few times.
As time went on, you noticed whenever you two would chill around in your apartment, either watching TV or cooking in your incredibly small kitchen, he would always seem tired.
"Are you okay? You always seem to be tired."
"Just a little bit. I did not get much sleep."
He slipped behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso, lowering his head at the crook of my neck. He inhaled and hummed against my skin.
"You seem to say that a lot."
"Yeah I know, it's my job. I'll see if I can take some time off soon."
"You better. I'm starting to get worried about you."
