Today, he met a stranger.

Walking around the city, people bustling and minding their own business, the strong flavor of street food filled his nostrils. Taking in a deep breath, vivid colors and sensations of all shades and intensities fluttered before his eyes. Assimilating every single detail was part of his job as a reviewer. Where they could find the best ingredients, the freshest fish straight from calm waters or the tenderest meat was all part of his curriculum vitae. It what also what unclogged his mind from the strain of everyday desk office.

It wasn’t enough to visit those places, he also had to write vivacious reports and other stressful works of non-fiction in order to earn enough. It sometimes made him want to crash the laptop, stomp on it until every wire, plastic, metal and glass turned to ashes and watched it leave him alone in serenity.

When he came back in the middle of the spinning masses, nervous whether he caught everything he needed, worried whether he was curious enough to try all that was given to him by friendly street vendors, he once again released his brain of any other activity other than the joy of living.

Only, that particular evening with lights resembling fireflies in a magical land of ‘all wishes come true if you believe in them hard enough’, Jongin wondered why he hadn't stayed home under the comfort of his wide blanket and against his fluffy pillows with the laptop nested on top of his stretched legs. At least then, he could explain the way his heart shifted into overdrive from almost spilling his coffee over the keyboard or falling asleep and risking the deadline. At least then, he could explain why the pressure in his veins strengthened and made him dizzy with each hastened step, brushing his shoulder against another man.

Guess he had not prayed loud enough for the gods to pat his head and sooth the troubled man.

Jongin’s memories flashed and replaced the vibrant environment with monochrome moments of hatred, jealousy and bitterness cresting his face, scars left after wiping the tears still pulsating under his skin. It was silly back then, how both of them spent their summers together at camp and steadily bonded a friendship no one could break. They were young and restless, finding comedy in the most trivial things and through the most boring schedule.

What defined both were their lust for games and tricks, playing jokes that amused and enraged the entire camp, just feeling that overwhelming thrill of no parents and meaningless rules dictated by adults they did not respect. He could still feel the back of his palm fitting perfectly under his fingers, drawing circles and other figures when running away from the howling assistant with his pants pulled to his knees and a rolled magazine in his hand.

Telling stories of the fugitive days until myriad stars covered the darkening skies, a million kisses eventually spread like petals of a torn flower over Jongin’s body.

He only realized it later, months in which he dialed his number continuously while hiding from his family, months in which he stuck the corners of his mouth upward in order to fool his friends, that the softest petals are always attached to a stem filled with thorns drawing blood from the innocent.

It wasn’t surprising when he finally returned to the camp during the same scorching hot period, at the same glimmering lake watching over all the high-school boys, that it had been another game. The way he pushed Jongin to the ground, the way he and his new partners in mischief laughed in his face and kicked their feet to cover the trembling boy with sand he swallowed and choked on, was all part of a game they had been planning ever since the shy Jongin joined their crew.

Summers were horrid from then on. Could be one of the reasons he chose London as his working space once given the chance.

The memories vanished with the sizzling oil. Jongin didn’t turn, bowing his head in the man’s direction. He was aware that a pair of eyes landed on top of his head before the bow returned and a murmured voice, deepened by time, replied politely.

They said sorry and carried on their split roads.

Today, he met a stranger. A stranger and nothing else.

A/N - this was so short omg. The other one is going to be fluff because too much angst for you DX