burn your wings ; yoonseok

001

how fateful would it be if the two people that the universe never intended to be together, happened to bump into one another in the busy streets of gangnam?

the red strings of fate that never tied these two together, somehow got tangled.

so did hoseok's feet, as he stumbled over his two left feet (and the uneven pavement), and sent his just-bought cup of americano hurtling into the burnt red trench coat of an unbelievably attractive man.

hoseok's mind immediately displayed a myriad of colorful words, but his mouth spoke none, voice snatched by the ethereal man standing before him who had his nose wrinkled in an extremely displeased manner.

'americano? you have really bad taste. can't believe i'll actually smell like a sleep-deprived office worker, on a sunday of all days.' the man groaned, eyebrows furrowed as his words revolted at the pungent smell of coffee emanating from cloth fibres.

hoseok's face flushed a cherry red. absolutely mortified, he hid his twitching fingers in his jacket sleeves as his brain went into overwire trying to churn out a sentence that did not involve stuttering.

'hey, look, i'll dry clean your jacket. i'm so sorry by the way, for the coffee, i swear i am. but really? calling americano bad? it's what keeps the coffee industry running yknow.' hoseok muttered, offering an apology with venom laced beneath, probably a jab to the other man's insult. said man snorted, and cringed when the smell hit him right in his sweet spots. hoseok couldn't help but chortle.

'what ya laughing at? not funny to be drenched in toilet water at 9 in the morning. by the way, i'll hold you to your dry clean offer. this baby's LV's winter collection. costed me quite a buck yknow.'

the man slipped his jacket off, swiftly dropping it into hoseok's arms and sauntered away, still muttering something about how 'damned sleep deprived adults and their no sleep juice is going to ruin the economy'.

hoseok would've cracked a smile at the man's words, but the you'll-only-be-able-to-afford-this-if-you-worked-for-the-next-80-years coat killed the rising in the corner of his lips, as he racked his brain with numbers, trying to figure out how long he needed to work to actually replace this coat.