ch11 Our Little World Before the Morning Sun

It was early when I arrived at Yongsun’s house that Saturday morning, the sun just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, golden hue across the quiet streets. The scent of morning dew hung in the air, mixing with the faint smell of jasmine from the potted plants by the gate. The world felt still—like the moment right before a symphony begins—and I couldn’t help but feel a quiet excitement building in my chest.

This was the first time we’d be together as official lovers. I stood there for a moment, taking it all in. A soft breeze ruffled my hair, and I smiled to myself, knowing that this day would be different. The kind of day that might seem ordinary to anyone else but meant everything to me.

I opened the gate slowly, the familiar creak of the hinges greeting me like an old friend. Yongsun’s house always felt like a second home to me. Her parents were away, as they often were on weekends, visiting the Buddhist temple and heading to the beach afterward. It was an annual tradition for them, leaving the house to Yongsun and me, as if trusting us with this quiet little world of our own.

I let myself in and called out softly, not wanting to disturb the peace that hung in the air.

“Yong?” My voice echoed gently through the open living room.

Upstairs, I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps, followed by a familiar voice that made my heart feel a little lighter.

“In here,” she called, her voice muffled but warm, like sunlight spilling through a window.

Moments later, Yongsun appeared at the top of the staircase, barefoot and still in her pajamas—a soft, oversized shirt that fell just past her knees and a pair of loose, comfortable shorts. Her hair was messy, tumbling over her shoulders in a way that only made her look more effortlessly beautiful.

She leaned lazily against the banister, smiling down at me. “You’re early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I admitted with a grin. “Had to see you.”

Her smile widened at that, and for a moment, it felt like everything in the world had fallen into place.

“We have the house to ourselves,” she said playfully, her eyes twinkling.

“Only until noon,” I reminded her, stepping closer.

She tilted her head, her grin turning mischievous. “That’s plenty of time to pretend we’re married, don’t you think?”

The words hung between us, light but laced with meaning, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how easy everything felt with her. She made even the simplest things—like this playful exchange—feel like magic.

She padded down the stairs, barefoot and unhurried, until she was standing just a few feet away from me. Her presence was calming, grounding me in a way that made me forget about everything else.

“Quenneth was asking me about Gama,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What about?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Yongsun gave me a look—half amused, half exasperated—before sighing dramatically. “You’re clueless about love. How did I end up with you?”

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. “I really am. Don’t hold it against me.”

She rolled her eyes, though there was a fondness in her gaze. “Gama asked for her number. That’s all.”

“And?” I prompted, still not quite getting it.

“And he’ll take it from here,” she said, a knowing smile curving her lips. “But I don’t think Quenneth will like him.”

“Why not?”

“She likes jocks,” Yongsun said simply, with a shrug.

I nodded thoughtfully, filing the information away. “Are Mr. and Mrs. Kim going on vacation today?”

She nodded. “Yup. So...” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Please take good care of me.”

The way she said it—soft and teasing—sent a warmth spreading through my chest. She had this way of making even the smallest moments feel important, as if every word, every glance, was part of a larger story only the two of us were writing.

“It’s like we’re married now,” she teased, her eyes sparkling. “So you’ll cook for me, right?”

I laughed. “What are you making?”

“Kimchi fried rice,” she said proudly. “And I’m going to try adobo and fried chicken with yangnyeom sauce.”

“Did you eat already?” I asked, glancing toward the kitchen.

“I just reheated some leftover chicken and side dishes,” she said, brushing her hair back absentmindedly.

She looked up at me suddenly, her expression soft. “I want to do the things we used to do as kids today,” she said quietly.

“Like what?” I asked, curious.

“Like playing computer games,” she said with a grin. “I downloaded Aion—IU sang the OST for it.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. “IU’s amazing,” I said. “She’s younger than you, right?”

Yongsun nodded. “Yeah. And I borrowed my sister’s account to play.”

“So, you’ve been talking to Korean players all morning?” I teased.

She laughed, nudging me playfully. “You know me too well.”

“I also want to have deep talks with you,” I added, my voice softening.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if I’d surprised her. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I’m going to buy you something nice, too.”

Her curiosity piqued, she leaned closer. “Like what?”

“A BMX bike,” I said, grinning. “Aunt Del gave me money for it.”

