Chapter 4 — Cookies, Rain, and Almost Names

Jungkook’s POV

The morning air was cold. I kept my hands deep inside my hoodie pockets, trying to stay warm. I told myself I wouldn’t go back to the café today. No real reason to go. But somehow, my feet didn’t listen.

As soon as I walked inside, I saw him. The boy from yesterday. The one sitting by the window, with a sketchbook on the table.

The moment our eyes met, he smiled. Not just a little smile—a big, wide, open smile where his whole face lit up. His eyes looked smaller at the corners because they were crinkled so much. It was the kind of smile that made you want to smile back, even if you felt shy.

“Morning,” he said like we had known each other for a long time.

“Hey,” I said quietly, trying to sound calm, even though my heart was beating fast.

Before I could think about ordering anything, he pushed a small plate of cookies across the table toward me. Chocolate chip, soft and warm. My favorite kind.

“Want a cookie?” he asked with a playful look.

I raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

He laughed softly, and the sound made the room feel a little warmer. “They say if you eat cookies, you can’t be sad. I want to prove it.”

I smiled and took one cookie slowly. The sweet taste made some of the nervousness in my chest disappear.

“Careful with the crumbs,” he said jokingly. “This is my favorite spot.”

We started talking about little things. Nothing very important, but somehow everything felt important then. He told me he liked to draw a lot, even in class. Sometimes his teacher wasn’t happy about it. Then he told me about one time his friend made a silly joke about one of his drawings, and he laughed so hard he almost snorted. I couldn’t stop smiling as I imagined it.

Suddenly, he reached for his coffee, but the sleeve slipped, and a small drop fell onto his sketchbook.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed like it was a serious problem. “My masterpiece is spoiled!”

I leaned closer and said with a grin, “It’s just a little drop.”

He looked at me with bright eyes. “No, no,” he said. “It’s an important part now. My story has coffee and courage.”

I laughed softly. There was something about how he said things that made it hard to leave.

Minutes passed really fast. Every time I thought about going, he would say something silly or smile that big boxy smile again. I stayed a little longer each time.

When it was finally time to leave, he tapped his pen on the table like a drumroll. “See you here tomorrow?”

There was no pressure in his voice. Just hope.

“I think so,” I said without hesitation.

As I walked outside, I thought about everything. Even after all that time together, we still didn’t know each other’s names. Not yet. But somehow, that didn’t feel strange. It felt like we were creating a quiet story, little by little, page by page.

The next day, the rain fell harder than before. I almost didn’t go to the café—until I saw him outside, waving through the window, hiding something behind his back...

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