Empty Mind

You eventually adjusted to life without Taemin. You still had a good group of friends to chat with, though there wasn't anyone who shared your interest in Korean Pop music. Occasionally you would pick up your phone, finger hovering over Taemin's number as you contemplated whether to gather the courage and press the 'call' button or leave your boyfriend to his new life.

For two years, you didn't speak to him.

Finally, you were introduced to a new rookie group by a few online friends when you were sixteen. You liked the group's cute, boy-next-door style, their single 'Replay' becoming one of the most frequently played songs on your Ipod. It wasn't until a few weeks after your discovery of said amazing K-pop band, that you realized the maknae of the group was Taemin. Your Taemin

******

"Relax girl, even if he doesn't pick up... You can always leave a message," you breathed calmly to yourself while fiddling nervously with your hair. The sound of the all-familiar dial tone made your stomach twist into a plethora of knots. Perhaps leaving a message on his phone would be easier, you thought, at least that way the awkwardness of speaking to a long-lost boyfriend would have been spared.

You sucked in a deep breath as a familiar soft and innocent voice filled the empty void in your heart.

"Yeobosaeyo?"

"T-Taemin... It's me," you whispered nervously, your beating heart and sweating palms making your voice hoarse and shaky. He had really kept his promise in keeping his number the same, even after two years. The thought made your pulse quicken.

"Ah?!" A surprised exclamation reached your ears as the male, caught off-guard, switched clumsily to English. "H-Hello," he spluttered and you smiled. So he hadn't changed that much afterall, you thought in relief.

"You're pretty famous now, Taemin. I have you on my Ipod," you smirked, easing slowly back into the same comforting casualness the two of you had shared many years ago. There was an embarrassed noise at the end of the line and you could picture him blushing and looking nervous. Feeling more confident, you teased him in a similar fashion to how you did in ninth grade.

"So when am I going to see my boyfriend again, huh?"

"Y-You know the rules! I can't have a girlfriend now..."

"Well yeah, but we've waited two years already, right? What's another ten years? Once your contract ends why don't you call me and we can meet up again," you suggested patiently, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Although you wouldn't be able to see Taemin for at least another decade, the thought of meeting him again after ten years seemed extremely romantic. Your mind strayed to those cheesy romcoms you'd watched with him. The one's where the separated couple united passionately with a heartfelt embrace and sloppy tongue kiss.

You noticed the pause that stretched on from the other end of the line. He was probably just mulling things over, you assumed. Taemin had always been the meticulous type who made decisions at the pace of a snail. "How 'bout it?" you encouraged him lightly, hoping for an agreement so that the two of you could meet again after many years.

"I... I don't know," Taemin sighed, a statement which you hadn't expected.

"What do you mean?" you asked, bothered by the unsure tone of your boyfriend's voice. Did he not want to meet you? His girlfriend? After all the things you had done together...

"Ten years is a long time and... and this new world I've moved to is so different. I can see myself changing already and maybe if we meet again I might be a different person. Y-You could be a different person. The girls here are... Everybody is just... I don't know-"

"Know what? Know if I'd still love you?" you demanded, fist tightening over your cell phone. You gritted your teeth to prevent the sudden barrel of emotions from pulling you apart.

There was another pause from the other end, but this time it made you want to rip your hair out. "My company... They know... About us. They don't want me to see you anymore," he admitted, gentle voice quavering with either fear or defeat (you weren't sure). "I... I have to go now. Bye."

You could hear the faint shout of another male speaking in Korean before the line was cut off. Your chest began to ache, but instead of the hollow emptiness that had occupied it before, your chest cavity was brimming, overflowing with confusion and rage. Was he just going to quit on you? Just like that?

Digging your nails so deep into your skin they left dark red crescent-moons, your phone was hurled against a nearby pillow, the dial tone silenced with a dull thud. You could handle this. It wasn't just the fact your boyfriend and first love had literally broken up with you in less than five minutes... It wasn't the fact he had mentioned other girls (of which you knew were all much better-looking then you were). It was...