Her face lit up, and before I could say anything else, she threw her arms around me in a tight hug. “I want a white one,” she whispered excitedly. “Or maybe pink. And it needs a basket.”

I chuckled, hugging her back. “I don’t even know how to ride a bike,” I admitted.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’ll learn together,” she said with quiet determination.

The way she said it, so sure and full of promise, made my heart swell. I wanted everything to be that simple—to just learn together, grow together, and face whatever life threw our way, hand in hand.

“You take the lead, then,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her smile widened. “Gladly.”

I leaned in and kissed her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin against my lips. “I’ll stay here until Sunday,” I said softly. “And we’ll talk about everything—things that happened, things we want to do.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And you’ll hug me as tight as you can?”

I laughed. “No obscene thoughts, though.”

She gave me a playful look. “Okay,” she whispered. “But someday... we’ll do it. Just wait for me.”

We spent the morning together, and before long, we found ourselves in her room, where she proudly showed me her journal. I noticed that two items had been crossed off her to-do list—busking and getting fit.

“But you didn’t sing on the streets,” I pointed out, confused.

“I played my guitar in the courtyard,” she said with a grin. “There were lots of people. That counts.”

I laughed. “So you crossed off busking because you helped Sung Hyo?”

“Yup,” she said proudly. “And I crossed off ‘getting fit’ because we’re training together now.”

I smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You always find ways to accomplish things by helping others,” I whispered, my voice filled with admiration.

She shrugged, her expression soft. “It feels easier that way.”

I leaned in closer. “You’re incredible,” I whispered. “You’re selfless and hardworking, and I’m so proud of you.”

Her eyes shimmered with emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll make you a workout plan,” I promised. “Three to four days a week, with enough balance so you can still dance.”

She nodded eagerly. “I love that idea.”

“We’ll start with bodyweight exercises and goblet squats,” I explained. “And we’ll do light cardio—jump rope, jogging. Just enough to build your endurance.”

She smiled, resting her head against my shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Later, I carried her guitar on my back as we headed to her voice lesson. She smiled at me, her eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you for being here,” she whispered, her voice soft but sincere.

And in that moment, I realized that this—these quiet moments, these promises and shared dreams—was all I ever wanted. Just her and me, building something beautiful together, one day at a time.

The dance and voice studios sat nestled among quiet streets, where the sounds of the city faded into a symphony of piano notes, vocal scales, and rhythmic stomps. As Yongsun and I approached, the warm afternoon sun filtered through the leaves above us, casting dappled shadows on the sidewalk. She walked beside me, her guitar strapped on my back, her music sheets neatly folded under my arm. There was a lightness in her step, even though I knew she was about to face hours of intense practice. That was the thing about Yongsun—no matter how much weight she carried, she always made it look effortless.

When we reached the studio doors, the faint hum of music greeted us. There was a kind of magic in the air, the kind that only exists in places where people pour their souls into their craft. Yongsun paused at the entrance, giving me a quick glance, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Ready to see me in my element?” she teased, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

I smiled. “I’m always ready to be amazed by you.”

She rolled her eyes, though I caught the blush that crept into her cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

With that, she disappeared inside, leaving me to find a spot in the waiting area. I settled onto a bench by the door, placing her things carefully beside me. The studio buzzed with quiet energy—mothers chatting softly as they peeked through the glass windows of practice rooms, their faces filled with a mixture of hope and pride. Every now and then, I caught them glancing toward Yongsun with admiration, as if they already knew she was destined for something special.

From where I sat, I could see her through the small window of the dance room. She stood in front of the mirror, her expression focused and determined. The music started, and she moved—gracefully, seamlessly, her body flowing in time with the rhythm. Watching her dance was like watching art in motion, every step deliberate, every movement a story. She wasn’t just practicing; she was becoming the music, pouring every ounce of herself into the dance.

When the song ended, she switched effortlessly to the piano. Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before she began to play. The soft notes filled the room, wrapping around me like a lullaby. I watched as she closed her eyes, letting the music guide her. Then her voice joined the melody—a gentle, soothing sound that rose and fell like waves. She shifted between Korean ballads and English classics, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that left me breathless.

There was something mesmerizing about the way she could disappear into her music, as if the world outside didn’t exist. Every note, every chord, was a piece of her heart, and I felt privileged just to witness it.

