lowercase intended
—
third person
leaves crunch under his feet as he walks up to the entrance of the rusty door. his hands land on the crusty surface of the metal handle and he rehearses a short prayer in order to avoid developing some lethal disease because of the mere filth on it.
with one swing, the door open's to dirty pastel pink walls, neon lights and jeongguk is embraced with an interesting mix of hot chocolate, low prices, and tears of heartbreak.
what a sad diner.
it's almost as if the entire thing is being filmed by a VHS tape, so unclear, vague and blurry, with faceless bodies hunched over cold tea and dingy tables with table cloths that could be missed for rags.
lastly, he hears it, the disgusting jazz playing not too high, not too low, throughout the diner.
he fucking hates this place already.
yet he finds himself shuffling over towards the counter, eyes already farting at the dingy menu hung atop with various items scribbled out as 'SOLD OUT.'
his eyes roam over the little display shelf as well, going over tacky looking dishes and nearly moulding sandwiches.
he sighs, unable to believe that he's doing this when he could just walk a mile over and be greeted with overpriced but better quality food.
he rings the counter bell.
(who even has those anymore?)
a stray noise of disdain comes from a presumably hungover man a few metres away from the register and then a curtain behind the counter shuffles.
jeongguk's eyes relocate themselves into a slender, smooth, tan face and jeongguk is s o l d.
if he gets to see that face everyday, consider him a regular from now on.
jeongguk's face flushes as he stares at the man who holds a broad smile on his face, a dirty apron tied to his waist and slightly ruffled red hair.
the man is closer to him before he can anticipate it, and jeongguk realises the other man is the waiter.
"good evening, what can i get for you tonight?" a voice, so velvety deep speaks that jeongguk feels he might just nut while imagining how many octaves higher it could go while moaning.
fuck you, he isn't ashamed of himself. this man has the hottest voice that he has ever heard.
"...sir?" the waiter held an amused smile, that decorated his features so prettily.
"a-ah, yeah, sorry about that. i would like a, -um- peach pastry? yeah, a peach pastry along with a medium hot chocolate, please." the man hums an affirmation as he types (presumably) the order into the counter's computer thing.
"is there anything else that you would like?" jeongguk bows his head to decline, and the lame jazz filters through his head. his nose wrinkles in distaste.
YOU ARE READING
cheapskate || k.th x j.jk
Fanfiction"welcome to the abandoned diner of broken hearts and cheap money. i will be your waiter for this evening and i can offer you a fine selection of rotten food and shitty vinyl music." ⤷ in which a rich jeongguk likes to eat cheap food, and taehyung is...
