lowercase intended
—
third person
leaves crunch under his feet as he walks up to the entrance of the rusty door. his hands land on the crusty surface of the metal handle and he rehearses a short prayer in order to avoid developing some lethal disease because of the mere filth on it.
with one swing, the door open's to dirty pastel pink walls, neon lights and jeongguk is embraced with an interesting mix of hot chocolate, low prices, and tears of heartbreak.
what a sad diner.
it's almost as if the entire thing is being filmed by a VHS tape, so unclear, vague and blurry, with faceless bodies hunched over cold tea and dingy tables with table cloths that could be missed for rags.
lastly, he hears it, the disgusting jazz playing not too high, not too low, throughout the diner.
he fucking hates this place already.
yet he finds himself shuffling over towards the counter, eyes already farting at the dingy menu hung atop with various items scribbled out as 'SOLD OUT.'
his eyes roam over the little display shelf as well, going over tacky looking dishes and nearly moulding sandwiches.
he sighs, unable to believe that he's doing this when he could just walk a mile over and be greeted with overpriced but better quality food.
he rings the counter bell.
(who even has those anymore?)
a stray noise of disdain comes from a presumably hungover man a few metres away from the register and then a curtain behind the counter shuffles.
jeongguk's eyes relocate themselves into a slender, smooth, tan face and jeongguk is s o l d.
if he gets to see that face everyday, consider him a regular from now on.
jeongguk's face flushes as he stares at the man who holds a broad smile on his face, a dirty apron tied to his waist and slightly ruffled red hair.
the man is closer to him before he can anticipate it, and jeongguk realises the other man is the waiter.
"good evening, what can i get for you tonight?" a voice, so velvety deep speaks that jeongguk feels he might just nut while imagining how many octaves higher it could go while moaning.
fuck you, he isn't ashamed of himself. this man has the hottest voice that he has ever heard.
"...sir?" the waiter held an amused smile, that decorated his features so prettily.
"a-ah, yeah, sorry about that. i would like a, -um- peach pastry? yeah, a peach pastry along with a medium hot chocolate, please." the man hums an affirmation as he types (presumably) the order into the counter's computer thing.
"is there anything else that you would like?" jeongguk bows his head to decline, and the lame jazz filters through his head. his nose wrinkles in distaste.
he looks up to see the other walking backwards, and returning a few moments later with a little plaque in his hand, displaying '4' in a font that resembles comic sans.
jeongguk rethinks his decision to eat at this place.
"keep this on your table and i'll get you your stuff. sit wherever, it's all empty anyways."
jeongguk blinks, because there is literally one order that the guy has to make, so why would he need to hand jeongguk a plaque like he has to remember what to give him?
jeongguk shrugs off the thought, making his way as far from the sobbing mess and the drunkard as possible.
his waiting moments pass patiently with him scrunching his face at the chewing gum stuck to the table, the lettuce and mayonnaise fallen on the floor and the suspicious pink colour of
the walls which must've been orange once upon a time.
the man returns, what seems like twenty minutes later.
(honestly, how did it take so long?)
he places the food on the table and flashes a smile at jeongguk. he flinches at how the red haired man does not fit into the diner's 'aesthetic' at all.
the other waits for a few moments, seemingly hesitant, mouth opening and closing, before he slips into the seat across from jeongguk's.
jeongguk blinks.
the other sits with his hand in his chin, seemingly unfazed with his elbow placed atop the unclean table.
"you look too rich to be here." he says, and jeongguk once again, is only capable of blinking.
the red head tilts his head.
"too young too. were you looking for drugs? that's the other diner, by the way, the drugs one. it's just a few blocks ahead. i could take you there, my friend could give you a discount." his smooth voice comes out bold, as if narcotics are a completely normal thing to talk about.
"n-no, i'm not here for drugs, just food." jeongguk coughs out, startled by the weirdly suggestive questions.
do i look like a drug addict?
maybe it's the piercings, i know i shouldn't have-
"ah, that's alright-" the other nods, " - business is going pretty strong there regardless. what is a rich, handsome boy like you doing here anyways?" jeongguk, who seems to have lost any control over self esteem, splutters at the compliment, receiving it from such a good looking man.
"eating? also, isn't it worked policy to advertise your place of work well? shouldn't you be praising this place instead?"he musters up, surprised.
the other gives him a dumb look.
"yeah." the guy nods solemnly for a second, looking straight at jeongguk almost a little creepily.
