A Daffodil's Echo | KNJ

chapter 1

chapter one

Kim Namjoon had started his day off feeling annoyed.

Every writer dreams about being published, and Namjoon was no different than everyone. -at least in this very matter- Even though he'd already been published before, his second novel was a piece of work that felt closer to his heart than the last one did. He finally got himself to experiment on genres that felt too distant and non-accessible. Through trial and error, like most things in life, Namjoon felt like he finally got it right. This rainy Friday was the day he would finally hand the draft over to his publisher.

The concept of this particular daydream of his consisted of two people standing opposite each other, one shaking the other's shoulders and one bowing down, getting overwhelmed by the abundance of compliments and excessive praise. The one getting the praise was, of course, non-other than Namjoon.

Yes, he wanted the draft to be spotless -and who wouldn't? But most of all, he needed someone to be proud of him for his talent. To appreciate his way with words and majesty in storytelling. So, he kept manifesting the scene.

The heroic, ending of some coming of age movie-like moment, didn't seem to be happening as of now, seeing the fact that Namjoon was:
1. Dripping in water
2. Being stared at by a waitress working at a cafe

From what Namjoon could recall, the girl was very polite to him and assured him that staying at the cafe during such heavy rainfall would be the safest option. She was, in fact, weirdly shy around him, but he didn't mind; he wasn't there to make friends, but to warm himself up with a cup of tea. It was only when she landed her eyes on the draft sitting on his lap that she cursed dumbfoundedly, and sent her gaze up to his face; her shocked/weirded-out glare made him feel uncomfortable. Way more than his squeaky, wet shoes did.

"Is something wrong?" The boy asked, looking down at this lap. Did I leave my house with my pants unzipped? He took a quick guilty look and quickly looked back up. Okay, I didn't.

"I- I um...left the fridge door open downstairs- oops, haha. I'll leave you to enjoy your tea now!". She scratched the back of her head, and weirdly swayed the tray, before bringing it close to her chest, embracing it tightly and walking away, leaving Namjoon without waiting for an answer.

Nyoko hurried back downstairs, even though the thing he'd just said to Namjoon about the fridge door being open, was a big fat lie. She just couldn't bring herself to admit what had caused her sudden blackout.

The truth was that Nyoko knew Namjoon.

Well, not knew, knew but he knew his work. Meaning, she knew he wrote things. And loved all of it. She just didn't expect him to come into this specific cafe, during this specific time.

Nyoko spent a lot of her spare time reading books, poetry, and all things literati. She started reading for stress relief; her therapist never stopped talking to her about how much it'd help with anxiety, and her mom would always ramble about how she'd rather be reading something than watching 'the crap they play on TV'. But steadily, reading became an unwritten part of a daily routine, an activity that happened naturally, yet took an unnatural amount of her time. A time she found fortitude in.

Plopping herself down on the old couch, she sighed and stared blankly at the wall in front of her. What a weird thing to happen to me today.

Although Nyoko followed Namjoon's work and admired his way of writing and storytelling, she had never seen his face. After all that time, a photo of him never made it to the back of some book or in the ending of an article. Even if it did, she mustn't have paid attention.