"Silence is the loudest sound there is"
Started: 10/29/17
Completed: - -/ - - / - -
Thank you for reading my story! Enjoy☆彡
Warning: This book contains possible triggers for
•Panic Attacks
•Depression
•Running Away From Home
•Violence
•Alcohol Use
...
WARNING: This chapter will include mentions of degradation and a panic attack. Read at your own risk.
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Namjoon's POV
7:15 am 12:40 pm 9:00pm 12:00 am
These are the times I text Seokjin. Since he gave me his number, we haven't missed a day to chat. Having a schedule to text each other felt sweet and almost childish.
That's what made me love it the most.
During the week, we keep our messages brief, but entirely sentimental. On the weekends, we text for hours at a time, Seokjin commenting how dumb my memes are, even though I know he must love them as much as I do.
However, Seokjin never fails to surprise me. His emotions are hard for me to catch, and our attitudes are like a game of cat and mouse. There are moments when I send cute messages to brighten his work day and he leaves me on seen, without a response.
But there are moments when he reciprocates his feelings, when he lets himself become a blushing mess and that familiar and mischievous look of playfulness fill his eyes.
Like now, to be exact.
Seokjin's eyes filled with that same look as I capped his morning coffee, our gazes locked. I caught a glimpse of his eyebrow wiggling slightly, quiet laughter churning in my throat..
'He's feeling cute today, I guess.'
"K.S.J.?" I inquired, my eyes bouncing around the café in search of the owner, as if I could ever forget who it was. Wearing a white bubble coat, a burgundy scarf displayed over his russet-colored blouse, he carefully made his way over. A sly smile hung on my lips, my eyes never failing to succumb to the slight sway of his hips.
His hands grazed the edge of the counter, fingers in close proximity to mine, but not close enough to engage contact. He cocked his head to the side, a smirk cracking as he heard my breath hitch when our fingers finally touched as I exchanged his coffee. He pushed off the counter softly, holding the top of the travel cup with his left hand.
Balancing the cup in his hand between his thumb, index, middle, and ring finger, he used his right hand to turn the cup in search of today's scribbles. I liked to write messages on his cups in the hopes of brightening up his day.
Why shouldn't you fall in love with a pastry chef?
He might dessert you ;)
- Your favorite Barista (or at least hoping to be) ♡
And it must've worked because as his eyes glazed over it, a snort left his lips, his face flushing as the noise took flight. He's probably one of the people that finds my jokes comical, and it feels good to know they actually make him happy.
