niclas doesn't quite understand how he ended up here, like this, with a boy he doesn't know (a boy who wears leather pants and a thin black t-shirt in the middle of winter, a boy with an attitude the size of Texas and an actual lip ring) tucked against his chest, his fingers absentmindedly twisting the strands of silky black hair.
all he remembered was laughter; the first thing he heard when he raised his phone to his ear at zero three hundred in the morning.
obnoxious, loud, drunken laughter.
he should have hung up.
3:03
"I think you have the wrong number."
the person on the other end must have had their hand covering the speaker but niclas catches the last few words, "——cker you're late."
he frowns, holding off a yawn, "again, I think you have the wr—"
"——it's fucking snowing, hurry up my phone's dying."
"I really don't think——"
the rest of his words are swallowed up by the dial tone. niclas exhales through his nose and closes his eyes.
he should have just gone back to sleep.
he calls four times before they pick up again.
"look, you're probably too drunk to realize what's happening and I'm too nice to overlook this but I can't come pick you up unless you tell me where you are."
3:47
it takes him forty minutes drive to seoul; by then the cold had settled into the city.
niclas pulls up on the side of the road and rolls down the passenger window, "get in."
the boy in question is shorter than he expected, swaying on his feet as he glances at him with a questioning look, "who, who the fuck are you?"
niclas shakes his head, "you wouldn't know even if I told you, just get in."
"eve--," the boy hiccups, "ever heard of stranger danger?"
"are you five? I'm taking you home before you freeze to death."
"I'm gonn-- I'm gonna take my chances."
"oh for the love of--"
"I'll screa--" he sways, "I'm gon' scream."
niclas taps his fingers against the steering wheel then he looks up, "scream then. not like there's anyone left to hear you."
the boy frowns, his lips pulled into a pout. "I'm-- famou--"
"look, you could be the son of the president and I wouldn't give a damn. you called me at zero three hundred and I drove forty miles out here to fetch you. just get in the car before you develop pneumonia princess."
it seems that did the trick. "you're the grump--grumpy voice from earli--er."
"yes, well, now that you know me, get in."
"but I'm not a, a princess."
"then don't behave like one."
4:02
he was never driving a drunk person in his car again.
"why does your music suck?"
"it's cold."
"you're not much of pri-prince charming."
"your music really sucks."
niclas has half a mind to kick him back out to the cold. he should have.
niclas cranks the heater to maximum and allows him to fiddle with the radio.
"where do you live?"
"I can't tell, I can't tell you."
niclas stops asking.
4:22
"this is a motel"
the kid's voice is accusatory.
niclas arches an eyebrow, "no shit sherlock. you wouldn't tell me where you live so you can sleep here for the night and call someone you do know tomorrow to get you home."
"yo-you want to do--"
"all I want is for you to leave my car."
he shuffles out and presses his lips together again into a pout.
"you're a shi-shitty prince."
"and you're a terrible princess. I guess it all works out."
"I know, you.. you're a knight in shinning armor."
"yes, well this knight in shinning armor really needs you to pay attention."
he grabs his hand and drags the boy into the motel.
the guy at the front desk doesn't even bat an eye. "rooms are 150 for the night, payment up front."
niclas sighs and pulls out his wallet. the boy next to him giggles.
"I swear this isn't what is looks like."
4:54
"where are you going?"
he pauses at the door, glances back at the kid he tucked into bed then at his watch.
"base."
the boy nods once. then tucks himself under the covers.
"have a good night." he mumbles.
he should have left.
10:32
"who the fuck are you?"
niclas has half a mind to shove the boy into floor. he should have.
"a knight in shinning armor I suppose," niclas deadpans instead.
the boy opens his mouth to say something but niclas clears his throat, gesturing at his arm.
the boy lets go hastily, ear tips slightly red.
he smiles this time, stretching as he stands. niclas pats him on the head as he leaves, "don't drink so much next time."
his first defense is silence, swallows a nonexistent lump in his throat, feigns anything other than the feeling of wanting to escape. he tries to laugh at the joke, it sounds empty to his own ears, like he cannot quite remember how to. close to a cry, his cheeks feel cold.
niclas had always been good at that, talking. bragging, without bragging, because he could back confidence up with supporting facts. making people feel wanted with that grin on his face (he was no exception), all boyish humor and radiating youth, always made kyungsoo feel older than he actually was — even though only two years separated them. on anyone else he would have labeled it as manipulation, accustomed to all human pretenses for gain and leverage.
