You're walking down the dimly lit street, one you've walked down countless times before. Your scuffed, black boots, the ones he always said looked best on you, crunch some leaves that scatter the footpath, and you stop for a moment. You wonder how it's already autumn, how the leaves are already turning brown. You feel the cool breeze whip your hair over your eyes and you realise how the seasons have indeed changed. Has it really been that long? You ask yourself, as you try to brush your messy hair off of your face.
It's then, you realise, you haven't been here in almost a year. The last time you were here, you got coffee at the small cafe across the street, where you used to spend countless hours and too much money.
The nostalgia wisps over you just as swiftly as the cool breeze blows through the trees. You’re reminded of a younger version of yourself, a carefree, happier you. You remember how you always used to order a caramel latte.
He would always get a long black.
In fact, it may even be the place you met him, you think.
Yes it was here, during university mid-terms, and you ended up sharing study notes for a class you both shared.
Did you even like him back then?
You feel stupid for forgetting, and you feel sad at the thought of how many lattes you could have bought if you cared to visit more often.
You feel like, maybe, you should buy one. For old times sake.
After all, you haven't had one for a while.
You go inside, you order, and the barista says hello.
It’s still the same lady who worked there all that time ago. She gives you a familiar grin, and says she hasn't seen you in a while. You nod, saying you've been busy, but nothing else. She asks you where he is, and if it's just the latte, and if also you want a large long black to go. After all, it was your usual order.
You smile, even though your throat feels dry and your heart aches for a brief second. You say you haven't seen him in a while, and that "it'll just be the latte today, thanks."
She smiles sadly, and says it's a shame, as she brews the bitter coffee and mixes it with the caramel syrup.
As she prepares the drink, your mind can’t help but wonder where he is now.
Does he still come here? Does he still order the same thing?
Is his hair still dyed? Or did he let it grow out like he had planned?
Did he still tell silly dad jokes? Did his eyes still turn into happy half crescents when he smiled?
And when he laughed, did he still laugh with his whole body? Did he laugh loudly, with his full, white, toothy grin on display?
You missed his laugh a lot, but you could still remember it, as if it was etched into your brain.
“Order for Kyungsoo” the barista calls out your name, breaking you from your thoughts. She didn’t even have to ask for it, you realise.
You say a short thank you, and take the beverage, taking a small sip as you leave the store, the familiar hot liquid running down your throat and warming your chest.
It feels like it was only yesterday you were sitting across from him, drinking the same beverage. You sigh as you realise just how long it's been.
And maybe, you think, you always will. No matter how much time goes by
You take another sip, and the drink tastes like it always does;
like the memories of better times;
Just a lil short story I wrote about kaisoo: kyungsoo reflects on his past with jongin.
gummygunk
kianamaiart
