Suho (1/2)
Joonmyun owns many books; most worn out, creased on the corner of the page he is reading, or stained with coffee rings from the times he had no choice but to use the poor books as coasters. Books of all genres cover his dining table, bed, floor, bookshelves, and desk. Joonmyun's favourite genre is without a doubt fairy-tales ("A pathetic excuse for a man... reading that junk." Kai, the man in the apartment next door, tells him on a daily basis). He likes the fact that, somewhere throughout the flawless fairy-tale, there is always a damsel in distress and a brave, handsome man who saves her with ease. Joonmyun longed to be that man; not afraid of anything. But what he longed for even more than anything was a damsel whom he could relieve from distress. That's why, when Joonmyun met you, he began writing his own fairy-tale.
Joonmyun remembers ever-so-clearly the day the pair of you met at the local library.----You were working at the time, returning old books to their designated shelves, when you came across a handsome boy who looked as if he was right at home - staring at every book in awe as he stroked their delicate stem with his gentle touch. It was as though he was waiting for an electric feeling to run up his arm from touching a certain book. He certainly found that book. As he pulled it off the shelf, dust making him sneeze, you stole a glance at the title: "101 Short Stories," it read.
Even from the first glance you could tell this young boy was different, you could tell it from a mile. Not many boys his age spent their time reading childish stories. Most would be out partying or pashing someone who tickled their fancy. But, as it was part of your job, you kindly approached the boy and asked if he was okay just browsing. Joonmyun had looked up to see the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes upon - even prettier than the princesses in his books back at his apartment.
"I'm okay, thank you." Joonmyun showed an angelic smile while sipping his cup of coffee. That smile had been enough to send shivers up your spine and caused your cheeks to flush pink. You then nodded and turned, and started to walk back to the service desk.
"Fascinating," you heard him say from behind you, "how you can travel to the centre of the Earth, or to the moon, to an over-populated city, or an abandoned shack completely free of charge, just by simply opening a book." Ignoring the fact that you were supposed to be working at the time, you turned back and sat opposite him at the table as he continued, noticing the way he gazed into the distance as his chin rested on his hand. "How you can live many different lives in a day, and millions of different lives in a lifetime. It's just... Completely and utterly… Fascinating." Joonmyun gazed into your eyes, mesmerised by the way you bit your lower lip as you had listened to his pointless rambling. His hand slipped from under his chin, knocking his cup of coffee and sending the caramel coloured liquid all over your white uniform shirt.
You stood up flailing your arms around as the hot concoction burned into your light, frail skin.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! Please, let me help you." Joonmyun looked at you in concern as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the library; onlookers entertained by the peculiar scene they had just witnessed.
He lead you to a run-down apartment building just out of town and took you to the third floor, room 179A ("his room," you thought to yourself).
The room that was revealed behind the door was like perfection in your opinion - vintage, old but still homely, and covered in aged, loved books.
Joonmyun averted your attention to him as he handed you a sea-blue, neatly folded towel.
"Here, wash up. I'll prepare you some clean clothing. I'm so sorry, really," he said with apologetic eyes.
How cute.
After you had showered, you appeared back in the lounge with grey track pants and a slightly oversized t-shirt – not something you would have liked to have worn, but it had to do. Your long, wet hair created a cold path on your back, causing you to shiver at the same time as a sudden, loud clap of thunder bellowed outside.
"Wow, what an unlucky day this has been," Joonmyun sighed as he gazed at the rain-battered window. "I guess you'll have to stay here until the storm ceases, unless you'd rather catch a cold or get struck by lightning, of course." He dryly laughed
"Well... Considering how unlucky this day has been, I'd rather not take the risk," you replied with an eye smile that sent a fluttering feeling towards Joonmyun's stomach (“Butterflies?” Joonmyun thought). "What's your name, by the way?" you kindly asked.
"My na-? Oh! Of course. Joonmyun. Kim Joonmyun, and you?"
"Hana. Kim Hana," you told him. "Thank you for being so kind towards me, it would've taken me over two hours to get home in this weather. Honestly, I am forever grateful, Joonmyun." His name sounded sugar sweet on your tongue.
As the stormy night continued on, you and Joonmyun got to know each other - he found out that you wanted to become a professional writer (a novelist, to be precise), and you found out that he had a passionate obsession with books, although that was not very hard to guess. The storm had grown worse over the hours, which had then caused the power to go out. Joonmyun lit a rose-scented candle and the two of you continued chatting throughout the night. Over time you began to fall drowsy and found yourself unconsciously resting your weary head on Joonmyun’s broad shoulder, his head on top of yours, sleeping soundly.
When you awoke, only a slight drizzle was visible outside on his rustic, four-pane windows.
The two of you had exchanged numbers and arranged to meet up so you could shout him lunch and a new coffee in return for his kindness and also to return his clothing which still had traces of his signature cologne.
Over time, lunches together had turned into dinners, dinners into sleepovers and sleepovers into breakfasts the next morning. The pair of you became practically inseparable.