ૅ ･ﾟ ☼ ⋯ ◜ 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 ; ft . @ftxiao !
there’s a certain amount of privacy he no longer gets to enjoy, being an idol; main streets only equal sightings, and sightings equal cameras shoved up into features with urgency so unnecessary jae has half a mind to deck them where they stand ( he would never actually do it, of course; the thought has only crossed his mind once or ten times ). while he enjoys the attention, the recognition, more than anything, really, jae likes to look back on days when he could cross the street without a second thought, a hasty look back. but now wavy locks have grown all too familiar with black caps, and his mouth knows the taste of face masks more than he’d like to admit — it’s a small price to pay, he finds, but some occasions make it seem even costlier.
he’s grateful for the nearby italian restaurant, well hidden and well kept on a street he can pass by inconspicuously. jae’d grown up on various cuisines, with his mother well versed enough to cook any type of food under the sun ( tianmin seo is superwoman, after all ), but he’d always been inclined towards pasta and pizza — only the best italy had to offer. coming to korea, he and his brother had wasted no time in looking for an ideal spot, the best location for his favorite cuisine, which had led him to the very same spot he stood now: entering through familiar doors with a crooked smile lacing smug features, the air of a ‘ celebrity ‘ ( god knows how much he hates that word ) looking to satisfy his cravings.
a waiter he’s come to know during his frequent visits gestures him over to a table with a broad smile; as the other turns his back to him eyebrows knit together as jae thinks he catches a bit of what he says — something about ‘ expecting company ‘, despite him only wanting takeout — but resolves not to think much of it; perhaps he was talking to himself, is what he reasons. but it’s a reason that soon fades, along with his smile, when the waiter now motions towards an empty table where he’d be dining by himself — except it isn’t empty, and it isn’t alone.
the familiar sight of the other boy leaves something unpleasant churning in the rapper’s stomach, and in a flash gaze grows cold. “excuse me ..“ he begins placidly, turning towards the server who had brought him to the table — except he’d seemingly evaporated, taking any opportunity of a different table with him. an english cuss leaves jae’s lips, murmured under his breath darkly as his eyes begin to size up the other again with a view of nonchalance and almost explicit distaste.
“so.” jae begins, hands digging into the wood of the back of his chair as he leans over the table. “y’liked this place, did ya.”