𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 ➳ BTS [✓]

coffee

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coffee
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"Jia-ah! Wait up!"

Hoseok's voice cuts through the crowd of people out on the street in Hongdae this thursday evening. The sun has slowly started to cast an orange sheer on the tall buildings, almost like the color of a ripe tangerine. The clouds were like cotton-candy, as though they blushed at the warm touch of the sun.

I turn around, watching the male as he approaches me further, two cups of coffee clutched in his hands that are wrapped inside those wool gloves with no fingertips in them. I never understood those, but nevertheless Hoseok could pull off any look.

His eyes glimmer in the sun, his dark-brown hair hanging down loose in his forehead. His dashing smile is challenging the burning sun in his back, almost as if the sun knows — and slowly sets as his smile brighten up even more.

"I thought you left me!" He says as he hands over the warm cup with the burning liquid, the warmth wrapping around my cold fingertips suffering in the October-wind.

I sniff and send him a warm smile, reaching out and nudge at his shoulder.

I've been in 2013 for 4 months now — I haven't been as eager to get back as before, knowing that the chances of actually getting to 2019 is small. And the seven men has captured my heart so fast, I would have such a hard time leaving them by.
And the thought of them not remembering me haunts me every day when I see Yoongi with the golden watch on his wrist.

But I know that I have to leave some day.
I can't stay here forever.

"I'm sorry Hobi, I just wandered around a little. I know this area very well, I used to live around here."

His eyes widen a little as he teaches another thing about me, before he trots to my side and slowly follow my tracks.

"In Hongdae?" He questions as he sips to his americano, a little too early as he burns the tip of his tongue. He sticks it out, wincing his eyes close, resulting in a small giggle from me.

I nod. "In Hongdae. We lived here when my dad still— was alive."

I swallow and let out a sigh as my thoughts wander back to my father, Subi and my mother.
As we turn around a corner, my step halters slightly as I spot our old apartment building, the memories starting to flash by in an instant.

My father got a recycled plastic slide, one in the shape of a giant tube that snaked and turned. He fitted it to the wall of my bedroom so I all day could run up the stairs, into my room and slide down into our tiny backyard, so tiny that only a small table and a few wooden chairs were placed. A little spot of green grass in the corner, right next to where I'd slid out. It didn't matter that we lacked the space others had, we were in the city after all.