Stitches ➵ Meanie t.s

Prologue: 12:00 a.m

PROLOGUE: 12:00 AM

The last bit of daylight had retreated from Seoul hours ago, but minutes floated Mingyu by like small, insignificant seconds. He hadn't even realized that the last fragments of Friday had fled and evaporated into the early morning of Saturday. Perhaps he would have continued on obliviously for another thirty minutes, hour, maybe two, had the automatic timer on his watch not gone off as soon at the fluorescent digital numbers proceeded into 12:00 am. He'd been working vigorously at the café since 9:30 that morning covering for both him and his father. It'd been like that for a while now, a month or so, maybe. Seeing as how his father, well into his earlier forties, had undergone a sudden epiphany and declared he was returning to school to acquire his degree. And thus, Mingyu opted to take online courses so there'd still be at least one person around to hold down the business, despite it being small and, well, dwindling.

But really, there was no real juggling of the two activities. Mingyu usually ended up selling some elderly lady who usually smelt strongly of some sort of flower a sesame bagel with lots of cream cheese or some middle aged, immaculately dressed women a cup of coffee when he should be studying. He only really had one regular customer, and was lucky if he saw her twice a week. Other than that, all that ever happened to walk through those front doors were faces that Mingyu would never lay eyes on again. It was kind of sad, really.

That's unfortunately how his days had gradually begun to take form. He'd swear up and down, on god and on his grandmother's grave, that he'd take a day off from work, spend it in the solitude of the minuscule apartment just up a flight of stairs, and for the life of him, study. But making empty promises and pledges to himself had become somewhat of a talent. Today you will study, he might tell himself while he's perched next to his bedroom window after just waking up, clasping a warm cup of unsugared coffee between his palms. And then he would laugh, knowing he had no such discipline.

Today was a more than perfect example. Mingyu had woken up bright and early, and hadn't even realized his eyes that were itching with fatigue until his watch had alerted him of the time. He'd been so preoccupied tidying up the café --Wiping down the tables with disinfectant, setting the chairs on the table tops, cleaning the kitchen, washing dishes, tending to the straggling 8:00 pm customers whilst every once in a while sneaking himself a small blueberry muffin -- to even notice he'd worked the entire day away, albeit not getting anything significantly notable done, because last time Mingyu had checked, one did not usually receive an overwhelmingly large amount of praise for, well, doing their job.

Mingyu inhaled, then exhaled, his breath exiting as more of a sigh. He wondered how long he'd be able to keep up this routine before it would begin to grow dull and repetitive to the point who he no longer had any interest in executing it all together. He tried not to ponder it too aggressively as he stalked his way over to the cash register, undoing the bow on the back of his apron before removing it and shoving it behind the counter. The exhaustion had really begun to set in by then, and suddenly as his brain grew sluggish, he wanted nothing more than to seek solace underneath the warm and welcoming duvet of his bed. So, he headed to the front door and flipped the sign hanging off the glass from 'open' to 'closed', when something just outside caught his attention.

There was something, or rather someone, standing amongst the blank canvas of neighboring buildings and slushed sidewalks and flickering street lights. There was a boy with raven hair, a tattered red flannel and loose, washed out jeans; bruises framed his bloodshot eyes that looked sullen in their sockets, darkly contoured collar bones jutted from beneath his skin and a ribbon of smoke curled out from his cracked lips as Mingyu took notice to the glowing cigarette clutched in the boy's right hand that appeared to be as battered, if not more so than the rest of him. The unsteady sway of the male's stance suggested he wasn't exactly sober.

Any other ordinary individual, if placed in that situation, would have probably turned from the matter without a second thought or wasted hesitation; as drunken night dwellers were not typically a vital concern in one's mind. But Mingyu did not. No matter the amount of times he attempted to will his eyes from the sight of the broken human being who stood just beyond that thin barrier of glass between, he was unable to find it within himself to ignore that fact that there was a clearly unstable male just feet from his doorstep without a proper jacket in the middle of a cold winter's night, with nothing more for warmth other than the half-smoked cigarette pinched between his slender fingers.

Maybe he was crazy, slightly deluded in the brain by the lack of sleep. But the next thing Mingyu found himself doing was not indeed heading upstairs for a quick dinner and bed - No. Instead, he found himself tossing a hoodie over his head as he retreated from comforting atmosphere of the cafe, out into the frost-bitten climates of 12:00 am -- or maybe more like 12:07 am, now -- Seoul to confront the stranger.

Maybe he was crazy.

---

- Author's Note -

[1028 words]

There it is, ladies and gentlemen. The pROLOGUE [bts gtfo]

Tbh I worked reallllly hard to make that sound mature and developed as fuck but I'm still not 100% happy with how that turned out smh

But I hope you liked it???

AYE LEAVE ME LOTS OF COMMENTS IF YOU DID BC IM A FLOOD COMMENT HOE SOZ

ILL TRY TO GET PART 1 OUT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE I PROMISE

TYSM FOR READING ILY <333

- Morgiee xx