Practice Normal
Chapter 7 – Practice Normal
Jeonju at night felt like it had been dipped in honey.
Not bright like Seoul–no towering LED screens, no relentless noise. Just pockets of warmth: lantern-lit alleyways, the glow of shop windows, soft chatter spilling from eateries. The kind of city that made you lean closer to the people you were walking with.
ABIX met Mina’s group again near a small night market street where vendors grilled skewers and poured steaming soups into paper cups.
Crystal had insisted on it.
“We need to end this day with street food,” she’d declared, as if it were a law of the universe.
Now she stood at the front like a commander, pointing at everything.
“Tteokbokki again! Fishcake! Hotteok! Wait–what’s that?”
Isabelle laughed softly. “Crystal, you can’t eat the whole market.”
“Yes I can,” Crystal said, already ordering.
Ivan walked behind them, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd with quiet attention.
Aleem walked near the center.
Mina was there too–hood up this time, hair tucked, face slightly shadowed. Not because she wanted to disappear completely.
Just enough to move without the world constantly tugging at her.
Aleem had been careful with his messages. He’d kept them steady, calm, nothing too forward.
But seeing her again–really seeing her–rebooted something in him.
Because she came.
Not as an obligation.
Not as a performance.
As a choice.
When Mina spotted ABIX, she lifted a hand in a small wave.
Aleem’s chest fluttered.
He waved back before he could stop himself.
Crystal immediately turned and whispered loudly to Isabelle, “They waved. They’re married.”
Isabelle elbowed her gently. “Crystal.”
Mina’s friends greeted ABIX enthusiastically. Jun high-fived Crystal. Airi squealed at Isabelle’s outfit. The group blended again like it had always been one.
And somehow…
Mina drifted toward Aleem.
Not dramatically.
Not obviously.
Just a slow, natural gravitation.
As if she’d already decided that the safest place in a crowd was near him.
Aleem pretended not to notice.
But inside, he did.
He noticed everything.
–
They ate as they walked.
Fishcakes in hot broth.
Sweet hotteok that burned the tongue if you were impatient.
A cup of warm tea that Mina held between her palms like she was borrowing heat.
Crystal talked nonstop. Mina’s friends laughed. Isabelle asked questions that made people open up. Ivan occasionally spoke in concise lines that somehow landed perfectly.
Aleem stayed mostly quiet.
Not because he had nothing to say.
Because every time he looked at Mina, his brain wanted to become stupid.
They stopped near a small arcade corner tucked beside a convenience store–claw machines, photo booths, coin games.
Mina’s friends immediately rushed toward the photo booth.
“Sticker photo!” Airi announced.
Crystal gasped like she’d found religion. “YES.”
Isabelle smiled brightly. “Oh, I love those.”
Ivan’s expression remained neutral. “Do we have to?”
Crystal grabbed his sleeve. “Yes.”
Ivan sighed like a man accepting fate.
Mina’s friends paid for the booth, already planning poses.
Mina hovered slightly back, watching with a small smile.
Aleem found himself beside her.
In the glow of the arcade lights, her face looked softer. Younger, somehow. Not because she was trying.
Because she wasn’t.
Mina spoke quietly, eyes on the chaos ahead.
“Your friends are… very close.”
Aleem nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been like this for years.”
Mina’s gaze slid to him. “And you’re the only single.”
Aleem blinked.
He didn’t know why the fact felt more exposed coming from her than from Jun earlier.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Mina hummed, thoughtful. “Why?”
Aleem almost laughed.
What a simple question.
He could answer it with logic.
Timing.
Work.
Standards.
But the truth wasn’t clean.
Aleem’s voice came out lower than he intended.
“I don’t… start easily,” he said.
Mina’s brows lifted slightly.
Aleem looked away, embarrassed by his own honesty.
“I’m okay alone,” he continued, as if explaining himself to a system. “Until I’m not. But by then… I don’t know how to–”
He stopped.
He wasn’t about to confess his emotional awkwardness to Mina Myoui on a Jeonju sidewalk.
Mina’s voice softened.
“Until you meet someone,” she said.
Aleem’s heart tightened.
He didn’t look at her.
Because he was afraid of what his eyes would say.
The photo booth flashed behind them, laughter erupting. Crystal screamed something about Ivan refusing to smile. Isabelle’s gentle voice tried to coach them.
Mina’s gaze stayed on Aleem.
Then, quietly, she asked the question that made the air between them change.
“If I wasn’t… Mina,” she said.
Aleem stilled.
The night market noise faded slightly, like his mind had pulled a curtain.
Mina’s fingers tightened around her tea cup.
Her voice remained calm, but there was something vulnerable under it.
“If I was just… a normal Japanese girl,” she continued, “and you met me like today. Would you still… talk to me?”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
This was the line.
The one he had been circling all day.
The one he had been trying to respect.
He could give a safe answer.
Something polite.
Something that didn’t change anything.
But Mina wasn’t asking for polite.
She was asking for real.
Aleem turned his head slowly.
He met her eyes.
His voice came out steady because he forced it to.
“I think I’d talk to you more,” he said.
Mina blinked.
