Lucky’s had some unexpected revelations so far as Jennie’s knowledge of him. Though comfortable around the male, he still was a bit of a stranger to her. She knew nearly nothing definite about the new friend except that he committed bootlegged deeds but she did have an overoptimistic view about him. He’d occasionally defend her whenever their mutual friend, Yun, would go too far into teasing her. It was often, very much that despite their friendship, she’d develop distaste over his company unless they were talking about serious matters or if Lucky was luckily around. They were similar in many ways yet in contrast between the two, Lucky would have to be inducted a saint.
Their initial encounter was unique and embarrassing, and it remained vivid in her memory. That was when unexpected outcomes first ensued. Regardless of his terrorizing impression, he had been more kind than not when it came to her. Even her friend, Jisoo, who coincidentally knew of him as well and similarly met through a mishap (which was only a tad worse than theirs if she could infer) had claimed him to be pleasant as he accompanied her on her birthday celebration. All the positive perceptions resulted to the young lady’s quick liking towards the male. It was fair to say he’s a good friend of hers.
By this time, surprising might have been even an understatement. Not only did he talk like an idiot on many occasions but he looked like the type that disliked any form of literature there is out there. Was this really his? It wasn’t just a piece, there were at least two others that she’d found scattered along with some of his belongings. She bit on her thumb’s nail, hesitant to go on and read it, feeling guilty for the invasion of privacy she’s about to commit, but of course, like always, she was just too curious to keep her hands off and shove the thoughts away.
She picked up a single page at first and she’d found herself immersed that she hadn’t realized she was down to the third and last piece, leaving her jaw dropped in awe. “I wish I could write like this.” She mused aloud and sighed. It was right then that she’d look up to find who was likely the author of the poem she’d just read. Enlarged eyes met with his own. “I read nothing, I swear...” she uttered in a nervous tone whilst her hands kept hold of the sheet of paper — what a dejavu.
