visual dreams.
capturing the world through a lens makes him feel like he is up in the clouds; viewing everyone from an extraordinary angle that only a small number of people could comprehend, and he is one of those lucky few. it’s a talent, he knows, and a talent he cherishes because of a variety of reasons.
nine girls, providing nine different reasons and somehow he needs no other explanation.
sunny
she peers closely a dress on display, tiny nose scrunching up in concentration as she continues to eye the garment with precision.
“is crushed velvet still in nowadays?” she wonders aloud, turning to face him after minutes of knowing that she is being watched. her eyes crinkle up (he looks startled and blushes in acute embarrassment) and a small giggle escapes her.
he grins. “i may have photographed fashion but i know nothing about it.”
“your outfit isn’t horrible, though,” she comments, “so you must not be completely clueless.” she gestures loosely to his plaid shirt and stonewashed jeans. “actually, my mom picked this shirt out.” his camera clicks as she detonates into bubbles of laughter.
taeyeon
“you’re too tall, you know. guys should not come in sizes like yours - they leave close to zero hope for girls like me,” she complains, her legs swinging over the ledge. her pink tongue sticks out to take a lick of her vanilla ice cream cone with focus.
he rolls his eyes. “it’s hardly my fault. it must be the genetic combination of my parents.”
she snorts but continues to devour the ice cream without another word. torpor clouds her eyes as she looks out into the sea (the waves are lapping at the sand and dragging with them everything in their path) with hooded brown eyes. he lifts his camera up but she stops him.
“no,” she shakes her head, “not now.” he dutifully puts it down and they just sit there, watching the hope written in sand vanish with the seawater.
seohyun
she isn’t exotically beautiful but she still is - in a fragile, breakable way that frightens him.
“i’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures her carefully. “i’m just a photographer.” he holds his camera up as if to show proof, upon stumbling across her (her eyes are red and afraid, obviously because his sudden appearance startles her) in a dark alley near a bar he frequents.
“i’ve heard that one too many times, just without the i’m just a photographer part.” she does not smile at him but something about her expression seems almost conspiratorial. bordering on subtle friendliness, even.
“can i take a photo of you?” he switches on his camera as he awaits her permission. “whatever,” is the curt reply from her end. the silver sheen of tears show up too clearly in the photo, much to his discomfort. he decides that she isn’t a good subject so he deletes it. “uh,” he begins, “what’s your name?”
jessica
“hey, have you seen my sister?” she approaches him gauchely. the way she describes said sister (a little taller than me but not too tall, has wavy black hair, pretty but prettier than me) seems almost foreign.
he hesitates before answering, “no, sorry. but to be honest, your description isn’t terribly specific to begin with, so i can’t be of much help.” she huffs impatiently, a strand of russet hair lifting off her forehead. “it’s okay. that girl can’t really stay still anyway.” then she stands on her tiptoes to look for her sister.
the sunrays beam onto her face, lightening her face into an exquisite pale gold with hints of tan.
“oh, there she is! where’ve you been, soojung-ah?” she exclaims, throwing a protective arm around her sister’s neck and suffocating the latter in a tight hug. when she giggles, he could not help but grin at the younger girl whining against her shoulder. an image of her in his camera already, he walks away.
hyoyeon
he watches her from the window, though knowing full well that he has no right to. she’s dancing and dancing and dancing (her instructor just left, leaving behind pop harder and jump higher and be better) until her lungs are about to explode and her legs give way.
