Gentle sun, chilled coffee, and plenty of human drama were on the menu today. Just what Jungkook was looking for on this lovely Wednesday morning. His fingers danced on the keyboard of his laptop as he gathered the unvoiced fancies of the nearby patrons of Club Espresso, a two-floor café with big open windows that let the light in along with fresh air and street chatter.
Jungkook had long ago learned to tune out static noise to focus on relevant ramblings, the kind that would fit into the narratives he'd spin out of strangers thoughts — those very things people believed to be private.
The word was foreign to Jeon Jungkook who had been reading people's minds since he was seven. The world becoming loud overnight had been a lot to take in at first. Many appointments had been made. Much time had been wasted. When the dust of the initial frenzy eventually settled, the bane had turned into a perk, and Jungkook now practiced telesthesia like he breathed: without thinking. And most certainly without asking permission. He'd pry incognito and the books would fly open. What was he to do but reap the pearls hidden in oceans of contemplation?
Over here, the excitement of a hopeful clerk at the prospect of a possible promotion.
Over there, the quandaries of middle-age couples whose young love had turned stale.
And everywhere, fields of regrets sowed by those pretending their lives were going great when in fact, the knowledge that the clock would never wind back to brighter times drove them to put up a fiercely happy front.
So many untold stories longing to be noticed until Jungkook came along. Plucking one tale after the other. Clipping, arranging, watering and turning his harvest into best-selling bouquets of words that would fly off the shelves as swiftly as bees bouncing off petals, drunk on pollen.
Jungkook knew very well why people enjoyed reading about their everyday struggles in his books. He had met a lot of fans on numerous book signing events and had picked up on the comfort they would find in sharing their guilty pleasures, heavy thoughts or petty concerns with fictional characters who seemed frighteningly non-fictitious.
Applying a spearmint ChapStick to his lips, the writer noticed a handsome profile sitting by itself near the open window, eyes absent, hands clenching the coffee mug like anchors seizing upon reality, curly locks dancing in the breeze.
A daydreamer, he guessed.
Knock knock, he tried, not expecting his prying to be met with deafening silence.
Interesting, he mused.
A sealed opus.
What's in that pretty head of yours? he further enquired, focusing on the young man's flawless features.
-Wouldn't you like to know? was all Jungkook heard despite the fact that the plump lips had not moved.
Caught off guard would not even begin to describe Jungkook's present state of confusion. Clearly lacking telepathic repartee, he remained stunned, and quiet as the man he had just called pretty turned towards him.
-Are you spying on them all? the — quite beautiful — voice asked. What for?
Jungkook so happened to have a very good reason to 'spy' on random individuals. I'm a writer, he heard himself reply a little hastily.
The man had stopped staring. He took a sip of his drink and got up, gathering his things.
Wait. Don't leave. Please.
Jungkook was biting his minty lips hard now. Never before had he sounded so desperate.
-I came here to enjoy hot chocolate. And privacy.
I'll give you privacy! I won't pry. I promise. Can we just talk a little? It's the first time I've met someone with similar ... skills.
-Is it now?
The guy took one last mouthful before putting his tray away and heading out.
Jungkook does not recall grabbing his belongings nor stepping out onto the street, yet a moment later, he was making his way to the nearest bus stop, where the tall mystery man was standing.
Where are you going?
-To work.
When do you get off? I'll wait.
-What if I don't want to talk?
You don't?
Was that a smirk on the stranger's face? And why did it fire Jungkook up?
-8 PM.
Where?
-The café. And quit staring.
I'll try.
And try he did. And fail he also did for never before had Jungkook been so mesmerized.
That night, he learned that 1) the man was punctual, 2) his name was Kim Taehyung, 3) he glowed at dusk, skin basking in the neon city lights, and 4) he was a massage therapist.
They had already shared a few drinks when Taehyung admitted he would have tried his hand at gambling, were it not illegal. Thus his current occupation which had him tend to the relaxing needs of some of the most high-profile entertainers in the country. "Smart use of your hidden talent," Jungkook had noted.
"Nah. Mental moans are just as loud."
Good-looking + sense of humour? Had Jungkook hit the jackpot?
"You know I can read you, don't you?" Taehyung chuckled.
Damn it. The young writer had never had to quiet his own thoughts and from the looks of it, it was going to take some practice.
"I'll help," Taehyung offered.
Yes, please!
The thing with mind readers is this: there are no such things as misunderstandings. Which is why Taehyung knew that when Jungkook leaned forward on their first dinner date, it was not to stare at the chocolate mousse on his chin, but to lick it off.
And when their lips met instead, Jungkook also knew this was no accident.
A few dates — and many mint-chocolate kisses — later, Taehyung granted Jungkook access to his own story on the condition that he would not turn it into a book unless he featured himself in it as well.
Rumour has it it's still very much a WIP. Fans of the writer can only speculate as to why.
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This is the 1K au that won the first flash fiction competition hosted by Authors Unite (RaindropsUnite) last month. The prompt was as follow:
Oops! Bu görüntü içerik kurallarımıza uymuyor. Yayımlamaya devam etmek için görüntüyü kaldırmayı ya da başka bir görüntü yüklemeyi deneyin.
Do check out the book published on their profile to read everyone else's entries! And don't forget to vote and comment! It keeps us all going.
