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artaefact · 4 years ago

Text

bakery 1995.

—wordcount: 14.7k+

—genre: angst, fluff, romance, baker!jimin, bakery cafe au, childhood friends-to-lovers au

—pairing: park jimin x f reader ft. bestfriend!jungkook

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: age gap (jimin is 4-5 years older), brief mention of physical assault, memory loss, overprotective parents, some intended grammatical mistakes, swearings, y/n is dragged into jungkook’s shenanigans

—summary: After returning from college for summer break, you got yourself a part time job to keep yourself busy. However, things go way too unexpectedly and you find yourself unraveling your forgotten past.

author’s note: this is for @btswritingcafe promptly yours event !! i tweaked the prompt a bit, so hopefully no one would get confused! happy reading ♡

Prompt: “Person A once had a major childhood crush on Person B. Fast forward to college where Person A is convinced it was nothing but temporary, that is until they return home for summer break to find Person B back after being gone for several years. Turns out, they weren’t such temporary feelings.”

It’s nice to know that no matter how judgemental the world can be, pigeons would never judge you. Despite the clear contrast between yourself and the asphalt pathway, they would not hesitate to excrete waste on either of them and can’t even be bothered by the possible consequences.

Staring at the dropping on your jacket sleeve, you exhale loudly while rummaging your pocket for a kleenex.

‘Out of all the places where their shit could have landed on, it had to be MY jacket,’ you grumble to yourself.

Reaching towards the bakery in the area, you hope they still have some cinnamon rolls you have been craving for. You can already imagine yourself humming in delight as the sweetness spreads across your taste buds and—

“You have got to be kidding me.”

The cashier attendee bows apologetically at you. “We’re so sorry, all the cinnamon rolls are sold out for today.”

Today must be the worst day to date in your entire years of existence. How on earth can a bakery run out of cinnamon rolls?

Groaning internally, you trudge out of the, now, third bakery that has sold out their cinnamon rolls.

Bad luck seems to follow you throughout the day. Is it because you went out of the house while your parents were in the middle of nagging you? For the last few days after you came back home for summer break, they have been constantly nagging you and you would kill to have an hour of peace and quiet.

Mindlessly, you whip up your phone and search up on Google while you walk to the nearby bus station, typing in the search bar — is it bad luck if a bird pooped on you?

Biting your lower lip, you press on the first link that appears on the screen.

Bird poop may be a sign of hope in disguise, you read. Snorting in incredulity, you scroll through the webpage.

It can’t be good luck.

You are not the type to believe in superstitions, however, besides getting pooped on, you dropped your phone on the pavement of the sidewalk just before you reached the first bakery, an hour ago. This resulted in the annoying crack of the screen right in the middle of it. Not only that, the sole of your right tennis shoes came off halfway which hindered you from walking properly and made you look like someone who hurt their leg.

Having had enough for today, you decide to go back home. Until a pastel pink store, right across the street, catches your attention with its aesthetic-looking door.

What’s this? A new—

A dramatic gasp escapes your lips after reading the name of the store, earning confused stares from nearby people. But you couldn’t care less.

Maybe Lady Luck does still care about you.

As soon as the pedestrian light turns green, you excitedly run, no, shuffle through the zebra-cross, reaching the newly-opened bakery.

My last hope is here. Please, let there be—

The interior of the bakery exudes a welcoming vibe, with the color of pale pink being the dominant over the whole place. Basically, it's a place where those Instagram models would kill to take their pictures at. However, it’s not the interior itself that your focus locks on. When the smell of freshly baked goods wafts into your nose, your eyes zero themselves on the various types of pastries that line the display counter, covered in glass domes. And there it is.

“Yes!” You squeal, grabbing the bakery tray to fill it as much as you’d like.

When you place the filled tray in the cash register counter, the cashier comments, “Woah, that’s a lot.”

If it is a normal day, you would have waved it off. However, unfortunately for the guy, it isn’t a normal day for you, after the constant annoying incidents that happened to you earlier. The comment snaps the last thread of patience you have for the day and sadly, targets the person in front of you. “I think you should mind your own—”

You take your thoughts back. Lady Luck is not on your side nor is the universe. They must be having fun, playing pranks on you so much today.

Your words cease immediately at his sheepish yet attractive smile.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer. “Just having a really bad day and I—”

“No! That’s okay.” The guy grins at you, eyes turning into crescent moons. “I’m the one who should be sorry, I just said the first thing that came up in my mind.”

“Ah...”

“I suck at starting conversations,” he says, sheepishly. “It’s a skill I’m planning to improve.”

Blinking twice, you manage to smile back at him, most probably just a cringed expression. “Well, um, good luck with that.”

As soon as he hands you the paper bag, you dash out of the bakery, not once looking back.

Your cheeks feel hot during the whole trip back home, every time you remember what happened, you would mentally kick yourself.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Eating the warm cinnamon rolls is a blessing and a curse.

You have never tasted such heavenly flavour before, all your worries and exhaustion seem to fade away. This brings you to freeze in the realisation that you’ll want, no, need to go back to that bakery to buy those delicious rolls again. Meaning, you’ll see that cute guy whom you snapped at earlier, again.

His friendly eye-smile burns deep in your mind. But you can’t shrug off the sense of familiarity of his face and his voice…

Have I met him before?

Once you reach home, body aching and tired, you take a quick shower before digging into the rolls. Clicking your tongue, you continue to munch on the rolls in your room while your thoughts pull you in deep.

The sudden knock on your door, however, brings you back to the present. Groaning loudly, you stand up from your padded window seat.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Jungkook.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your mouth agape at the sudden visit from your best friend. “Didn’t you say you won’t see me at all until break is over?”

“I might have changed my mind. I was very bored at home.” He enters your room, plopping on your beanbag. “So, now I am bored as hell and— Did you buy food without telling me?”

You met him during freshman year and you both hit it off quite quickly, you might add. After constantly pairing up together in projects, college project meetups gradually turned into hangouts.

“Says the one who claims to see my face every day makes him sick.” You roll your eyes at his dramatic ass, you go back to the window seat, crossing your legs. “It wasn’t planned, okay? I just got back home like thirty minutes ago.”

“But still you nearly finished everything without leaving me much!” He bit your last half-finished roll, letting out a noise of approval. “Which bakery did you buy it from?”

“It’s a new one. I never saw it before we went to college.”

“You should bring me there soon.”

“Nu-uh,” you refuse. “You can go yourself. I am not stepping a foot inside that place any longer.”

“What? Why not?”

“I may have embarrassed myself in front of the worker there.” Then you tell him what happened earlier.

Jungkook shakes his head in pity. “My poor Y/N, how do you always embarrass yourself when I’m not around? How would you survive in this world without me?”

Snorting at his words, you lean against the pillows on your back. “You’re the lucky one to have someone like me as his best friend. Anyways, how about that job I’m looking for?”

“Oh!” Jungkook’s eyes lit up. “Right, I was about to tell you! My friend is looking for a part-timer for his cafe.”

“Hmm, that sounds…”

Jungkook answers, “Boring? I know you’re looking for something much more exciting and—”

Narrowing your stare at Jungkook’s obvious judgmental face, you cut him off. “It sounds perfect, actually.”

Sighing, Jungkook whips up his phone. “You better bring me leftovers every time you get off work. I’ll bring you to his cafe tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“What? Why?”

“You little shit—” You smack his arm.

“Ow! Stop that, woman! I thought you said—”

“This is a fucking bakery, dumbass!” You hiss at him.

Jungkook gapes at you. “It’s a bakery cafe, what’s the difference?”

“It’s different! I can’t go back in there!” You whine in embarrassment.

“Wait— So this is the bakery where you embarrassed yourself?”

Nodding wordlessly, you exhale before catching Jungkook failing to stifle his laughter. “Shouldn’t be too big of a problem. He’s nice, Y/N.”

“But—”

“And I told him you were coming…” Jungkook scratches the back of his head.

After contemplating for a while, you decided to gather your courage and enter the sweet-smelling bakery with Jungkook.

Too late to go back now. It was either this or staying bored at home for the rest of the summer break, facing your parents’ look of disapproval at your lack of daily activities, or to be more exact productivity.

The cute guy just finished placing cakes inside the glass displays on the counter, then his gaze shifts to where you and Jungkook are standing.

“Jungkook!” The cute guy’s brown hair is slicked back as he takes off his baker’s hat, approaching your best friend.

“It’s been so long, Hyung!” Jungkook greets back with a hug, smiling from ear to ear. “And wow—” His eyes skim through the pastel-themed cafe. “You finally opened your own cafe.”

Watching them interacting is a foreign sight to you. It’s a rare right to see Jungkook, the usually shy one, so friendly and comfortable around the cute guy.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe the cute guy won’t remember you and—

“Ah! Miss Cinnamon Rolls!”

Scratch that. Of course, he still remembers you.

“I didn’t know you were looking for a job.” His eye smile lands on you finally and your throat dries up.

Jungkook fails to hold back his laughter. “Miss Cinnamon Rolls? Just how much did you buy last time?”

After sending a brief glare at your best friend, you introduce yourself to the cute guy, “Y/N.”

As soon as your name slips past your lips, the cute guy freezes momentarily, eyes widening a fraction. “Y/N?”

You nod slowly.

“Uh,” He fumbles. “Jimin. Park Jimin.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“So, this is the kitchen area. We need to get the place ready by 8:30. Can you come by at 6 the latest?”

You nod at his question.

“We have a different menu each day. It will take some time for you to learn everything. But don’t worry I’ll teach everything you need to know.” He shoots you a smile, sending your heart to slightly flutter as you fiddle with your fingers.

Thank goodness Jungkook has left. Or else you’d never hear the end of his teasing or knowing smirk.

“I’m starting with bread and cakes these past few days before I open up the cafe section.”

For the rest of the day, Jimin spends his time letting you know everything about how the bakery runs whenever there are no customers. Even gracing you with two pieces of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment at the memory of your first encounter.

“Go ahead, enjoy it,” Jimin shoots you a knowing grin.

Muttering a quiet ‘okay’, you take the first bite — holding a delighted groan at the sweetness that bursts through your tastebuds.

Propping his chin on his hand, he stares at you in amusement. “You must really like cinnamon rolls, huh?”

“They’re my comfort food,” you admit after swallowing down a piece. “My late grandmother used to make a lot of rolls at home.”

“I see… Well, have you ever baked before, Y/N?”

“The basic stuff like chocolate chip cookies…”

“Oh, that’s great—”

You added quickly, “But I nearly burned down Jungkook’s kitchen, though. He banned me from the kitchen ever since.”

A surprised laugh escapes the man’s lips which you don’t mind hearing more often, especially if you are the one behind it.

“At least the cookies still turned out great. It was a bit on the burnt side but still good… Crispy and crunchy.” You nervously chuckle. “But I swear, I’m not that bad if you provide a clear recipe!”

Still giggling, Jimin leans forward on his seat. “I can teach you everything you need to know. The basic stuff on baking and then there would be clear recipes I can provide you.”

Your eyes lighten up at that. “Yes! I’ll try my best.”

Arriving at the bakery at 6 am sharp, the next day — your official first day at work — Jimin can be seen moving back and forth from the small window opening connecting the kitchen and the bakery itself, already busy in the kitchen.

The smell of his work wafts through the entire bakery, indicating that he has been there for quite some time. Once you enter the kitchen, your mouth waters instinctively at the smell and sight of freshly-baked breads on the counter.

“How can I help?” From observing the finished baked goods, your eyes shift curiously at some ingredients — eggs, chocolate chips, sugar, flour — on the kitchen counter while you tighten the knot of your apron.

“You’re going to bake some chocolate chip cookies.” Jimin places a tray full of another different set of bread near the first one through the window. “So, go ahead, preheat the oven first.”

Following his instruction, you move towards one of the ovens. “Um…”

The corner of his lips quirks up at your obvious confusion before he chimes on how hot the oven should be set on.

With a brief nod, you turn on the oven. “Is this a test to see how far my baking skills go?” When you take a glimpse of the honey-haired man, he returns it with an amused grin of his own.

“Bingo.” Jimin’s smile is boyish and carefree and his eyes become crescent moons.

In other words, it made your heart race. However, you dismiss such unprofessional thoughts quickly before blood rises to your cheeks.

Clearing your throat, you move to the counter and start mixing the necessary ingredients altogether and set the dough on the baking tray. When the oven is preheated, you bring the tray towards it only to realise your mistake too late: not opening the oven first.

“Let me help,” Jimin says softly, opening the oven deftly.

“T-Thanks...” you mumble, concentrating on the task at hand.

Time passes quickly, before you know it, the oven makes a soft ‘ting’ sound. Opening it, the sweet smell wafts through the kitchen.

“I did it!” you say, excitedly placing the hot tray on the marble counter.

“But the final test is how the cookies taste.”

You watch in nervous anticipation as Jimin pops one of the cookies into his mouth. Not a moment later, he lets out a surprised sound.

“This is really good, Y/N. You do have the talent to bake.”

You beam at his words.

“Since that’s all set, I believe we still have other kinds of pastries to prepare for the day. I have all the recipes prepared for you here.” He motions to the notebook on the counter — you flip through it, astonished at all the recipes.

“Are these your own personalised recipes?”

Nodding, Jimin shoots you a grin. “I’ve always loved baking and there are some ways to make things with their own unique taste.”

The rest of the upcoming hour, you and Jimin were busy baking with Jimin instructing and giving you pointers. At some point, you even talked about anything and everything, as if you both have known each other all your life while you both work.

You have to admit, you find it really enjoyable. When the bakery closes, you sit quietly on one of the empty tables near the cashier after Jimin tells you to wait.

Mindlessly flipping through his recipe notebook, your attention soon shifts to Jimin himself with a steaming cup in his hold.

“Here.” He sets the cup in front of you.

You look at him quizzically before he motions for you to try.

“I’m opening the cafe part next week,” Jimin says. “Thought you can be the first to judge my caramel macchiato.”

“That’s a lot of caramel in one drink…” For a few moments, you observe the steaming coffee, froth decorates the top of it with drizzles of caramel in patterns of criss-cross nearly covering most of the foam itself. “Why caramel macchiato, though?”

“I thought you’d—” He clears his throat. “So many people really love caramel macchiato. So, I thought I’d go with this one for you to try first.”

Bringing the cup carefully to your lips, you take a sip of the beverage. The texture of the coffee is so smooth and the slight bitterness spreads through your taste buds and down your throat. Then you taste the caramel, letting out a delighted surprise when you find caramel bits inside the beverage.

Jimin keeps his stare on you, one hand supporting his chin and his eyes unreadable.

“What is it?” You ask, after downing the drink.

He blinks as if he was lost in his own thoughts. “Uh, how is it?”

“It’s very good.”

“Do you like coffee?” He asks.

Nodding, you tell him you loved to steal your mom’s coffee when you were younger. “There used to be a cafe near my place. I used to go there frequently during my high school years.”

Jimin briefly stills at yours words. “Do you... Still go there?”

You shake your head. “It was closed two years ago unfortunately.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. I would’ve wanted to try the coffee there.”

Chuckling at his words, your mind takes you back to your high school days. “It was really good.”

Humming to yourself, you continue to flip through the pages of Jimin’s recipe notebook. “What’s this?” You stop at one page, pointing at a child’s drawing on his recipe notebook. “Did you draw it when you were younger?”

“It’s a shooting star.” Jimin answers. “And, no. I didn’t.”

“Oh? Sister? Brother?”

“I don’t have a sister and my brother just does not have the artistic skill to draw that,” he laughs. “It was someone from my past. Someone who is precious to me.”

“Oh…” Noticing his faraway gaze on the notebook, you sense it is a sensitive topic. “Why a shooting star though?”

“It represents hopes and wishes, according to her.” His smile turns nostalgic. “I was having a hard time back then. But this girl,” he chuckles as if in disbelief. “— just straight up grabbed my notebook and drew a shooting star on it, saying I should wish on this star since seeing a shooting star is not that common here.”

There’s something sad but warm in Jimin’s tone as he talks about this girl. You can only assume that this girl is not in his life anymore. Or even in this world.

“I see…”

“As ridiculous as it sounds, I actually did it. Very frequently in all honesty. Whenever I’m having a hard time, I’d wish upon that star.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

A week passes quickly and just like a normal day, you arrive back home just a quarter past eight. Tugging off your shoes near the doorway, you hear your dad calling from the living room.

“Yes?” Mindlessly, you step into the living room only to meet the stern glare from him.

“Where were you?” Your dad asks. “Do you have any idea what time it is now?”

“It’s around eight...”

“And your curfew?”

Furrowing your brows, you gape, “I thought that was back in high school.”

“That still applies until now. I expect you to come back before seven.” Then he repeats his question, “Where were you?”

“From my new part-time place.” You answer. “I thought I told you about it.”

“If you want a job, you can intern in the company for the summer,” your dad sighs. “There’s no need for part-time jobs.”

You should have known it would last just three days before you are missing your university life, or to be more specific living alone. With the constant nagging from your parents, you crave for silence for a period of time. One thing you have been missing quite badly you have to admit, which is why you took the job in the bakery. Away from the scrutinising stares of your parents.

Here it goes again.

“I don’t think I’m ready to start there, Dad,” you exhale. “I want to do other things while I can.”

The same topic, the same debate you’d try to avoid as much as possible ever since you arrived back home for the summer. That was why you’d try to find something else to do. You always wanted to try a new hobby over the holidays. Now, with the excess amount of time in your hands, you are able to try.

That is why you opt for the part time job Jungkook found — working in the bakery.

“This isn’t going to work if you get home after your curfew, Y/N. You know how dangerous it is if you come home late.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reply, exasperatedly. “I can take care—”

“Things can get unpredictable, Y/N. It’s better that you’re safe than sorry.”

“Dad, when will you stop reminding me of that?” You groan in annoyance. “I don’t even remember how the accident happened.”

“The more reason for you to be cautious!”

Exasperated, you storm up to your room and carelessly throw your bag on the side of your bed. Laying on your back, you stare at the ceiling as your thoughts muddle when you try to think of what happened.

All you remember back then is that you woke up in the hospital, met with the worried gaze of your parents as soon as you got your consciousness back. However, they never tell or fill you in on what happened.

Gradually, your eyelids grow heavier — exhausted from the day and the burst of negative emotions over the argument you had earlier. Thus, you succumb to sleep. However, your mind takes you elsewhere.

Everything is dark.

With your own ragged breathing, you struggle to keep yourself as quiet as possible, biting down a hiss from the sting of your scraped knees. Tears pool in your eyes as you wait, hidden behind one of the playground’s slides and out of sight of any possible passerby.

There are no memories of what happened beforehand. All you know is to stay there and wait.

“Y/N?”

Peeking out of your hiding place, the figure draws closer calling your name in another hushed whisper.

But you knew this voice. So, you whispered back, “Here...” As soon as you get out of your hiding place, a warm embrace envelops your small frame.

“We’re okay, everything’s okay. I’ve lost them. We’re safe now,” he whispers, stroking your head softly while your fists clench on his shirt.

Not a moment later, your tears start to fall and you sob into his shirt. He tightens his hold on you, one hand on the back of your head as he repeatedly whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I’m here...” His voice then seems to echo and your surrounding becomes a blur.

When you open your eyes, you realise you’re back in your room yet there are stray tears in your eyes. Sitting up on your bed, you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

Was that a memory…?