"honestly? I hate this place. im pretty sure the water isn't even filtered here, and i've heard a man died here years ago. i bet it's haunted, but I can't call a psychic. against work rules or whatever." the other continues, shuddering a little.
as he talks more about his hatred for the building, jeongguk decides to stop being a pussy and take a bite out of the food that the man has offered.
he psyches himself up for a few seconds, thinking about all the dumbbells he's picked up, benches that he has pressed and pussies that he has eaten, before finally taking a bite of the vial looking thing.
and it's all good for a second.
but only a second, before his senses are reacting in pain!pain!pain! and he's hissing.
his tongue feels like it's been burnt using several spices that were shat upon and then deep fried in a microwave.
he briefly wonders whether that is actually possible, but then returns to cribbing about the horrible taste.
"this tastes like complete ass, jesus." he snarls, wiping at his angrily lip with a suspiciously coloured tissue.
"huh, and here i thought ass tasted good. or maybe that's just mine." jeongguk hears the other mumble and he fucking chokes.
he looks up with wide eyes to find the red head in deep contemplation.
"what the fuck was in that thing?" he asks, praying that his taste buds haven't been damaged for the rest of eternity.
(he ignores the other man's sexual comment. it was far too early to imagine anything sexual about a complete stranger.)
"huh? oh yeah, i added my secret ingredient to it." the red head grins.
"yeah? and what the fuck was that?"
"mustard." jeongguk splutters, horrified simultaneously at the stranger's cunning grin and revelation.
he picks up his hand and points at the other accusingly.
"first of all, mustard is not a secret ingredient, like , at all! and secondly, you don't just- add mustard to cakes-dude! you just tried to kill me!" he says, tone almost as if he had been betrayed.
"i mean, that was a once in a lifetime experience. so it was kind worth it, yeah?" the other finger guns at him, winking in the process.
jeongguk blinks (honestly, he's just a little slow at social conversations, he'll grow better at it sooner or later) and blanches at the remains of some 'peach' pastry in his mouth.
yet he still goes for the hot chocolate.
the red haired man watches curiously as jeongguk brings the cup up to his lips, and tilts it, watching his adam's apple bob.
the red head waits.
and the moment of truth is within taehyung's reach, whether he has succeeded or not. his eyes zero in on jeongguk's expression and he prays.
prays with more intensity and honesty than he did when he wanted the mega loving barber doll house with customisable cars.
three.
jeongguk pulls back, shitting his eyes slightly, almost dazed.
two.
"...so?" a pregnant pause.
one.
"that actually wasn't that bad." jeongguk murmurs, shocked. he smacks his lips a couple of times, running the taste in his mouth. a combination of chocolate with a thick, sweet consistency that somehow worked?
"fuck yes!-" a fist pump, "for honey is always a good idea!" the other laughs, seemingly happy with his creation.
jeongguk just watches in confusion.
the other squeals, slips out of his seat and power walks (skips) over to the drunk mess, shaking his shoulder slightly.
"woonbin! woonbin! are you dead? no? well, the honey worked! fucking finally!" he hears giggles and jeongguk finds himself dazed. is he dreaming? what is happening? is this what acid tripping feels like?
after a few minutes of a confused jeongguk and excited stranger and a still drunk mess, taehyung attempts to compose himself before walking over to the confused man with a written receipt in his hands.
"well, if you're done, that's your bill. also, take the mug with you. you made history with it."
"what wanting to kick me out already? that's so kind of you" Jeongguk snorts, spotting a sheepish look from the stranger in his peripheral before going over the receipt.
"by the way, why did you give me a written receipt? weren't you billing me on that computer earlier?"
jeongguk asks, glancing at said piece of machinery.
"huh? oh yeah, i was. but the computer doesn't actually work so i was just pretending." the red head grins. jeongguk fucking blinks again.
"i would give you a tip, but the music here is terrible and so is the food. negative nine on ten would recommend." the other pouts, puppy eyes widening.
"aw man, but everyone loves jazz!" jeongguk merely rolls his eyes, and lays a few notes on the written receipt. there was obviously some money for a tip.
if the other notices, he doesn't mention it.
"thanks for coming to this shitty diner, gets boring with all the usuals." the other says genuinely, and jeongguk smiles a little.
as said man leaves his table, walking towards the exit with his mug in his hands, he turns to say:
"you're a bad waiter, you know that? real shitty, just like this diner." jeongguk says slowly.
the other grins.
"yeah, i know." he winks.
and jeongguk plans to never visit the diner again.