I Hear You { Lee Jeno Fanfic }

Chapter 1

Jeno walked under the canopy of trees that were just beginning to change from green to a vibrant red. A few leaves had already fallen and were crunching under his feet with each step. The night air was pleasantly cool, with only a hoodie required. It wasn't quite puffer coat season yet. This was Jeno's favorite time of year. There was a magic about fall that never ceased to inspire awe in him.

Across the street from the park was a cozy-looking café. Jeno rubbed his thin hands together. "Perhaps a hot coffee would not go amiss," he thought, as he looked through the windows of the café to see happy customers with faces illuminated by the soft lighting. As he opened the door, a bell rang, signaling his arrival.

A foreign girl with short brown hair stood at the counter. Her hazel eyes betrayed that she was not a native Korean, however, Jeno couldn't quite place where she might be from. As he approached the counter, she looked up and smiled.

"Annyeonghaseyo," she said with perfect pronunciation. Now Jeno was even more confused. She sounded like a native Korean despite not looking like one.

He ordered a hot Americano, and the tan-skinned girl nodded and began to prepare it. She handed it to him silently. He paid and sat down at a nearby table where he still had a view of the gorgeous stranger. He pretended to be focused on his drink, but his eyes continued to stray in her direction. Her graceful movements held his attention until his view was blocked by two young girls standing before him, giggling and slapping each other playfully.

"Are you Jeno from NCT Dream?" they asked, already knowing the answer.

"Ne," he responded.

The shorter of the two held out a notebook, opened to a clean page. "Would you sign this for us?" she asked amid nervous giggles.

"Certainly," said Jeno, despite the fact that he would have preferred to be left alone. Keeping the NCTzens happy was part of his job. He just hoped the girls would move on and resist the urge to post his whereabouts on social media. The last thing he needed was a horde of adoring fans crushing in on him when he wanted to have a quiet cup of coffee.

When the girls left, Jeno saw that a different barista had emerged from the backroom of the shop. His muse was removing her brown apron and folding it neatly, tucking it under the counter. Jeno looked at his Cartier watch and saw that it was 8:00. It seemed like an odd time for a shift change, but perhaps the object of his keen interest had asked off the rest of the night. He shrugged dejectedly. "Well, it is what it is, I guess," he thought, taking another sip of hot coffee.

But much to Jeno's surprise, the girl did not leave the shop, but rather picked up a guitar that was sitting in the corner and walked to a microphone that was set up on a tiny stage, barely big enough for one person. The girl scanned the crowd and cleared her throat near the mic, hoping to quiet the lively customers.

"Annyeonghaseyo, jeoneun Alma-ibnida," she said into the mic. The buzz of the packed coffee house continued almost as strongly as before. It was then that she struck a powerful chord that reverberated through the space. Finally, she had their attention.

Alma started out with a classic --- "Landslide". Jeno was impressed by her low range and the resonance of her voice in the packed café. Her next selection was a bit of a surprise, she went with the Dolly Parton version of "I Will Always Love You." Her third selection was even more of a surprise. She did a perfect rendition of "Despacito", complete with the required hip undulations. It was impressive that she could sing, play, and swing her hips all at once. But now, Jeno was even more puzzled by her background. One thing he knew was that her Spanish sounded impeccable. Jeno didn't really speak Spanish, but he knew enough to know when it sounded right. The fourth selection confused the issue further as she sang the Mandarin version of Coldplay's "Yellow."

"OK, I have to meet this girl," Jeno vowed internally. When her set ended, he waited until the customers returned to their coffee and animated conversation. Once the attention was off Alma it would be safe for him to approach her without drawing attention to himself.

On his way to the tiny stage, Jeno swiped a pen and a napkin from the counter. He handed them to Alma and said, "I feel like I need to get your autograph before you make it big."

Alma laughed good-naturedly and scrawled her name on the brown recycled paper napkin.

"Could you add your phone number to the bottom?" Jeno asked with a wink of his right eye.

When Alma hesitated, he said, "The autograph is for posterity, but the number is for me." He flashed her a winning smile. Alma held the pen poised over the napkin, deliberating about giving out her number.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" Jeno asked without a hint of grandstanding.

"Oh, no, I do. I know who you are," Alma replied. "That's the reason for my hesitance. I'm kind of wondering why someone in your position would be asking for my number. And forgive me if I can't seem to come up with a reason that doesn't seem self-serving and sketchy."

"Mm, well, that's fair," Jeno replied. "Don't worry about the number. I'll give you mine instead." He took the napkin and ripped off the bottom half and wrote his number on it, handing it back to Alma. She looked at it perplexed but said nothing. Folding it carefully, she tucked it into the pocket of her black pants.

Not knowing what else to say, Jeno tapped her on the arm and said, "Text me, OK?"

Alma gave a non-committal, "Mm," and packed her guitar into the soft-sided case.

"So, I was wondering about your background. You don't seem to be from around here," he prompted.

Alma didn't take the bait but merely smiled in response. She zipped up her case.

"So, where are you from originally," Jeno asked, noting that his initial indirect attempt had failed. "I'd really like to know," he added.

Alma smiled again like a sphinx and answered back, "I bet you would."

"You're not going to tell me where you're from?" Jeno marveled aloud.

"You're really not used to not getting what you want, are you?" Alma teased, flipping her shoulder-length hair that curled up naturally at the bottom.

Jeno looked perplexed. She didn't seem hostile, but there was a definite boundary that she was setting up between them. He wasn't sure why. Women didn't typically do this to him. Her barb had stung a bit, if he were to be honest. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted but hearing her say it was not something he enjoyed.

"So, we're being mysterious tonight?" he questioned, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Not at all," Alma replied breezily. "I just think that relationships of any kind start with mutual sharing. It sounds to me like you want to know about me without revealing anything about yourself."

"Why would I need to reveal anything?" Jeno asked. "Everything about me is online for the world to see."

Alma shook her head back and forth. "No, your favorite color and your astrological sign are online --- stuff like that. But none of that is true sharing. Nothing online will tell me what kind of man you are," she added astutely.

"I guess not," Jeno conceded. "So, what do I have to do to get to know you?" he asked, hoping she wasn't going to ask him to go on a knight's quest to gain her attentions.

"Well, my grandpa used to say, 'If you want someone to want something, build a fence around it.' I find that building a fence around myself makes people choose how much they really want to know me." She gathered her music off the stand and shoved it into a worn folder. I don't build concrete walls. I just build fences. And fences have gates," she added. "I'm the gatekeeper of my own destiny. I decide who enters my gate and when."

Jeno chuckled softly. "OK, well, at least tell me when you are playing again," he requested.

"Mm. I don't know," Alma said mysteriously. "Maybe you should look it up online," she quipped as she swung around, barely missing Jeno with her guitar.