“Have a good day.” You bid the last customer of the day farewell and once they leave, your cheeks droop into a frown. With a sigh, you walk out of the cashier register place towards the front door, turning the ‘Open’ plate to ‘Close’.

The dream you had last night still felt so vivid that you considered it was a flashback of your memory loss. You wanted to ask your parents about it. However, yesterday’s conflict was still fresh. You were sure they would dismiss it.

After cleaning up the counters of the bakery café and mopping the floors, you trudge into the break room, sitting down on one of its chairs as you wait for Jimin’s return from his “errand”.

Your mind takes you back to the dream where someone was hugging you tight.

Who was it? you wonder. In the back of your mind, somehow you never felt his warmth among your high school friends. The guy who was holding you is just different.

You are so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realise Jimin entering until he brings something right in front of your face. “What—”

“Hot chocolate,” he answers, softly. “You seem distracted today, I thought this might cheer you up.”

Taking the steaming cup from him, you mutter your thanks before breathing in the sweet smell, blowing softly on the beverage. “That was fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Wait, did you go out to buy this?” You lift the warm cup of hot chocolate.

Jimin lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wanted to make you one. Until I realised that the ingredients are finished. So, I had to run out.”

“You didn’t have to, you know…”

“I know. But I wanted to anyway.”

Your eyes look down, can’t help feeling touched by his sweet gesture as you fight back to keep yourself from blushing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He must have noticed the change of your expression before he says quickly, “Only if you’re comfortable, of course! I just thought talking about what’s on your mind can ease you. At least a bit.”

Blinking your eyes twice, a chuckle escapes your lips. “I guess so.”

“That’s your first smile today.”

You raise a brow at him.

“Your first real smile, I mean. Your cheekbones do not have much tension if you’re genuinely happy whereas if you fake a smile, it seems more like you’re cringing. Like our first encounter.” He chuckles, meaningfully.

“I’m sorry...” you mumble, eyes glancing down at the steaming hot chocolate on your lap.

“That’s fine,” he says easily. “Everyone has their bad days.”

You smile slightly at his words. “Had a fight with my parents last night.”

Jimin stays quiet, still listening to you.

“They are always so protective when it comes to me. Maybe a bit too much at times. I’m a grown adult for fuck’s sake.” Another sigh escapes your lips before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “My dad especially. He made it sound like a big deal when I came home around eight. I’m just frustrated at this.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

You nod in response.

“Was there something that made your dad feel that way?”

“I...” You blink. “I guess it’s because that one time I ended up in the hospital?”

“You did?”

You nod. “A few years ago, I had an accident.”

Jimin stiffens at your words. “Oh?”

“But it was nothing. I didn’t even remember what happened in all honesty.”

He stutters, “W-What?”

“I lost my memories. I had no recall of the accident at all.” Eyes training blankly on your front, focusing on nothing as you dive back into your memories. “My parents told me there is nothing to worry about and my memories would come back gradually. They never filled me in on what happened too.”

The corner of his lips soon quirks up slightly, his expression wistful. “Maybe they wouldn’t want you to be traumatised by what happened. It’s already fortunate enough for you to be able to recover from your head injury.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” you mumble.

However, since that incident you can’t deny the feeling of something missing since a chunk of your life has been cut off. No memories of the accident have returned even after years. Recovering from the head injury—

“Wait—” Head snapping to face Jimin. “How did you know I had a head injury?”

Jimin blinks repeatedly, as if your words just sink in. “Ah! I mean isn’t it a head injury? You lost your memories after all.” An awkward laugh escapes his lips. “Usually, people who lost their memories have head injuries, right?”

“Well, yeah...”

“Anyways, finish the hot chocolate and you should head home before your parents—”

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu washes over you. Snapping your gaze from the hot chocolate in your hands, you look at Jimin as your brain starts to grow fuzzy at the familiarity of Jimin’s words.

“Jimin...” you begin.

“Huh?”

“Have we ever met before I started working here?”

“You mean the first time you came into this bakery?”

You shake your head. “No, even before that. Did we know each other?”

A surprised glint appears in his eyes before it dissipates as quick as it appears. “I don’t think so…?”

Oh.

“Maybe we’ve just ran into each other at some point in town. But I don’t think we ever knew each other.”

“I see...” Disappointment floods through you at his words.

Right, you thought to yourself. If he was a close friend he would have recognised you instantly when you came to his bakery.

“Oh, look at the time.” Jimin stands up. “You need to be home before dark, right?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. You’ve finished cleaning today. I just need to close up and check the supplies.”

“But—” Your words die in your throat when Jimin pats your head.

“You’ve worked hard today,” he grins at you.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“I’m home,” you call out to no one in particular before you hear your mother from the kitchen.

Once you reach the kitchen, your mother turns her head to see you. “Help me set the table, dinner’s almost ready.”

Nodding, you follow suit. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father is still caught in a meeting. He’ll be home late.”

“I see,” you mutter, placing the silverwares on the table.

“How’s work?” your mother asks. “You’re home earlier than usual.”

“It’s great,” you answer. “The boss lets me off early.”

And you continue to talk about your day. From helping Jimin bake cakes and bread early in the morning, serving customers coffee and desserts, cleaning up the whole place, and enjoying the hot chocolate Jimin bought you earlier.

“He sounds like a nice guy,” your mom muses when you both sit at the dinner table.

“He is.” A smile appears on your face, remembering his sweet gesture and warm presence. Then your mind shifts to the conversation you had earlier, and what has been bothering you lately. “Mom?”

“Hmm…?”

“Five years ago, how did I end up in the hospital?”

Your mother noticeably stiffens at your question, ceases digging through her plate of food.

“You and Dad never filled me in. You both kept on saying that my memories will return eventually… Until now actually.” You let out a breath. “I think I’m old enough to know what really happened.”

Letting out a deep breath herself, your mother puts down her fork. “What do you remember?”

“I was at a playground and hiding… Then there’s someone who came to find me.” Met with silence from your mother, you continue, “Was it one of my friends?”

Shaking her head, your mother answers, “It wasn’t any of your high school friends.”

“Then who…?”

“You never mentioned his name. But you’d always talk about him back then.” Your mother sighs. “Go through the attic when you’re having a day off. You’ll find some of your old stuff I hid there. Make sure your father is not home.”

Standing up, you want to go there at once. However, your mother stops you. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever you find there, if you… If anything hurts or feels just too much, I want you to stop, alright? You’re a grown adult and I trust you’ll prioritise your own health.”

Nodding wordlessly, you finish the remaining food on your plate.

[ when you were fifteen years old: after the incident ]

When the dismissal bell rings, some students instantly scramble from their desks, some stretch lazily on their seats and have conversations with others.

“Hey, Y/N.” One of your classmates calls you, a smile etched on her face. “So glad to have you back.”

“Yeah! This sem has been a pain in the ass. You’ll get through it in a breeze!” Another classmate adds.

You respond with a grateful smile of your own before packing up your things.

It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the hospital. You have persistently insisted your parents to let you go back to school and they finally relented after you promised them that you’ll go straight back home and to not strain yourself after dismissing your parents’ idea of hiring a driver.

Today is your first day back. Your friends greeted you excitedly when you stepped into the classroom. Even those who you recall never talked much with you greeted you with a ‘Hi’.

Walking mindlessly through the streets of your neighbourhood, your legs take you to a cafe as you recognise the familiar scent of coffee.

Tilting your head in confusion, you stare at the cafe building in shades of black and brown.

What exactly are you doing here?

There were no planned meetups with your friends, yet, your body seems to find its way here. Fishing out your phone, you scan through the past messages to double check any planned hangouts.

It’s a Wednesday.

But…

With the curiosity nagging inside you, you search for Beomgyu’s contact.

[ 4:05 PM ] You: beomie, do you know the cafe near my place?

[ 4:05 PM ] Beomgyu: i guess?? Every wednesday you'd always go there for no apparent reason at all. When i wanted to tag along you’d always give me the devil eye :(

[ 4:05 PM ] You: oh… that’s… well, sorry lol. Do u wanna come here?

[ 4:06 PM ] Beomgyu: wait, r u srs ???

[ 4:06 PM ] You: i mean if u’re not busy and i think getting coffee and hanging in the cafe would be good.

[ 4:07 PM ] Beomgyu: i'd never thought this day would come :’) i’ll be there in 10.

Chuckling at your friend’s response, you place your phone back into your pocket. Exhaling, you enter the cafe and make your way towards the cashier register.

“Welcome, what would you like for today?” The person smiles at you.

“Caramel macchiato, please.”

She nods, typing in your order. “That will be four dollars.”

After exchanging your payment with a receipt, you wait at an empty table for two near the window. Something about this familiar place, however, feels off. Like there is something missing that you can’t seem to put your finger on.

Your thoughts are cut off when someone takes the seat across from you. “Why are you so deep in thought?”

Beomgyu stares at you quizzically as you blink in realisation. “Uh…”

He narrows his stare at you suspiciously before shifting his gaze around the cafe. “So, what is it that kept you going here?”

You shake your head in response. “I have no idea either. Honestly, I have this gut feeling to come here when I passed by earlier.”

“Hmm, maybe the coffee?” Beomgyu watches one of the waitresses bringing your orders, placing it on your table.

Sighing, you stare at the steaming cup with caramel drizzles on the foam for a few moments. Then you bring the cup to your lips to take a sip.

“Argh, why is this bitter?” Scrunching your nose, you motion towards the waitress for extra caramel.

“Did… Your taste buds change too? You said the caramel macchiato here is perfect.”

A snort escapes you as you drizzle more caramel into the coffee. “I got hit in the damn head, Beomie. It doesn’t change my taste buds.”

He shrugs. “Well, who knows. I never knew you like caramel that much.”

You freeze momentarily.

“Y/N? You okay?” Beomgyu waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y-yeah, I just…”

“You just…?”

Shaking your head once more, you whisper, “It’s nothing…” But your eyes scan through the busy workers in the cafe.

Deep inside, you had an inkling that the coffee here isn’t your sole reason for coming here.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Turns out you were right.

Once when you came into the cafe on another Wednesday, you sat at your usual place after ordering your usual drink.

“Oh, my dear, you’re finally back,” someone says.

Blinking, your gaze snaps to the elder woman — maybe around her mid fifties — and you give her a small smile before asking, “Do I know you...?”

It was her turn to look confused at your words.

“I’m really sorry for not recognising!” You grow flustered at your words. “I lost my memory in an accident a few months ago...”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The lady — a regular customer, you assume — gasps. “So that’s why you don’t frequent this cafe anymore. The young man looked so heartbroken before he quit his job—”

“Young man?”

“The barista, dear,” the lady replies. “You used to come here and meet him. I had to shush the both of you every time to not disturb the other customers.”

“I... Was he from my school?”

The lady shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He never wore a uniform like yours.”

“Do you know his name?”

The lady shakes her head once more. “His name was Park. Probably that’s his last name. At least that’s what is written on his name tag.”

And you internally groan. There are thousands of people with that last name.

“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I’m afraid no, my dear. I heard he quit the job suddenly.”

Sighing, you thanked the lady before heading out of the cafe with your shoulders dropping in defeat.

The trapdoor makes a loud creaking sound when you lift it up, indicating that it hasn’t been used for a very long time. Slipping the key back to your back pocket, you step up further on the ladder with the trap door laying on another side as you go through it while the floorboards creak underneath your weight.

It didn’t take you long to locate your old things. Scanning through the boxes, you find one doodled in various flowers and rainbows with your name written on it as well.

With a grunt, you lift up the dusty box, bringing it down to the floor with a thud which causes you to cough at the flying dust. In an attempt to swat the dust away, you wave your hand in front of you. Still coughing uncontrollably with your eyes watering. After your cough ceases, you crouch and open the box. A few notebooks can be found inside along with some old dolls from your childhood.

You vaguely remember the locked diary you liked to write in about your day and its pale pink cover which was covered in sparkling stickers you used to be obsessed with.

Digging further through the books, you finally found it — the possible answer to your lost memories — with a small key dangling on the lock.

Climbing down from the attic, you made your way to your room while fumbling with the lock and key of your old diary. After successfully unlocking it, you take a seat on your padded window sill, flipping through the yellowing pages.

The first page was clearly written by you. Your old handwriting and your name. The first entry you wrote dates back to a decade ago.

Your fingers twitch at how cringe-y most of the entries are. Yet, at the same time you find it endearing how you used to write about your day. The good, the bad, and the normal things — appreciating just to be able to experience and get through them.

The last of your entries date back to months before the incident when you were fifteen. Probably because you decided that you were too old to write diaries any longer.

Recalling how you’d always visit the cafe every Wednesday, you skim through Wednesday entries. However one particular name seems to stand out in those entries.

“Mochi?” You flip from one entry to another. Who the hell is that?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, you search for the earliest entry that you can find — nine years ago.

I met the hot choco guy again, today. I’m feeling so happy!!! He is so nice. why can’t any of the boys in my school be like him????

Hot... Choco? Furrowing your brows, you skip to the next Wednesday entry.

i am feeling so happy that mama brought me to the cafe last last week!!! she do not let me drink the coffee drink, so Mochi give me hot choco! i think it’s the best BEST drink EVER!!!

“How the hell did hot choco guy turn into Mochi?” you mumble to yourself, flipping through your diary to the next Wednesday entry.

Mochi teached me how to do math!!! It was so fun! But when Teacher Lee teaches me, it’s always boring. How did Mochi make math fun??? I wish he go to my school instead and teach me math :(

You internally cringe at your younger self. Exhaling, you press your temple in disbelief.

This whole diary of your younger self is basically gushing over this hot-choco-turned-Mochi guy as you flip through other pages. However, you stop at a certain entry.

Today… Is a very bad day. But Mochi suddenly makes it better.

Glancing at the date — it was the day your grandmother passed away.

He promises to make me cinnamon rolls whenever i tell him to! Just like Grannie… I’m sorry, Diary. I don’t think i can write more today. I just hope tomorrow will be a better day.

“Mochi…” you mumble repeatedly with furrowing brows and the name seems to trigger your brain to relive some memories.

“I’m calling you Mochi!” You hear your own twelve-year old voice. Yelping, your diary lands on the floor with a small thud.

“No!” Another voice rings in your head — familiar and warm. “That’s a really uncool nickname.”

“But you look like a mochi! And it’s not uncool! I think it’s really cute!”

Blinking, your mind brings you back to reality. Reaching down for your diary, you freeze momentarily before clutching your head. For a moment, your heart stops when your gaze lands on your diary’s open page — a drawing of a familiar shooting star.

Mochi is… Jimin?

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ when you were twelve ]

When another sigh escaped his lips, you glanced up from your math workbook — his face can only be described as perturbed. With no hesitance, you quietly pushed the last cookie on your plate to him, earning his glassy stare as it shifted from his notebook that’s lying open on the table.

He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. “Why didn’t you finish that? Do you want to bring it home?”

You shook your head, heat tinging your cheeks. “It’s for you. You look like you need it.”

“It’s caramel cookies.”

Nodding, you mumbled, “You said eating it can comfort people.”

The boy stared at you for a moment longer — recalling the time when you had a bad day and he gave you that, then he chuckled. “I guess I did.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded again. “I can order hot chocolate for you too.”

He reached for the last cookie, finally a small smile you have awaited appearing on his face. “This is enough, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

You beamed at his words, then you extended one hand to take his notebook and draw a shooting star on the page it was opened on.

“We can’t really see shooting stars in here,” you explain, pushing his notebook back to him. “So, whenever you’re having a hard time, wish on this shooting star! It represents hopes and wishes!”

“What that’s—” He stopped himself. Letting out a sigh, he found himself nodding despite how ridiculously endearing the idea was. “Alright. I will.”

The blare of your alarm jolts you awake. Groaning, you grab your phone, turning off the alarm when you realise you have to go to work. You can’t find it in yourself to see Jimin today. Not after finding out that he was, is, part of your missing childhood memories.

Your gaze lands on the diary, laying open on your window sill. As you read more and more of your diary entries, Mochi being Jimin just makes sense. You remember how he went out of his way just to buy you hot chocolate when you were having a bad day — just like in the past.

After all this time, Jimin is actually part of, no, in most of your childhood life.

And he denied it.

Why?

You continuously drift back to that one question. Why did he deny it when you asked him? Don’t people usually love to get reacquainted with their childhood friends?

Sighing, you message Jimin listlessly, telling him you aren’t feeling well before you turn off your phone completely. You don’t think you can handle interacting more with him.

Hours passed, when someone barges in your room. “Y/N!”

Peeking out from your blanket, you glare at your best friend. “What the fuck, Kook?”

“Jimin told me you aren’t feeling well. So, I came to check up on you.”

“Okay, you did. Now, go back home.”

Without responding, he opens the curtain in your room, letting in the piercing sunlight and you let out an annoyed ‘tsk’.

Should have known your best friend isn’t going to let this go easily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been off the whole weekend. You may be able to trick Jimin but you can’t trick me.”

Still burying yourself under your blanket, the bed dips on your friend’s weight as he waits for your response. But you keep your silence, trying your best to even your breathing. You’ve cried enough after all.

“Hmm?” Jungkook stands up. “What’s this? Your diary?”

Abruptly, you fling yourself off the bed and grab your diary from his clutches.

“Go home, Jungkook. I’m not in the mood to deal with this.”

“You know I won’t until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m just...” Your shoulders droop in defeat. “Why?”

“Why what?”

You hate crying in front of anyone. But it’s as if a dam broke, your tears do not stop falling while you babble, “Why did he pretend to not know me? Why did he deny? Why—”

Jungkook blinks repeatedly at your sudden change. “W-wait! Why are you crying? I don’t under—”

“Park Jimin!” Your sudden outburst flusters him further. “The guy who you’re friends with and who you recommended for me to work with! That’s who!”

“But—”

“He‘s Mochi.”

Jungkook looks dumbfounded for a moment before your words register inside his head. “M-Mochi?”

Like a petulant child, you climb on your bed once more and hide your diary beneath your pillow. “Leave me alone, Kook.”

With a defeated sigh, Jungkook trudges out of your room, leaving you once again drowning in your thoughts.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Jimin has always loved mornings, especially when he is able to quietly bake on what most people would call ungodly hours. There is something enjoyable about being fully awake during this time when no sounds of passing vehicles can distract him, making him feel at ease.

He had started appreciating the little things in life when you — who once stared up at him with curious eyes, expression lightening up when he made a cup of hot chocolate for you — taught him to.

Chuckling to himself, his mind drifts back to the time you first entered his bakery. Gods, he should have known it was you. But you were so different, he could hardly comprehend how much you had grown.

Gone was your happy-go-lucky self. He was stunned when you suddenly snapped at him. Your younger self would probably respond with a smile and drone on about how much you love cinnamon rolls. For a second, his heart had hoped. Maybe you remembered him after all these years?

Yet that hope dissipated in an instant when you merely apologised and ran out. Moreover, you didn’t return to his bakery after buying the cinnamon rolls, he thought he had screwed things up by attempting to start a conversation with you. Or maybe that person wasn’t really you. Just someone who looks a lot like you. He still had his suspicions after all.

However, his suspicions were gone the moment you introduced yourself, leaving him speechless. Jimin would be lying if he said he didn’t hope — at least for a bit — that you would remember him when he mentioned his name.

That was why the moment you appeared once more to work as a part-timer, he was ecstatic. No words can explain it.

He started to look forward to work every day — coming to his own bakery to see you even when you didn’t remember him, but he would still gladly take whatever he can to be around you.

