It's a Cosgrover thing !

genre: angst/fluff

word count: 1.3k

summary: what’s so good about growing up if you’re left alone with the memories? 

// loosely inspired by the song ‘when i grow up’ by svt’s vocal team

When I feel like nothing, that’s when I think of you.

Life used to be easier—or so it seemed in your memories. You remember colours to be brighter, smells to be sweeter, emotions to be stronger. Maybe it was just you romanticising your younger years, but doesn’t everyone do that? Apparently, growing up, your mind let go of all those moments filled with teenage angst and only kept the good memories, the ones you can’t help but recall late at night when you can’t sleep, when you feel the loneliest, when the emptiness is too much to handle. And you keep recalling them because he was in every single one of them and the mere thought of him made your heart feel warm.

You keep telling yourself every time that it’s no use recalling memories from your youth. In fact, focusing in the past won’t bring it back—at least, it won’t bring him back to you. Now, you’re halfway across the world. Moreover, you haven’t seen each other in years. Years (yes, years!) have passed since you last heard his voice.

You firmly believe that so much time has passed that he doesn’t even think of you anymore, you probably being just another person that was left behind alongside with his teenage years. But you like to think of him every now and then. And you can’t help but to wonder about his current life (how is he doing? Have his dreams come true? Is there someone he loves now?). You stay awake for hours, until four or so in the morning, asking questions to yourself of which you’ll never get to know the answers.

Immediately afterwards —or, maybe, in the meantime—, his face makes its grand entry and fills your mind up like it has every right to. In the dark, all you can see are those thin almond eyes and how they morphed into slits when he smiled brightly; you make out his slender fingers that used to intertwine with yours. So you’re finally trapped, you can’t escape: in every corner of your mind, it’s him, him, him.

And the memories of happier times just tag along.

♡

“Hao?” You called one day, giving his hand a little squeeze to have his attention.

It was late autumn, only a couple of weeks before winter struck, and you both were hiding under the castle in the playground of your neighbourhood’s park. You had snuck out of school, thanks to that so-called young love, and spent your pocket money in some strawberry milk. You used to do that pretty often—school was boring, anyway.

You had been sitting in silence for a while, him being a relatively quiet boy. But you were getting bored after finishing your drink (you were like that when you were younger. You got a lot quieter after you grew up) and fallen leaves triggered a rather daydreaming side of yours, one that liked to ask Minghao random questions about the future.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think we’ll be doing in ten years?” Your voice was hoarse. Usually, around that time of the year, you’d get a (or several) sore throat. For this reason, as you were out in the open, you were wrapped not only in your own clothes but in Minghao’s jacket and scarf as well.

“Ten years from now?” He shifted to see you and you mimicked his movement. Your hands never let go. “A lot of things may change. That’s a lot of time.”

You suddenly felt queasy. You fidgeted with the hem of his jacket.

“Do you think we will still be together when we grow up?” You asked in a whisper. For the first time, you regretted bringing up the topic.

“Of course,” he replied in a heartbeat as if there couldn’t be any other possible answer for your question. His free hand reached the scarf around your neck and straightened it. You unconsciously nuzzled against the fabric, his mouth curled up in a soft smile at the sight. “Why wouldn’t we?”

And he sounded so confident that you chose to believe him. After all, he had always been the brighter one.

♡

“I can’t wait to grow up!” You blurted out one day.

Having that kind of outbursts was not unusual in your youth. You’d randomly go off like that around once or twice a day. The number, of course, increased or decreased depending on how much stress you were under.

That day you happened to be under a lot of stress.

The weather, hot and humid, implied that the school year was about to come to an end. But do you know what was also coming? Finals. And a lot of them, at that. So, while your classmates were enjoying a free hour, playing and chatting like any normal teenager would do, you were studying, as you had been doing for the past three weeks. You were buried under an immense pile of textbooks that could have turned anyone batshit crazy (and you were so going down that road already, unfortunately).

