Jimin:
I'm sitting in my usual spot in the cafe. A comfortable chair, my sketchbook, and some pencils, and I feel at home.
I don't drink coffee. In fact, the only reason I come here is because it's near my apartment, not that the service is bad.
It's great, actually. My favorite thing to order is hot chocolate; the barista always makes the foam look so fancy, using it as a canvas for their art.
I have yet to meet them, but I would love to draw them. I bet the person that can make drinks look like masterpieces is wonderful.
I have things to do today, though. I need to work on a sketch for my final art project this semester, and I can't do it at home because my roommate Taehyung is a distracting mess. A smart distracting mess making his way to medical school, but one nonetheless.
It's time to get to work. Time to draw something that encaptures the feeling of...what was it again? Oh, yeah. Hope.
Not very difficult, but the professor is forcing us to make it some sort of realism oil painting, meaning I would have to find something or someone that could embody the emotion, or force it with my artistic abilities.
It's a good thing I'm a creative wacko with ideas running through my head non-stop, otherwise I would have to get inspired. Ha. That kind of stuff only happens once in a blue moon.
I pick up my pencil and start my sketch, which is of a boy sitting in a corner of a dark room with a broken vase on the ground. The only source of light is from one far away, but it's enough to light up his eyes. He's looking for something and will never stop. He's hopeful.
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It's been three hours since I've started sketching, and I'm almost done with the fifth attempt. It's still not good enough. Ugh.
This painting is my final, the ending of the semester, and I will go out with a bang. Who knows, maybe I could sell it and pay off a bit of my student loans.
A guy can dream.
Speaking of dreams, I've been here since six in the morning and am exhausted. Time to take a nap.
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"Hey."
I wake up abruptly, the smell of hot chocolate invading my nose. A guy is sitting across from me. He has brown hair and seems fit. I move from the position of sleep I had a moment ago to get a better look at him. He's cute. And I'm gay. And single.
I've been staring at him for a minute or two now, and he's evidently flustered, his cheeks and tips of ears a bright red.
"Here," he said, putting a cup in front of me. "I made you hot chocolate."
So that's where the smell came from. I look at it on the small wooden coffee table in front of my seat. It has a mesmerizing design in the foam as always. This time it's a little tree.
I look up at him. He's scratching the back of his neck, his hair moving a bit. He has a nametag. Jungkook.
He meets my gaze and smiles. "Come on. Drink the hot chocolate. I made it especially for you, my favorite customer."
I'm confused for a second as I bring the hot drink to my lips before I realize that, hey, Jungkook must be the barista.
I smile back at him. "So I'm your absolute favorite customer?"
He blushes a bit before responding. "Well of course. You always seem to love the drinks I make. Our cashier always gives me the tips you tell her are for me. Thanks!"