“you should take a break,” he warns amiably, handing her the water bottle he plucked from a nearby bench. it was alone, so it must be hers.
she groans. “i have idea who you are or why you’re even here but i seriously don’t care anymore. i’m just exhausted. photographer, huh?” she makes the assumption upon noticing his camera. her jaded eyes flicker back to the ground.
he nods. his lens shuts on a photo of her, and then he introduces himself.
yoona
“how did the photo turn out?” she peeks over his shoulder, the ends of her hair brushing his face.
he compliments her with sincerity. “you look great,” he ensures. “the other models do, too. you look really good in the middle.” for some reason unbeknownst to him, her falls (would she shine as much even if she isn’t placed in the middle?) but she rectifies herself and grins weakly. “i do, don’t i?”
she prances off, the gauzy fabric of her dress swishing around her thighs like an ocean. she would pass of as the ultimate epitome of daintiness, if not for her too-jovial stomps and hoots of mirth.
he’s about to shoot another group photo of the models but she abruptly moves out of her spot and walks to the very end of the assembly line. she’s messing up the height arrangement but her grin looks a little brighter there so he just tells the shooting director to shut up.
tiffany
she attempts to reel in her kite and fails badly at that. her forehead wrinkles in frustration and her fingers clutch the thin string tightly as an annoyed groan slips from her rose lips (much to his amusement, he detects a little fuck you stupid kite) along with an angry stomp of her foot.
“do you need help?” he offers kindly with a lopsided smile. she acknowledges him gratefully. “yes, please.”
surprise colors her face when he doesn’t take the string from her. “you can manage. just learn to let go a little bit more and take it in at all the right moments” - she opens her mouth to rebut - “to do so. it’s like life itself, really. you’ll just know, so trust me. let go and relax.”
an excited squeal resounds as the kite soars into the air. she claps her hands in childlike bliss, glancing at him through gleaming eyes. “let go and relax. i’ll keep that in mind,” she says.
sooyoung
“i tried too hard - that’s the problem. i worked too hard for something that was not going to work in the slightest.”
the rain is still pouring and they’re both drenched but he feels the need to still listen (a part of him knows it’s just to keep her sanity and make her realize that there’s still something else to life) despite his shirt clinging wetly to his chest.
“it isn’t your fault,” he murmurs quietly but she shakes her head with vehemence. the water from the tips of her short hair sprays his face. “it is. he never even liked me but there i was, chasing after him like some lost puppy.”
her jaw slackens and her eyes hollow out. a bizarre magnificence outshines the negativity of the moment, highlighting something else entirely. she sort of understands when he takes a photo of her then so she doesn’t yell.
yuri
it’s been an eventfully long day. he started his morning at the park, followed by some brat’s sixth birthday party, a department store opening and finally a wedding reception at the ritz-carlton.
“i’m famished,” he mutters to himself as he enters a minuscule roadside restaurant. the lighting is dim and there’s nobody around except for a girl whose head is bent down over her japchae. he orders himself a bowl of black bean noodles and waits with receding patience.
“so, are you a photographer?”
at first, the voice (sweet and hazy with a raw undertone) does not register in his mind but his eyes scan the small room until they land on its owner. her eyes are dark and misty in the faint light but he can tell that she’s smiling. “yeah,” he answers. “i am.”
she doesn’t say anything else but there’s something about the way she gazes at him - fixated and inviting, with a welcoming connotation - that causes him to abandon his table and go over to hers.
“it’s nice to meet you,” she greets. “i find photographers very fascinating, actually. seeing everything from this special viewpoint that no one else quite understands. living one’s visual dreams, huh?” all the while, she maintains an unwavering eye contact (as if she cannot quite take her eyes off him) and a lazy smirk.
his eyes widen pleasantly. “that’s exactly the way i see it! wow, great minds do think alike.”
her laugh reverberates in the room - glass against glass, crystal against crystal; he can’t figure it out but it sure as hell sounds good - before it vanishes into a sluggish beam.
“you’re photogenic,” he remarks, looking at the photo he has just snapped. a playful frown creasing her forehead, she reaches for the camera. “let me see that!” she insists. “for all I know, it’s a hideous photo and you’re just a good liar.”
he smiles teasingly. “it’s a gorgeous photo and i’m a horrible liar.” she flushes a pretty pink.
(“so, did you go anywhere last night?” his colleague asks. “you like to go on these excursions and more often than not, you return with great pictures. any we can promote?”
he swallows and shoves the photo of her deeper into his pocket. “nope.”)