~1st of September 2016~
People were never what they seemed to be. At last most of the time, Hoseok thought.
"Wait, you actually drink black coffee? With like zero sugar and without any milk at all?"
The question still radiated trough Hoseok's mind like it's been yesterday not years ago. He only wished he could smile at the memory.
The thing was, Hoseok wasn't a person who looked like he likes to drink dark coffee. He never thought about it, but that question made him wander in his head about it. Hoseok was on a first impression simply soft. Cheerful, friendly and easily scared- all the adjectives that could easily be replaced with soft.
But he still liked black, bitter coffee. He still liked the rain pouring down the windows creating a lonely yet warm feeling that filled him. He liked soft, but cold wind breeze. All those things, things that were cold yet so beautiful, those were the things he loved the most since he remembered.
Dark, but beautiful.
Just like Yoongi.
He woke up to annoying noise that turned out to be loud knocking on the windows of his library.
"Shit", he muttered to himself, still half sleeping while picking up luckily not-yet broken glasses that were pressed between his cheek and notebook for the past hours. He stumbled to the door and opened to the knocking costumer.
"8am… I guess I was right to go check on you before going to work", smiled Namjoon. "Thank God you did… if I would wake up at 11am again I would be pissed off with myself for the whole day", replied still half sleeping Hoseok.
"Been writing whole night again, huh? Typical Hoseok. And oh, I brought you some coffee." "Uh, thanks Namjoon-ah." "Really, I would probably dead without him by now", Hoseok thought. "And yeah, I've been writing. I nearly fell asleep but then I suddenly got a idea…however when I wanted to write it down I couldn't remember anymore…"
Namjoon rolled his eyes. "I hope you find that verse of yours. Maybe it would be easier if you would sleep a little more than two hours per day, I think." "You don't understand Namjoon-ah", said Hoseok, partly because it was true and partly just because he liked to annoy his smart-ass friend. "Whatever Hoseok. I gotta go to do some real work. See you, maybe after I finish?"
Hoseok just smiled, he had no need to reply to rhetorical questions (as he once told Namjoon, to annoy him, of course).
As his friend left, his smile faded from his face. 'It was kind of funny', he thought to himself. Like a reflex he always gave his friends a smile before they parted ways. But as they turned away his smile left like it would be just a lonesome dandelion in the wind. It felt like his happiness that lasted as long as his friends were with him poured down his lips over his face and disappeared somewhere along with the speed of his thoughts. Somehow, Hoseok felt like he was lying at those moments. Still, he wasn't sure if the guilt came from lying to himself or to others.
"Or both", his mind reminded him.
He shook his (sometimes annoyingly thoughtful) head and put his glasses on the table in the center of the antique. He quickly pushed his messed light brown hair from his eyes and went checking the books.
Hoseok's family had a book antique. That's what they were like, a family who practically lived for literature. Both of his parents studied it and his mother was a professor at university. His father never got a job, but he had a fortune to come from pretty wealthy family. That's how Hoseok lived in the Hope's book antique since he remembered, surrounded by books.
Actually there was a really low chance that he wouldn't turn out to be a literature lover himself, wasn't it? According to his mother, at the age of five, Hoseok was already reading as an average ten year old(even tho he knew she was a bit overly proud), but he never got along with Maths.
He learned not to mind that fact. He knew he was better at other things, things people never learned to notice, because they weren't visible on the first sight.
Hoseok sighed while running his fingers over books on a dark shelve in the corner of the library. He liked the books, not only for their stories. He liked them for their wood-like smell, the bittersweet smell of memories. He liked the antique too, not only because it was his home. He felt safe in the embrace of silence of so many stories waiting to be read, waiting to be understood.
He was a lot like book himself, actually.
"Stop this you idiot" he thought to himself. And just as he nearly started internal monologue about how pathetic it is to laugh at your own stupidity, he heard ringing of the door bell. There was sound of the opening doors and quiet steps entering into the library. Hoseok, hurried to the costumer, nearly tripping over a book. He didn't have time to mind that or pick it up, he was just happy that he actually had costumers.
It turned out to be a young man around his age, maybe a bit younger. He had a slim figure that somehow made him look delicate, but he was still annoyingly cute with his soft cheeks and blondish hair.
"Hello", Hoseok smiled widely at them. "How can I help you?"
"Well… It's probably a stupid question", the blonde began, "but I was wandering where is the, hm, Arts Academy? I'm new to Seoul and I kind, uh…got lost I guess?"
"Oh, you are lucky that you are looking for the only academy I knew a way to", Hoseok smile grew even wider. "Go straight down the street and when you reach the end turn left. Go forward and you will see a sign that will direct you there. It's actually not that far away. Once you'll find the sign I'm sure you won't get lost again."
Hoseok wasn't quite sure how did all those words even left his mouth. He was actually impressed that he did not start blabbing nonsense, because all he actually had in his mind was the freaking cute eye smile the boy had.
"Uh…Thank you", the blonde said in a warm tone. "Sorry for bothering you at your work... I guess I'll have to come over as a real costumer next time!"
"Make sure you do", Hoseok replied kindly while hardly resisting winking at the cute guy.
And just like his 'costumer' came out of nowhere he was at once, all gone.
All that was left was warm wind that silently entered the library trough slowly closing glassy doors.
Hoseok wandered who the boy was. Arts Academy had wide options for artists of all kinds. The boy could be a painter, a poet, a dancer or… a writer.
Something in Hoseok hoped it wasn't the last.
His heart was selfish and he couldn't do anything about it. People always said to him that everything passes and you get over sad memories. They said, one day it won't matter anymore.
But how to get over happy memories? Hoesok didn't know. All he knew was that they still mattered, at last to him.