[All] [BTS Jungkook's Binge-like Writing] Remember All the Days You Forgot Episode 1

✎ Author: jhHedgehog546

★ Rating: 5 points
⚇ Views: 30

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Standing behind the counter, the world felt like it stood still. Time passed by outside the glass windows as people busily moved about, and inside, I repeated the same routine every day: wiping down the menu, pouring coffee, clearing the glasses, and repeatedly turning music on and off in the isolated space. The jazz soundtrack from the café was only pleasant for the first few days, but now it became a dry background, like wallpaper.

 

I was just a person standing in the background.

 

The same customer always showed up after 10:30 AM. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. The second time, it felt like routine, and from the third time on, I started to get a little nervous. There was nothing particularly unusual about him. He wore a black hat, a loose hood, a blank expression, and earphones. He always sat in the same seat, right by the window. He ordered black. It never changed. He never asked about points, and he never left his name.

 

Even if we tried to converse, it was usually just a simple "Americano," and it was over. After paying, he gave a brief nod and turned around to sit down as if nothing had happened. And yet, strangely, whenever he came, the temperature in the room felt different.

 

Jungkook. He was called that because another guest once called him by his name. Or maybe I just let it slip without realizing it. But the name Jungkook didn't roll off my tongue as easily as I'd thought.

 

Just "that customer." I had no reason to remember his name, and he didn't seem to bother to say it either.

 

He arrived at the same time that day. It was a bit warm, and I was rushing to make iced coffee. As I briefly held the glass of iced water to cool the back of my hand, his gaze suddenly fell on my fingertips.

 

It was a brief, expressionless look, but strangely enough, it lingered in my mind. Though he didn't say anything, it felt as if he was asking, "Are you okay?" Even though I knew it wasn't true, it felt that way.

 

 

“Americano.”

 

 

He spoke briefly and concisely. I pressed the button as usual and prepared the cup. But that day, my hands were particularly unresponsive. I dropped the ice, misplaced the lid, and tried to pour another can of syrup into the cup without even realizing it. He paused for a moment, then took the cup and spoke.

 

 

“You added one more syrup today.”

 

 

I checked the syrup in surprise. It was real. I smiled awkwardly and quickly tried to drain it, but he just shook his head and took the cup. He didn't say anything, but that one word made me feel like I'd been caught. That I'd accidentally poured the syrup in, that I'd been messing around lately, and that it was making me nervous every time this customer came.

 

Even after he returned to his seat, I occasionally glanced at his back. He wasn't doing anything in particular. His hand holding the cup was always quiet, the earphone cord swayed slightly, and his eyes were fixed on the window. The sunlight slanted across his jawline, and the shadows passing beneath it felt like a scene from a movie. It wasn't a particularly strong emotion. But I don't know why I was so fixated on that single, quiet figure.

 

I don't usually remember things well. I do it on purpose. I used to think it was good to remember things for a long time. I lived by clinging to a song, a melody, a single word someone said. Those memories I held onto later began to sting me.

 

When you say you're chasing a dream, people usually applaud, but the moment you let it go, they turn away. I've been turned away like that several times before I finally realized that it's easier to forget. Not holding on is the way to survive. So, from then on, I decided not to dwell on things, people, or emotions that catch my eye.

 

I felt uncomfortable with the fact that I was constantly staring at the same customer who came every day. The way he sat there silently bothered me, I observed how he drank the coffee I made, and even the brief moment he took his order made me tremble for no reason.

 

This wasn't how I used to act. The words I'd brainwashed myself into thinking, "If you like something, you lose," and "If you think about it too long, it hurts," crumbled so easily in front of him.

 

 

“I like this song.”

 

 

It was the second sentence Jungkook had ever spoken to me. He stood up, his glass half empty, and spoke. He took his earphones out of his ears and turned his head toward the speaker for a moment. What I was playing was a demo of a song I'd written a long time ago. I couldn't remember who had given it to me; I'd just happened to hear it again while organizing old files. He'd heard it, and he'd said he liked it.

 

I answered in a flustered manner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Curious about what's next? 🤔

 

 

 

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