17:25

The Caffè Latte was exactly where it was supposed to be. A small table in the corner of a tiny coffee shop that barely held any customers. His eyes focused on his feet, Minho walked inside, hearing the familiar sound of the small bell by the door, announcing his arrival to the Halmoni who owned the place. As always, she greeted him softly which he acknowledged with a small nod of the head.

After settling in in his usual spot, Minho started reading the assignments required for his courses. He didn’t know what the other students meant with “not being able to keep up with the reading assignments”. He had never had any problems with following the courses. The mandatory reading, he usually finished in less than an hour each day and spend the remaining time working additional material he got from the professors.

He has always been told he was special, ever since his childhood days when he preferred to be reading inside while his classmates were playing out on the streets. The older he got, the more people noticed that he was different. His parents who had had four more children after Minho, barely had any time to take care of their oldest son. Unlike what others might think, Minho was happy being alone. He was uncomfortable sitting at the table with his siblings and his parents. He loved predictability. And people were not predictable. There would always be something that disrupted routine, something Minho wasn’t prepared for, something that left him utterly confused and made his mind shut off from the real world, floating away.

In moments like those, he was in his safe bubble. He was talking to people like George Orwell about his utopian vision of the future or to Jane Austen about her life as a female writer in Victorian England. He was happy, reciting works of authors in his mind. The problem just was, that people did not understand. They tend to pull him out of his safe space, want him to interact with other human beings - for his own happieness they said.

At an early age, his parents had taken him to a doctor which had diagnosed him with autism. But even after knowing what was “wrong” with him, they were too busy with their younger children to help Minho develop decent social skills. That is why he was sent to camps – camps where they taught him how to talk to people, how to look at people while he was talking to them, something he was especially uncomfortable with. Ever since he can remember, he had never looked into another person’s eyes.

Through practice he was able to speak without pausing every few words. He still needed more time to respond than the people around him – this wasn’t because he didn’t know answer but simply because he just needed to build up courage to say it aloud. What he had noticed throughout his life was that most people don’t have the patience to interact with him.

Ever since he was studying at the university in the city nearby, he had found it the most comfortable to come to this little café in the outskirts to study. At home it was busy, and he barely got a quiet minute. He preferred to be in quiet places. Therefore, he visited every single day, always at the exact same time : 17:25.

The very first time he came, he asked the Halmoni to get his Caffè Latte ready at 17:20 and put it on the table, so it would be ready and a little cooled down when he arrived. For over four years now, she has done so never messing up the balance of milk and coffee or leaving it to hot or to cold on his table.

Sometimes, Minho even talked to her for a few minutes. He knew she was lonely – her whole family lived in Seoul – and even if he didn’t feel what others call empathy, he had been tought that people need human interaction to be happy. Thinking of this, he knew that she wasn’t feeling well and loved to have someone to talk to. So, every Friday, she was sitting on the opposite chair, looking in another direction, waiting for Minho to arrive.

She was the closest thing to a friend he had. Somehow, she has found a way to talk to him without making him feel like he was doing everything wrong. Their conversations didn’t last longer than a few minutes as Minho got tired easily, but they were precious to the both of them.

Sitting in his chair, head held up with one hand, he followed Derrida’s principles of deconstruction, as he was analysing the literary text in front of him with ease. That was until his routine was interrupted by the arrival of a new variable in the room.

“Halmoni, I am here” A loud voice shouted, making Minho’s bubble burst and he found himself in the uncomfortable place of the real world again. Thoughts were running through his head; what was happening? Why is it so loud? When will it stop?

“Yah” Halmoni said, shushing the young man. Minho couldn’t make out anything more than Halmoni whispering something like: “I have told you not to burst in here when you arrive” before the two figures disappeared through the door behind the counter.

He tried to get his focus back on the text he had been reading but found himself unable to do so after being pulled out of his thought by the loud male. But it was to early to go home. He never went home this early.

So that is why the tall male stayed seated two more hours before leaving to his house. But other than usually, his chest didn’t feel light when leaving the familiar place. It was as if someone had completely changed the place, remodelled it from the bottom to the top. It suddenly felt strange and foreign with the loud voice that became part of it as of today.

A/N
This is just a small prologue. This story won't be anything long, it is just a small project I am mostly doing for myself. But everyone who is reading is very welcome to share this jurney with me!

I needed to take a break of writing the new ty chapter for Past Midnight and decided to finally make this draft public.

XX

R