Their hands met, reaching for the same book. One hand, faint and cold, with a persistent desire to touch what he left behind. The echoing chatters tune into silence, as Taehyung leaves his empty fingerprints along the spine, overwhelming emotions surge while he pretends Jimin's hands were his, recalling the texture of leather as if it was now. Thin dents he once carved with his blunt pencil, overlaying the strokes just to write down a name on his journal; Thick impermeable leather against his soft fingertips; the dusty, leafy scent and all the tea stains he'd spill.
He can no longer feel them.
--
Jimin loves going to the library. The warmth the oak pillars would share, royalty emanating the spacious, castle-like book holder. There was always this certain euphoric rush flowing whenever he recollects the shuffle of pages or the aroma of freshly grounded coffee. He was always here, only for the familiar somber warmth, and not the inked vivid stories.
Today, he steps in for a temporary end to the undying loneliness, but instead, poignant silence engulfed him, the sadness with no name now weighs heavy in his hands, as he felt a magnetic pull to the shelves of books he never touched.
It was until his fingertips sparked through a nameless journal, diary. Mahogany leather, just like a lost loved one. For five minutes, he had been caressing the spine, the soft carvings almost printed on his fingers. For minutes he seemed to be possessed, the name he never heard off slipping out,
"Jeonggukie."
YOU ARE READING
Flash Fiction #5 Their Hands Met
FanficA prompt was given out three weeks ago and these writers took it upon themselves to write max. 1000 words to blow us away. The stories were collected, made anonymous and then voted on. Everyone had three votes. This is the result of that. Enjoy!