Once he sets the tray of unbaked cinnamon rolls into the oven, his phone buzzes. As soon as he reads the text, his heart drops a little.

[ 7:08 AM ] You: Sorry, I cant come to work today. Not feeling well.

He types, ‘That’s okay. get well soon, y/n :)’

But it left undelivered. Did your phone die? He wonders.

Jimin can’t help shake the weird feeling bubbling inside. So, he messages Jungkook.

[ 7:15 AM ] Jimin: y/n isn’t feeling well today. do u mind checking up on her ???

But of course, Jungkook didn’t read the message until a few hours later. That boy enjoys gaming all night.

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: what?

[ 12:03 PM ] Jungkook: for real ?? since when does she get sick? that girl has a fucking high immunity. she never even once got a cold during the semester

Jimin furrowed his brows at that.

[ 12:04 PM ] Jimin: still, go check up on her pls. she’s ur friend too

[ 12:04 PM ] Jungkook: yeah, omw

It hasn’t even been an hour later when Jungkook rushes into the bakery — earning surprised and curious glances from the customers who were chattering among themselves. “Hyung—“ he catches his breath as he stands in front of the counter. “I think you need to fix—“ Huff. “—I mean go to Y/N’s house yourself.

Jimin blinks in confusion.

“You... You’re Mochi, aren’t you?”

At the mention of that name, blood drains from Jimin’s face instantly.

She remembers...?

“How did you—”

“What matters is, you need to fix it, hyung. You’re the only one who can. She’s not herself, right now. I've known her for a few years and it takes a lot for her to react like this. So, please, you should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Jimin breathes out. “Do you mind closing the cafe once the customers are all done?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, just go to her, hyung. I’ll handle everything here.”

[ when you were fifteen: before the accident ]

“I wish you can teach me math all the time, Mochi,” you giggle, leaning back on the cafe chair. “Everything is easier when you explain it.”

Jimin chuckles at that. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one not paying attention in class.”

Shaking your head rapidly, you deny, “Of course I paid attention! It’s just... I don’t know… It was really boring when my teacher was teaching. He just drones on and on without stopping.”

With an amused hum, Jimin stands up. “I’ll get ready to leave. I’ll walk you home.”

After a few minutes, you head out of the cafe with Jimin behind you. Shivering against the cool night air, you draw closer to the boy. Instinctively, Jimin offers you his open hand which you accepted with no hesitance.

Little did he know, every time he does this, it makes your heart beat a little faster at the way your hand fits well in his. And you savour it.

The build up of feelings has been going on for a while now. Maybe a few months. You’ve developed a crush on him. Like, how can you not? Jimin possesses charming qualities that no one else has. Not to mention how kind and warm of a person he is.

Meetings in the cafe had you wishing they were dates instead. And you had to let him know.

And tell him you did.

He blinks at first, words sinking into him. Mochi, I think I like you. Like, really, really like you.

His cheeks are pink, you weren’t sure if it's from the cold or his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course. What were you expecting? He only sees you as a little sister.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, but your heart drops. “It’s just… You know, I wanted to tell you know because you’re really cool, Mochi.”

“Y/N… Listen, this is not a good time—” Abruptly, he stops, catching your wrist on his. “I want you to hide in the playground.”

“What?”

“Hide, please. I will explain everything later.”

You want to run away from him. But the pleading look on his face makes you listen.

“There he is!” You hear an unfamiliar shout.

Cursing under his breath, Jimin quickly pushes you under the slide. “Wait here.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ Present time ]

Jimin reaches your house, his heart beating fast against his chest with a box of cinnamon rolls in hand.

You are home alone and Jungkook has left the door unlocked.

Letting himself in, Jimin glances around. Everything still looks the same as back then. He went to your house once to tutor you. And he still can remember that day clearly.

Climbing up the stairs, he reaches your room. With shaking hands, he knocks on the door.

Silence.

A moment or two passes then your door opens. Jimin braces for the anger you’d throw at him.

But nothing comes.

You merely stand there, eyes glassy as they lock on his.

“Y/N...” He mutters, torn between to reach out or not. But you leave the door open as you sit on your bed. Jimin enters your familiar room, still surprised at how it still looks the same. And his eyes fall on a notebook — the notebook you never let him read — on the table.

“Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling.

“I wanted to check up on you—”

“Why?”

Jimin knows at once what you are asking.

He approaches you sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down, peering up with those chocolate eyes of his to meet your downcast stare — like those times when he wants to talk to you and you refuse to look at him.

“Do… Do you still remember me?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Y/N…” The lack of surprise in his voice answers it. He still remembers you as you recall the once shocked expression on his face when you first introduce yourself. Now, it all made sense.

“W-Why didn’t you tell me?” A sob escapes your lips. “Do you not want me to remember—”

He shakes his head, denying it quickly. “No! Of course not. I just… I was ecstatic actually when it was you who came to work for me.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Voice cracking. “You knew me—”

Clearly in conflict, he sighs, “I don’t want you to remember your traumatic memories… Remembering me might cause you more pain.”

“But it didn’t. Those memories, from what I can remember there’s nothing—”

“That’s what your parents told me, Y/N.”

Eyes widening, you gape at him as tears cascade down your face.

“You were seriously injured back then. The doctor said it will be best for you to let your own memories come to you in their own time. And I had to leave this place... I came by after your operation and... I wanted to say goodbye but I was told it was best to not see you any longer to prevent anymore distress—”

“But you are important to me!” You cut him off. Then turning quieter, “You are important to me…” You say between sobs.

Covering your eyes with your hand, you whimper when Jimin engulfs you in a hug. “I’m sorry…” He murmurs, caressing your head. “I’m so sorry…”

His heart breaks at your current state, tightening his hold on you, who’s crying into his chest. Years of buried regret and longing resurface. He had envisioned many times on how you would remember him. But he fails to realise how much it can hurt you when your memories return. If only he can turn back time, he will take that chance to save you from the misery of your memory loss.

Yet, all he can do now is to hold you close, begging you for forgiveness and hope that you’d let him stay by your side.

“So, let me get this straight, you—” Jungkook points his straw at you. “—and Jimin hyung were childhood friends—” He pierces the plastic cover of his milk tea. “—and he used to tutor you in a cafe.”

Nodding, you purse your lips and enjoy your own drink.

You had taken a few days off after the reconciliation to collect your thoughts and confront your parents about what had happened. They have come into terms with their protectiveness of you staying out very late. And you have managed to convince them to let you stay out late as long as you let them know.

You were planning to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for Jungkook who barged into your room like he owns the place, after he claimed that Jimin lets him off from work early — which you doubt honestly, it’s more of Jungkook escaping from work — and decided to drag you to the nearest milk tea shop.

“Is something weird?” you blurt out.

“Did you by any chance, I don’t know...” Jungkook mutters. “Have feelings for each other?”

You nearly choke on your tapioca pearl and rapidly you shake your head. “No! That’s—”

Jungkook narrows his stare at you, sipping his drink as you continue to blabber, “I mean, I knew him since I was like, what? Twelve? He never sees me that way.”

“Maybe he didn’t back then.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean both of you are adults now. Aren’t things different?”

You snort at his words. “He always sees the little girl in me, Jungkook. So, please, don’t make things weird, alright? I can literally see your head gearing.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “Alright, if you say so. But how about you?”

Sipping your drink, you lift a brow at him.

“Do you like him?”

“Of course, I do.”

“I meant like, like him.”

“Kookie, what are you? Five?”

He snorts at your response. “Five heads taller than you—” Your glare shuts him up. “Okay, but do you see him as someone special?”

An exasperated sigh escapes your lips. “Why are we discussing this? We’re just friends. Who coincidentally are childhood friends as well.”

“You sure?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh once more. “What are you expecting me to say?”

“What do you think of him?”

Almost at once, the words flow easily out of your mouth. “He’s a caring person and he knows how to comfort someone when they’re having a bad day.”

“You mean, he knows how to comfort you when you’re having a bad day yourself,” Jungkook chuckles.

You blink at that.

“Look, I’m not implying anything but he was worried as hell when I told him about you the other day. Even nearly left his bakery without supervision. That’s when yours truly—” He points at himself. “—came in.”

And the question that swims in the back of your mind disappears. “So, it is you, you overgrown rabbit. You told him about me—”

“Well, you can’t blame me. You should be thanking me instead. It’s because of me you both finally reconciled. Admit it, you’re happy — happier, in fact.”

And you can’t deny it. Jungkook has been one of those people who’d look out for you. Yes, even when he can be a pain in the ass sometimes, or just loves to hear the “piping hot” tea of what’s happening in your life.

Sighing in defeat, you murmur, “Even if I do like him...” You shake your head. “No, it shouldn’t even matter in the first place.”

Noticing your shuttering expression, Jungkook thankfully does not press the subject further. Nor does he question why. And you are grateful for him.

“Interesting. So, you do like him.”

Scratch that, your best friend is still a pain in the ass.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Standing in front of the bakery cafe, you released a deep breath.

Through the glass door, Jungkook is helping out at the cashier counter, serving beverages and desserts to dine-in customers. However, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

Releasing a deep breath, the bell of the door rings which signals your entrance. Jungkook notices you at once before he points to the kitchen.

You rush inside — stopping abruptly a few steps away from him — now, regarding the man differently. He was the boy who has been your comfort for so many occasions after all.

Jimin is icing cupcakes, his eyes focusing on his task and you can’t help but smile at the sight.

With your memories — of kindness, warmth, and friendship — now fully returned, you remember how you were always enamoured watching Jimin work. You’d watch him make drinks in the cafe when you had no homework to do. You’d sit at the bar, munching on cookies-of-the-day as your eyes followed Jimin’s movements.

A few moments pass, Jimin’s gaze shifts to you briefly and double-takes. He curses under his breath, cupcake slipping from his grip — icing spilling on the marble counter. “Hey, you’re back—” He quickly grabs a cloth and wipes off the cream before he turns to face you properly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “—you didn’t tell me you’re coming in today.”

He opens his arms and your legs move of its own accord, following your instinct as you close the distance between you and him — wrapping your arms around his waist.

You weren’t surprised at how your younger self used to have a big fat crush on him. He was and always will still be your Mochi. The guy who treated you to your favourite sweets, who knows how you like your caramel macchiato the best, and who never fails to put butterflies in your stomach.

Breathing his sweet scent, you remember the time you’d ask him for hugs whenever you were down and your younger self had even claimed once that his hugs were magical as it was written in your diary. To quote it, “Mochi gives the BEST BEST hugs in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD”.

“Your hugs…” you mumble, eyes closed. “They’re still the best…”

Jimin merely tightens his hold on you. That is until a force — appearing in the form of Jeon Jungkook — shatters the serene atmosphere, bringing you back to reality. “Hyung! Oh—”

Abruptly, you both pull away from each other. Jungkook stands awkwardly, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“What is it?” Jimin breaks the silence, composed as ever.

“Uh, need more cupcakes. The ones on the display are finished…”

“Right,” Jimin turns to you. “Y/N, can you help me ice the rest of the cupcakes?”

Nodding, you turn to the employee’s room, putting your things in the locker and grabbing an apron.

Hugging Jimin seems so natural that you fail to consider how weird it looks to the people around you. Jungkook’s awkward silence proves that.

Your thoughts are swimming in confusion. And once again those butterflies appear in your stomach. Fanning your heated cheeks with your hands, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

Your childhood crush is gone. You’re just happy to have Mochi back in your life. That’s all. That should be all.

One afternoon, you mindlessly clean up the kitchen. Due to the public holiday, the bakery is closing earlier, and your thoughts have drifted back to the past.

You remember the night of the incident when Jimin walked you home after he had lost those men who chased after him. He stopped you for a moment, breaking the silence. “You okay?” Warm concern lacing his tone.

Jaw clenching, you mumbled. “Just a scratch.” Reluctant to give him any longer response.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have shoved you harshly before.” He crouched, inspecting your knees before he peered up to meet your stare.

“It’s fine.”

When you were just a few blocks away from home, Jimin broke the silence. “Listen Y/N—” His footsteps faltered as he reached to touch your shoulder. “—about earlier, I think you shouldn’t have feelings for me, I—”

Abruptly, you pulled your hand away from his, hurt consuming you. “I shouldn’t have feelings for you?”

You wished Jimin had forgotten your spontaneous confession as he nodded, hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t control my feelings. So, just let it be. It’ll be fine.” You glanced at him before walking faster.

The rest of the trip home was tense, full of unanswered questions. Who were those men? Why did they chase after Jimin? Is it really that bad to have feelings for him? Who gave him the right to dictate your feelings?

You felt so childish back then. Recalling the memories makes you cringe at your younger self for overreacting. But you suppose it’s normal for a fifteen year-old girl. And you were able to sense that Jimin wanted to ease the tense atmosphere. But you were too hurt to even give him a chance. You needed time to process what happened that day.

However, one minute Jimin had stopped you again, desperate to appease you. And the next minute, someone ran towards him with a bat in hand. It’s as if time slowed down, you moved before a harsh impact landed on you.

Your mind brings you back to reality, and instinctively you touch the part where your head was struck with your free hand.

“Y/N? Are you done cleaning up?”

Jimin’s voice startles you and you nearly drop the mop’s handle from your grasp.

“Yes,” you manage to say. And somehow you can’t look at him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Out of instinct, he cups your face to look at you in the eye. And hell, your heartbeat gradually increases as you can smell the sweet scent of bread from him along with a tinge of his cinnamon scent.

Mind blanking out at the close proximity, the only intelligible response you can say is, uhhh. Your grip on the mop handle tightens as your palm grows clammy.

He’s gorgeous. That’s one thing for sure.

“Hey, why are you blushing?”

Blinking rapidly, you watch his eyes turn into those crescent moons and a giggle escapes his lips as he pulls away, grabbing the mop from your hold.

“I’ll put this back. You nearly snapped it in half, you know.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mind whirling and you blabber the first thing in your mind. “I have a pet fish.”

“Huh?”

Realising how random you sounded, you clear your throat. “I just remember I had to come home early today, since Mr. Goldy is waiting for me.”

“Ooh, that’s—”

But you’ve run for the lockers, quickly changing out of your work attire.

“Thanks for today, Mochi. See you tomorrow!” You say and run out of the bakery without sparing him another glance.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What are you exactly doing here?”

Unflinching, you answer your best friend monotonously, “Buying a fish.”

“You don’t have a tank at home.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m looking for one now.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Jungkook lets out a sigh. “You’ve been acting weird all week, Y/N.”

You ignore his words, eyes scanning through the fishes of different colours and kinds.

“Oh! These ones are pretty.” Jungkook comments, earning your attention.

“Excuse me?” You call one of the workers there. “I was wondering if this fish is suitable for beginners.”

The worker nods, smiling. “Yes, these are what we call the Betta fish. Their scales are beautiful and they are also easy to take care of. Would you like to purchase them?”

You respond with a brief ‘yes’.

“Now, all you need is a tank,” Jungkook says.

“We provide delivery services for the tank. I’d recommend buying this one.” The worker points at one of the tanks. “In the meantime, you can purchase the fishbowl for now.”

And with that you have a new pet fish and a brand new fish bowl in hand — specifically Jungkook’s, because you gotta put those muscles into good use — and you head back home. On the way back, Jungkook suddenly clears his throat. “So… What’s up with you?”

“What?”

“Let me summarise what just happened,” he says. “I had the day off today, and suddenly you called me to meet you in a fish store, and you have been acting all weird and somehow out of all the nice shades of blue fishes in the tank, you chose the ugly yellow—”

You kick his shin in retaliation. “It’s not yellow, it’s gold, dumbass. How dare you say that in front of Lady Goldilocks.”

“Oh, wow, now it even has a name.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I seriously can’t believe you chose this one out of all the other colours. It reminds me of Jimin hyung—” And he gapes at you. “No way. Is it because he likes this colour?”

You blink in realisation. Jimin does like this colour.

“Okay, ‘fess up. What’s up with you?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “I like him.”

Jungkook looks unamused.

“I mean like, like him. And I need to get over him.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Why would Hyung want that?””

“I shouldn’t like him, Kook. He told me once and, I don’t know, I just can’t control my feelings. I don’t want to lose him again and I’m scared that he’ll be gone if he knows—”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Jungkook grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “—I can understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. How about let me prove to you that Jimin won’t be gone even when you have feelings for him?”

“I swear, Jeon Jungkook, if you utter a single word about this conversation—”

“No!” He denies repeatedly. “I won’t. Promise. I can prove it to you another way. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, then. How?”

“I have a plan. To take the title as your number one best friend once and for all—”

“Who says you are even at the top?”

“Aren’t I? You told me once.” Jungkook fishes his phone out of his jacket, taps a few times on his screen before he shows you a video of your drunk self a few months ago after exam week.

“Kookieee, I think you’re my number one best friend! So proud to have someone like you in my life—”

You try to reach for his phone, cheeks burning in embarrassment, as you shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster. However, Jungkook being Jungkook merely cackles at that. Your voice from the video still continues, “—you’re like Mochi—” Your present self tenses at that.

“Who’s Mochi?” Jungkook asked curiously in the video.

“Shhhhh… We don’t speak of that name here, m’kay? Mochi is gone. So you are best friend number one!”

Jungkook stops the video, tucking his phone back to his pocket. “I asked you once who Mochi was when you were sober. But you didn’t remember back then. So I never asked again until you mentioned the name ‘Mochi’ once more a few days ago.”

Gaping, you stop walking as the stunned silence falls over you.

“I think your subconscious had always known about him. And it shows how special he is to you.” When you’re about to deny that, Jungkook shushes you. “Don’t try to deny, Y/N. Even before you knew he was Mochi you already liked him.”

“I hate that you’re starting to look like a rooster. Were you always this cocky?”

Your best friend merely shrugs. “So, here’s the plan. As I was saying, with my ‘number one best friend’ title under threat, we’re going to demote Jimin as your boyfriend! It’s a win-win situation!”

“What? I never even asked for him to be my boyfriend but wait— Don’t you mean promote?”

“Y/N, as much as I love your dumb ass, you tend to be quite demanding with people. Hopefully, he knows how to handle your present self.”

“Jeon Jungkook, please don’t make me regret this.”

A few days after the conversation with Jungkook, the boy gets to work as fast as possible, and by work, it means work to get on Jimin’s nerves instead of actually being helpful in the cafe.

Jungkook has become noticeably clingy, or overall, just more touchy with you. It’s not like it’s anything new in all honesty. Throughout college, the relationship between the both of you is purely platonic. Your other college friends knew this and seeing the both of you cuddle wouldn’t be a strange sight. Jimin, however, isn’t one of your college friends and Jungkook seems to have taken advantage of this. Thus, he begins to work in the bakery almost every day, claiming just to see you.

At first Jimin showed no reaction since Jungkook is a good friend of his. But he has grown visibly irritated lately while Jungkook revels in pressing the older one’s buttons further.

“Jungkook…”

“Hmm?”

“Can you please stop invading my personal space?”

“But it’s not going to work if I don’t— Oof!” You shove him away before going back to your task — placing the cupcakes on the display tray — annoyance building up at Jungkook’s disruptions.

“I’m going to file a restraining order on you at this rate.”

He huffs, moving towards you once more. “Don’t you want to prove that Jimin is going to be pissed if he sees me being affectionate to you?”

You shake your head. “I just want to work in peace.”