The hours passed in a blur. I sat outside, watching her through the glass, my heart swelling with pride. She practiced relentlessly, switching between the piano, her guitar, and her dance routine. Even when her body grew tired, she never stopped. She reminded me of the stars—constant, unwavering, shining even when no one else was watching.

The other parents in the studio whispered to one another, stealing glances at her as if she were a rare gem. It made me smile, knowing that they saw what I had always known—how extraordinary she was.

When she finally stepped out of the studio, her face was flushed, her hair sticking to her damp forehead. She looked exhausted, but there was a spark of satisfaction in her eyes. I stood and handed her a bottle of cold water, twisting the cap open for her.

“Here,” I said softly. “You need this.”

She gave me a grateful smile, the kind that made my chest tighten. “Thank you.”

I watched as she took a long sip, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of the bottle. There was something about the way she looked at me—like I was the only person in the world that mattered.

“You were amazing in there,” I said quietly.

She tilted her head, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirmed, my voice steady with sincerity.

She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against my cheek. Her touch was warm, gentle, and it sent a wave of emotion crashing through me. “If that’s the case,” she whispered, her grin widening, “I’d better show off.”

Before I could respond, she grabbed her guitar and stepped into the courtyard outside the studio. Without hesitation, she began strumming the familiar chords of a Celine Dion song, her voice rising with confidence.

People stopped in their tracks, drawn by the sound of her voice. Her tone was pure, each word laced with emotion. She sang with the kind of honesty that could break your heart, pouring herself into every note. When she transitioned into an IU ballad, her voice softened, carrying the kind of wistfulness that could only come from someone who had lived through moments of longing and hope.

The small crowd that had gathered erupted into applause as she finished. Yongsun beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“One day,” she said, glancing over at me, “I’ll make my own music. And you’d better buy a front-row seat.”

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

As the crowd began to disperse, we started our walk home. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft glow over the streets. We talked about her practice, about music and vocal techniques, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how much she knew.

“You’re incredible,” I told her, my voice filled with admiration.

She smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed from the compliment. “I’m just doing what I love,” she said softly.

The sun hung high overhead as we left the dance studio, casting a warm, golden hue over the streets. Yongsun walked beside me, her guitar slung across my back, her steps light but deliberate. She was tired, but there was a glow about her—a mix of satisfaction and excitement that came from doing what she loved. The sound of her voice still lingered in my mind, soft and full of emotion, like a song I never wanted to end.

As we made our way to the bike shop, the streets bustled with life. Vendors sold snacks along the sidewalks, the scent of roasted chestnuts and grilled skewers drifting through the air. The occasional hum of scooters zipped by, mixing with the chatter of passersby. Yongsun glanced over at me, her smile soft and knowing.

“So, you were impressed?” she asked, her tone playful.

I grinned. “More than impressed. You blew me away.”

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read the sincerity in my words. “Really?”

“Really,” I said, pausing to adjust her guitar on my shoulder. “You’re amazing, Yong. And I’m not just saying that.”

Her expression softened, and she reached out to brush her fingers lightly against my cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice carrying that quiet warmth I’d come to love.

We stopped at a small convenience store along the way, and I bought two bottles of cold water. She took one gratefully, twisting the cap open and taking a sip.

“You always take care of me,” she said with a smile.

“Someone has to,” I teased, nudging her playfully.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips. “You’re lucky I like you.”

We continued our walk, the bike shop just a few blocks away. Yongsun’s excitement grew with every step, and by the time we reached the storefront, she was practically bouncing on her feet.

The shop was small but packed with all kinds of bicycles—sleek road bikes, sturdy mountain bikes, and brightly colored BMX models. The scent of rubber tires and oil filled the air, and the faint clinking of tools echoed from the back of the store, where a mechanic was working on a repair.

Yongsun’s eyes lit up as she scanned the rows of bikes. “There it is!” she exclaimed, pointing to a pink BMX with a white frame and a small basket on the front.

I followed her gaze, and sure enough, it was exactly what she’d described earlier. She crouched down to inspect it, her fingers tracing the handlebars with reverence.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice full of awe.

I couldn’t help but smile at how happy she looked. “You sure this is the one?”

She nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

I approached the cashier, pulling out the money Aunt Del had given me, and paid for the bike. As the mechanic wheeled it out to us, Yongsun practically squealed with delight.

