cold coffee | jumin han.

━━━━ chapter eight.

"Was it the public school girl?" V questioned, hands behind his head as the two of them exited the limousine. And since V had been drinking, Jumin decided to give him and Rika a lift to their respective places. Jumin turned to give his friend an indifferent shrug—before adding,

"Let me know when you reach home." His subtle concern caused a grin to perk over V's features, and he saluted in response.

"Aye Aye, Captain."

Thankfully when Jumin reached his father's residence, the building was empty. And just as he was about to rejoice, a shrill voice called, "Jumin! You're back."

Jumin froze in his place, eyes dead as they rose to meet the approaching figure. There stood his newest stepmother, a woman of opulent tastes, and a nose disposition. "Are you not even going to greet me, Jumin?" she complained, almost hurt. A hand reached out to touch his shoulder—slithering down his coat's jacket, unabashed.

"It's alright if you cannot call me mother, you know? You can just call me by my name if you'd like. But I'd like us to be friends." Her saccharine words echoed upon deaf ears, Jumin didn't move. It was as if his brain had commanded itself to switch off the moment she approached him.

"Why are you so hostile to me? Do you not like me?" her hand rose to his nape, and for a moment Jumin felt all those threads of silk threatening to bind themselves across his neck—choking him.

"I-I have some urgent matter to look into, excuse me." He drawled out, stepping away as soon as he found his speech and farther as he could from the woman. He didn't turn back to look at the disappointed—slightly vexed look on her painted features. No, he didn't need to.

It was only until he had found himself within the confines of his room that he released a breath he had no idea he'd been holding. Lips pursed, he opened the first three buttons of his shirt, tossing away the coat jacket right next to himself as he plopped himself on the bed as well.

His hand rose up to his vision, before pulling the jacket next to him closer to his face to take a sniff. The overwhelming scent of her perfume still lingering on the parts where she'd run her hands on. Disgusted, he threw the jacket on the floor.

Rising from his position, Jumin flung his legs over one side of the bed, picking up the leather-bound diary that was placed on the bedside table; hands flipped through pages to the one specific section he'd bookmarked ages ago—the neat writing of a fifteen-year-old having scribbled such praise about a girl he'd met only once not failing to bring a smile on his face.

'She had promised me we'd meet one day in future. Although it sounds very unlikely, I hope we do. I'll tell her about the curses that I'd now learned well, thanks to V's friends.' He had written. The sentence made him snigger to himself; I don't think you'd like me if we met now—he mused.

"Tsk, what a disappointment." He murmured to himself, before heading into the shower.

"YOU WROTE A DIARY? That's cute." On their way back to Ophelia's place, she commented at the revelation. Jumin raised an eyebrow, countering back almost playfully,

"Why? Is that so surprising?" Ophelia shook her head, her head tilting lazily towards him.

"I just didn't take you for the type who'd keep a diary is all." Her words made him laugh, a low chuckle that made Ophelia all too aware of the small distance between them in the backseat of the limo and made her—for but a moment—forget that Jumin's driver was driving right in the front seat.

Don't the limousines have a partition glass which separates the backseat compound from the front seats?—she questioned herself, before shaking her head. Snap out of it, Chan.

"What are you thinking?" as if reading her mind, Jumin asked instantly. Ophelia laughed, pushing back a strand of hair that'd managed to escape her braid behind her ear awkwardly.

"I don't think you'd like to know." Her reply was casual, but the hint of suggestion made Jumin raise his eyebrows—before he laughed again, louder this time.

"You're quite the elusive one, aren't you?" he remarked, making Ophelia raise her hands in surrender, as if defensively.

"Nope, I'm not a noir movie femme fatale. Just a girl trying to preserve her dignity in front of a colleague—and a client."

"So it was something improper," Jumin added. Ophelia shook her head, her big dark eyes innocent as she lied through her teeth.

"Not at all, in fact, I was just thinking how wrong I got you in the first meeting," seeing his amused brow rise, she added. "I took you for the type of guy who bullies others who write their emotions down on a diary."

A scoff followed in response, added with mock disappointment present in words, "Here I thought Ms Chan would perceive me differently than most," Jumin clipped back. Ophelia gave him an exaggerated, sad pout. And he couldn't help but tap her nose, "Apology accepted."

"Tell me," Ophelia then replied. "Why did you stop writing a diary? You said you stopped right as you reached college, any specific reason?"

At her question, Jumin exhaled, pausing as if to ponder. "After a certain point, I realised writing things down doesn't change them. And everything got so repetitive, it was practically a blur in my mind. So you can say I didn't really have anything special to write about."

Ophelia stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. And a few seconds later, her gaze stirred away outside the window without a response. Jumin followed suit, averting his eyes.

It was then he felt a brush of warm, soft fingers on his hand. The touch was so obviously hers, that he didn't question it. And in turn, he wrapped his own hand around hers, letting it lazily entangle with her own as her thumb gently ran inscrutable patterns over his knuckles.

They stopped a few blocks away from Ophelia's home. She insisted she prefers walking to her place. And Jumin being himself, offered to walk her home.

"I'll be fine, don't worry." She replied with the sweetest smile. And Jumin couldn't bring it in himself to push any further. He sighed, before nodding.

"Text me when you reach home, okay?" That was right. He shouldn't be too greedy. Appreciate what you've got—his mind reminded himself—and don't ruin it for the sake of more.

After all, after a long long time, he now had something to write in his diary about.

HELLO HELLO ! a quick update because i was thinking of juminxophelia again and feeling single af 🌚