“Hmph. You’re no fun.”

“Cuz you’re the one not working.”

“Hey, I’m helping here voluntarily.”

You ignore his words, focusing on your task while Jungkook starts whining for you to give him attention. “Kook, I fucking swear if you don’t get your hands off—”

Jimin’s voice rings “Y/N, are the cupcakes...” He trails as soon as he enters the kitchen, freezing at the sight of Jungkook wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his dumb head on the crook of your neck.

“He’s going to rage,” Jungkook whispers, laughing softly.

“Uh, Jungkook can I talk to you?” Jimin asks, eyes noticeably narrowing as his tone tenses.

“Finally,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, before he lets go of you and faces Jimin. “Sure, Hyung.”

You take that cue to leave, bringing the freshly iced cupcakes to the display counter, leaving Jungkook and Jimin alone in the kitchen.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“What’s been going on with you lately? You come here to work everyday but all I can see is you busy flirting with Y/N.” Jimin throws the younger one an unamused glare.

Jungkook answers easily, “I do my job, Hyung. And so what if I do flirt with Y/N?”

“You can’t,” Jimin blurts out, earning a questioning look from Jungkook. “You just can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Do you like Y/N?”

“Of course, she’s my best friend.”

Jimin shoots Jungkook another unamused look at his answer.

“I’m going to tell her how I feel in three days,” Jungkook continues.

Jimin’s stomach drops at that statement. However, at the same time the urge to let you know how he truly feels increases. But the thought of the impending rejection after hurting you and causing your memory loss makes him think twice.

Maybe Jungkook deserves you more than him — he can protect and support you while Jimin has failed.

With a shaky breath, Jimin mutters, “Take care of her, alright?”

Obviously, his response catches Jungkook off guard. “What?”

“Take good care of Y/N, JK. I’m seriously counting on you.”

“Wait—“ Jungkook looks downright flustered at the unexpected response. “Hyung, wait.”

“What?” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be confused.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Just give me an honest answer, hyung. No lies.”

A pause.

“Do you like Y/N? As in more than friends?”

Jimin nods without hesitance.

Jungkook mumbles something under his breath that Jimin is sure it sounds like, freaking idiots.

“Go tell her how you feel, Hyung. And tell her as soon as possible.”

“But you—”

“It’s to push you to confess to her. I don’t see Y/N that way.” Jungkook sighs. “Honestly, what would the both of you be without me?”

Jimin stands in the kitchen, speechless, as Jungkook continues to ramble how significant his role is in between your relationship and how you and Jimin owe him so much.

“So, yes, go tell her how you feel, hyung. She’ll listen to whatever you’ll say.”

With a newfound resolve, hope sparks in Jimin’s heart. “I will.”

To say that Jimin is nervous would be an understatement. He had barely slept a wink last night, thinking of all the words and how he would explain why he had left so suddenly and confess his feelings to you. Jungkook has been a supportive friend, even if he does push Jimin’s buttons along the way. However, Jimin knows that it was his own way of showing encouragement.

You are cleaning the rest of the tables of the cafe and Jimin can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you through the small window opening between the kitchen and the counter area.

“Are we done for today, Mochi?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydream.

“Yeah!” Jimin continues to wipe the kitchen counter quickly, replying almost too enthusiastically before he clears his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, Y/N?”

You enter the kitchen and once again Jimin’s heartbeat rises. “Nope. I’m going straight back home after this. Lady Goldilocks is waiting for me.”

Lady Goldilocks. Jimin chuckles at the mention of your fish’s name. He wonders if one day he’s able to see the pet fish for himself. He had asked what happened to Mr Goldy and you had become flustered at that since you didn’t know the fish was female. So, now, you have changed the fish’s name. Yet, somehow Jimin got an inkling that there is more to the story. He had asked Jungkook — to which the boy had valiantly refused to utter a word about it and had babbled, “Huh? Fish? What fish? Is that for dinner?”

Once the both of you finished closing up the bakery cafe, Jimin taps on your shoulder before you had the chance to go back home.

“May I walk you home?”

You blink, processing his words then nodding rapidly. “S-Sure.”

Jimin smiles warmly at you. It’s easy in fact. Just being in your presence always brings happiness into his heart. You had grown into an amazing person and even more attractive.

Something about you had always captivated Jimin since the first time you met him in the cafe where he used to do his part time work. Your curious eyes were always following him as he took the customers’ orders and honestly, it was very endearing.

Comfortable silence falls upon you both, walking through the asphalt pathway and naturally, Jimin opens his palms, extending it towards you.

You stare at that for a moment and clasp his hand with yours. Jimin weaves your fingers together, bringing you closer to him as you continue to walk back home.

“Do you mind if we take a little detour?”

You nod at his words.

Once Jimin reaches the destination, he can sense your eyes glance curiously at the empty hill. He pulls you up onto the top of the hill, sitting down on the grass while he pats the space next to him and you follow suit.

“Look up,” Jimin whispers, and you did.

A quiet gasp escapes your lips at the sight of twinkling stars that scatters across the dark sky.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Jimin voices out. “Someone made me realise how beautiful the stars are…” He falters. “A-And she had never left my mind all those years. One of my deepest regrets is that I wasn’t able to say goodbye when I had to leave.”

You hear his words, yet you stay silent — an encouragement for him to continue to speak what’s on his mind.

“My family was in a difficult financial position back then and my dad had done things I wasn’t proud of…” Jimin’s eyes turn glassy and faraway, even when he sets his gaze up. “And one of them is that he had made a deal with loan sharks without the guarantee of paying them back… And of course, they were angry.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath.

“I once thought that probably I could still stay here back then. Even more so when I met you. But I was wrong. Those men started to chase after me and because of that, you—” He shudders. “—got injured. And that night my parents had made plans to leave without me and my brother knowing.”

He turns to look at you. “I never got to apologise to you for causing that. I should be the one to protect you but… I failed. For that, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Jimin…” You say softly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who jumped in front of you when the man came after you. It’s my own choice because you are special to me.”

“But I could have—”

You shush him with a pointer finger in front of his lips for a few moments. “You don’t have to be sorry anymore, Mochi. It’s not your fault. And what matters now is to focus on the present and look to the future, right?”

He nods, emotions swimming inside his chocolate eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought—”

“For telling you that you shouldn’t have feelings for me.”

And you lapse into silence. He remembers…?

“I hate that that has hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I was happy but desperate too since my family—”

“Jimin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“What do you see me as, now?”

He blinks. All the practiced words on how he would tell you his feelings dissipate from his mind as he blankly stares at you. “I… I like you.” His voice grows quieter. “More than friends…”

“And if I said you shouldn’t have feelings for me?”

A flash of hurt crosses his eyes briefly. But he answers, nonetheless, “I would do what you want.”

“So, you reciprocate my feelings now?”

“H-huh?”

“I like you too. More than friends. In fact, I think my feelings have grown for you ever since I found out you’re Mochi.”

It takes a few moments for Jimin to process your words. He gapes, mouth opening and closing.

“You are resembling Lady Goldilocks right now.”

“What?”

Your cheeks flush. “Lady Goldilocks is a Betta fish. She was the golden one in a tank full of her blue siblings. Jungkook tried persuading me to choose the blue ones since they were more attractive to look at. But all I could see is the gold one since it reminded me of you.”

“I like golden colours…” Jimin mumbles in realisation.

“Exactly,” you let out a sheepish laugh, eyes turning to look back up into the sky. Before Jimin can respond, your eyes brighten up. “Look! A shooting star!”

Jimin snaps his gaze up as well.

“Hurry, make a wish!” You then close your eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear. Jimin follows suit, making his own wish.

As soon as you both finish making your wishes, you turn to face him once more.

“Are you still sorry for saying that to me?”

Jimin nods, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Hell, he thinks he would always regret hurting you that time.

“I know how you can make it up to me then.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

“W-What?” He splutters.

“Unless you don’t want—“ Yet, your words die on your throat as Jimin moves closer to you, eliminating the distance between you both as he cups your face just like that time in the bakery.

Without another word, he leans down, pressing his lips on yours softly while you place your hands on top of his before he presses further, brows furrowing as he kisses you fervently. For the time being, all that matters is just you and him. He caresses your cheeks and you run your hands down to wrap around his waist until you can feel his heart beating against his chest.

After pulling away — both of you catching your breaths — Jimin presses his forehead against yours, running his thumb over your lips while you were unable to open your eyes for a few moments at the burst of emotions that is coursing through you.

“I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” he admits. “My wish finally came true.” And you smile at that.

“My wish also came true because of you, Mochi...”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Sitting on one of the tables, your eyes can’t take themselves off Jimin as he serves customers. Today is your day off and you decided to pay him a visit in the bakery.

“You’re drooling.”

Your gaze snaps up to your best friend who sits across you after placing a cinnamon roll on the table for you. Jungkook continues, “I swear I’m going to vomit one of these days if I see you or Jimin hyung throwing each other— what was that called? It’s an old term— Oh! Goo-goo eyes one more time.”

“Shut up, Jeon. I’m not.” You reach for the roll, taking a bite.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah right, you basically either stare at him like he placed stars in the sky or like you want to tear off his clothes—”

You choke on the roll, quickly reaching for your glass of water before you throw your napkin at his face. Jungkook cackles at that before he resumes his act, sighing. “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have intervened. I didn’t know you’d be like this. My best friend is so uncool now.”

“Y/N is what?” You perk up at Jimin’s voice.

“Whipped,” Jungkook mutters before he takes his cue to leave. He stands up, passing by Jimin after shooting the older one a teasing glance.

Jimin sits across from you, and he instinctively reaches for your hand on the table. “How was your day?” And you swear you can hear Jungkook making a gagging sound amidst the chatter of the customers.

“Good. I finished my chores at home earlier today. So, I thought I would come visit.”

Minutes pass by quickly as you chatter with Jimin. He had almost forgotten to go back to work until Jungkook reminded him. When it is time to close up the bakery, you watch him wash the remaining mixing bowls while perching on one of the cleaned counters of the kitchen.

“You know, I could use some help,” Jimin teases, drying his hands on his apron.

A smile curls up on the corner of your lips, eyes following his movements — drawing closer to where you are. “Well, I think you got it all handled, Mochi.”

Once he reaches you, he pulls you to wrap your legs around his waist while your arms rest on his shoulders — encircling around his neck. You both stare at each other and he pushes a strand of stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind an ear while his other hand settles on your waist.

“Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re really here with me,” You admit. “Just like a sweet dream.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not, Y/N...” He leans to give you a chaste kiss. “... we’ll make up for the lost time we didn’t spend together.”

“Promise?”

He softly smiles at you. “Promise.”

author’s note: this was originally intended to be posted on jimin’s birthday but well i decided to add more stuff in it. thus, i am late alskflsdda so yes, i hope you guys enjoy this fic and feedbacks are always appreciated !! thank you for reading ♡

#btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #bangtanidx #bangtanuniversity #btsghostie #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin scenarios #park jimin #bangtan scenarios #promptlyyourscafe #amourville series

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soft-for-them · 4 years ago

Text

a cup of tea for the handsome man ♡ geordi la forge x reader

anon: OKAY concept: Geordi had a failed valentines date, and reader (who crushes hard) is like “bruh hang out with MEEE” a la Taylor swifts “you belong with me”

gender neutral reader, geordi ain’t straight,

gif doesn’t really match but it’s cute ok! not proof read.

‘Maybe you can accompany my friend Geordi La Forge today.’ Data bluntly asks as you both walk down a stone covered street.

‘Data, I swear to the stars, stop!’ you whine to your android friend who currently still wears his yellow dress uniform despite it being shore leave.

‘I am only asking because Geordi seems to be by himself.’ Data holds up the cat carrier that he holds, wiggling his finger to Spot, ‘Please calm down Spot.’

You are Lieutenant (Y/n) (l/n), though most people call you (y/n) and ever since you have met Data you have both been found friends. You are interested in robotics and androids, so the friendship came naturally.

However, Data doesn’t have many out of work friends. He mostly hangs around you, Spot and a very handsome man by the name of Geordi La Forge.

‘Just because I’m your friend does not mean I’m automatically his, Data.’ You tug at the draw strings of your oversized hoodie straighten the out strings.

‘Yes, but you are technically mutuals for you both have me as your friend.’ Data looks at you with a blank stare, ‘And you are normally alone so you need another friend.’

If you haven’t been friends with the yellow tinted man then you would have told him off.

It is somewhat true; you do spend a lot of time in engineering and most of your really good friends are stationed on different ships. But you want to spend you shore leave on earth doing something fun, not awkwardly trying to befriend Geordi La Forge, a man you have fancied for quite a while.

If Data has some more common sense the he would see your heart eyes towards his dear friend but he doesn’t; all he sees is a hermit engineer who needs a buddy whilst Data isn’t around.

‘Data, why has this come on? I’m alone most of the time!’ you have plans and it doesn’t involve trying not to out your crush to a clueless Geordi or Data.

‘I just do not want my friends be lonely.’

Data’s eyebrows frown as you two stop in front of a veterinary practice.

‘Just because me and Geordi will be alone when you take Spot to get her check-up doesn’t mean we will be lonely.’

‘But you will both be alone.’ he deliberates.

‘We will be fine Data.’ You place a hand on your friend’s arm, ‘If you want, we can all meet up after Spot’s check up and I can officially meet Geordi, ok?’

‘I would like that very much (y/n).’ Data sincerely smiles.

He nods his head and then walks into the small vets.

You shake you head in amusement at your dear friend’s worry as you begin walking down the street.

‘Data, data, data.’ You think with an amused smile blooming on your face.

For about ten minutes you wonder the streets aimlessly, looking at the plants that grown up the shop fronts and the old Roman roads. Benches are in the middle of the ‘roads’ that are really used for pedestrians to walk on, tram cars sliding by the painting like scenery.

Whilst wondering a small alleyway catches your eyes.

It’s not a dingy alleyway with bins and a dead end but it’s actually a little nook filled with cafes and small hobby shops.

Looking both ways you walk across the street into the alley, every bump of the pathway felt even in you tick soled trainers.

Passing a few shops your eyes land on a small round of metal tables, some filled with people, outside a small two-story café.

You walk in, a heartly woman automatically greeting you from the counter at the back. The place is very small and thin but it does not feel claustrophobic. There is a cottage core vibe to it, the place lit up by the huge widows at the front and the fairy lights shaped like hearts.

The downstairs seems to be the place to order food and drink, a peak of a small kitchen at the back can be seen from an open door past the counter.

‘Um hello.’ You say back to the woman whilst you wipe your feet on the welcome mat, ‘What’s good here?’

‘Well first are you allergic to anything my dear?’

You answer the question and tell the woman what kind of tea you like.

‘Well because today is Valentine’s day, we have our cake special that I think is perfect for you!’

You look at the slice of cake the woman points at in the little display case.

‘It’s freshly baked, I made it just this morning!’

‘Yeah, sure, it looks nice. I’ll have a slice.’ You need to indulge yourself every now and then.

She slides a cup of your favourite tea and a slice of cake to you. You pay with you card, leaving a good tip.

‘The upstairs is the best place sit.’ She says as you take your plate and cup.

With a nod you ascend the steps to the upstairs to see the prettiest room you’ve ever seen.

The room’s roof is a giant glass window and there is many potted plants that look like they’re growing up the walls. Tables are littered around, each one with a different flower on it, some customers are using the built in holo computer screens.

You find a small two four person table near the back and you sit down breathing in the faint smell of pollen that doesn’t actually tickle your nose into a sneeze.

‘Hum, could be fake plants?’ you think as you take a sip of your tea.

For a while you just eat and browse the holo screen at your table, emersed and doom scrolling through blogs about robotics.

You had sent a message to Data telling him where you are and telling him to come here when he was done with Spot’s check up.

It must have been half an hour at staring at the screen. You had finished the pink decorated cake and your tea was almost done as well.

With achy eyes you peer up and look around the room.

There seems to be the same people albeit a couple new faces.

In on corner to your right is a mother with her child who you hadn’t noticed, an older person sits clicking on old keyboard laptop and a new younger man sits waiting next to the giant window overlooking the alleyway.

Even though this man is far away you can tell that he’s a good looking man. Said person wears a short sleeve patterned button down reminiscent of the 1990’s, the blues stripes bold against the cottage core interior of the café. The shirt is tucked into some brown slacks, that are rolled up at the bottom and held up by a shiny black belt. Block coloured peek out from his trousers and equally shiny black shoes.

If you would try to pull off such a vintage outfit but all you ever wear is your work uniform or oversized hoodies, making you look like a in debt college student. Right now you look like a in debt college student in your Starfleet branded hoodie and shorts that are comfy but childish in colour scheme.

‘I bet this café attracts all the fashionable types.’ You think sipping the last of your tea only to spit out in surprise.

The man in the retro shirt turns around only to reveal a very familiar yellow and silver visor.

‘Fuck, he’s even more good looking!’ your mind becomes scrambled, ‘Was he always there? Does he know I’m here? Should I go over and say hi?’

Your eyes stay on Geordi as he keeps on peering out of the big window, him looking like he’s waiting for someone.

‘Maybe he’s waiting for Data?’ it’s a logical assumption that Data told him to meet him in the café you are in. A check up for a cat doesn’t take that long right?

You leave you cup and plate on you table and start to edge your way over to the handsome man.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is right but you step next to his table, with a big smile on your face and hand raised up in a too enthusiastic wave.

‘Geordi La Forge, right?

Geordi’s snaps up to yours, his face looks slightly confused in that puppy kid of way.

‘Sorry, I’m (y/n), Data’s friend.’ you stop waving so you don’t look so odd, ‘Um, I saw you here and wanted to say that Data will be coming here after Spot’s vet appointment. Sooooo, if you want to join, my table is free.’

Whilst you happily talk Geordi’s face morphs into a sweet smile. You quickly look down to his two person table to see to sets of cups and two slices of heart themed cupcakes, clearly for another half.

‘Though you don’t have too if you have plans.’

‘He talks about you a lot.’ Geordi declares, ‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Well I am a brilliant person.’ you lean against the window trying to look cool but the hoodie you drown in just makes you look dishevelled.

There is an awkward pause before you just stop leaning as start walking away.

‘I see you might be busy, so I’m over here-‘ you point over to your table, ‘-yeah.’

With some more muttered pleasantries you shuffle back to your table hoping tha he doesn’t find you too weird. With you bum on the seat you wave you hand at the holo screen unlocking it from it’s sleeping state before quickly looking up to catch Geordi looking at you.

With another odd wave you hunch down and resume reading an article cybernetic enhancements in the medical field but every ten minutes or so you have to look up at Geordi.

One time you looked up he was staring out the window, another time he was stirring his drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and now you’re looking at him rapidly typing out something on a communicator.

With your tea and cake devoured you quickly stand up to go downstairs to order some more tea. You look around and hope that no one takes your table, the tope floor is pretty empty now, and the holo screen on the table is still on.

It takes about five minutes but you bound up the stairs with not one but two cups of tea.

Hurried you head over to Geordi’s table and slide him one of you cups, making the man look up to you with another look of confusion.

‘Hot tea turned cold isn’t the best so I got you another cup.’ and with another small wave you walk back your table.

‘Smooth (y/n), he’s going to like me now!’ a Cheshire cat grin blooms as you take a sip of you drink.

As you fangirl/fanboy over your ‘move’ a person slides in the seat opposite you.

