serendipity ∙ jjk

two - warm (un)welcomes.

Today is an unbearably muggy day, where the sun does little to warm the Earth below while there are wisps of clouds somehow filtering the heat to an extreme unpleasantry. It is also on this very day that you find yourself in a heap of misfortunes.

An autumn breeze grazes the vicinity, earning a slight rise of gooseflesh across your exposed forearms and the upper-half of your chest where the aroma of chilled coffee is the strongest. It rolls the half-filled cup on the ground, with its contents running fast onto the dirtied sidewalk and joining the ground-in, blackened old pieces of gum and the bits of someone's forgotten croissant that the hungry pigeons flying overhead have been eying for a while now. The angry man's shoe—correction: boot—stops the plastic from running too far ahead. They're a pair of black boots kept neat with its matching black laces done, and unfortunately, another article of clothing made into a casualty.

You don't think twice when the apology leaves your lips, only finding the three words ("I'm so sorry") to roll off your tongue as naturally as a "hello" to a friend. But like the crashing cup, he only seems to watch it fall out without so much as blinking twice, actually looking even more irritated than before your coffee became a stain on his pant legs.

"I can even buy you a new coffee...?"

It is only customary that you offer to soothe the wound, genuinely feeling guilty for someone else's mistake. After all, you didn't push yourself over into this somewhat decent stranger, though that opinion is only slightly beginning to wane as he opens his mouth.

"Unbelievable," he says loudly. There's a hint of indifference, but mostly irritation riddled across his features and coating his words. You can't even comprehend why he would find this that upsetting considering it really is only a stain (and barely even that) on his shoes. "Are you blind? Next time watch where you're going—"

You interject, "but it was an accident. You see that guy over there rammed into me. And, okay. Sure. I probably should've seen him coming, but it's a Monday morning at 8 AM, like seriously! I am sorry."

He heaves another sigh, sarcasm drenching his words enough for you to feel the sting as mild as it can get from a stranger, of course, "—I get it. Airheads like yourself might think that sitting around in La La Land's gonna land you another savior, but I don't care. I seriously hope you're as good at writing for the paper or whatever you're doing because you're kinda crap at this assistant thing you've got going on."

Without a moment's notice, your eyebrows twitch at the temptation of furrowing if not for the fact that he looked just about as harmless as a temperamental bunny. The beverage holders in your hand feel heavier than before, prompting you to switch them to your other hand to alleviate the lack of blood flow. You really look at him then.

The guy is dressed to the nines with dark washed jeans, a crisp white button-down, and a long dark coat to top off the entire look. What casualizes the attire is the simple black beanie that effectively tucks away the dark brunet flyaways all too common in this weather. He's a good build too, seems lean. It strikes you that he really is handsome. Unbearably so. It would be unnerving if he didn't look so pissed, but the deep crease between his eyebrows mars his smooth-looking, tan skin alongside the unforgettable greyish splotches beneath his eyes. His doe-like eyes most notably round at first glance are narrowed in your direction too, with hints of red that are a clear telltale sign of a college student's worst foe on any Monday.

But the realization does nothing to erase your irritation, because who the fuck does this guy think he is anyway? Cute Coffee Shop Guy or not, who knew he was actually a Coffee Shop Jerk?

Your mouth seems to run quicker than your brain as you respond curtly, "Listen, I don't know who pushed you out of bed this morning, but sporting a hangover from whatever the fuck assholes like you like to do on your weekends doesn't mean you need to be so rude. I said I was sorry. Even offered to buy you a new coffee."

He blinks, almost losing his entire resolve when he finds you now unrelenting in this impromptu glare down. It's probably the first time Jungkook has ever experienced such an exchange, and while you might feel bad for being so harsh on someone sporting a hangover on a Monday morning, you have little tolerance for insensitivity nonetheless.

"Easy for you to say. I'm sure you have nowhere important to go besides class." He points to his shoes. His argument is weak, but he still wants to scourge up some of his pride. "Look at that! They're wet!"

"Well, duh? What, you don't?" you exaggerate a gasp as your irritation only continues to bubble, even going as far as putting your hand on your chest. "Luckily for you, the worst of the spray zone hit me so quit bitching about your shoes. They'll dry."

He scoffs, "I'll bitch about my damn shoes if I want to!"

"Well, have fun crying into the void! That's as much a fruitless endeavor as turning back time."

"Look, it isn't my fault you almost fucked up your job as a coffee runner. I'm sure whatever place you're interning for will live without another incompetent worker."

You guffaw at that, taking a step back despite the danger of getting ran over by other people. "Yeah, well, I'm sure whatever job place you're looking to get hired at won't give you the time of day for being a grade-A jerkface."

He doesn't say a word, rather clenching his jaw instead. Maybe you struck a nerve. If you weren't so worked up, then maybe you would feel a little bad. Maybe.

He doesn't even move as he stares you down and it makes you snap. "What? Still got nothing to say? Usually people say two words that are synonymous to an apology you know."

That snaps him out of his little stupor. It even makes him laugh. "Not to you, I don't. I think you spilling coffee on me was enough."

"Whatever, I offered to reimburse you so don't go bitching to your friends about how this was a hit-and-run."

"Fine by me."

"Fine."

Whatever guilt you feel for this man dissipates like the steam of the once hot drinks in your hand. Of course, you're not quite sure what bugs you the most—this man or the fact that today is the day you're supposed to ask Yeri for that favor. If you believed in omens and all that other shit that falls under the fate umbrella, then maybe you would say these were the bad ones.

Still, you wave him off with a fervent head shake. You don't care if this is a bad omen. Whether Coffee Shop Jerk is sporting a hangover or not doesn't mean he needs to be so rude over an accident. You really don't care about the kindness he showed you several weeks before anymore either. Even when you wracked your brain meticulously for an answer to your unasked question since meeting him, you unfortunately have an answer.

Mahogany for sure, you decide.