“I can’t believe it’s really mine,” she said, hopping onto the bike and gripping the handlebars.

“Looks like I made the right choice,” I said, leaning on the seat. “Now we just have to learn how to ride it.”

She grinned mischievously. “You first.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No way. I bought it. You go first.”

Yongsun narrowed her eyes playfully. “We’ll learn together. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said, holding out my pinky.

She looped hers around mine, sealing the promise. “We’ve got this,” she said confidently.

We spent the next hour wobbling along the quiet side streets, laughing as we tried—and failed—to keep our balance. Yongsun, ever determined, refused to give up, even after we both toppled over multiple times.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” I admitted, helping her up after yet another fall.

She grinned, brushing the dirt off her clothes. “I told you we could do it.”

By the time we made our way back to her house, the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky. We wheeled the bike into the garage and collapsed onto the porch, exhausted but happy.

“Not bad for our first day,” I said, handing her another bottle of water.

“Not bad at all,” she agreed, her voice soft with contentment.

We sat there for a while, enjoying the quiet as the world slowed down around us. There was something peaceful about moments like this—just the two of us, side by side, with nothing but the sound of our breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

After a few minutes, Yongsun turned to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, do you think your future wife is beautiful?”

I smiled, knowing exactly where this was going. “Yes,” I said, without hesitation.

She leaned in, her grin widening. “More beautiful than IU?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “IU is really pretty, you know.”

Yongsun gasped, swatting at me playfully. “You’re not supposed to say that!”

I held up my hands in surrender, still laughing. “Okay, okay. I was just kidding.”

She crossed her arms, pretending to pout, though I could see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered.

I reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” I said softly. “And I mean that.”

Her pout melted into a warm smile, and she leaned her head against my shoulder. “Good answer,” she whispered.

After a while, we made our way inside, where Yongsun insisted on cooking dinner. “I owe you for the bike,” she said with a grin.

She made spicy chicken, the heat of the dish balanced perfectly with sweetness. I took a bite and couldn’t help but groan in satisfaction.

“This is amazing,” I said, holding out my plate. “Can I have seconds?”

Yongsun laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Of course.”

We ate together, the sound of our laughter filling the kitchen. After dinner, we ended up playing around the house like kids again, chasing each other from room to room. In the heat of the moment, we tumbled to the floor, landing in a heap, our breaths coming in soft gasps.

I looked down at her, suddenly aware of how close we were. Her dark hair fanned out against the floor, her eyes wide and sparkling with something I couldn’t quite name.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the world outside, the future, everything. It was just us, tangled together, hearts racing in the quiet of the room.

“I— I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to shift away.

But Yongsun stopped me, her arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of something that made my heart ache. “Just stay like this... for a little while.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and sank into her embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against mine.

In that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. Like we were exactly where we were meant to be—wrapped in each other’s arms, with no need for anything else but the warmth we shared.

Every Saturday with Yongsun felt like a gift—an endless stretch of time that belonged only to us. Whether we stayed up all night talking until the first light crept through the windows or fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, the moments we shared felt sacred. This weekend was no different.

“Wanna play some games?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

I knew I couldn’t resist her, not when she looked at me like that—eyes wide with excitement, as if the world was full of nothing but possibilities.

We climbed out of bed and sat side by side at her desk, the warm hum of her computer filling the room. She launched a kart racing game, and within seconds, her hands were glued to the keyboard, her focus unwavering.

Her competitive streak was something to behold—her eyes fixed on the screen, fingers flying across the keys. She barely blinked, lost in the thrill of the game, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her so immersed.

I leaned over, watching her avatar zoom past opponents. “Are we going to do this all day?” I teased. “I was hoping for more time with just us.”

She shot me a mischievous glance but didn’t take her hands off the keyboard. “You always say that when you’re losing.”

I grinned. “Maybe, but I also wanted to read through the quests in Aion. You keep skipping them.”

She scoffed, her attention flicking briefly to me. “Who reads those? I’m here for the PvP.”

I laughed and wrapped my arms around her from behind, my chin resting on her shoulder. “You’re impossible,” I murmured, holding her close. “But I still want more time with you, Yong.”

She let out a dramatic sigh but smiled softly. “Okay, okay. Thirty more minutes, and then I’m all yours.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Deal.”

