vagrant

it's midnight and kangjoon's stumbling out of bed for no good reason except he can't sleep and the sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore won’t allow him to fall back into dreams long forgotten. 

he should be used to this by now.

waking up in the middle of the night. hearing the way the water has such purpose when it rises and cascades onto the sand. it’s been ten years and he’s still not used to anything. but somehow, it’s peculiar comfort that he’s not too keen to break away from.

his mind is blank as he tugs his sweatshirt over his head. kangjoon’s leaving his room and letting his feet lead him outside to where the ocean’s breeze is ruffling his hair and sneaking in through the cracks of his clothes, chilling him to the bone.

he’s never been one for midnight walks. everything’s too dark and when the only sounds he hears is his own breathing mixed in with the rushing water, the feeling that spreads through him is an unsettling one that sends him sprinting back home.

tonight, however, he’s too restless to stand still so maybe that sprint would do some good to him.

and then he sees her near the water and he has to stop himself from turning around because people kind of make him nervous. but he keeps walking and he’s thinking aren’t you cold? are you lost; do you need me to escort you back to your hotel or something—

the moonlight illuminates her figure and her face and kangjoon recognizes her as that pretty bartender at that one bar. all the prior questions slip away when he’s finally within a few footsteps of her and there’s only one question that’s left. 

tonight's the night where he’ll finally be able to unwind from all the tourists and their complaints and what were they really expecting from stepping into a shady bookstore? he’d be the first to admit that the shop needed a makeover. 

but not really—because the shadiness gives the shop a certain je ne sais quoi.

with those french words still lingering in his mind, his fingers curl around his guitar case, lifting it up with an ease he’s learned to fake over the years. he shuffles over to the kitchen, grabbing the picnic basket full of crackers and chocolates and marshmallows with his other hand.

“am i missing anything that i need to carry out?” kangjoon glances around, giving the living space a once over before his gaze settles on his loft-mate. he’s probably forgetting a handful of things. he feels like he is.·