Work Text:
Thoughts were storming in his mind, like those waves that splashed against the steady rocks, and a lot of colorful ideas started to cloud his mind. It was everything that a writer could ever want. Thoughts. Ideas. It should be a kick to every writer to start typing and starting a novel, yet there he was. Staring at the screen of his laptop, at the blank page that he was trying to type on.
Yes, a lot of ideas were in his mind right now, but he can’t seem to type the right words. He can’t seem to find the inspiration to start a new novel. His mind was indeed full of ideas, but his fingertips are not itching to form those ideas into meaningful words; he can’t seem to put his thoughts into sentences.
Wetting his lips, Mark plopped his back on his seat and palmed his face in a very frustrated manner. He stared at the blank page once again, thinking why he can’t seem to write everything he wanted to share… but no answer came. Only his frustrated groan.
Mark was a science-fiction writer; since he was a child he was fond of watching those kinds of movies. It just… fascinates him. Everything about science-fiction just fascinates his whole being. The world-building, the technologies, the thrill… just everything. Hence he promised himself that as soon as he grew up, he wanted to be one of those writers. And he did. With two published novels, at that.
With one last look at the blank page, Mark heaved a heavy sigh and closed his laptop. Nothing would happen if he just sat there and stared at his laptop’s screen for how long only the clock knows. So, he decided a walk was what he needed.
He snatched his phone off his table, then he went straight out of his house. Mark walked on the street as if lost as if he didn't know where to go. He kept his head low as he listened to all the noises; the bustling of the cars’, the chattering of the people he walked past, and even their ltouches of laughter Before, it’s one enough inspiration for him to write a new idea and stay up all night nursing it into something meaningful, but today… it’s as if it’s just nothing. As if it’s just… it.
Mark sighed and shook his head before lifting his head. He let his eyes wander around the place until he spotted a café, then before he even knew it, he was already inside of the establishment and making his way towards an empty table.
As soon the door chimed, signaling a new customer arrived, Renjun raised his head. He half-expected the customer to directly go to the counter, where he was currently situated, but he was wrong when he saw the customer heading to an empty table next to the glass.
The small café owner, Renjun, craned his neck as he watched the new customer very closely. It’s as if the face was familiar yet he can’t pinpoint where he saw his face. But that’s not actually the reason why he was watching the customer closely… it’s because… the guy seems sad. Based on his crestfallen face.
So, Renjun, being the kind café owner that he was, hopped off his seat and took one sliced cake from the glass, then made his way to the sad-looking guy. A plate of watermelon sliced cake on his hand, and a smile plastered on his face.
It’s what Renjun normally does, since the beginning of his café, which was just two months ago. Whenever he saw a sad-looking customer, he would offer them free cake, or drinks, just to make them feel better. And to maybe accompany them for a minute. That’s what he’s been doing ever since his café opened up, one he’s been used to doing even if he’s still a café worker.
“Hi,” he greeted before placing the plate atop the table gently.
Mark, who was startled by the new voice, stared at Renjun with his eyes shaped in a circle, then it dropped on the cake.
“Can I sit?” Renjun asked softly, gesturing to the seat abreast of Mark, and to which the latter nodded, though still in state of confusement. “Thank you,” he gratefully said and then he sat. “Oh! Have it,” Renjun said, gesturing to the cake that Mark had been eyeing. “It’s on the house.”
Mark, confused that he was, stared at Renjun, then he tilted his head. “Who are you?” The question came out as a mumble.
“Oh.” Renjun chuckled and scratched the back of his neck before offering his hand for a shake. “I’m Renjun. Renjun Huang. The owner of this café,” he introduced, plastering a sweet smile on his face.
Mark eyed Renjun’s hand for quite a second before grasping and shaking it. “Mark Lee,” he said, short and final.
Renjun’s eyes widened and clamped his free hand on his mouth. “Woah… Mark Lee? The writer?”
“Yeah, apparently,” Mark replied, and then blinked his eyes. “How do you know me?” he asked, letting go of Renjun’s hand.
“Huh… well, my best friend happened to be your reader. Or fan, if he says so,” Renjun answered with a smile.