‘Is it still ok to sit.’ Geordi asks holding his cup of tea.

‘Well you’re technically already sitting down.’ you turn of the holo screen with your hand, ‘But you can stay, if that’s what you’re asking.’

You look at Geordi, gaze unchanged, confidence oozing out of you.

‘I’d imagine that Data will be here soon.’ you lean forward a bit, ‘So we should acquaint each other before he does.’

‘I guess you already know who I am. I know who you are… thank you for the tea by the way.’

‘I don’t want to be a nosy so and so but why were you alone.’ You ask hoping you don’t sound rude.

‘I can ask the same thing to you.’ He quips back.

‘Had nothing to do and went exploring, found thing place. You?’ you press.

‘I got stood up.’ He plainly puts it, ‘Was chatting to someone in engineering and yeah…’

Geordi looks deflated as he gulps his drink.

‘Which dick stood you up, I can set my robot on them.’ he looks up at you with a bright smile.

‘You have a robot?’

‘It’s my thing.’

Another pause o silence happens before Geordi speaks.

‘Lieutenant James Sibell.’ as he says the name a disgusted scoff comes from you lips, your face distorted in disgusted.

‘That bastard man!’ you hand fly up in a comical rage, ‘Good job you have me to keep you company.’

Geordi laughs at your words, a small pit of joy growing in his heart, he must tell Data later that he has a good friend in you and that he should have introduced you two sooner.

Data step up the stairs of the café, spot in her cat carrier, and a slice of cake.

He only bought the cake out of curiosity, the cake having rainbow icing and little sugar heart shaped sweets on top.

When he gets to the top he automatically scans the room. His eyes land on a table near the back, his two closets friends chatting together, both sitting rather close.

i have no clue if this is good. it’s long-ish but that doesn't necessarily equate to it being the best.

please tell me if it’s good or not.

#geordi la forge x reader #geordi x reader #geordi la forge #star trek #star trek x reader #star trek the next generation

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random-mha-thoughts · 5 years ago

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No Idea (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Anon asked: "yooo sketch was so cute and he was so in character! if you're taking requests could you write a fic where basically all of 1a is at the dorms besides the reader who's patrolling and she gets attacked by dabi and has to fight him off alone meanwhile 1a and dadzawa watch from the dorms via news channel? bonus points for a water quirk reader! you can match the reader up with either deku or bakugou!"

Genre: Action, angst/comfort

Word count: 2,005

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Basically this entire ask is describing just a portion of what I’m preparing for my multi-chapter Todoroki fic that I’ve already teased about for my 500 followers special, you can call it maybe an alternate pathway, or a separate continuity that helps to characterize my OC. And I guess this one is well-timed because I just hit 1K yesterday?? I don’t know how it happened either tbh There will be a special event and a separate mushy post to come, but thank you all so so so much from the bottom of my heart.

This ended up longer than I expected, but that’s okay because I haven’t posted in a few days and I had time today to bang it out in one sitting. I know this request came from a fluff like Sketch, so I hope you also like angst because that’s my specialty ;) (not to mention I was waiting for someone to request something angsty because I’ve had that photo saved and ready to use it for the LONGEST time). Thank you for requesting it anon!

"Kinda sucks being out on patrol on the weekend," I sigh to myself, biting into my taiyaki. "But it isn't all bad I guess."

Mirko had called me out to do a quick patrol this weekend. This part of the city has been pretty quiet lately, and I don't mind showing my face. A few passerby's wave at me and I respond in kind. I like this part of the job, being the hero that everyone knows, respects, and trusts to protect them. It gives me more drive to save them in time of crises.

"Blue!" a middle school girl walks by and waves.

"Hi, Mina," I smile and wave back. "Going home from cram school?"

"Yup!" she flashes me a toothy grin. "Dad's making dinner tonight for once! It's Mom's birthday!"

"That's wonderful," my smile softens. "Wish her happy birthday for me, okay? And get home quick before she worries!"

"I will!" the girl runs off down the sidewalk, waving behind her.

So cute, I think, watching her small figure weave through the crowd of people. I swallow the last bite of my fish treat and continue on my patrol. Thankfully, it's another laid back day: I direct a few lost pedestrians to their destinations, make small talk with more familiar faces, help a few elderly carry groceries to their houses, and the like. I'm content with the mundane flow of a lazy Sunday afternoon.

While talking to a grocery store employee, a sudden explosion in the alley across the street breaks routine.

"Everyone get inside the nearest building or run as far as you can!" I scream out instructions to the citizens nearest to me as I keep an eye on the alley for the next explosion and help anyone within reach to look for cover. That explosion wasn't normal, I know those blue flames like the back of my hand.

Looks like my Sunday stroll is over. I dial on my phone as I thread through the frightened crowd toward the alley. "Mirko san, I might need backup. There's a very high possibility that the League is involved here, but I'll confirm-"

Right when I'm within a few yards of the alley's opening, another bright blue light flashes, triggering the surrounding crowd to scream and run away faster. I assist a few others, waiting for the smoke to clear. A silhouette appears amidst the dark fog, and I know exactly who it is.

"I'm confirming, it's-"

Before I can finish, the shadow stretches out its hand towards me and blasts flames straight at me. Immediately, I put up a water shield in front of me, then start building it wider so the people near and behind me can get away without damage. I already know what happens when something - or someone - touches those dangerous blue flames.

"It's-It's Dabi of the League," I force myself to say, the name burning as it rolls off my tongue. "He appears to be alone."

"Roger. Try to apprehend him by yourself before I get there! I'll hurry over as soon as possible!" my mentor responds and cuts the call.

I make sure everyone within the immediate area is evacuated from the streets, scanning every inch wildly for stragglers. Heat increases around the me suddenly, and darting my head back around shows the fire eating through my water defense without faltering. Before it completely penetrates my defense, I jump over to the side behind a car, right before a giant hole is ripped in my shield.

I catch my breath calling the water back towards me into my water nodes and compartments in my hero suit.

"Looks like you've improved a lot since the last time I saw you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

His menacing yet familiar voice as he drags out my full name sends shivers up my spine. Damn it, of all the villains, I had to face him!

"Aw, don't be shy now, I know you're happy to see me too." His voice moves towards my left. "We don't even get to see each other anymore."

"I'd prefer it that way," I snap, readying myself for another inevitable attack.

"You better give me a good fight, little one."

His voice-!

At the last second before hearing the crash, I jump out from in front of my cover, the intense heat from the blue flames just millimeters from burning my fingertips. Dabi had jumped onto the top of the car, his voice being evenly split in both of ears signalling that he had moved from my left to right behind me in the nick of time or else I'd be ashes.

I finally got a good look at his face. The stitches and staples etched into his face down to his chest and arms are all-too-familiar, along with his raven black hair and turquoise eyes.

"Reminiscing?" his head tilts, gravely voice taunting. "I don't think you have time to do that."

I sprint off and around for more cover as he throws more fire pillars from his hands, trying to find a fire hydrant of water fountain to give me more material to work with. Otherwise, I'm only limited to manipulating what's in the air and the stores in my costume. To my dismay, there's nothing around.

All I have to do is slowly manipulate the water particles around him and condense them over his hands to stop his quirk temporarily. That's the plan in my head that I'm going for. But he's way ahead of me, predicting all my moves and constantly jumping to move away from where I've gathered the water particles and forcing me to start over, leaving me to dodge him and put some distance between us.

"I already know all your plans, you can't defeat me that easily by yourself," Dabi mocks me.

I'm at the end of my rope. It's difficult to keep running and there just isn't enough water in the air to work for a fast attack. I dodge another one of his attacks and wrack my brain to think of a different strategy. My mind can only come up with one all or nothing plan, but if it doesn't work, I'll be done for quickly.

It's a risk I have to take. I slowly start collecting as much water as I can into my suit and immediately around me. Knock him out as quickly as possible, face him head on. I take a deep breath. My body shakes from exhaustion, anticipation, and fear. I'll have to use my body's own water storage to help me, making this plan dangerous.

Right when Dabi's about to burn me at my new hiding spot I jump out and summon all the water I've stored to mobilize. Drown him! A sphere of water forms just around his head. In his moment of shocked hesitation before he strikes, I force the water to go down his airway to suffocate him. He catches wind of exactly what I'm doing somehow, raising his hands to send another blast at me. I summon another set of water from my costume stores to surround his hands to keep the explosion tamed. Come on, fall unconscious already!

But it's curtains for me. He's summoning a larger blast to his hands, neutralizing my watery protection around them and I don't have enough stored up to replenish it. Desperately, I start using up the water inside my body. Damn it hurry up! I can't-!

I feel myself reach my limit just as he completely disintegrates my water seal with an explosion, sending me flying backwards down the street until I roll to a stop. I'm exhausted, I can feel my blood pressure and heart rate dropping, and I'm too weak to try anything else.

Through my dizzied vision, Dabi staggers towards me, coughing and sputtering. "Damn kid, you really almost had me."

It didn't work, I'm a failure. I don't have the energy to say anything back.

"Get your hands off her!" a female voice resounds, and stomps reverberate through the ground.

"That's my cue." I crack open an eye to see him smirk down at me before using his quirk to lift himself off the ground. "Until we meet again, (Y/n) (L/n)." He rocket away without a hitch.

Damn it...

After waking up in the emergency ward attached to an IV for my severe dehydration, Mirko tells me Dabi got away and she rushed me right over to the hospital to treat me since I was unconscious. They won't let me leave until I've replenished all my stores and my urine's clear.

"Also, your teacher's coming to get you," my mentor adds.

Aizawa is going to kill me.

"OI! WHICH ROOM IS IT?!"

Oh for fuck's sake, I know who else is gonna kill me.

Bakugou stomps in, his head trying to be held back by Aizawa's capture weapon to no avail.

"YOU DUMBASS-!" my boyfriend starts off before the scarf comes over his mouth to muffle his screams.

"This is a hospital, control yourself," Aizawa grits at him deathly and walks next to my hospital bed. "I guess you did the best you could, but I won't praise you for almost getting yourself killed. It was a good strategy, it would've worked if you had backup." He pats my head before smirking. "Bakugou was about to cry when you collapsed."

"SENSEI!"

"I'll leave you two alone to talk."

Him and Mirko step outside the room, leaving my high-strung boyfriend to rush me. "Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was, you dumbass?! You almost got yourself kill, look where you ended up...!"

I drown out his screaming, noticing how bloodshot his crimson eyes are from crying. He was so worried about me. I reach my hand up weakly and touch his cheek, cutting his reprimanding screams off short suddenly. If I had the tears to cry, I would. Instead, I offer him a tired, melancholy stare of affection. "I'm sorry," I manage out. "I know I said I wouldn't use up my own body's water, but I didn't want to die, Katsuki."

The aggression melts away from him face and his hand reaches up to hold mine. "I guess it was instinctive," he admits, closing his eyes and I feel him start to tremble. "Why would you face a villain like that alone?"

"I called for backup-"

"You should've stalled for as long as you could!" he sobs out, gripping my hand tighter.

My own body starts to well up, feeling the tickle in my eyes but no tears can escape. "I tried," is my soft reply. "I'm sorry."

Bakugou envelopes my body in his, trembling warmth blanketing me with his high emotions. "What would I have done without you? When I saw you get hit by that explosion, I almost lost it. Did you think about how I would feel if you pulled something like that and didn't survive it?"

I feebly return his embrace, tangling my fingers in his puffy hair to comfort the sobs wracking his body. "I'm here, Katsuki. I could have been in a worse condition, but I'm still here now."

His trembling and cries slow down to a calming end, and he remains wrapping me with his affection. "You did well, except the almost dying thing, I guess. I'm proud of you for holding your own as long as you did against a villain like him."

"Wow, a compliment? You must have really been shaken up," I poke fun at him to lighten the mood.

"I can be nice..." he mumbles into my neck. "You better drink a whole ton of water so we can go back together. Everyone else is worried about you too."

My mind wanders back to Dabi. I'll have to face him again eventually, and he knows what I'll try to do in the future. I'll need to be ready. But until then, I have a hotheaded Pomeranian boyfriend to comfort me from my past and build towards my - hopefully, our - future.

Sequel

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #gender neutral reader #action #comfort #bakugou scenario #bakugou imagine #request #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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haydenandtrish · 5 years ago

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Hoi Amsterdam

The Netherlands is quite literally a breath of fresh air. Everywhere you look, nature is thriving. The grass is a thick green carpet with patches of flowers growing here and there. Better yet, they are beautiful wild things. Deeply rooted tree trunks emerge strong and proud from the rich black soil. Many are used to line pathways and roadways, their branches overhang and the leaves provide the perfect coverage of shade - light just peaks through. Friendly vines snake their way up the old trees adding another dimension of wonder to what already is. But it isn’t just the wild that’s beautiful. The Dutch people take a lot of pride in creating gardens. Most will have flowers and trees growing in their little front yards or at least have a couple of pots filled and lining their window sills. If that’s not enough, we found some homes hidden beneath the trees and vines, you just have to be looking, or you might miss it completely. The Dutch have created a way of living that appreciates nature and merges with it. Things are built around the earth to eventually grow with it. It is no wonder people allow themselves to be a little closer to nature, not shut off and simply getting from Point A to Point B. Because here, the journey is just as incredible as the destination.

Many people drive with their windows down, or by scooter, but the most popular mode of transport is most definitely by bicycle. It’s an easy way of getting around, while you are still able to enjoy the air and explore the streets. The best part, the Netherland’s have only aided in making travel by bicycle easier. The bike lanes are wide and never-ending. Once you get a little further out of the cities the roads become thinner, and to our amazement, they are lined specifically with bike lanes as a priority, motorists simply stick to their side of the road. The roads have been created with bicycles in mind, not as an afterthought. The paths are full of cyclists breezing past and effortlessly whizzing in and out. Now, it can be a little nerve racking when you first make your way on to the bike lanes, because damn it’s another world out there. But if I can tell you one thing that you remember, it’s that bicycles and pedestrians have the right of way. Nearly always. So don’t be a stumbling fool in the middle of the road jerking to stop unsure whether to go or not. Unless the car is coming full speed at you, you go.

Amsterdam – Our Way

Accommodation

We stayed in an AirBnb in Nord Amsterdam. This location was perfect for us as it was a short walk up to the NDSM werf and a free 12-minute ferry ride into Centraal. The loft was beautiful and located in a cute suburb where the street names are themed after the planets. There’s a park across the road and an excellent supermarket a short scenic walk in the same direction. Check out the listing here.

How to get around

Amsterdam was incredible because you could quite literally walk everywhere! With the free ferries, two feet each and a heartbeat, we saved a whole lot of money in our travel budget allowance by not having to catch public transport to get around. We also spent 30 Euros (15 Euro pp) on our bicycle rental for 24 hours. We did not, however, go for a canal ride, but if it’s in your budget then why not!

Food

When we are staying longer than a day or two Hayden and I have decided to instantly do a grocery shop. On the day we arrived we went to the supermarket and completed a grocery shop that was 40 Euros, this converts to $64 AUD. Not bad for 4 days of breakfast, lunch, snacks and 1 dinner. We occasionally ate out but generally tried to keep to the already made meals we had prepared. The pricing on eating out is average, not too expensive but not too cheap. However, some places do not display prices so just be weary to make sure you’re not being overcharged for a simple croissant.

What to see

We were lucky enough to be there on Kings Day and decided to ride 80 km’s to see the tulips on another day, you can read all about it here! Both recommendations are seasonal so if you are there at the right time of the year then they are both not to be missed. However, if you can only visit Amsterdam during the rest of the year, there is still so much to do and see. We admittedly were a bit short for time only having 5 days so we would definitely recommend a little longer if you have the luxury – you will not be short on activities to do.

If you are staying in Centraal then catch the ferry from Amsterdam Centraal over to NDSM Werf. There’s generally quite a lot of activities being held there and if you love street art then it’s somewhere you would want to walk around.

Back on the other side of the canal, Amsterdam is rich with museums, history, and art. The parks are beautifully kept and perfect after a coffee shop visit. We cannot give you a full rundown itinerary because we just walked around, but we will be updating Our Map in our blog with all of our favourite starred places. If you are planning on checking out Amsterdam and want some advice, then be sure to keep your eyes peeled and head over there.

Coming up, we were lucky enough to stumble upon a parade celebrating the 150 years since trams transformed transportation within the next city we explored. Not only that, but it was also their public holiday for Labour day. Can you guess where? Always with Love, Trish

#amsterdam #bicycle #city #nature #airbnb

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flakandforay · 6 years ago

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화양연화 HYYH The Notes: Y Version

Seokjin 30 August YEAR 22

Can anyone remember the moment they fell in love. Can anyone predict the moment this love ended. What is the reason that humans are not be able to recognize these moments. And why was I given the power to undo all these things?

The car came to a sudden stop, headlights flashing, bouncing, falling. The one who was standing there amongst the noisy moments, defenseless, was me. I couldn’t hear anything, I couldn’t sense anything at all. Though it was summer, the breeze was cold. There was the sound of something tumbling down along the road. Also, there was a scent of a flower. It was only then did a sense of reality came back to me. The bouquet of Smeraldo flowers fell from my hand. The lady was the only one in the middle of the road. Blood was spilling out from her head. Dark red blood was flowing onto the road. I thought then. If only I could turn back time.

17 July YEAR 20

I stood at the front door of the school with the cicada sound coming nearer. At the recreation ground, there were kids who crowded around laughing, fooling around, competing, nipping. The summer school vacation has started and others were excited for it. I lowered my head and walked among them.

“Hyung”. I lifted my head, surprised at the appearance of someone’s shadow. It was Hoseok and Jimin. They looked at me, their smiles as wide and bright as the sun, and their childlike eyes full of mischief. “Today is the start of vacation, should we just go?” Hoseok said as he pulled my arm. I muttered ‘sure, sure’ and a few other meaningless words as I turned my head away. What happened on that day was clearly an accident. It wasn’t even intentional. In that time, I didn’t even think that Yoongi and Jungkook were at the storage classroom, The principal would suspect that I was sticking up for my younger brothers. He would have told my father that I wasn’t a good student. No matter what, I had to say something. I mentioned the hideout because I thought it was empty. But in the end, Yoongi was expelled. Nobody knew that I was involved, an accomplice.

“I hope you have a great school holiday, Hyung! Call us.” By how he interpreted my outer expression, Hoseok dropped his hand and gave an even brighter greeting. This time as well, I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t even say anything. As I stand at the school gate, the first day of going to school reeled in my mind. We could laiugh because we received punishment together. I had ruined those times.

Yoongi 15 June YEAR 22

I wasn’t aware of what is happening but just the sound of music playing in my head. No matter how much alcohol I drink, or where I am, what I am doing is more important. If you want to know, it isn’t important. With faltering steps, I went out into the night. Just walking among the dust. Be it on the street, the street stall or the wall, I hit it. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to forget everything.

Jimin’s voice was still ringing in my ears. “Hyung. It’s Jungkook.” The next thing I remembered was going up the stairs in the hospital as if I was mad. It was a dark and weird pathway towards the north of the hospital. People who were wearing patient gowns walked past. My heart was racing. Everyone’s faces were pale. They had no facial expression. They all seemed as though they were dead. In my head, my breathing became more ragged.