For a second, she looked startled–like she’d expected him to dodge.
Then her lips parted slightly.
A soft exhale escaped her.
Something between relief and disbelief.
“You’re honest,” she whispered.
Aleem swallowed.
“I’m trying,” he admitted.
Mina’s eyes softened.
Then, to Aleem’s surprise, she laughed quietly.
“Good,” she said.
Aleem frowned slightly. “Good?”
Mina nodded. “Because I’m tired of people who… talk to me like I’m something.”
Aleem’s chest tightened again.
“I don’t want to do that,” he said.
Mina’s smile was small, but it reached her eyes.
“I know,” she murmured.
Then she looked away toward her friends.
The conversation could’ve ended there.
A soft moment.
A question answered.
But Aleem’s mind wouldn’t let it rest.
Because if he was going to continue, he needed to do it properly.
Not vaguely.
Not carelessly.
Not in a way that could become regret.
He inhaled, then spoke.
“Mina,” he said.
Her name sounded different when he said it like that–without the fan trembling, without the distance.
Mina turned back.
Aleem’s voice was quiet, deliberate.
“I need to say something.”
Mina’s brows lifted slightly. “Okay.”
Aleem’s fingers curled in his pockets, grounding him.
“I liked you before,” he said.
Mina didn’t react dramatically. She just listened.
Aleem continued, carefully.
“I watched you. I admired you. I… had that fan feeling.”
Mina’s gaze stayed steady.
Aleem’s throat tightened.
“But today… when you turned,” he said, “I realized something.”
He paused.
Because the words mattered.
“I don’t want to collect you,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to be another person who makes your life smaller.”
Mina’s fingers tightened around her cup.
Aleem forced himself to keep going.
“If we keep talking,” he said, “it’s because I like… you now. Not who you were on stage.”
The air went still.
For a heartbeat, Aleem thought he’d said too much.
Then Mina exhaled slowly.
Her shoulders dropped.
Like something heavy had been set down.
“Then,” Mina said softly, “talk to me like that person.”
Aleem’s heart fluttered.
He nodded once.
“Okay,” he said.
Mina’s lips curved.
Not big.
Not dramatic.
But it made Aleem’s chest ache.
“Okay,” she echoed.
Behind them, the photo booth door opened and Crystal stumbled out, holding the printed strip like it was a trophy.
“LOOK,” she screamed. “IVAN SMILED. IT HAPPENED.”
Ivan’s voice came immediately after, flat. “I did not smile.”
Isabelle laughed softly. “You did. A little.”
Crystal waved the photo strip like evidence. “It’s documented. Forever.”
Mina’s friends squealed and dragged Mina toward the booth.
“Mina! Come! One photo!”
Mina hesitated, then glanced at Aleem.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He didn’t want to be in the booth.
A small space.
A camera.
A printed proof.
But Mina’s gaze asked without words.
Not please do it for me.
More like… will you stay with me?
Aleem nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
Crystal screamed again, this time in victory.
–
The photo booth was cramped.
Too close.
Too bright.
The curtain closed behind them, sealing them into a small rectangle of fluorescent light.
Mina’s friends crowded into one side, ABIX into the other.
Crystal shoved Aleem forward.
“Front,” she whispered.
Aleem hissed back, “Stop.”
“Front,” Crystal insisted, grin feral.
Mina ended up beside him again.
Of course she did.
The screen counted down.
3… 2… 1…
The first photo snapped.
Everyone did finger hearts.
The second photo: Mina’s friends forced a silly pose.
The third photo: Crystal yelled, “Couple pose!” and immediately shoved Mina’s shoulder toward Aleem.
Mina laughed, startled.
Aleem’s hand lifted instinctively–not touching her waist, not pulling her in–just hovering near her back like he was unsure what was allowed.
Mina glanced at his hand.
Then, very subtly, she leaned a fraction closer.
The contact was minimal.
Shoulder to sleeve.
But Aleem felt it like a shock.
The camera flashed.
The fourth photo snapped.
Then the booth opened, spilling them back into the night market like nothing had happened.
Aleem’s heart was still running.
Mina’s cheeks were faintly pink.
Crystal snatched the photo strip when it printed, laughing wildly.
“This is insane,” she said. “This is–this is art.”
Mina’s friends took their copies, delighted.
Then Mina reached for hers.
Aleem watched her tuck it carefully into her coat pocket.
Not casually.
Carefully.
As if she wanted to keep it.
The night continued.
They ate more.
They wandered.
They laughed.
But something had shifted.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Two people had crossed an invisible line and decided to do it properly.
Normal, practiced.
Held gently.
And as they walked back toward their accommodations later–groups splitting again at the same intersection–Mina paused beside Aleem.
She looked up at him, hood shadowing her eyes.
“Today,” she said softly, “felt normal.”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He nodded. “Good.”
Mina’s lips curved.
“Let’s practice more,” she whispered.
Aleem’s heart fluttered.
He swallowed.
“Okay,” he said.
And when Mina walked away this time, the flower still in her hand, Aleem didn’t feel the fear of endings.
He felt the steady pull of continuation.
Because for the first time, the story wasn’t built on luck.
It was built on choice.