the notion that this is all business is counterproductive, too much between them to simply reset, pretend like strangers. or at least, the him from before, who staked claim to the memories he buries. heard enough of you have changed from everyone, from the man in front of him even, to know he did not belong here. so many fights, their end was inevitable after he got back, crash course towards mutual self-destruction — his fault.
after so many months of vacant eyes and withdrawing, locking himself away from the public, from his family, traumatic stress no longer garner sympathy; especially when he consistently denied help, refused to acknowledge anything was wrong with him. he still settles somewhere behind denial, bitter acceptance to never go back to where he had been, likes to forget it all in the bottom of a whiskey glass and burying himself in work for achievement. runs in the morning before the sun rises, he could never feel the ache in his lungs like he used to.
times like those, he partially wishes he had stayed dead, nothing but an anonymity that should not exist, defying all natural laws. hyunwoo brings everything leaking to the surface, his presence, his voice. the man before him should not be here, the irony of the situation is not lost on him, but it had been a closed casket service after all.
‘ i’m sure you have, i have no intention to die today. ’
he’s toying with the sleeves. but he’s all nerves he cannot explain, no session of psychotherapy covers this. rolls his eyes before he speaks, shoving hands into his pockets to keep them occupied, ‘ right. ’ drawls out the lingering syllable, gaze flickering to the right wing of the aircraft. i can’t do this i can’t do this, ‘ i will need a copy of that pre-flight checklist once completed and i can assist you with the main risk components. you might have questions, ’
he likes telling himself that he hasn’t changed. that so long as he does not forget, even if the entire world does, someone still remembers and he still exists. he likes to conveniently forget that sometimes even he doesn’t remember (doesn’t want to remember).
this is one of those times.
“no one wants to die, not even the dead.”
he hadn't realized he had spoken until the words are left hanging in the air. with a strained laugh, niclas runs a hand through his hair. "of course, that's perfectly understandable."
he ducks underneath the aircraft and returns a moment later with two pairs of gloves. "I'll need to look through the engine," niclas explains, "it's not protocol but it makes me more comfortable when piloting." he places the extra set of gloves onto the small stool between them before waving over one of the engineers waiting impatiently for the two to complete their conversation, "finished?"
the engineer turns to kyungsoo, swallows, bows his head quickly then leans up to whisper into hyunwoo's ear, "they didn’t want me to tell you but we have a small issue with one of the algorithms."
his brows furrows, sparing a glance in kyungsoo's direction, "should we postp—"
the engineer shakes his head quickly, then leans up again, "it'll be fine so long as it doesn't start raining.” he glances around them then intones darkly, “the colonel was the one that approved it."
the corner of his lips turn downward, the only sign of disapproval before it vanishes, eyes crinkled into a well-practiced smile. "very well. it might not be a bad idea to test out emergency landing procedures today. have someone add it to the test card." the young engineer nods and disappears into the crowd.
niclas steps forward, gesturing towards the plane. "shall we get started then?"
at twenty past zero eight hundred, niclas finally closes the hatch, securing it firmly in place before taking off his oil-stained gloves. he rolls his shoulders back to loosen the joints before slipping inside the cockpit. niclas comes out a few minutes later with a helmet in his hand.
motioning kyungsoo over, niclas smiles, tilting the other's chin up slightly to slide the helmet into place. it is only when he is adjusting the straps for him does niclas realize what he is doing. his presses his thumb into the buckle, then lets go. "perfect fit."
niclas turns around stiffy to secure his own helmet. he spends a moment fiddling with the microphone before pulling it into place. "mic check."
"we're all good here," the radio crackles, the small speaker tucked within the helmets springing to life. "do you read captain, over." niclas nods, giving the command panel a thumbs up.
"take-off in ten captain."
he nods again, making his way into the pilot seat. niclas takes a few moments to situate himself then raises his hand in the universal ‘okay’ symbol. "acknowledged."
he turns his gaze to kyungsoo, still standing outside, pulling down the mic to laugh, "it's a little too late to back out now." gaze soft, he continues comfortingly, "we're flying under clear conditions today. if everything goes smoothly, we should be finished in two hours. then you don’t have to ever step foot into one of these planes again."
I’ll be there to pick you up @ 2. I called Patrick beforehand.
I’ll be waiting at the gates. I forgot my ID.