I opened the door of the ward where Jungkook was lying down in slightly. I, myself, don’t know why but I turned my head away with a jerk. I couldn’t look at him. In that moment, I could hear the sounds of the piano, fire, the collapse of the building into pieces. I couldn’t even stick it up for him. I then thought,”It was because of me. If I wasn’t there, this wouldn’t have happened.” It was my mother’s voice, no, my voice, no, it was anybody’s voice. I couldn’t say anything during that painful time. I didn’t want to believe it. But then, Jungkook was lying down there. He was lying down with patients who looked dead passing by. I just couldn’t go inside. I couldn’t even confirm it. When I stood, my legs wanted to give up. I left with tears streaming down my face. I forced myself to laugh. I couldn’t even remember the last time I cried.

As I crossed the pedestrian crossing, someone grabbed my arm and I stopped. Who was it? No, it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, it was all over. “Don’t come to my side. Go. Please just throw me away. I also don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be hurt. And so, please don’t come near me.”

12 June YEAR 19

I just recklessly left school though I have nowhere to go. The day was hot, I had no money, I had nothing to do. Namjoon was the one who suggested going to the beach. The younger brothers seemed excited but I wasn’t in the mood. “Do you have money?” At my question, Namjoon made them shake to shake their pockets. A few pennies, a few bills. We couldn’t go. The only person who suggested to go there by walking was Taehyung. Namjoon made a face to reconsider however everyone was minding their own business, talking, laughing and rolling on the floor before actually walking on the road. I wasn’t feeling to talk back, so I fell behind. The sun shone brightly. It was noon and the ginko trees couldn’t provide shade as cars kicked off the dust as they passed us on the sidewalkless road.

“Let’s go over there.” This time it was Taehyung who said it. Or was it Hoseok. I didn’t really care so I didn’t really look carefully, but it would be either of them. I walked with my head down, kicking the dirt until I collided nearly into someone did I lift my head up. Jimin stood there as though rooted in the ground. His face showed that he was afraid, as though there was something scary that his muscles were trembling. “Are you okay?” I asked though it fell on deaf ears. Jimin then saw a sign that said a flower arboretum that was 2.2km away.

“I don’t want to walk.” I heard Jungkook say. Jimin’s face was covered in sweat. His face became pale within a while. “What is this?” I felt that it was weird. “Park Jimin.” Of course, he didn’t move an inch when I called him. I lifted my head and looked again at the sign.

“Ya, the day is hot but why go to this arboretum. Let’s go to the sea.” I said while trudging my feet. I don’t know what exactly the flower arboretum is but I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t know the reason but Jimin’s eyes were weird. “We don’t have enough money.” I told Hoseok who answered, “That’s why we are walking.” Taehyung added, “If we walk all the way to the train station, it would be enough.” Namjoon said, “Instead, we would be starving for dinner.” Jungkook and Taehyung pretended to cry while Seokjin laughed. Jimin began to move again once we began to take the road towards the train station. As I turned my head past my shoulders, I could see that Jimin was still a small kid. I looked up again at the sign. Flower arboretum, those five letters gradually becoming further and further away.

Namjoon 13 July YEAR 22

I leaned against the window of the bus. From the library to the gas station. The familiar scenery passing by the window since I take this route everyday. Will the day come for me to leave this scenery behind? I felt that it was impossible to predict what tomorrow would bring.

In the distance in front of me, I could see a lady wearing a yellow hair tie. Her shoulders liften and dropped as though she exhaled. She also leaned against the window. It has already been a month since we studied at the library and took the same bus from the station. We hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but we look at the same scenery together, lived in the same time and sighed the same sighs. The hair tie was still in my pants’ pocket.

The lady always dropped off three stations before me. I always wondered whether she would be distributing flyers there. What kind of things does she spend her time doing, what are the things that she’s enduring? How much has she been thinking that tomorrow might not come, or that from the beginning, there was never such a thing called ‘tomorrow’? These are what I thought about.

The station that the lady would drop by was approaching. Someone pressed the stop button and other passengers got up from their seats. However, in the midst of this, the lady didn’t move. Her head was just still against the window at where she sat. Time still passed. I went to get closer to her. In that moment, I was conflicted. The bus stop came near. The lady was still as how she was in the beginning. People got off the bus. The doors closed and the bus began to take off.

It has passed 3 bus stops but I didn’t want to wake her up. As I moved to the exit of the bus, I fought with myself again. It was clear that if I got off, no one would pay attention to her. She would wake up somewhere far from her stop and that it would be much more tiring today for her because of it.

I dropped off from the bus and the scent of the gas station started to waft through the air. The bus took off and I didn’t want to look back. I left the hair tie on top of her bag. That wasn’t the start but it wasn’t the end either. From the beginning, nevertheless, there was no whatsoever reason. I just thought that nevertheless, it didn’t matter.

17 December YEAR 21

The people waiting for the first bus rubbed their hands in the cold. I clutched the strap of my bag, looking down at the dirt. I didn’t even put in effort to make eye contact with anyone. In one day, the bus stops in the village twice. From a distance, I could see the bus approaching.

I boarded the bus behind everyone else. I didn’t look back. When I was passionate for something, something that I barely had, when I didn’t have anything but things to escape - I had conditions. I wasn’t meant to talk about the past. The moment I looked back, the efforts I made to become more than sea foam. I didn’t look back. The suspicion, lingering desire and fear. Only after overcoming these did I manage to escape.

The bus took off. I had no plans. I had nothing passionate about, nothing to escape from. It was closer to recklessly running away. My mother’s tired face. My wandering younger brother. My dad’s illness. Day by day, it gets harder starting with the situation of the family. From the enforcement of sacrifice and tranquility of the family, pretending to not know, trying to adjust from the struggling. Above all else, from poverty.

If you ask anyone if poverty is a sin, they say it isn’t. But is that really what is is? Poverty gnaws on many things. Things that were precious aren’t anymore. You give up on things you couldn’t give up on. With all one’s heart, you become suspicious and fearful.

The bus would arrive at a familiar stop in a few hours. When I left that stop 1 year ago, there were no messages left behind. And now, I was returning without any notice or warning. I remembered my friend’s faces. We cut off all contact. How have they been doing? Will they be happy to see me? Will we laugh again when we are together just like before? There was frost on the windows and I couldn’t see the scenery outside. Slowly, I moved my finger on top.

“We must survive.”

Hoseok 4 July YEAR 22

I was standing in the hallway the whole time she was receiving first aid. Though it was in the middle of the night, there were many people hovering around. I was soaked to the skin by the rain and my own sweat that my hair was dripping with it. I shook off the sweat and rain off my hair and put down the bag that was with her. A diversity of things came out tumbling out of it. Coins rolled onto the floor, even a ballpen and a towel fell out. In the middle, there was a airplane e-ticket. I picked it up and read it briefly.

Then, the doctor called me. He told me that she had a mild concussion and that it’s nothing to worry a lot about. Soon later, she came out as well. “Are you alright?” She said that her head hurt slightly and she took her bag from me. She saw that the e-ticket was peeking out and looked at my face. I changed the strap of my bag slung onto my shoulder and pretended that I didn’t see anything and said that we should go. It has been raining for some time already when we came to the front door. I stood at the front of the door.

“Hoseok-ah”. She called me. Her facial expression told me that she wanted to say something. “Let’s wait a while. I’ll buy an umbrella.” I recklessly ran into the rain. There was a convenience store far off in the distance. I knew that for some time ago she entered an overseas dance team audition. The airplane ticket meant that she made it. I didn’t want her to say it. I didn’t have the confidence to congratulate her.

23 July YEAR 10

When I counted to three, I could hear laughter like a hallucination. In the next moment, I saw the young me passed by while holding someone’s hands. I looked back quickly to only see my classmates staring at me. “Hoseok-ah”. The teacher called my name. Only then did I realize where I was. It was a class field trip. I was counting the fruits drawn in the textbook. Five, six. I continued to count but then my voice trembled and my hands grew sweaty. That memory kept on resurfacing.

On that day, I couldn’t remember clearly my mother’s face. I only remembered the chocolate bar she gave me as wandered around the amusement park. “Hoseok-ah, from now on, close your eyes and count to 10.” After counting, I opened my eyes to see that my mother wasn’t there anymore. I waited and waited yet she never returned. I counted up till 9. If I counted one more, it would be fine but my voice couldn’t come out. My ears were ringing and my surroundings became hazy. The teacher kept pointing, telling me to keep on counting. I couldn’t remember my mother’s face. It seemed that if I counted one more, my mother would never come back for me.

Just like that, I collapsed to the ground.

Jimin 4 July YEAR 22

By the time I came back to my senses, I washed my arm so much that I was losing skin. My hands trembled and I was out of breath. Blood ran down my arm. Looking at the mirror, my eyes were bloodshot. The incident came back to my in fragments.

In that moment, I lost my focus. It was during the dance when I wanted to match the dance with Noona from a dance club that I lost my flow and collided into her. I fell to the rough floor and my arm started to bleed. I suddenly remembered what happened at the flower arboretum. I thought I had overcome it. But then, that wasn’t the case. I only ran away. I had to wash it away. I had to look away. The me in the mirror was the same 8-year old me who ran away in the rain. Then I realized it. Noona fell down as well.

There wasn’t anyone in the practice room. I saw the door open ajar with the rain falling outside. I could see Hoseok hyung running. The rain was pouring onto him. I ran after them with an umbrella. I ran. In the end, I stopped and stood there.

I couldn’t do anything. All I could was fall and hurt someone, leave them behind with a part of my pain and then run after them too late before stopping. I turned around. Every time I took a step, rain water soaked my sneakers. Car headlights passed me. I wasn’t okay. No, I am fine. I wasn’t in pain. This much isn’t an injury. I was really fine.

19 May YEAR 22

In the end, we went to the flower arboretum. I lied that I don’t remember what happened at that place but I had to quit lying. I had to stop hiding in the hospital and having seizures. If I wanted to do that, I had to go to that place. With that in mind, I went to the bus stop every day yet I couldn’t ride the bus to go to the flower arboretum.

Yoongi hyung came and sat down next to me after 3 buses passed by. I asked him what he was up to, but he shrugged and said that he was bored and had nothing to do. Then he asked why was I sitting here. I lowered my head and kicked the dirt with my shoes. I asked myself why was I sitting here in the first place. I had no courage. Now I wanted to be fine, I wanted to pretend that I knew a bit, to surpass it on my own, yet in reality, I was afraid. I was scared that I might see something, I couldn’t withstand against it, that I might have another seizure.

Yoongi hyung looked relaxed.

Taehyung 17 July YEAR 22

My side hurt so bad that it felt as if it was torn. Sweat trickled down my face. The corners of the railroad tracks, the vacant lot behind the convenience store, at the upper road – she was nowhere to be seen. Though I came behind the bus stop, of course, she wouldn’t be there. The commuters who were waiting for the bus were looking at me weirdly. What could I do? We didn’t promise to meet, but it was strange. She was always making appearances from somewhere and followed me around. Even calling her annoying was useless. Yet, the places that we went together, she wasn’t there.

I stopped walking upon the front of a familiar wall. This was where we did graffiti together. This was her first drawing. On top of it, there was a large X mark over it. It was her. There was no way I saw her do it, but I knew it was her. Why? I don’t have an answer. Instead, several after-images that were scary overlapped on the wall.

She laughed at me on the day when I hit my head against the railroad tracks as I lied down. Her helping me up as I helped her run away, her angry face when I stole and ate her bread. Her solemn expression when we passed by a photo studio with a family portrait in the front window. Her gaze on the students that we passed by, even she was oblivious to it. This wall was where we sprayed together as I said this. “If you have a problem, tell me. Don’t grumble about it to yourself.” This X was drawn all over these memories. It seemed to say that it was all fake. That it was all lies. Without even realizing it, I made my hands into fists. Why? Of course, I didn’t have an answer. I walked back. I was alone again. Me, and her.

20 March YEAR 20

I slid down the hallway, my feet making noisy sounds. Stopping, I stood there. I could see Namjoon Hyung outside ‘Our Classroom’. Our classroom. Without realizing, I started calling that place our classroom. Me, our Hyungs and Jungkook’s, the classroom meant for the 7 of us. I caught my breath and approached him. I wanted to surprise him.

“Principal!” I barely took 5 steps before I heard an urgent voice through the open window of our classroom. It was Seokjin Hyung. I stopped walking. It seemed as though Seokjin Hyung and the principal was talking? In our classroom? Why? I could also make out that Yoongi Hyung’s name and my name was said with a surprised Namjoon Hyung. I knew it was Seokjin Hyung from the scene and in a flash, the door opened. In Seokjin Hyung’s hand, I could see the phone. It was obvious that his face was surprised and flustered. I couldn’t see Namjoon Hyung’s facial expression. I hid and watched. Seokjin Hyung opened his mouth, as if to make an excuse, however Namjooon Hyung lifted his hand and spoke. “It’s alright.” Seokjin Hyung looked confused. “Hyung must had a reason then.” After he spoke, Namjoon Hyung walked passed Seokjin Hyung and entered the classroom. I couldn’t believe it. Seokjin Hyung told the principal about Yoongi Hyung and me had been up to for the past few days. He told him about us skipping classes, climbing over the wall and getting into fights with other kids. Yet, Namjoon Hyung said it was all okay.

“What are you doing here?” Shocked, I turned around to see Hoseok Hyung and Jimin. Hoseok Hyung pretended to be even more surprised then slung his arm around my shoulders. Hoseok Hyung pulled me to enter the classroom. Namjoon Hyung and Seokjin Hyung were talking and when I entered, they looked up. Seokjin Hyung quickly got up, and left saying that he had something urgent to do. I looked at Namjoon Hyung’s expression. He had watched Seokjin’s Hyung retreating back and laughed as though nothing happened. In that moment, a thought occurred to me. Namjoon Hyung must have had a reason. Hyung was way more smarter and older than me. And, this is our classroom. I entered the classroom, smiling the same foolish smile that many called as the ‘boxy square smile’. I thought that I wouldn’t tell anyone that I overheard their conversation.

Jungkook 26 July YEAR 22

Quietly, I plucked a flower from the hospital’s flower bed. Every time, laughter comes out from the head that was bent down. The sunshine was shining so bright that it hurts the eyes. Though I knocked the hospital ward’s door, there was no answer. I knocked again, this time, it opened a bit. Inside the ward, there was just a sheet. And, there was no one there. There was just a very quiet and dark bed.

I left the hospital room. That was where I met her personally when I was bored and was pushing my wheelchair in the hallway. She appeared so suddenly that I barely had time to stop. When I left the hospital, I saw a bench. I remembered that whenever we were together, we would sit and listen to music and even draw. We even drank strawberry milk together at the rooftop. I was still holding the flower from earlier but now I had no one to give it to.

30 September YEAR 20

“Jeon Jungkook. You haven’t been going there, have you?” I didn’t even give any answer. I just stood staring at my sneakers. Since I didn’t give an answer, I was deliberately smacked on the head. Still, I didn’t open my mouth. It was the classroom where I used to be with the Hyungs. After a day I followed the Hyungs arund and discovered the classroom, there wasn’t a day where I had gone to it. Maybe the Hyungs didn’t know. Sometimes they weren’t there because they had promises or were busy with their part-time jobs. I haven’t seen Yoongi Hyung and Seokjin Hyung for a few days already. But not me. I didn’t skip a day to not find the classroom. There were days when nobody came at all. Yet, it was okay. Even if it wasn’t today, they would come tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then the day after, so it was okay.

“You only learned bad things from following them around.” Again, I was hit on the head. I lifted my head to look at him to get hit again. Again, I was hit. I could see the image of Yoongi Hyung’s beating me. I gritted my teeth and tried to keep it in. I didn’t want to go to the classroom, I didn’t want to lie.

Now, I stand in front of the classroom again. If I opened the door, Hyungs would be inside. They would be gathered inside playing games and asking me why I was late. Seokjin Hyung and Namjoon Hyung would be reading books, Taehyung Hyung would be playing a game, Yoongi Hyung would be playing the piano, Hoseok Hyung and Jimin Hyung would be dancing.

Yet, when I opened the door, I could only see Hoseok Hyung. He was cleaning the things we left behind in the classroom. I held the door handle and just stood there. Hyung came over and put his arm around my shoulders. He then led me outside. “Now, let’s go.” He closed the door of the classroom behind us. Now I realized. Those days were gone and they would never return.

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juniorformulamotorsport · 6 years ago

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Thursday, 23rd August 2018 – Pedways and Highwalks, EC1 & EC2, London

Another sunny lunchtime, another opportunity to circulate round the City of London getting fresh air (well at least once I got away from the main roads), some exercise and a look at some more of the history, both ancient and more recent, of the Square Mile. I started outside the office with one of my favourite things in the area, the tower of what was Saint Alban’s church, which lost the rest of its church in WWII and now stands in splendid isolation on a small island in the middle of the traffic flow in front of Wood Street police station. It makes me smile to see it, knowing it has survived so much and is still there.

I had a plan and thus headed towards the Guildhall via a side street to link up with the bottom of the newly refurbished highwalk or pedway that enables you to cross London Wall without being laminated to the Tarmac by a fleet of taxis. Apparently at one stage the post World War II reconstruction plans for London included the City of London Pedway Scheme, an elevated pathway that was intended to transform traffic flows by separating pedestrians from street level traffic using elevated walkways.

It was begun in the mid-1950s and continued into the mid-60s, but then pretty much died out in the following decade, in part it would seem due to a lack of coordination. That left pretty much just the odd high level path around the Barbican, contributing towards the ability of most of us to get completely lost in there! However, there is now a new section which starts just near the Guildhall. And rather glorious it is too, linking as it does to the Barbican Estate.

However, it’s what you can see from it, rather than the highwalk itself, that is the real glory of this particular stretch, much though I like the copper colours and the smooth lines. It crosses over a stretch of lovely landscaping, that includes a wide historical swathe of the story of the area in a very small space. It starts when you get a stunning view of the gates of the Salters’ Company hall. The company dates from 1394, so it’s one of the older guilds around. Needless to say it arose from the salt trade of medieval London, a very lucrative business indeed. They are one of the “Great 12” livery companies, ranked ninth in precedence and they clearly still have a fair amount of cash available. These days they are very much involved in chemistry, having started charitable giving to the sciences in 1894, including a number of scientific research fellowships, and being involved in the development GCSE and A Level curricula for UK schools.

Anyway, the hall itself has recently been remodelled to improve it both inside and out, and it’s looking very fine, even to me. I’m not the biggest fan of brutalist architecture, but somehow the edges on the Salters’ Company’s seventh hall seem to have smoothed out and it looks most impressive. Fires took out most of the previous halls, including the Great Fire of London in 1666, one was simply pulled down after 142 years as no longer being fit for purpose, and German bombing in WWII did for the last one. I assume the gates that now stand in splendid isolation come from one of those earlier iterations. I can’t find anything out about them, beyond the date on them (1887) but they’re a lovely thing and I’m pleased that they are still standing where they can be seen.

The hall also has a garden abutting it, containing a stretch of the old Roman wall, which are reputed to have been repaired and crenellated during the Wars of the Roses. It’s a popular place for people to sit and eat their lunch, and has a number of shady nooks that you can hide away in, and there’s a water feature running through the middle of it. The garden was originally laid out in 1981, but was re-designed in 1995 to commemorate the Company’s 600th anniversary.

This stretch of Roman wall in the garden dates from AD 120 and was part of a Roman Fort originally, before it was incorporated into the city wall. After the building of the city wall, the fort was home of the official guard of the Govenor of Britain, and housed around 1,000 men in several barracks. The wall provided a major part of London’s fortifications until the church was built into the foundations. After much medieval building encroached on it, the wall was lost until a World War II bombing raid revealed the old stone work with the medieval additions on top of it.