You buried your face into your hands and began to cry at the realization he had answered the phone in Korean, meaning he'd never kept his promise and saved your name into his phone in the first place.

******

"Boo! I found you, Tae-oppa!"

The now eighteen-year-old Korean idol turned around in surprise, jolting out of his daze with a noticeable jump. A small, thin girl stood behind him, long manicured nails grasping his arm.

"Dance with me," she pouted and he could smell the sweet, citrus perfume wafting off of her, "Or at least, teach me how to dance like you!" Without stopping for his response, the much smaller girl dragged the handsome male forward and over to a group of twisting, gyrating bodies that he mindlessly adapted to, having danced for more than half his life.

To teach her how to dance...

It drove him crazy. The fresh grass-scent of the field he had been lying on, the naturally innocent and bright look on your face that no surgery or makeup could have mimicked or enhanced. He'd thought his job was more important than his friend, he'd thought you were just another casualty, another thing he'd have to let go of to achieve his dream.

But what if his dream wasn't what he'd wanted in the first place?

He'd wanted you. His heart began to crumble slowly as time went on, chipping away piece by piece as every little thing sparked memories of his times with you. It came to the point where almost every female he'd talked to, even his own mother, was compared to your radiance.

...And yet he couldn't even have you.

"Tae-oppa, get me something to drink please!" Taemin glanced back at the petite girl who danced next to him. What was her name..? He didn't even remember, they were all the same now. He nodded and exited the moving crowd gladly. Your cell phone number had been deleted from his phone a long while ago and he hadn't committed it to memory. The only things he did remember were your soft lips pressed against his cheek every morning when the two of you met in first period and the loud, clumsily cute laughter you emitted every time he made a mistake with his terrible English.

His mind was full of memories with you and he was almost glad for these painful, regret-filled moments. For without them, his mind would have been completely empty.

******

"She moved to another country when she went to college... I don't know her number or anything, but I can give you the college she goes to if you want."

This was the closest Taemin could get to speaking to you. Your best friend, whose number he found scrawled in his high school yearbook, rattled off the name of some high-ranking, private college which he recorded down hurriedly on a post-it note.

"That was real stupid of you, to move away and leave us like that!" your friend teased, not knowing the context behind the words she spoke, the sting she had inflicted in the heart of one who already knew what he'd done wrong.

"Yeah..." he mumbled, "I know."

******

Long, silky hair. Doe-like black eyes. Thin legs and a feminine, but perfectly fit body type.

The woman at the post office automatically recognized the picturesque idol that stood in front of the very building she worked in. Her daughter was an avid SHINee fan, but besides that, it was hard not to recognize the face of Lee Taemin after it had been plastered everywhere across Korea.

She stared at the young idol expectantly, wondering why he paused in front of the building's glass doors, a single envelope in his hands. He looked worried and the post-woman was curious as to why. Idols weren't supposed to worry. They weren't supposed to have problems.

A group of five or so girls excitedly ran over to the young man, waving a camera eagerly in his face. He broke into a slight smile, setting the envelope down on a bench to pose with the overzealous schoolgirls.

They waved and departed, leaving the idol to himself once more.

At that moment it seemed, a strong gust of wind disturbed the trees, shaking the leaves violently to the ground and carrying them (along with the envelope) into a whirlwind of debris that skimmed against the roads a few times before elevating into the air with a complicated series of loops. The small white rectangle soon began to float ten... fifteen meters into the air, before disappearing completely from vision.

It had been a very windy day and the postwoman had heard countless warnings on the radio of some sort of storm. Thus she was confused as to why the eighteen year old suddenly looked so sad and dejected. Wasn't it possible to write another one? With soft, padding steps, he turned from the building and walked off though the wind continued to blow.

Remembering her daughter, the postwoman waited patiently for the idol to return, perhaps with a rewritten letter to replace the first one that had flown away out of reach and a more cheerful smile so that she could take a picture of him to bring to her family. Though, her waiting was in vain, as despite showing up at the office every day, she never saw the male again.