#linen.

he only started to get moving the moment he saw the clock hands nearing the closing time, the couple of short messages shared with jooyi where he was updated about her sudden stop by the store flashing in his mind. the norm was for him to be a man of a few words ─ that, unfortunately, didn’t change much through texts. jungho promptly fixed the hoodie hanging loose on his head, left the change for the two cups of ramen he grabbed behind the counter and swiftly started to prepare them, the shop’s gate low enough for any potential clients to get the memo. overall, he was pretty proficient at everything he did at least twice, getting the hang of things rather quickly, and you see, when you live off instant ramen, you’re prone to become a genius at it and do some magic with whatever you get your hands on.

nonetheless, that isn’t too relevant, not while his hands were cupping the head of one of the siamese cats, gently rocking their head from side to side as his digits toyed with the soft ears. there was a hint of a smile and a pout simultaneously resting on his lips, eyes fond of adoration as they were fixed on the petite animal. “these weren’t here when i came last time, are they new?” master of obvious questions with easy answers, mr. im jungho, everyone.

it was the familiar silhouette what made him slow down. ─ well, familiar, but to the eye and nothing more than that, for the person was a stranger, in lack of a better, stronger word to remark the literal non-existent exchange of words. they were someone jungho was accostumed to get a glimpse of some days, usually with some kind of notebook on their hand. he wasn’t the most talktative person, but observant? curious? he’s a candidate to get the #1 place in those categories. the silence surrounding him not quite the same in his head, always thinking, always connecting dots, working, reminiscing, trying to forget, trying to mirror the quietness of his voice. and well, by the time he realized what he had done ─or rather, where he had walked to─ it was, how do you say it... too late to attempt making an excuse after letting your dumb brain work on autopilot, that is. so he was standing there, in front of an stranger, in an awkward situation with a hint of discomfort and anxiety splattered accross his own visage. he cleared his throat, joints grasping the plastic still held in between incisors ─ he was mortified enough, he didn’t need to drop it while talking, or worse, choke on it. “uh─” jungho, sweetie, you’re doing amazing. “are you a painter?” piece of cake with a cherry on top, nailed it, genius.

it was an unfortunate situation but a funny sight: his visage was painted with long strokes of despair, confusion and “i just want to go home” tints, his body feeling too hot for the black parka he was wearing over his dark grey hoodie, and thus, feeding into the desperation, yet too aware of the frosty weather around him to even tempt his luck. rent and bills are meant to be paid soon, he’s not going to drag his sick, zombie looking ass to work to pay them. he forced himself to stop the rapid motion of his legs, hands automatically falling to rest on his knees, body crunching down. if his lungs don’t explode right there he swore to smack his chest with the thickest brick he could find. with heavy breathing and white smoke coming out of his mouth with every exhale, he looked up slightly, expression distorted, one eye slightly closed, with his arm flapping in a weak, sad attempt to catch the attention of the bystander walking past him. “h─ hey─” a rough but light cough broke past his lips. “have you─ have you seen a dog running alone around here? they’re white, a jindo maybe? with a black leash...”