From there I walked back up to the pedway and traced it along towards the Museum of London, which has had a first floor entrance since it was opened. I stopped to admire the ruins of Saint Alphage’s church first though. To be honest there’s not a lot of it left, and what is left is mostly the ruins of the medieval tower. St Alphege or St Alphage London Wall, also known as St Alphege Cripplegate, first gets a mention in history in 1108, and was finally destroyed after a somewhat rocky history, in 1940. It now sits in St Alphege’s garden, and makes an eye-catching feature in what is otherwise a very modern landscape.

I looped back along the Bastion Highwalk to the Museum, taking a look at the Barber-Surgeons’ Hall Tower on my way. This was a 13th century defensive tower which got swallowed up eventually by the The Worshipful Company of Barbers when in 1607 they built a new hall into the edge of the wall, incorporating the tower. These buildings too were damaged in the Great Fire in 1666, and were rebuilt only be be destroyed by a WWII bombing raid. There is also what’s now known as the Museum of London tower, again originally built in the mid-13th century when the King, Henry III, was keen to reinforce the defenses of the city. Again encroachment from other buildings meant it ended up as something altogether different, being turned into a hour with windows where the arrow slits were, and doors placed into the arches. Also again, it was the 1940 bombing raids that revealed the original structure.

In front of the Museum there is a memorial commemorating John Wesley’s conversion on 24th May 1738, sited on or close to the location where it happened. The Aldergsate Flame is a bronze sculpture erected in 1981 and it is engraved with the entry from Wesley’s journal that describes the event.

I then crossed over the road to peer at the expanse of city wall that still exists behind the office, along Noble Street. First I detoured into the small garden at the top end of the street, which is tiny but is what remains of the churchyard of the Church of Saint Olave, Silver Street which is believed to have been in existence by 1000, though it is dedicated to King Olaf of Norway who died in 1030. It was destroyed by the Great Fire of London and was not rebuilt, the parish later being united with that of Saint Alban. It contains some old stone work and this interesting plaque.

Again the wall on Noble Street was only rediscovered due to the work of the German Redevelopment Corporation (!) in WWII. It’s a long stretch that dates from the 2nd century through to the 19th century. Just for good measure, it is also one of very few remaining examples of a Second World War bomb site in the city, most of them having long since vanished under modern buildings, so it’s of interest for more reasons than might be apparent at first sight.

The wall was originally 15 feet high and here you can actually still see the original Roman wall at the bottom of the remains. There’s a sentry tower on the south which marked the south west corner of the old Roman fort. You can also see medieval tiling and stonework at the northern end, and it’s all nicely signed at regular intervals so you can get an understanding of what you are looking at.

At the southern end, tucked away against the old wall, protected from the elements, are two beehives which belong to the Worshipful Company of Wax Chandlers, which struck me as rather wonderful!

To finish off I cut through the St John Zachary Garden in front of the Lloyds TSB building. It’s a lovely little garden which occupies the former churchyard of St John Zachary, another building partly destroyed in the Great Fire. In 1339 The Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths built the earliest recorded livery hall on the site and after the property was badly damaged in 1941 after another bombing raid, firewatchers laid out the first Goldsmiths’ garden. It was redesigned by Anne Jennings 1995/96 and is a lovely collection of mature trees, and floral bushes, with a scattering of benches, a lawn and a central fountain. Because it is below street level it is sheltered and a popular spot for office workers trying to snatch a few moments in the sun at lunch time.

And that was lunch over with. I was back in the office for the rest of the day, refreshed and considering my next lunchtime tourism outing.

Travel 2018 – Lunchtime Tourism, Day 3, Pedways/Highwalks, London Thursday, 23rd August 2018 - Pedways and Highwalks, EC1 & EC2, London Another sunny lunchtime, another opportunity to circulate round the City of London getting fresh air (well at least once I got away from the main roads), some exercise and a look at some more of the history, both ancient and more recent, of the Square Mile.

#2018 #Arts #Europe #Highwalks #London #Museum of London #Museums #Pedways #Sightseeing #The Barbican #Travel #UK

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mycarlos2019 · 5 years ago

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Going to Guatemala. Part I

As recently as three years ago, it would never have occurred to me that I would come to love a small country in Central America known as Guatemala. It’s a love affair that began with watching travel videos on youtube.com and culminated with a ten day visit in January of 2018, followed by a three week visit in February of 2019. The youtube videos in question were made by a trio of young people called The Budgeteers and, to a lesser extent, by a man named Andy Graham who has his own website called hobotraveler.com. Prior to watching these videos, I suppose I must have just lumped all Latin American countries into one homogeneous mass of poverty, corruption and CIA meddling. Watching The Budgeteers hitchhike their way from Baja, California to the San Blas Islands, just off the coast of Panama, I realized that every Central American country is actually a little different. My original idea for 2018 had been to do what many Canadians do in the bleak winter months of January and February, to spend a week to ten days in Cuba. But the more I looked into Cuba, the more it seemed to me to be a country which is presented to tourists as a kind of Caribbean idyll, when in fact the truth is far from what you see on the surface. Guatemala, on the other hand, appeared to be a country where people are simply living their lives and don’t care all that much about tourists unless they happen to live in Antigua, one of the touristy towns around Lake Atitlan or Chichicastenango. In the rest of the country, people seemed to making a living from farming or by owning their own store. There are, in fact, so many tiendas in Guatemala that it is hard to imagine finding a place where there isn’t one. The point is that most Guatemalans don’t go out of their way to please tourists and they certainly don’t alter their behaviour to present a pleasing picture to the outside world.

The other vlogger who caught my attention, Andy Graham, did so because he has a number of videos of himself standing in front of Lake Atitlan saying, “Panajachel, Guatemala. I’m here. You’re not. Why not?” Mr. Graham’s shtick is that he has lived in 181 countries all over the world and can tell you how to live the same lifestyle he does, if you so wish. I won’t go into it any further than that, but suffice it to say that his assertions about Panajachel and Lake Atitlan being desirable places to head for if you wanted to live abroad were enough to make me open the Google maps Street View feature and start looking around. What I saw astonished me. Far from being a dreary, downtrodden backwater, Panajachel seemed to be bursting with life and colour. Souvenir shops selling multi-coloured clothing competed for room with open air restaurants and bars. Bright red Tuk-tuks, motorcycles and minivans somehow managed to share the narrow street with tourists and Guatemalan women selling their wares. A solid kilometer of interesting things to see, do and just be fascinated by. I decided that I had to go to Guatemala at least once in my life, if for no other reason than just to walk down Santander Street.

The view out the window at Pearson Airport the day I left.

I began planning my first visit in earnest when I realized that a return plane ticket on Air Mexico would only cost in the neighbourhood of $450. That would include a one day layover in Mexico City, but I was fine with that. Why not look around there too for a day? I managed to find a hostel that was only a 20 minute walk from Terminal 1 at Benito Juarez Airport. The only potential hiccup was that Air Mexico flights from Toronto land at Terminal 3 and, while there is a free Sky Train to Terminal 1, I had read that you need to show your boarding pass to get on it. I, of course, had a boarding pass, but it didn’t carry with it any express need to go to the other terminal. It turned out not to matter. Despite the fact that the security guard at entrance to the Sky Train boarding area was overtly hostile, as soon as I showed her my defunct boarding pass, she let me go through. Seriously, what do these people think? That gringos who just happen to live in Mexico hang around in the airport all day with nothing better to do than ride the monorail back and forth from one terminal to the other? In any case, I made it to Terminal 1 and managed to find my way to the far western end of it, where the footpath to my hostel began.

I had looked it up on Google Maps, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it could be done, by which I mean getting across the very large and very busy, multi-lane highway that essentially cuts off the airport from the adjacent neighbourhood. The Circuito Interior is a 42 kilometer long, six to eight lane freeway that forms a giant loop through the central neighbourhoods of the city. Fortunately, my hunch proved to be correct. There is a footpath, which leads to an overpass (i.e. footbridge), which deposits you on the other side of the freeway at the foot of the street, Norte 33, which, in turn, leads to the hostel. The service road, beside the Circuito is lined with airport hotels, fast food joints, car rental agencies and all the other sort of shops one typically associates with airports. In behind it, however, is a solidly working class, blue collar neighbourhood. This is where old VW beetles go to die. I saw three or four of them, at least, just in the short walk to the hostel, not actual working cars, mind you, just burned out shells of cars that had long ago been parked on the street and forgotten about. Clearly, the intention was to fix them up but it was an intention that, for whatever reason, was never followed through on. So there they sit, the unrealized dreams of anonymous Mexicans.

An old Beetle in Barrio Moctezuma.

Nevertheless, this is a neighbourhood that is full of life. Tiendas, restaurants and food stands line the streets. A large sports complex, complete with a soccer pitch and three basketball courts has been plunked down right in the middle of it. Around the walls of this complex are more street food stalls, fruit stands, miniature shrines where you can make an offering to the Virgin Mary (presumably to help your team win the soccer match).

If you should decide one day to stay at Punto DF, what follows is a short description of how to get from the footbridge to the hostel. Heading north, it is tempting to think you should stay on Norte 33 until you get to 166 Calle Oriente, and the cut over to the hostel, but it is much more interesting to hang a left on Calle Oriente 182 and walk over to Norte 25. This is where, to my mind the neighbourhood comes alive. Norte 25 is an absolutely unpretentious and, at the same time, lovely grand avenue with a line of small trees down the middle. A paint store sits next to the local stationary shop. Sidewalk eateries or comedors tell you that this is a place where people actually live and, to quote Van Morrison, have their being. Calle Norte 25 appears to come to a halt at Moctezuma and Fortino Serrano Parks (two parks side by side that are in effect one park), but it actually continues along the southwestern edge of these parks and resumes again on the northwestern side of Fortino Serrano. You could, of course, just walk through the park to get to the point where it starts again. From the corner of Calle Oriente 168 and Calle Norte 25, it is only one block further to Calle Oriente 166, the street Punto DF is on. Cocina Don Pepe has an orange awning. Turn left there. A large colourful mural will let you know you have found the right place.

My plane was two hours late, but it was still only about eleven in the morning when I rang the doorbell and was greeted by a very nice young man (I think his name might have been Francisco) who didn’t mind at all that I was checking in so soon. Of course, all I wanted to do was put my knapsack in one of their lockers and head downtown to see a bit of the city. Francisco gave me a map of the subway and confirmed that the cost was indeed five pesos. (It’s now six pesos, but that’s still less than fifty cents Canadian.) The Metro station nearest to Punto DF is R. Flores Magnon. It’s one of the more utilitarian stations in the system and is named after an anarchist who helped spark the Mexican Revolution. To get to it, you simply continue up Norte 25, navigating your way around the sports stadium and Mercado Moctezuma. If you’re feeling adventurous, you can cut through a pedestrian pathway that is actually part of the market. It’s just to the right of the low lying, yellow building that says Mercado de Moctezuma.

Moctezuma, as you probably know, was the ruler of the Aztecs at the time of first contact and he died on July the 1st, 1520 from being hit on the head with a rock thrown by a member of the Aztec uprising, because he was thought to be behaving in a way that was too conciliatory to the Spanish. They had, after all, massacred a large number of men, women and children in the great temple just ten days earlier. Another version of events claims that Moctezuma’s dead body–along with that of another Aztec king, Itzquauhtzin–was simply cast out of the palace once it became clear that he did not actually have the ability to stop the Aztec uprising.

At the far end of the laneway, you will emerge on Calle Oriente, just a short bit to the left of where Calle Norte 25 continues. Here there are more cafes, tiendas, stores to buy school uniforms, stationary shops, sidewalk food vendors, beauty shops and tortillerias lining both sides of the street as it leads up to the Metro. If you’ve never been on the Metro before, brace yourself. It isn’t even remotely close to the being like a ride on the TTC or whatever type of public transit you may have experienced in the States, Canada or even Europe. R. Flores Magnon, however, is a fairly mild introduction, in that it’s not very crowded. Just find your way up the stairs, buy a ticket at the booth, feed it into the turnstile, make sure the train is going in the direction you want and you are good to go, so to speak. One of the first things you will notice is that the cars are old. They were built by Bombardier, or at least some of them were, back in the late sixties and early seventies. Bombardier is the Canadian company that keeps getting its contracts cancelled by Toronto’s public transit system, due to its inability to deliver vehicles on time and to spec, but in this case, they seem to have done alright since these forty-year-old cars are still running. The next thing you might notice if you take the Metro at any time of day that is even close to rush hour is that these cars fill up fast. Mexico City’s population, if you take into account the whole metropolitan area, is 21 million, and a lot of those people use the Metro to get around. Nevertheless, it is relatively easy to negotiate and I was able to make my way to the station I wanted, San Juan de Letran, without too much difficulty.

My plan had been to land myself somewhere central and just sort of wander around, but I quickly realized how easy it would be to get lost in a city where no-one speks the same language as you. Eje Central Lazaro Cardenas is a large, bustling, multi-lane avenue, lined with shops of all kinds, and it also leads up to the Palacio de Belles Artes. You can probably figure out for yourself that this means Palace of Fine Artes.

Palacio de Belles Artes

It’s an absolutely awesome building that I wished I had time to explore further, but I didn’t, so I satisfied myself with sitting in the park beside it, Almeda Central. It’s a large park, with water fountains, trees and places to sit. At the eastern end is the palacio. On the northern side is Teatro Hildago and the National Stamp Museum, while on the western end, there is an art museum with a mural by Diego Rivera. I dare say you could spend three or four days just exploring the different buildings around this park but I didn’t have much more than an hour to just sit and contemplate my surroundings. It can be a bit of a shock to the system to get on a plane in a city where the snow is a foot deep and seven hours later find oneself surrounded by trees and water fountains in a space where people are just hanging out and enjoying the warm weather.

Almeda Central

I can’t say that I thought much more about it than that. Mexico City seemed a little on the inscrutable side, hard to understand and/or grasp the spirit of and I wasn’t going to have enough time to more than scratch the surface. I decided to fulfill my goal of seeking out a fish taco place I had read about on the internet.

El Pescadito is a chain of restaurants in Mexico City that only sells fish tacos. The one I was headed for is quite close the park, just one block south on Luis Moya and half a block to the right on Avenita Independencia. I really had no idea how to order because my Spanish was very limited at that point in time, but I somehow managed to muddled through and obtain a shrimp taco, a fish taco and a beer. The process, just in case you ever find yourself inside one of these places, is you order from the cook and sit down. Then someone brings the food to your table at which point you can take your tacos to the salsa table, where there are about ten different choices. Unlike most chains, you pay when you’re done. I sat looking out the window and watched a man using some kind of clay to remake the sidewalk curb, by hand. Basically, he made a cast from wood planks, poured the clay into it and then smoothed out the top with a trowel. I had the impression that he was some kind of private contractor, not a city employee, and I enjoyed watching him work while I ate my fish and shrimp tacos. Soon enough it was time to leave and begin making my way back to the hostel.

I was about to acquire a whole new appreciation for the term packed in like sardines. The trains on the Mexico City Metro become so full of people at rush hour that you find yourself pressed in on all sides and virtually unable to move. And just when you think that not one more person can press his way inside, someone manages to do just that by letting the doors close on him repeatedly until he is literally squeezed through the doorway. I began to grow concerned that I would not be able to get off at my station without bowling over several people first. Fortunately, after wracking my brain to find the Spanish version of “excuse me”, I came up with “permiso”, and that worked. People actually shifted to one side long enough for me to edge my way through them and get out the door and onto the platform of R. Flores Magnon Station.

It was later than I had thought and Barrio Moctezuma was already dark. I was a little nervous because I had read a TripAdvisor posting about my hostel which said that the poster wasn’t sure it was a safe neighbourhood to be walking alone through at night. Those feelings quickly dissipated as I realized there were still plenty of people dining in restaurants, going to the tiendas and just hanging out with friends on the street corners. Some houses had LED Christmas lights on them, giving the whole neighbour a soft glow.

Barrio Moctemzuma at night.

I saw a brightly lit store called, appropriately enough, La Luz 1. It had a bottle of beer on its sign, so I reasoned that they probably sold beer and decided to pick up a few to drink on the hostel patio. After stepping inside and giving the place a quick scan, I found that the owner was stationed behind a cage of half-inch, white bars. There was a fridge to my right with beer in it, but when I tried to open the door, I found that it was locked. The man behind the counter came out, unlocked it for me and went back inside his cage. I took three Coronas to the counter with no idea what they would cost. When he told me the price, in Spanish, I found that I couldn’t understand him and gave him my notebook to write the price on, but he had a better idea. He produced a calculator and showed me the price on that. I left feeling quite pleased with myself for having successfully navigated my first purchase in a Mexican store, not including, of course, my meal at La Pescadito. That didn’t count because in that restaurant the prices are posted on the wall in large letters and numbers. In the store, I had to ask “Cuanta Cuesta” and try to understand the answer.

Back inside the hostel, I found Francisco still on duty and I asked, needlessly, if it was okay to drink beer on the patio. Many hostels in Latin America have beer for sale right on the premises, but I didn’t know that then, and in any case, Punto DF does not. He told me that of course it was okay, so I made my way out the back door and sat in the open air with nothing on my back but a short sleeved cotton, enjoying my beers and listening to the sounds of the barrio; the occasional car engine revving, a dog bark here and there and, of course, the far away sound of airplanes taking off and landing. Cognizant of the fact that I would need to leave the hostel at 7:00 AM if I was to be at the airport three hours before my flight, I stowed my knapsack in one of the lockers, crawled into the cubbyhole which contained my bed, pulled the curtain closed, got undressed and quickly fell asleep.

Approaching Benito Juarez Airport early the next morning.

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To visit Lost City Press, click here.

To continue to Part II, click here.

#guatemala travel Mexico City

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smallgeneration · 6 years ago

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caveu des oubliettes

There was something about that jazz club, a magical quality bordering on the sinister that promised a good time remembered through the haze and headache of next morning’s hangover. Le Caveau Des Oubliettes. Tucked away down a crooked and cobbled pedestrian alley in the upper West corner Paris’s fifth arrondissement, it was the perfect club to lure tourists into thinking they’d discovered a hidden hotspot, an underground local scene on a wandering night out in the City of Lights. The place was dark. The big window in the front of the bar was tinted a deep red, and the black awning that loomed over the door was emblazoned with a medieval font that during the daytime appeared cheap and corny, a nowhere place between Notre Dame and the Panthéon one might pass while getting lost. But come midnight, and the sepia glow of the streetlamps cast jagged shadows over the rough stone walls of that ancient building, silhouettes danced to muffled jazz in the dim glow of the red window, and the place transformed. It became Somewhere.

My first night at Le Caveau was a Friday in mid-September, two or three days after my arrival in Paris. By accident or some cliché fate, I had fallen into friendships with two girls who, like me, were artist-writers taking gap years or time off school to live and work in the historic Shakespeare and Company bookshop, which was located around the corner from Le Caveau. Anneli was a writer and photographer from the farmlands outside of London, and our friendship began my first day in Paris when, within five minutes of us meeting, she declared us kindred spirits on the front stoop the bookstore. She later introduced me to Jess, a poet from New Zealand, who was on fall break from an undergraduate study abroad program in Lyon. At twenty years old, Jess became mine and Anneli’s adopted big sister, for we were only eighteen and had recently finished high school.

