neon
neon
joy (red velvet), sungjae (btob)
gen. / 254 words
He meets her in Osaka, under neon lights, inside a tiny hole in the wall where he had taken refuge in from the rain. The owner, a slight old man, frowns with empathy as he hobbles in. He’d caught the worst of it. He flops into a chair producing a sad squelch, a puddle forms under his seat.
Moments later, she strides in in her dark green heels, seemingly unaffected by the torrents outside. She shrugs of her coat, sets her umbrella aside and takes the last remaining stool in the six-seater bar, beside him.
She orders, the Japanese rolling of her tongue with practiced ease. The joint sells hot ramen and he laughs in relief, it isn’t funny in the slightest but he needs to laugh at something. And once he starts he realises he can’t stop.
She turns to him with quirked eyebrows and he catches his breath.
“I’m sorry. I just… really like ramen,” he offers lamely. She was really pretty.
A small smile forms on her lips as she passes him a pair of chopsticks.
“Likewise.”
“But not as much as me.” He grins, he must look manic.
“I wish I shared your level of enthusiasm.” She says wistfully.
And then it dawns on him.
“You can understand me. I can understand you.”
“Took you long enough.”
A well of fondness rises in his chest. He had been in this foreign city for so long he finds a sweet solace in the language of his home.
“Sungjae,” he offers.
“Sooyoung.”
joy (red velvet), sungjae (btob)
gen. / 254 words
He meets her in Osaka, under neon lights, inside a tiny hole in the wall where he had taken refuge in from the rain. The owner, a slight old man, frowns with empathy as he hobbles in. He’d caught the worst of it. He flops into a chair producing a sad squelch, a puddle forms under his seat.
Moments later, she strides in in her dark green heels, seemingly unaffected by the torrents outside. She shrugs of her coat, sets her umbrella aside and takes the last remaining stool in the six-seater bar, beside him.
She orders, the Japanese rolling of her tongue with practiced ease. The joint sells hot ramen and he laughs in relief, it isn’t funny in the slightest but he needs to laugh at something. And once he starts he realises he can’t stop.
She turns to him with quirked eyebrows and he catches his breath.
“I’m sorry. I just… really like ramen,” he offers lamely. She was really pretty.
A small smile forms on her lips as she passes him a pair of chopsticks.
“Likewise.”
“But not as much as me.” He grins, he must look manic.
“I wish I shared your level of enthusiasm.” She says wistfully.
And then it dawns on him.
“You can understand me. I can understand you.”
“Took you long enough.”
A well of fondness rises in his chest. He had been in this foreign city for so long he finds a sweet solace in the language of his home.
“Sungjae,” he offers.
“Sooyoung.”