For the next half-hour, I watched her dive into her digital world, fingers dancing across the keyboard. Her dedication, even to something as playful as a video game, always amazed me. It was just who she was—whether singing, dancing, or gaming, Yongsun gave everything her all.

As she wrapped up her session, she leaned back in her chair, stretching with a contented sigh. “You know,” she said, glancing at me, “if I ever become the best idol, I’ll always sing for you.”

I smiled. “Really?”

She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “I’d even make raunchy songs just for you.”

I chuckled. “Now that’s something I can’t wait for.”

Her expression softened for a moment. “Do you ever think about what life will be like ten years from now?”

“All the time,” I said honestly. “Hopefully, I’ll still be right next to you.”

She tucked her legs beneath her, her gaze drifting toward the window. “I love Manila... but I want to live in Korea. Would you move with me?”

Without hesitation, I nodded. “Of course.”

Her smile widened, and she gave me a playful nudge. “I’ll teach you Hangul.”

I chuckled. “You’ll be the best teacher.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Do you think we’ll still be riding bikes by then? Or will we be flying around in hover cars?”

I laughed. “You’ve been playing too much kart racing.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “It’s because you keep giving me cheesy answers.”

I shrugged, grinning. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care if we walk everywhere.”

She leaned closer, her voice soft but playful. “Would you still write for me?”

I nodded. “I want to be an author. I’ll name my heroines after you.”

Her eyes lit up. “Make variants of my name. Solar… I like that.”

“I know,” I said warmly. “That’s why I keep calling you that.”

She gave me a look of mock annoyance. “You better leave me a poem every day.”

I laughed. “I’ve already published one on YouTube.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “I love digital journals. Do you have more poems planned?”

“Want a sneak peek?” I teased. “I was thinking of comparing you to the universe.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the blush rise to her cheeks. “Stop being so corny.”

“No spoilers,” I said with a grin. “But they’ll definitely be romantic.”

She smirked. “Even if I was a fly?”

I laughed. “Even then.”

“What if we were characters in Endless Love?” she asked, her voice full of playful wonder.

I grinned. “I’d still love you, even if I never learned to ride a bike.”

Her laughter bubbled up, warm and infectious. “In that case, I’d have to carry you everywhere.”

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “We’d be like Hana Yori Dango,” I said, teasing.

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re too ugly to be in a drama like that.”

I grinned. “Beauty is overrated.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned in slightly. “You know… I wrote that song for you when we were kids,” she said quietly. “But I gave it to Sung Hyo because I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

I stared at her, surprised. “I’ve always liked you, Yong. You should’ve just kissed me back then.”

She smirked. “No, you didn’t. You thought I was a boy with my short hair.”

“I did not!” I protested. “I wanted to kiss you back then.”

She laughed, a sound that made my heart swell. “Well, no lewd thoughts,” she warned, her eyes twinkling.

“It was just a kiss,” I said with a grin.

“I’ll give it to you… on a special occasion,” she whispered with a wink.

Her smile faded slightly, and she looked at me with quiet sincerity. “Do you ever get scared? That we’ll change too much? Or that life will get in the way?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “But then I think about moments like this… and I know we’ll figure it out.”

She sighed softly, her head resting against my shoulder. “What if you fall out of love once I leave?”

I tightened my arm around her. “Mrs. Kim will keep me in line,” I teased. “And we’ll chat all the time.”

She gave me a small smile, though I could see the worry lingering in her eyes. “I’ll save up money to bring you to Korea.”

“You’re planning too far ahead,” I whispered. “We’ve got time.”

“I have to plan,” she said quietly. “So you won’t leave.”

I kissed the top of her head. “These little moments with you? They’re the ones I’ll remember the most.”

Her eyes softened. “Me too. It’s not the big things—it’s holding hands, eating together, riding bikes.”

I grinned and poked her side playfully. “I’ll also remember how you laugh.”

She giggled and leaned into me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “I’d miss this too,” she whispered.

“Go crazy for me,” she said suddenly, her voice soft and filled with affection.

I grinned and scooped her up into my arms, carrying her to bed. She looked up at me, her gaze steady and full of love.

“Good night, my sky,” she whispered, her voice like a lullaby.

I smiled and kissed her forehead. “Good night, my sun.”

And as she curled into me, her warmth filling every corner of my heart, I knew I would hold onto this moment forever—because no matter where life took us, we’d always have each other