That mid-September Friday night began with a shared bottle of cheap wine on a bridge over the Canal Saint-Martin, where I met up with Jess and Anneli at around 8pm. After a small epidemic of bedbugs had forced them out of their free lodgings at Shakespeare and Company indefinitely, they were now crashing at a friend’s apartment in the 11th, a short walk from the Canal in the Folie-Méricourt district of Paris. Lou, the tenant of the apartment, met us briefly on the bridge where Jess and Anneli introduced us, and she expressed her disappointment in being unable to join us on our night out. She had already made plans with her coworkers at the café that ajoined the bookshop, where she had befriended Jess and Anneli weeks earlier. I was immediately blown away by her inherently French beauty and her generosity in offering me a place to stay the night, in case I wound up too drunk to return to my youth hostel. She said explained that though her apartment was small, there would be plenty of room if I didn’t mind sharing a the couch with Anneli or a cot on the floor with Jess, and I happily thanked her for her kindness.

As Jess, Anneli, and I finished our bottle of wine, we discussed our plans for the evening. We were to rendezvous with Harry, a young Australian street musician who often busked in front of Shakespeare and Company and was recent acquaintance of Jess’s, before buying more wine. Then, we would wander into the nearest bar or club providing live music for a night of adventure and dancing. For my first night out in Paris, Jess and Anneli wanted to give me “an authentic experience of the city,” which would only amount to a realized dream we’d read about in books and watched countless times in our favorite movies.

An hour later, Anneli and I were following Jess to our meeting point with Harry. The Oberkampf station let out onto a corner of Boulevard Voltaire, where the Metro Café was nestled beneath a large wall mural of an ostrich that glared down at us as we danced and sang Edith Piaf’s “Non, je ne regrette rien” and waited for Harry to arrive. Anneli and I thought it would be funny to take off our shoes and dance barefoot on the streets of Paris, and though it was chilly, we were warm with adrenaline and cheap wine. Jess was on the phone with Harry, who had gotten lost, and she was too drunk to be giving directions. She kept saying, “Look for the ostrich! We’re dancing under the ostrich!” This sent me and Anneli into a fit of giddy laughter as we spun ourselves dizzy and wound up giggling, sprawled out on the dirty sidewalk.

“What the hell are you lot doing!” came the drunken shout from down the street. Anneli and I sat up, grinning and out of breath, as Harry ran up and greeted Jess with a hug. He turned to us and extended a hand. “Don’t you know the streets of Paris have got to be the the filthiest in all of Europe? What! Not even wearing shoes?”

He helped me and Anneli to our feet. He was already drunk as well, a tall sand-blond boy with red cheeks and an infectious smile, and as Jess introduced us another girl walked up, stunningly gorgeous and smiling expectantly.

“Guys,” Harry said, putting an arm around the girl, “This is Belle, my friend from high school. She’s visiting from Australia for the weekend, so I thought she should come along for the night’s festivities.”

We were more than glad to have another member in our party, and it wasn’t long before introductions gave way to the quick and close kind of friendships that fall into place on drunken Friday nights. It was just after 10pm, and our next step was finding a liquor store.

After discovering I was from Nashville, Harry seemed to forget my name. He bought two six packs of beer to share, and as we drank more and wandered into 11pm, he began referring to me only as Nashville, and the nickname stuck. Soon Jess, Anneli, and Belle were all calling me by my hometown, and I was either too drunk or too happy to have made friends to be bothered by it. I taught Belle racy French phrases, Harry gave Anneli a piggyback ride, and Jess passed around her cigarettes for sharing. In barely an hour, we had become inseparable companions, talking and laughing as if we’d known each other for years.

The plan to locate the nearest live-music club proved to be futile. We were lost, drunk, and had to retrace our steps once or twice to retrieve a shoe that Anneli kept dropping. Harry resolved to call the five of us a taxi, remembering a flyer for a live jazz bar somewhere near the bookshop. We piled into the cab, the extra beers in my tote bag clinking against my shoes and scores of loose change. I stretched across Harry, Belle, and Anneli in the back, and the driver amiably indulged Jess’s front-seat request to play “La vie en rose” on repeat throughout the drive. He laughed at our attempts to make drunken conversation, and I remember saying something like, “Je parle mieux le français quand je suis bourrée.” The blur of the cab ride dissolved into a series of dizzying sounds and images, saxophones and red lights, kisses and tequila and barefoot dances in the stoney cavern of that magic magnetic jazz club.

Le Caveau des Oubliettes is made up of two floors. The first is where the bodies form a roiling congestion of arms, heads, and torsos, where elbows needle evanescent pathways to the bar. The arms toast overfilled whisky tumblers and splash their contents to the floor. Heads balance cigarettes behind their ears and crane their necks to locate the bathroom door. Torsos rub against strangers and smell of sweat, cologne, and smoke. French, English, German, and Spanish all blend into a cacophony of conversation, punctuated by the wail of a horn section and the crash of drums emanating from the ground below. The room is small and cramped, and in the far left corner is the bar where the tenders take hasty orders and don’t bother saying more than the price of the drinks and merci.

In the far right corner is an arched stone doorway that leads into a steep and narrow set of stone stairs worn slick with age that descend into what was once a medieval dungeon. A set of iron bars line a diamond-shaped window cut from the ancient walls of the stairway, and through it you can see the small stage where large French men in velvet shirts and cowboy boots improvise funk and jazz under psychedelic blue and purple lights. The stairs let out into the middle of the room, and whether the floors were dirt or simply dirty I can’t remember.

We sat in the back, squeezed around the only table in the room. Of the thirty or so people in the dungeon, only a handful were dancing while most sat on small wooden stools, mesmerized by the music. When the waitress came to take our order, she wouldn’t serve us until Anneli and I had put on our shoes. We did, ordered a glass of wine each, and Harry ordered a beer for him and Belle. Jess ordered absinthe, le fée verte, as a testament to the writers and legends of the bygone Paris we secretly hoped we could recreate.

On the wall above her head, I noticed that carved into the stone was the year 1467. America suddenly felt like a dream, a world as lost and unimaginable as it would have been to the men who once were held captive within these walls. The concept of time was now blurred, becoming medieval, Renaissance, Belle Epoch and Roaring Twenties all at once.

While Jess and Anneli chatted with Belle and her history with Harry (they had dated once, in high school, but were just friends now), Harry and I were absorbed in the music. We talked about the colors and the tones of every chord, becoming more deeply entranced by the major-minor shifts and transitions from rock to funk, from funk to classical jazz, and at one moment, the groove was so powerful it sent us leaping to our feet with a shout.

“You get it, Nashville,” he exclaimed, squeezing my hand. “You really get it, don’t you?”

We stayed for an hour or so, laughing and making toasts to Paris, toasts to the cave, toasts to each other, until the music ended and the band packed up to go.

After that night, we became regulars at Le Caveau. I ended up moving in with Jess and Anneli at Lou’s apartment, where I lived for the next three months, and after Belle went home to Australia, Harry remained a member of our small gang. We spent our days writing songs and poems, reading books and frequenting Paris’s many museums, but our nights inevitably culminated at the jazz club. We remember stories from those nights in jumbled drunken vignettes, filling in each other’s blacked-out details where we can, but many of our memories have inevitably been lost to that time vortex cavern. For a while, we believed that “le caveau des oubliettes” meant “cave of the forgotten,” and we thought it perfectly appropriate, like some poetic justice that made our drunken antics somehow more meaningful.

“Le Caveau des oubliettes” actually translates to something more like “vault of the dungeons,” as Lou later informed us, and though we were disappointed in its lack of poetry, the place never lost its magnetism.

Many months later, after our gang of expatriates had since returned to their native countries and Lou moved back to her hometown in the French Alps, I travelled again to Paris, and found myself drifting through those cobbled streets behind Shakespeare and Company in search of our old jazz club. But Le Caveau des Oubliettes was gone, its red window covered with faded flyers and a handwritten note that simply read fermé. Whether it was to be closed forever or indefinitely was unclear, but it left me with an eerie, ominous feeling of loss. I thought that if I could just go inside, dance again within those ancient stone walls, I might remember. Remember what, I didn’t know, but I could hear it echoing somewhere behind those locked doors, somewhere deep in that crypt of all the lost and forgotten details of those nights.

#stories

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datinglove07-blog-blog-blog · 5 years ago

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The Cheapest Cities to Book for Your Next Vacation, According to Airbnb

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The Cheapest Cities to Book for Your Next Vacation, According to Airbnb

People say that one of their biggest traveling regretsis being held back by finances. While it certainly cost money to jet-set all over the world, savvy travelers know that some of the cheapest cities to visit can make for picturesque and unforgettable getaways.

Thanks to deal-scanning sites and budget airlines, it’s easy to score affordable airfare. That, in addition to Airbnb( because actually, who needs hotels ?), anyone can book a trip on a budget. Needless to say, it’s no surprise that touring all corners of the globe has become the norm, because getting there is more accessible than ever before. And with the search for” budget travelling” being on the rise( up 64 percent from last year, according to Pinterest ), Airbnb released a list of 10 worldwide destinations with astonishingly affordable listings.

Ahead, check out the accommodation site’s top picks, along with money-saving hacksfrom travel experts, advisors, and bloggers who’ve been there, themselves. From drinking wine in Bologna, to eating street food in Taipei, to seeing gardens in Moscow, you don’t have to let money( or absence thereof) dampen your wanderlust. If the places below are on your travel bucket list, get ready to check off your most dreamed-about destinations.

Bologna, Italy

Source: @yulia_vasilyeva

Believe it or not, your stay in Italy can be super budget-friendly. Head to Bologna, and you’ll find plenty of Airbnb listings for under $75 a night, with many in the $50 and under range.

Katy Thomas, who created the travel blog Katy in Umbria, gives her tips on touring the city on the cheap.” A plate of pasta alla bolognese, a glass of light, somewhat fizzy red wine called Lambrusco, water, and a cafe should come to EUR1 5, while the walk-to is free. For a quick and easy lunch, stop at a bar and try un panino con Mortadella, a sandwich with the famed cold cut for under EUR5 .”

She adds a hack that’ll save money for sightseeing history buffs.” If you’re interested in checking out some museums and art galleries, then the city cardmight be a good investment for EUR2 5.”

Lyon, France

Source: @france. vacations

With Airbnb listings averaging $79 per night, head to Lyon on a dime, and you can say you’ve been to France.

” Lyon’s old one-quarter, Vieux Lyon, is worth savoring, with streets every bit as atmospheric as in Paris ,” says Rachel Heller, founder of the travel blog Rachel’s Ruminations.” For a bit of history, start at the Romanesque/ Gothic cathedral of St. Jean Baptiste( free ), dating to the Middle Ages; its stained glass windows are mostly original and absolutely magnificent in the darkness of the cathedral. From there, stray the constrict streets, moving slowly uphill as you explore, or else take the Fourviere funicular( EUR1. 90) up the hill. In either example, at the top, admire the opulent interior of the 19 th-century Basilica of Notre Dame de Fourviere( free ). Stroll its garden and admire the views of the city. Jumping back farther in history, visit the wreckings of a Roman theater( free) nearby

” To feed cheaply in Lyon, don’t buy pre-made sandwiches ,” Heller recommends.” Instead, buy a cheap baguette at any boulangerie( baker) for under EUR2 and some cheese and fruit at a grocery or supermarket for a couple of euros more. You’ll have enough for two meals: simple, delicious, and very cheap .”

Busan, South Korea

Source: The Culture Trip

The average Airbnb in Busan is a miniscule $47 per night. So while airliner tickets to Asia can be quite pricey( although, you can still find some pretty sweet deals ), you don’t have to spend much once you get there.

” In Busan, most of the major tourist attractions are free ,” explains Bino Chua, the travel blogger behind I Wandered.” This includes the picturesque temples — Beomeosa, Seokbulsa, and Haedong Yonggungsa — as well as the modern architecture of the Busan Cinema Center. The lifestyle here is outdoorsy, with beaches right at one’s doorstep; you’ll also get to spot some of Korea’s famed cherry buds in spring.

” A trip-up to Busan is not complete without visiting the village of Gamcheon, a former slum that has find urban resurgence, thanks to its brightly colored houses and charming alleyways. There are so many free things to do in Busan that you probably won’t need to spend on attractions while there .”

Porto, Portugal

Source: @leboudoirdetimea

If Portugal is on your pail listing, don’t let finances get in the way. Make a trip-up to Porto, where you can book an Airbnb for under $50 a night.

Tammy O’Hara, proprietor of Million Miles Travel Agency, says touring around township can be super affordable.” The city is very walkable going downhill, and public transportation is plentiful and inexpensive. A must-do, in my opinion, be able to find a tile-making factory( I went to Gazete Azulejos ). The tour is about three hours and includes a walking tour, coffee, and nata( custard tart ), and the opportunity to attain your own tile. It is about EUR4 0 per person .”

O’Hara mentions that the food in Porto is especially cheap — and delicious.” Do a port wine tasting, try the bacalhu( salted codfish ), the francesinha( go to Bufete Fase, one sandwich is definitely enough for two people, about EUR7 per person ), and natas,[ which are] available for EUR1- 2. A lot of the bakeries also have a coffee or port special for EUR2- 3,[ which is] excellent for a quick breakfast or after-dinner dessert and wine. Go to Nata Lisboa, Majestic Cafe, or Fabrica de Nata .”

Ottawa, Canada

Source: @heynadine

With Airbnbs in Ottawa averaging $66 per night, tourists in the northern US can leave the country for cheap, and without stepping foot on a plane.

” Two of Ottawa’s top attractions are completely free to visit ,” points out travelling blogger Kris Morton, inventor of Nomad by Trade.” Visitors can enjoy the Rideau Canal for free in any season, skating when it’s frozen in wintertime or walking or running along the pathways in warmer climate. Guided tours of Parliament, including the Senate or House of Commons are also free, though it’s recommended that you reserve tickets in advance online.

” Don’t miss the Rideau Canal — a UNESCO World Heritage Site that runs through the heart of town. If you’re visiting in winter, you’ll want to check out the Winterludefestival, held there annually for skating and other cold-weather fun .”

Prague, Czech Republic

Source: @aroundprague

Full of history and culture, Prague is the home of stunning architecture, and, it is about to change, plenty of $10 – $20 Airbnbs.

” Prague is as easy on the bank as it is to navigate with its top-notch transportation system ,” says Sara Graham, a brand and communications consultant and writer of How To Make Big Moves: Relocate Without Losing Your Mind.” For the budget traveler, it’s a no-brainer … beer is almost the same price as water .”

Graham’s first recommendation for a sunny springtime day?” Grab snacks and rent a peddle barge for a self-guided cruise on the Vltava ,” she says.” This is a lovely low-cost way to see the bridges, which can often get crowded.( Approximately $13 for a four-person boat .) Craving pizza? Pizza Nuova does it best this side of Naples. Classic pizza Margherita ($ 7) and vino, with a downtown position. Invariably, there’s always something going on in Old Town Square, even if it’s just the usual throngs collecting to watch the medieval Astronomical Clock ring in the hour .”

Bali, Indonesia

Source: @thebaliexpert

Want some time in a tropical paradise without draining your bank account? Head to Bali, where luxurious Airbnb accommodations can run around $ 130 per night( or as little as $30 for smaller spaces ).

” Bali is one of the most magical places on the planet ,” says Erin L. McCoy, editor-in-chief of Let’s Travel Spain.” One of the best things to do in Bali is to visit local temples, and these are usually either free or available to visit for a small donation. The Ubud Water Palace is gorgeous, flanked by ponds blooming with lotuses, and decorated with the most intricately carved figures. The colossal Besakih Temple is Bali’s mother temple, and looks down on broad fields from the peak of a mound. The Ulun Danu Beratan Temple, a short distance from Ubud, appears to float over a serene lagoon. These are just a few must-sees, and you can rent a taxi for a whole day for only a relatively small cost .”

When it comes to food, McCoy says,” For low-priced local fare, check out Puspa or Warung Biah Biah, both on a cobblestoned, pedestrian-friendly side street at the heart of Ubud. For coffee, stop in at KAFE, a hangout for expats and digital nomads .”

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Source: @riodejaneirobrasil

Even budget-conscious travelers can check out this seaside city, where a variety of Airbnbs will cost you under $100 per night.

” During Spring breaking, Rio receives its autumn, which is a perfect time to visit; not too hot , not too cold( if we can say that Brazil gets’ too cold ‘), and not too mobbed ,” says Reylla Santos, a clinical and addictions counselor who’s from Brazil. “[ There are] plenty of places to visit, beautiful beaches, bars around the beach( you can drink caipirinha while enjoy the breeze ), museums, breathtaking landscape. In Rio you also receive a lot of tourists; hence, detecting someone who speaks English won’t be a problem. There are multiple alternatives of things to do, places to go, and where to eat .”

Further, she says,” Watch the sunset at the Arpoador, it’s awesome! Eat a picanha[ a cut of beef] at Garota da Urca, it melts in your mouth. The Santa Teresa neighborhood is cozy and artistic, so if you like these types of things, make sure you go there. The pond Joao Fernandes is also a cool place to go and have a peaceful afternoon or get active by taking a helicopter trip or doing some water athletics .”

Moscow, Russia

Source: @moscow

Yes, you can stay in Russia’s capital city without going transgres by booking an Airbnb between $40 -7 0 a night.” One of my favorite things to do in Moscow during the spring is to visit the central botanical garden ,” shares Igor Bratnikov, co-founder and COO of Wanderu, a bus and train travel booking site.” There are numerous collectings of flora from all over the world … you have to pay an extra fee to get into special exhibitions, but those are usually around$ 5-$ 7, and are definitely worth it .”

Bratnikov adds that, when it is necessary to museums, you can expect to pay an admission fee, but again, it’s nothing that will break the bank.” On average, expect to pay about$ 8 at every museum you’d like to visit ,” he explains.” My two main recommendations include The Armoury Chamber, where you can see authentic royal jewelry dating back to the 12 th century, and the State History Museum, because Russia is a country with such a colorful history that you simply must learn more about it to understand many of the cultural peculiarities you will run into as a guest .”

As far as nosh goes,” you can easily have a delicious three-course meal for about $20 at a popular local eatery( not a fast food place or an international chain ). My personal favourite is Khachapuri, a restaurant that offers authentic Georgian cuisine in a cozy laid-back atmosphere .”

Taipei, Tawain

Source: @taipei. scout

If this up-and-coming tourist destination is on your wishlist, consider booking a trip while it’s still cheap — and local Airbnbs average $54 a night.” Taipei is worth visiting for its friendly folk, plethora of hot spring in the northern part of town, and its fascinating night market culture ,” says Chua.” If you are into Chinese culture, the National Museum here is worth a visit. Many of the artifacts were brought here by the nationalist government when they fled mainland China during the communist takeover .”

He adds that the city’s vibrant street food scene means that you should come hungry.” You definitely have to try street food such as stinky tofu( which entails some fortitude in order to try ), oyster cake, and mee sua( thin noodles with soup ),” Chua explains.” A typical way of enjoying street snacks is to go to the night market of your choice and to try different things from various stallings. You won’t have to spend more than$ 5 to get your tummy filled. A personal favorite night market for me whenever in Taipei is Ningxia Night Market .”

This article originally appeared on The Zoe Report on March 30, 2019

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