Minghao was sitting in front of you, his chair turned around so as he could face you. He was reading, his hands holding a thin paperback book with an aesthetic pastel blue cover with some doodles in white. You didn’t know what the story revolved around, yet you were sure that it was way more interesting and enjoyable than maths (and you were right—after all, anything is).

His eyes lifted from the book and blankly stared at you.

“I can’t wait to not have to study anymore! I’m tired,” you exclaimed, rather dramatically. Afterwards, you pressed your face to the book on your desk and grumbled.

Of course, in your imaginary, once you reached adulthood, you would be free from any and all responsibilities. You believed that you’d be a free soul, with any care in the world. So much for wishful thinking. You were still fully convinced that Minghao decided against breaking your illusions early and therefore remained silent.

You lifted your head a little to see his face, though your chin was still resting on the surface of the book. You locked eyes for a brief moment and he then resumed his reading.

“When we grow up we’ll travel everywhere, right? You’ll show me the world?” You asked. He nodded in silence. You squealed in delight. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

You stretched and linked your pinkie to his. “You can’t back out now, okay?”

♡

And just as you wished, you both ended up growing up. However, as it happens with most things in life, there was a catch—you grew apart, too. No, it wasn’t an overnight thing—neither did you fight, nor woke up one day and decided you were sick of each other’s company (you could have never—you enjoyed being around him the most in the world). Your drifting apart happened gradually, favoured by a series of unfortunate events.

Soon after he pinkie promised to show you the world, he left your hometown and never came back. To say that you were devastated was an understatement. Having known each other since you were little kids, you developed a strong bond of sorts that, when he left, you felt like someone had ripped a part of your heart. Maybe it was indeed something like that because you were convinced that he took a part of you with him.

Your conversations over the phone didn’t do it—they didn’t fill up the void. And while you looked forward to them because hearing his voice was somewhat healing (you’d close your eyes and pretend he was next to you), the moment you hung up you were in tears again.

After a couple of months, those phone calls got more and more sporadic, until they stopped altogether. He had a hectic schedule; you had to worry about school grades and university applications. And that was it.

So, while when you were younger everything you knew about him came from his own mouth, now the only things you know are rumours you are told about a friend of a friend of a friend that allegedly encountered him by chance in a foreign street, kilometres away from home.

genre: fluff, fluff and more fluff

word count: 788

summary: hangyeom and a cappuccino, inspired by that vlog he posted recently

Seoul was everything I loved and more. Seoul, with its rich language and tall buildings, welcomed me when I needed it the most. Seoul was the home I embraced with all of my might, far away from home.

What I liked the most about Seoul were its coffee shops. No matter where you looked, there would always be a coffee shop with an empty spot that seemed to have your name written on it.

But today I was in trouble—Wi-Fi on campus wasn’t working and I had an essay due in fifteen minutes, so my first coherent thought was to shove the laptop inside my backpack and run my legs off to the nearest coffee shop.

Outside the campus, about two or three blocks away, there was this tiny, cosy coffee shop I utterly loved. I went there so often that you could say I was a regular. To be honest, it was convenient because it was the closest and quietest place around campus. However, today it was even more convenient than it would ever be.

I pushed the glass door and swiftly walked to the counter. The dependant, a petite woman in her mid-twenties, greeted me. “Hello! Welcome to One Day. What can I do for you?”

“Hello,” I said. My faux-leather wallet was already out. “May I get a cappuccino, please?”

“Sure!” She was way too cheerful for my stressed-out-self. Grabbing a disposable cup in one hand and a marker in the other, she asked, “What is your name?”

I told her my name and stretched my arm out to her, the exact amount of won in my hand. She was taken aback for a second —the confusion written across her face gave her away—, but composed herself quickly. “Thank you!”