It’s an old car. The seats look worn and he hopes Hyunwoon won’t notice. He’d bought it off a girl he went to highschool with. She’d made him a good deal. She was married now, had a kid. A housewife. They’d briefly talked and she’d shown him candids of her son and her husband on her phone and Sehun hadn’t known how to react.
It’s not a money issue. It’s a self-interrelating exile. It’s the way he’s found to emancipate himself. An unhealthy way of micromanaging his life, his therapist had called it. “Have you considered travelling? Spend a lazy day somewhere at the beach. It would do you good. Indulge yourself.” Instead he drove out to Pyeongtaek.
He parks his car away from the main entrance and waves at the guards when they greet him. The sight’s nostalgic in a disarming way. The glove compartment is crammed full with tissues and glossy paper handouts and the steering wheel’s been covered in white plush. He’d left it as it is. The car’s not supposed to be a lifetime commitment. He’ll hand his mother the keys eventually and take to the subway. A car’s too much of a responsibility. It’s just that he’d missed the subjectivity of speed. The undergrowth of adrenaline hardening around his teeth. In his thin-skinned, cyclic self help talk, he’d attested to his need for excuses. But he had none. So he’d gotten himself a car.
It’s the safe alternative.
Compulsively, he rolls his window down and looks at nothing. A group of soldiers jog past his car. Sehun doesn’t allow himself to think. Feels the weight of something pressing against his chest. He’s spent years here. He remembers hating the uniform, the dorms. How the prospect of suicidal patriotism had recruits prioritize themselves. Because they could drop dead somewhere, and be done with it. They never talked about dying, just about their families, their plans, what a waste of money college was. And then they’d sleep it off and repeat.
He’s been at more funerals than weddings.
In therapy, the dissection of his unmade personality traits had shown outwardly through his susceptibility to obsessive hoarding. Just that this feels like cultivation of nothing. He thinks about what to tell Hyunwoo. The months he’s spent repressing, as he was told. Then he’s pressing back against the seat. And waits.
TO MIN 🐨 at 12:27 pm
they still let you keep your ID?
tell patrick I said hi
he reaches the main gate at a quarter to two, ducking under the boom barrier to greet the guard on duty. patrick yawns, foot propped up on the control panel, idly flipping a page of his magazine, "your kid isn't here yet."
niclas laughs, "and if I was coming here to see you?"
"you're not."
"no? I guess these cakes must be for my kid then. funny, I always remembered minwoo didn't like sweets. I must be getting old."
patrick immediately sticks a hand out of the booth’s window. "better be damn good cake."
niclas arches a brow, "I thought these weren't for you?"
"you're not funny captain. and your kid just pulled up, so either you give me my cake or I'll conveniently spill this large bottle of coke on this remote."
with an amused shake of his head, niclas balances the rather heavy box of cake precariously onto the guard's open palm. "don't eat all of them at once, or diabetes is going to catch up to you." patrick sputters indignantly, poking his head out to shout a few curses at the retreating figure.
it doesn't take very long for him to locate minwoo, rasping his knuckles against the frame of the car, niclas leans his hip against the front wheel. "I didn't know they gave driver's licenses to babies," niclas quips, a shameless grin on his face. "my kid's all grown up now, driving around seoul, picking me up, paying for dinner...." he trails off then laughs, reaching out a hand to ruffle minwoo's hair.
"don't look so startled, when have I made you pay for anything?" he jogs around to the passenger seat, buckling down securely before glancing up. "just in case," niclas shrugs. he gives the car a cursory sweep then turns to minwoo with a curious look in his eyes, "cute car. but tell me, when did you become a housewife?"
What a pretty boy. whispers follow the entrance of the other eleven year old, and then the assistants hush as the child in question enters the little robe shop, apparently alone.
Janey, having heard the whispers but still too engrossed by the charmed measuring tape, had paid no mind to him until his voice cut through her awe.
she realizes belatedly that this was quite rude of her, and she quickly looks up, glowing red and stammering in thickly accented english “a-actually, i never have seen a … charmed object before,” she gives him a sheepish smile and internally agrees that he really was a very pretty boy. his interest in her is flattering and she makes room on the platform as madam malkin herself comes to take his measurements too, she nods the affirmative and asks “have you ever seen Hogwarts before? Professor Dumbledore makes it sound amazing but…. I’m frightened to be so far away from home…”
she covers her mouth with some extra fabric, playing with it to keep herself busy and to stop her own babbling. All the while, the child’s eyes keep straying around the shop, fixating on anything and everything that could only be explained as magic.
