Chapter Text
~ 00:00 ~
The rain came out of nowhere. One moment, a harmless drizzle. The next, a full-blown deluge.
It was like the heavens had opened up in a dramatic fashion—nature’s late-night little tantrum—water pouring down in sheets thick enough to blur the edges of the world.
Seokjin barely had time to flip his collar up before the storm hit, soaking him to the skin in seconds. His breath caught in his chest as the wind tore through the narrow streets, lashing his hair to his forehead and numbing his fingers.
If it wasn’t for his sense of dread, he might’ve found the storm almost poetic—
Somewhere beyond the gale, thunder rolled low and threatening, like the angry rumble of artillery fire, its deep growl of devastation inching closer, ready to crush anything and everything in its path.
A sick twist of panic tightened in his gut, and his every instinct screamed at him to move.
Run, you idiot! Now! Go!
But his legs felt heavy, uncooperative. Caught between panic and doubt, they felt like two concrete blocks underneath him, refusing to budge.
A crack of thunder split the sky again. Seokjin yelped and staggered forward, his foot catching on a stray curb. A little bump in an otherwise smooth pavement.
“Shit!”
His entire body lurched, and he went flying, crashing straight into the nearest wooden door like it was a long-lost lover in a romantic rainy scene.
The door shuddered against his weight but held firm.
“Fuck!” He hissed, wiping rain out of his eyes as another thunderclap sent a shiver up his spine.
Without thinking, Seokjin grabbed the door handle, heart racing as his wet fingers slipped and fumbled on the cold metal, hoping the universe would cut him some slack.
Then, the knob turned.
☕
Hour 1
The bell above the door tinkled softly as Seokjin pushed his way inside.
And as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the storm ceased to exist.
It didn’t just fade away. It vanished. The chaos, that deafening roar of wind and rain, gone.
All that was left was silence. Complete, unsettling.
Seokjin looked around the warmly lit interior, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his body as the warmth inside pressed against him. Each drop of water slid off him in cold, sharp trails that made his skin prickle.
“What the hell…” he murmured under his breath, his voice almost too loud, too deafening. “Hello?”
No one answered.
He glanced back at the door, half expecting the storm to come crashing in and shatter this illusion.
This mirage.
But nothing happened.
No wind. No rain. Just more pressing silence.
It was unnerving, like he had just stepped into a bubble of calm that shouldn’t have existed amidst the chaos he’d just escaped.
Yet, here it was.
Here he was—
“Hello?” he called again, taking a hesitant step forward, his wet shoes squeaking against the floor.
Still no answer.
Seokjin glanced around, dragging a hand through his dripping hair.
The place was small, cozy. Only half a dozen tables scattered around the place, and all of them were empty.
A worn leather couch sat by the window, its cracked surface glossy from years of use, flanked by two armchairs that didn’t match in color or design but offered the same inviting softness.
It wasn’t just the furniture that caught his attention, though. There was also this strange sense of comfort in the room, an unexpected warmth that seemed to push against the chill from outside.
Seokjin’s gaze kept drifting, mesmerized by how the space seemed to be slowly unfolding itself, revealing more as he took it all in.
Every shadow, every flicker of light solidifying like a photograph developing right before his eyes.
They soon landed on the counter, a solid block of polished wood that looked as though it had lived a thousand stories. The edges rounded and worn smooth from years of use, holding jars filled with mysterious, probably hand-crafted ingredients. Dark beans, sugar cubes, cinnamon sticks.
A chalkboard hung crookedly on the wall behind it, the simple menu on it scrawled in looping, uneven handwriting. that tilted just enough to look charmingly careless.
It was the kind of writing that felt warm and unpolished, as if each word had been written with a fond smile.
Then there’s a soft clink. Of glass? Ceramic—?
Then a low, steady hiss—
Seokjin’s gaze drifted to a simple metal pot perched atop a small gas burner behind the counter, steam curling lazily from its spout.
The place was literally coming to life as the scent of awakening bloomed in the air—
Coffee.
Fresh coffee.
Strong, dark, curling around Seokjin’s damp, shivering body like a warm invitation.
To come. To sit.
Stay awhile…
His brain short-circuited for a moment, warring with the impulse to walk forward, to let the smell pull him deeper, or the impulse to bail and act like he hadn’t just intruded into a place he didn’t quite belong in.
Not yet—
Seokjin shook his head and called again. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
The sound that followed wasn’t exactly an answer. It was a thud and a muffled curse that made the counter shake faintly, rattling a few of the mugs set neatly on its surface.
Before he could decide whether to laugh or feel mildly alarmed, someone sprang up from behind the counter.
It was a guy, not much younger than he was, with tousled dark hair, pink cheeks, and a pained wince. “Sorry, uh, have you been waiting long?” He rubbed the back of his head, his eyes crinkling into little twin crescents as he somehow managed a smile.
Seokjin stared at him for a moment, his brain going through the motions of catching up with what was happening, trying to bridge the gap between the rather unsettling emptiness of the shop only a minute ago and the warmth of another person standing in front of him now.
“I just came in…”
His first thought was that the guy looked too soft for this world. Delicate, transient, like the steam rising from a freshly brewed cup of coffee. A fleeting moment of warmth in a cold, harsh world.
His second thought was that it wasn’t fair for someone to look this effortlessly charming. Like God himself may have spent a little extra time to smooth out the angles of that dainty face, the curve of those full lips, making sure he made nothing but perfect first impressions each time.
His third thought never came because the guy’s eyes—dark and soft, with a curiosity that felt more like an invitation than a probing question—locked onto his, and Seokjin promptly forgot what he’d been thinking about altogether.
“What are you having tonight?” the guy asked, his voice light, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like this was just another regular evening.
“I’m not sure…” Seokjin murmured, his feet moving on their own as he stepped up to the counter. The rich, roasted scent of coffee hit him harder this time, giving his scattered thoughts a gentle shake, a little clarity. “What do you offer?”
“A way back or a way forward.”
Seokjin smirked. “You name your coffee backwards and forwards?”
The guy narrowed his eyes, peering at Seokjin like he just said something silly. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
Seokjin’s brain stalled for a moment. He glanced around the shop again, the quietness of it all sinking deeper into his bones.
He honestly hadn’t stopped to think about it.
He also couldn’t remember how he got here, just that he was caught in a storm and—
“No…” He laughed weakly, nervously. “Not really.”
The guy’s gaze softened, his lips curving into a gentle smile that somehow comforted, yet also unsettled Seokjin at the same time.
"Let me grab you a cup of tea while you think it over."
“Think what over? What are you talking about?”
The guy's gaze sharpened as he spoke. “Brave soldiers often find themselves at a crossroads, don’t they? But even heroes deserve a break. If he so chooses...”
Seokjin stared at him for a second, his amusement giving way to dread as the word settled deep in his chest. Heroes?
His hands started trembling, his fingertips digging into the counter as the realization hit him hard.
He looked down, and only then realized he was wearing combat fatigues.
Mud-streaked. Rain-soaked.
The weight of them felt strange, foreign. Like he was wearing someone else’s memories.
Someone else’s life—
A dark red splotch suddenly began spreading across his chest, right above his heart.
He broke out in cold sweats.
His breath came faster, each inhale sharp and shallow as panic began to surge
His chest tightened.
Then he screamed.