When she called my name and I finally was able to grab my cup with the hot beverage inside, I felt such a relief that was almost pathetic. However, my relief didn’t last much. It was a matter of two or three seconds, really—it vanished as soon as I turned around and found out that every table was taken. That scenario wasn’t the usual, actually, which was weird considering that One Day was the closest coffee shop to the university (and we all know how much university students crave for a good coffee after pulling all-nighters).

I saw a boy around my age sitting alone at one of the tables next to the window. The afternoon sun on the right side of his face, making both his red-coloured hair and his pastel-blue sweater seem lighter than they were.

He caught my eyes almost instantly. I must have looked really desperate (or he must have been like the guardian angel I so needed in that moment of despair) because he gestured for me to take the empty spot in front of him.

“Thank you so much,” I practically cried when I reached the table. He scooted his black scarf away, closer to him, so as to make room for me and my cup. I instantly placed my notebook on the table and pressed the power button.

“No problem,” he answered. As I tried to connect the computer to the café’s wireless connection, I let myself look at him for a brief moment. He was smiling brightly at me. I reciprocated the gesture because it was somehow contagious (and maybe —just maybe— because I found his smile very cute).

A couple of minutes had passed with me being too invested in carrying out a quick last-minute scan over my precious text (oh, damn—was that a typo?!), when the cute guardian-angel-on-Earth checked his phone and his expression got stern. He got on his feet, put on his coat (winter was pretty crude these days) and muttered a polite “goodbye” to me.

I gave my farewell, too, and added before he left: “thank you for letting me sit here.”

“It was nothing, really.” After that, he was gone.

One minute later —two minutes before the clock marked 5 in the afternoon, two minutes before I missed the deadline—, I pressed the send button of my e-mail and shut down the computer, feeling free to enjoy my cappuccino, beverage which was well deserved.

I was setting my laptop aside when I saw a black scarf left forgotten. That poor (and lovely) guy must have left it there when he left. I took it in my hands, the thought of not being able to give it back and —somehow— return the favour making me feel sad. But then, something caught my attention. In his cup, something was written beside his name—which, by the way, was Hangyeom, if you were wondering—.

genre: fluff

word count: 351

summary: It was very, very cold when Jimin and you met.

A/N: well, it’s pretty short, actually. Wow. I’m sorry, though.

If you catch any grammar/whatever mistake, please let me know! ♥

[if you know who took the picture, please tell me so I can credit her/him (because I can’t read the watermark properly!)]

Even after all those months living in the heart of Seoul, it still amazed y/n to be able to look at the Asian metropolis, standing in front of Han River. To say that it was something she believed to be impossible was an understatement. The bite in her lower lip was slowly getting stronger as if some sort of pain was needed to take the veracity of her current situation into account. Unless, then, it’d still be a daydream. “Hey, everything alright?” a voice asked behind her back. As y/n turned round, she couldn’t help but think that she’d have freaked out at the guy’s looks, hadn’t she known beforehand it was Jimin—he was wearing a cap and a mouth mask, which made impossible to get a peak of his handsome face. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just doing some thinking.” “A penny for your thoughts.” The briefest of the smiles crossed her face but she was quick to turn again, not to let Jimin see her. She was facing Seoul again. “It’s still somewhat weird, you know? Living here… Well, being here, actually. This is a thing I wouldn’t have the nerve to imagine back in y/c*.” A sigh followed her statement. It was true, though: back then, South Korea was more of a dream, than a thing that could be achieved. “You… This…” It was difficult to put her mind into words. “It’s weird that you are here with me.” “Yah, y/n-ssi.” “Don’t y/n-ssi me, Park Jimin.” Jimin’s hand flew to embrace her from behind, his head resting on the crook of her neck. His breath was warm against her skin and it was pretty much well appreciated since it was almost freezing. The girl placed her hand on one of Jimin’s arms. “This is seriously unbelievable,” she went on. “You’ll get accustomed to it as time passes by.” “Do you really think so? So far, it doesn’t seem like it.” “You will. I promise.” “I hope you’re right. Because it still feels so damn amazing and I don’t want to ruin everything with all my stupid insecurities.”