She keeps doing this as the witch seamstress begins to wrap more fabric around them both, jaw actually dropping as robes begin to take shape around their bodies while the witch does little more than flick her wand about and mutter words Janey has no idea about.
“you haven’t?” surprise flickering across his features, he leans forward, curiosity momentarily clouding his judgement. “are you a mugglebo–” he doesn’t finish, the rest of his question dying on his lips. niclas grimaces at his lack of tact, the tips of his ears burning as he raises a hand to ruffle his hair in embarrassment.
it takes him a moment to recollect himself though when he does, niclas bows his head. "I apologize. you do not have to answer that, I should not have pointed it out in the first place."
he peeks up at her after his apology, hoping that she was not offended by his obtrusive behavior earlier then continues diplomatically, “although I’ve never personally been to hogwarts I’m sure that the school will not disappoint.” he pauses when madam malkin drapes a black piece of cloth around his waist, turning to flash a polite smile in her direction. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned this earlier. on top of the standard boys’ uniform and cloaks for hogwarts could I have them charmed to be self-ironing and repairing?" the elder witch hums slightly in acknowledgement, removing the pin as she moves to his other side, a new type of fabric hurtling into a stop in front of her.
satisfied she understood, he looks back up and blinks. "I just realized I haven't even introduced myself. I am usually not this boorish, I promise. my name is niclas, it's a pleasure to meet you." he lifts a hand in janey’s direction. "how far away from home are you? I haven’t lived in england in quite a while myself but feel free to ask me if you have any questions about diagon alley.”
Your element is AIR. You are whimsical and adventurous. Though despite your very drifty mindset you are quite stable and at ease. You are influential, and able to accommodate almost anyone. Very versatile. You could stand to be a bit less flaky with people. A bit less lazy with smaller responsibilities. And you could use some focus in your own life in contrast to the solid advice you give others. That aside you are fun, strong willed and despite your child like demeanor quite wise.
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) you think everything is cute
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) to be fair, the ones i have of oppa are far worse
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) emailing you them rn
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) if he complains, tell him sharing is caring
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) he taught me that✌️️
09/10/16
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) okay fine. you were right about that sunbae
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) 1:0
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] what did he do?
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] are you okay?
sent at 4:24:27 p.m. 09/10/16
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] jinwoo hyung hurt his arm during a simulation
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] he’ll probably hide it from you but be careful around him
sent at 11:28:48 p.m. 10/07/16
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] good luck on that anatomy exam
sent at 11:33:11 p.m. 10/07/16
there is an acute difference between someone who sees and someone who observes. someone who sees never scratches past the bare surface; someone who observes digs a little deeper.
he sees him before the other notices him. someone who was just a little uncomfortable, who wasn't another person scrambling to get from point a to point b. his eyes narrow, and out of pointed amusement, niclas stops and watches. the other male’s gaze mostly rests on faces, a flicker down to glance at what they're wearing, a short exhale, a furrow between his brows then he moves on.
it was... interesting. as if he was searching for something and being denied it. when the light turns and he looks up, niclas waits for him to repeat the same process on him. it doesn't happen.
he isn’t exactly sure what prompts him to speak. he had originally meant it to be a teasing remark though the other’s rather serious response causes him to chuckle. as he passes the shorter male, niclas dips his head and intones darkly, "then you really should stop staring at people like you’re evaluating their worth." he turns his head slightly when he's walked a few steps away, mirth evident in his voice, "it gives people the wrong impression, you know." he raises his eyebrows in a half-taunt then turns back, jogging to catch up with the rest of the crowd to finish crossing the street.
It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say Hanhae was an absentee friend. Like many of his friendships it took far too much effort on the part of the other. Other times the distance was intentional, part of a defense mechanism learned as a child. If no one can touch you, you’re safe. No one ever said it was a good idea. The tension had built up and the nerves had frayed, there was only so many excuses someone could take before everything exploded. Hanhae was no stranger to imagination, it was the one thing that helped him foster such feelings for someone. And the victim always was some unsuspecting friend with nothing but good intentions. However, this time it felt different. In a sense it was much more of a need than a want and that scared Hanhae more than the latter ever could. Wanting someone was easy and it was safe. Want was easy to shut off like a valve. Need was something deeper. It was something dangerous to someone like Hanhae, who had only ever needed the bad.