“Oh… is that so?” Mark mumbled. But to be honest, it warms his heart knowing that he has a fan out there; supporting and loving his works.
“Yeap!” Renjun exclaimed with a smile. “You haven’t touched the cake yet,” he noticed, frowning on the cake.
“About the cake… why?”
Renjun blinked at Mark. “Huh? What do you mean why?” he asked, throwing Mark a confused look.
“This cake. Why did you give me a cake? And for free, at that,” he clarified, pointing to the cake using his mouth.
“Oh.” Renjun chuckled softly and stared at Mark. “Well, you seemed dejected when you came here. And my caring, or dare I say thoughtful, instinct told me a watermelon cake could make you feel a little better,” he explained, a smile forming on his lips every word he drops.
It could, Mark thought with a small smile. Watermelon is his favorite fruit of all time, so yes, a watermelon could make him feel a little better.
“Yeah…” Mark nodded and finally smiled at Renjun. He was grateful to this kind guy in front of him, really. “Thank you… Renjun.”
Renjun smiled, warmed at Mark’s words. “A pleasure, Mark.”
The next day, Mark came back to the café. Bringing his laptop with him this time. He was hoping that maybe he can finally write in the café, as it was the perfect place to get lost in the world you want to create. But as soon as Mark opened his laptop, and was ready to type, his hands froze midway.
And there he was again, unable to form any meaningful words.
Mark mentally groaned and dropped his head on the table, trying to tamper the frustration bubbling inside of him. He should’ve expected this─ that he can’t get away from this writing block, that not even a change of surroundings can help, yet he still hoped. And look where it leads him. To another frustration.
“Are you… fine?” a soft, familiar voice asked. Mark instantly knew who the owner of the voice was, even if he didn’t have to look up.
“No,” he groaned, and then he lazily lifted his head to meet the gaze of Renjun. “I’m honestly not.”
Renjun blinked. “Oh,” he mumbled and then he sat abreast of Mark. “Watermelon cake?” he offered with the intention to make the older feel a little lighter.
“Sure,” Mark replied with a smile. “Is it free again?”
At that, Renjun laughed soundly, harboring attention from those who were inside the café. Whereas Mark stared at the younger as he threw his head back because of laughing. The sound that he made… it’s just so pretty and, as cliché as it would sound, a music to anyone’s ear. And if he could bottle it, he would. On a big jar.
“Wow…” Renjun mumbled after laughing for one, good minute. “Since you made me laugh, then sure. Another watermelon cake is on the house,” he said with a grin.
Mark smiled and craned his neck. “I should probably come here more often and make you laugh, so I can get a free watermelon cake. What do you think?”
Renjun raised his brow jokingly. “And, what? Have my café fall into bankruptcy? Yeah, no.”
Both of them shared a look and laughed in unison. Mark felt like he was talking to a long-time friend that he just saw after a couple of years; he was comfortable with Renjun. He just… feels safe with him. And Renjun, fortunately for him, felt the same, too.
And probably the reason why Mark suddenly blurted out his dilemma. The reason for his “crestfallen”, Renjun’s word not his, face when he first came in the café. And Renjun… he was attentive to every word that Mark was dropping; he listened with his attention directed to the older’s face.
Yes, he was all-ears until Mark was finished speaking, and he offered a soft smile to the older as soon as he was done.
“Every writer is experiencing what they call a writer’s block, Mark,” he said softly. “There will always be a time where they can’t form any words, despite the ideas they have in their minds. But they do deal with it in their own ways.” Renjun stared at Mark’s face and pursed his lips. “Some find their inspirations… and some ask themselves why they write─ the reason why they write in the first place.”
The next following days, Mark came to the café, bringing his laptop with him almost every day. He would sit at the same place, and his laptop was placed open atop the table. And Renjun would sit across from him as Mark tells him about the ideas he’s been having. Sometimes, he would try to find inspiration, and when he felt like he’s inspired enough… he would try to write some scenarios. And it has worked; every day his productivity seems to be coming back.
