Hum: Hallelujah

“Well then, I’ll be going first!” Luhan waves, feet shuffling out of the little bookstore named ‘Starbooks’ (no, seriously. Junmyeon had thought that it was such a funny idea.) Being one who enjoys the little things in life, Luhan walks down street while whistling Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon to himself. The typical street noise—zooming engines, rushing footsteps, car honks, tires screeching to a stop when the light flickers red—drowns out Luhan’s hustling. He doesn’t mind that. Humming something that only he can hear in the middle of the street noise seems like a luxury.

It’s an autumn afternoon and some poets say that it’s their favorite season of the year. Looking at the cascading leaves of dull gold and red, Luhan can relate. You’re so blessed; some people just don’t become happy by watching things grow. Don't lose that. His mother would state on a random day as she affectionately ruffles his patch of blonde hair. Appreciative and eternally grateful, Luhan lived an easy life: he got good grades, enough praises from his teachers, great peers, and he still has two arms, two legs, and a head (you get the picture).

At eighteen, Luhan knew a lot of things and pretended to know more. Youth is the greatest excuse for ignorance and mistakes, and sometimes he abuses it. Luhan is walking down the road to his house, and later on, he’ll meet someone who would change his life for the better. Of course, he isn’t aware of this. All he could comprehend is that on this particular day in autumn, he first talked to Im Yoona.

Before anything else, you should know that Luhan lives in Hongdae—an area in Seoul that’s composed of artists, musicians, and other free spirits who somehow found a way to create art and revel in it. It takes seven minutes—three streets—from the bookstore he’s working part time for to his house. One of the perks of living in a place like this is having quirky little shops or parks nearby. Luhan finds Im Yoona in a small park between the second and third intersection.

He knows her and doesn’t.

The part that knows her starts walking to her direction, the part that doesn’t know her slows down his footsteps. Trees were scattered all over the park and wooden benches were placed in odd places, almost as if the one who designed the place was half-asleep when he did it. Children are laughing and running after one another, playing a game that only they know the rules of. Muted sunlight flits through the spaces between shaking and falling leaves.

In the middle of this almost movie-like setting, Yoona stands out (but not in a good way). Her long wave of light brown hair and lithe frame is hard to miss, especially when it’s laid out all over a park bench. Luhan makes his way towards her. He’s seen her around campus (she’s an art major), but never once talked to her. The thing about her is that she always seems to be surrounded by people and laughter; it’d take someone more charming to get her attention.

Once close enough, he sees her ruffled hair, groggy eyes, and dishelved clothing—she may or may have not slept here all night. “Yoona-sshi?” He asks and regrets it when she groans.

"Not again," she sighs in a way that makes Luhan think she's simply talking to herself. "I really should tell my drunk self that sleeping in parks isn't a good idea."

"Are you okay?" He inquires, even though her clenched jaw and the hands massaging her shoulders are giving him the answer. Sometimes, you just have to ask the obvious to keep a conversation going.

"Shhh, let me gather my marbles first." Yoona commands with a whimper. Her fingers massage her temples, and she sits upright in the bench. She looks like how normal people do the first few minutes of waking up: dazed, confused, and blinking while waiting for things to make sense again (except that Luhan thinks she's ten times prettier than the average person).

"I'm Luhan," He says because somehow, he's got the need to talk.

"I know, you're taking music and you look like a doll." She mumbles and starts fixing herself. People are starting to turn their heads to this couple; Yoona running a hand through her hair and Luhan staring at her with cautious eyes, as if she's a solar eclipse waiting to happen. "I'm Yoona." she extends her hand, and Luhan takes it.

Now, the normal person would politely shake it and get it over with. But there isn't a rule like that scribbled in Yoona's book. She drags Luhan closer and engulfs him in a warm hug he has trouble separating it from the sun's rays. The hug lasts for five seconds (he's been keeping count); enough for Luhan to place her aroma as floral with a tinge of something like citrus. When she pulls away, her lips are stretched so wide he wonders if it hurts.

"I'll be seeing you around, babydoll." Yoona winks, chuckles deeply, and hops away freely; as if the entire park with its fallen leaves and scattered soil are all hers for the taking.

Luhan remains rooted to the spot for some time, before walking home.

Three hours, flipped tables, pockets turned inside-out, and wrinkled brows later, Luhan realizes that his wallet is missing.


Booming conversations about the homeworks due today, legs marching quickly to enter classes, lockers smacking close, and canvasses slamming into the walls accidentally: these are the things that would welcome a visitor in Hongdae University. Luhan is among the rushing crowd, and he's trying to sew together the pieces of Yoona he gathered throughout the week.

She's the daughter of the owner of a broadcasting company. We sometimes wonder why she studies here. Yoona's the type to go and study business and all that jazz, says Yixing--the campus' biggest gossip--bribed with three cups of coffee and a cupcake, I've talked to her and she's really nice. Yoona's so down to earth, considering her social status. She's a sweetheart and it's not like she's gonna bite. You should go talk to her.

Luhan's trying to, but he never gets the chance. Around the marble halls and resounding walls, she'd be perpetually occupied: chatting with a friend, sharing jokes, balancing stacks of books, or sprinting from one class to another. Being a popular student doesn't give Luhan a special access for a conversation with her.

He shakes his head, shoves his hand in his pockets (he thinks he looks cool when he does that), and opens his locker to retrieve some of his notebooks. There's a slit on the metal frame, and it allows people to slip in a cliche love note, or even little messages. In Luhan's case, it's his wallet and a crumpled paper, as if the sender rushed to write and grabbed the first thing they saw.

Confused, Luhan opens his wallet and counts the bills inside until he's sure that it's the same amount he had last time. He reads the note and a lunatic smile takes over his soft features.

Babydoll,

By now you'd have figured out that I took it. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't mean to. They say that lies and theft are brothers, but I'm only familiar with theft. That's what makes me suck. I can never conjure (that's a big word, eh?) a lie to cover it up. It's not about conscience, or anything. I just terribly need the money.

I'm sorry that it took me a few days. You have to realize how hard it is to remember things. Thank you for not accusing me immediately though (even if you did, I would have pulled on an innocent facade).

Comments. Suggestions. Feedback would be much appreciated and taken to heart if said at Hobbit (you know, the bar) during nine p.m. sharp this Saturday while wearing clothes that look presentable, or at the very least, easy to remove.

With Love and your wallet,
Im Yoona.
(I'm so cool right)