For three whole weeks Hanhae had tried his best to seem busy, Destroya was his excuse. He felt bad for using his band as a crutch but he had formed it so he figured he was allowed. It was easy to shoot Hyunwoo a quick text of ‘Sorry can’t make it out tonight, recording stuff’ while he was laying face down in bed. Friendships fizzled out and that was what Hanhae had intended. There was no way he would ever tell the other why he had cut him off.
Apparently fate wasn’t going to let Hanhae get away with it again. He’d agreed to help a friend set up for a small gig in a bar, where most bands got their starts. Hanhae was more than happy to help, but something in his brain flicked his anxiety on as he set up the amps on the small stage. Why was that happening? The bassist ignored the bubbling sensation in his belly as he finished up the wiring and wished his friend good luck on his set and promised to watch by the bar. It was where he intended to sit all night as he nursed a soda, (it was visually planned in his head) but the plan shattered about half way through the set when he thought he recognized a certain someone. When had that happened? He couldn’t be certain, why would Hyunwoo be here? After three weeks of being ignored Hanhae was sure this could possibly turn into the Inquisition. Instinctively the dark haired man pulled his phone out to suddenly take interest in his lock screen. Trying to look busy when no one was texting you was life’s greatest challenge.
"if you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. if they don't, they never were." – kahlil gibran
his lips gradually pulls into a frown as he reads the short text, the fourth one this week, brief and pointedly blowing him off. while niclas is no stranger to distance – the unpredictable nature of his profession makes it is easier to simply let people move on with their lives when he disappears for months at a time – he takes particular offense to this one. the last time he had seen hanhae was two months ago, before he left for japan. he bought dinner, they skipped dessert. he asked how the band was doing, hanhae pretended he was interested in planes. the movie was corny and he walked him home before the clock struck midnight.
with an exasperated sigh, niclas scrolls through his contacts list, wondering if it was the hair ruffle at the end of the night that had annoyed him. he types up a short message to destroya's guitarist and within a few minutes had a few probable locations.
its late by the time he arrives at the last bar on the list. with an irritated grimace, niclas makes a bee line towards the bar. he usually keeps away from alcohol if he knows he will be meeting with the bassist but niclas figures he deserved at least one quick shot before skimming another punk-heavy crowd for his needle in the haystack. tapping his wallet lightly against the countertop, niclas scans the the crowd idly.
truth be told, he would have missed him if not for the light reflecting off his cell phone. niclas narrows his eyes and then pulls out his own phone. he runs down his call history then presses a name. when the phone in question immediately begins to vibrate, niclas exhales sharply and hangs up. he places down enough cash for the drink then as if stalking a prey, circled around to cut off hanhae if he attempted to escape.
"well well well," he murmurs when he is close enough, dark eyes narrowed. "look who we have here." he leans forward, tilting his head so they see eye to eye, a normally warm smile now anything but. "do you always cut people out without telling them or is that pleasure reserved for just me?"
The tipping point becomes clear when he starts to think of Bordeaux, France.
Shot glasses start to feel like less of a murmuring buzz under warm skin and transform into thoughts of Paris and a blank canvas in front of double-door windows. This would be it. When he knows he drank too much. When he’s on a bar stool thinking it’s more uncomfortable than a lounge couch on a veranda overlooking the Garonne River. The circumstances are the same. His ass is numb and he feels like painting. So it’s all the same, but too clearly different now that he’s older and no longer studying abroad. Same occupation. Same bad habits.
Identical high alcohol tolerance.
He has not lost track like this since an incident freshmen year documented only through blurry cellphone shots. Embarrassing blackmail. Always valuing control but with a streak for diving headfirst into something impulsive. He’s a self-made red herring under the disguise of something everyone can enjoy. Or maybe just being fucking stupid in the right moment.
Now surrounded by friends that circle around with mindless talk about the same things. There’s the lull of music in the background–something popular on the radio he sings with charming gusto to earn a laugh. He’s started to feel less like talking and more like thinking. Thoughts strung along in his mind like live wire. Pulsing. Alive. Too active for him to touch on now. He’s very drunk already and his drink is half-full yet. He should stop, but the bartender keeps smiling really prettily and they slide their number across the counter along with a glass of water. A subtle warning and invitation. And he feels a lot like going home, talking to someone that feels a little more real. About to text Hyunwoo.
Until he sees them at the bar, and forgets Paris, and Bordeaux, and Marseille. Just to remember the boy he does not know well enough to lean against yet, laying his head on their shoulder and slinging his arm through theirs.