Right now, he’s once again at the café, in the same place. His attention should be on the laptop in front of him, yet his eyes wandered around the place, hoping to spot a certain short-legged guy.
And there he was!
Renjun was walking towards Mark’s direction, holding a small plate with a familiar cake on it. He was smiling as he gazed at the older waving at him in a familiar manner. Renjun placed the plate as soon as he stopped in front of Mark, and sat on the chair he usually sat on– abreast of Mark.
“That free again?” Mark asked with a wiggle of his brow, pouting his lips to the direction of the watermelon cake.
Renjun rolled his eyes, yet a smile was playing on his lips. “You wish,” he replied. “This time you need to pay for the cake, author Mark Lee.” He grinned at Mark as he emphasized on the nickname he called him.
“But I didn’t order the cake?” Mark raised his brow.
Renjun waved him off dismissively. “Oh, but you were about to.”
At that, Mark chuckled. “Fair point.”
“So! How’s the progress?”
Mark smiled at the question and leaned his back on his chair. “Good. Like, really good,” he answered, his smile growing wider. “I can’t seem to, like, stop myself from writing while I’m on it. It’s like… the words inside my head wanted to be free of my grasp.” He talked with his eyes widening, like he’s telling a story, and Renjun can’t help but to feel enamored as he listened to Mark talking.
He can feel Mark’s passion for writing as he talks about the progress, about his writings. He can feel how happy Mark was that he can finally write again. Actually, Renjun’s just so happy for Mark.
“Once you finish your novel, I should be the one to first read it,” Renju joked as soon as Mark was done talking.
Renjun was joking, but Mark was having none of it. “Yeah,” Mark replied with a soft smile.
“Hey! I’m just kidding,” Renjun said, a blush slowly creeping up to his face.
“Well, I’m not, Renjun,” Mark replied with all seriousness. “You helped me get through it, my writer’s block. So, you just deserve to be the first reader of the novel, because you are the sole reason why it was getting written.”
Renjun blinked his eyes enumerable times and a soft gasp left his mouth. “Wow… oh, wow…” he mumbled softly while he stared at Mark with a shocked face. “Oh, my gosh… you.”
But Mark only grinned, then started to eat his watermelon cake and filled the white, blank pages with stories he wanted to share to the world.
Months came since that one promising day at Renjun’s café– since he started his novel. Yes, it has been months and Mark Lee was, once again, at the café. Instead of bringing a laptop with him, a book was with him. A book he has been working with. The book… for Renjun.
“You are done with it?” Renjun asked as soon as they were seated on their usual table, and as soon as Mark handed him the book. “Oh, my gosh, Mark Lee! I’m so proud of you!”
Mark smiled fondly at Renjun. “Open it.”
Renjun gave him a look before nodding. But before he opened it, he read the title first. “By the Café?” He lifted his head to gaze at Mark. “I thought you were a Science Fiction writer…?”
Mark smiled. “Change of genre,” he replied.
“Mhmm.” Renjun nodded and flipped the book open, then he flipped to the next page again, then again, until he was on the dedication page. “This is for you, Huang Renjun– the guy I met in the café, my inspiration,” he read slowly, and then he stared up to Mark with a wide-eyed gaze. “W…hat.”
Mark nodded with a fond smile. “You are the inspiration of this book, Jun, my inspiration. I thought it was the places I’ve visited, or the bustling crowds, but no. It’s none of them. It’s you. I realized it when I was in the middle of writing and your face popped inside my mind. Kaboom! It was you who kept me going until I was already writing the ending of the story. Yes, Renjun, you are.”
“Mark… oh, my gosh… you.” Renjun blinked the tears away from his eyes. “I can’t believe you!”
“Well, you should,” Mark replied with a chuckle.
Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Renjun stood up and went to Mark’s direction. “Stand up, Mark, and hug me,” he demanded and to which Mark obliged. Mark wrapped his arms around Renjun’s waist, and Renjun buried his face on Mark’s neck. “I can’t believe I’m your inspiration,” he mumbled softly on Mark’s neck.
Mark chuckled. “And I can’t believe I’m hugging my inspiration.”