“Hyung.” And normally he’d be embarrassed using such a term, cheeks flushed from his drink. He raises his cellphone in their face–still unsent, too close to their nose, too drunk to notice. “I just texted you. Did you get it? I wanna’ hear your answer. You have the best answers.”
there is one unwritten rule consistent throughout every branch of the military in every country. it is not a secret but no one says it out loud. you hear it whispered in between frantic prayers at night and muffled against dry tears.
not today.
please god, let him come home.
not tonight.
please god, bring him back in one piece.
not now.
please god, I'm not ready to die yet.
he drinks after every operation. because only then are you safe. because only then does death seem a little further away.
niclas downs his sixth shot, eyes closed, tipping the bar stool back. alcohol is a lie they tell themselves. you are never safe because you will never forget. just as how he will never be able to wash the blood off his hands, he will never shake death that clings to him like a second skin.
he is startled out of his reprieve when someone drapes themselves into his personal space. niclas furrows his brows, but carefully adjusts their position until he was sure they would not fall over from the extra weight. it takes him a moment to place the boy speaking to him and then with a short laugh, niclas ruffles minjae's hair, leaning back to read the phone swaying in front of his face.
"you didn't even hit send yet,” hyunwoo scoffs, eyes gentle. "what a nerd."
he pats minjae's back then lets go, picking up his now refilled shot glass, "ask me again when we're both sober." he tips the drink down his throat before leaning forward to press his cheek against the marble countertop. after a moment when he noticed that minjae had not moved, niclas smiles, reaching a hand up to rub his check fondly. "go home bambi."
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) is that a question or a demand?
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) i have off. see you then
07/13/16
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) oppa? someone called me last night using your phone
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) a jaewoo.. jaewon.. i think
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) something about you having a younger gf and a sugar baby?? ㅋㅋ wow
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) idk there was a lot of laughter
( kkt // 오빠🙈 ) please control your men. why were they drunk on a wednesday night anyway? what’s reaally happening in the military huh?
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] I don't
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] have one I mean
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] the younger girlfriend or the sugar baby
sent at 4:23:15 a.m. 07/14/16
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] oh right
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] it was jinseok's birthday last weekend when we were in thailand. we went out to celebrate it when we came back on monday
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] he asked me for my phone earlier that night because his battery ran out
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] remind me to never give out my phone again
sent at 9:51:21 a.m. 07/14/16
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] jinwoo hyung went home for the week and came back with photo albums
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] your baby ones to be exact
[ ✉ → jing 🐣 ] the lace bodice is cute
sent at 2:44:37 p.m. 08/22/16
although niclas prefers to wander aimlessly in his free time, he’s grown fond of this particular street. a string of family-owned business nestled in-between the local post office and one of the few remaining two-story apartment complexes, the community is small but cozy. the people come and go, but he is welcomed.
there is another reason he stops by so often. at end of the street is a coffee house famous for one thing– not their coffee, but ginger, a retired seeing eye dog. niclas whistles slightly when the golden retriever is in view, catching his attention. with an excited woof, ginger practically trips over himself trying to get to him.
“ging– wait–” niclas laughs, twisting his face away to avoid a mouthful of hair but ginger is unrelenting, sprawling himself on top, tail wagging fifty miles per minute. “come on. down boy, you couldn’t have missed me that much.”
hearing the commotion, the florist next door pokes his head outside, recognizing niclas and laughs at his predicament, “looks like you’ve been gone for too long. bring us anything?”
“only my love.”
“pah, what do I need a boy’s love for? get yourself a girlfriend and bring me some business!”
niclas grins into ginger’s neck, lifting the dog up, “yes sir, will do sir.”
by the time he reached the coffee shop, niclas gladly sets ginger on the ground. “you know,” he starts sternly, “you should lose some weight.” ginger barks as he scratches fondly under his ear.
he grins, pops into the coffee shop to get his usual then disappears into the often overlooked pastry shop. ahyeon looks up from the counter when the door opens, then realizing who it is, looks back down at her book. he in turn, doesn’t say anything as well, slipping into his usual spot by the window that allows him to view the quiet street.
niclas blinks, his silence interrupted when someone slides into the seat in front of him. he smiles politely when ahyeon brings the dessert over to their table, running a hand through his hair before shrugging, “sure, why not?” niclas gestures towards her, grinning a little, “are you the type that takes photos first? if so, do you need me to step back?”
stormborns
vaporwave
janainaart
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
