You first meet Jungkook because of the rain.

It’s the kind that doesn’t ask permission—just pours, heavy against the pavement, soaking through shoes, clothes, everything. You’re stuck under the small shelter of a bus stop, hugging your bag closer, silently regretting every decision that led you there.

Then someone runs in beside you.

Breathing slightly uneven. Damp hair falling into his eyes. Hoodie clinging just enough to show he didn’t make it in time either. He doesn’t look at you right away. Just shakes his head lightly, droplets scattering, and lets out a quiet, amused sigh.

“Of course it rains now.”

His voice is low. Calm. Like he’s used to things not going his way and choosing not to fight it. You glance at him, just once. That’s your first mistake.

Because he notices.

And when his eyes meet yours—dark, steady, a little curious—you forget what you were even thinking about.

“You got caught too?” he asks.

You nod. “Didn’t check the weather.”

“Same.”

A small pause settles between you. Not awkward. Just… new. Then he shifts slightly, pulling his sleeve over his hand and offering it toward you.

“Here,” he says. “You’re getting splashed.”

You blink, confused, before realizing he’s angling himself so the rain hits him instead of you. It’s such a small thing. But it stays with you.

—

You don’t expect to see him again.

People like that—quiet, kind in ways that don’t feel forced—they don’t usually come back into your life.

But a week later, you’re in a convenience store, staring at two snacks like it’s a life decision.

And then—

“You’re overthinking it.”

You turn. It’s him.

Same hoodie. Same eyes. This time, a faint smile playing on his lips like he’s been holding it in.

“You again,” he adds.

You let out a soft laugh, surprised despite yourself. “I could say the same.”

He steps closer, glancing at what you’re holding. “Left one’s better.”

“Based on what?”

“I’ve tried both.”

You hesitate for half a second… then put the other one back. He notices. Something about that makes his smile a little more real.

—

It becomes a pattern you don’t question. Running into him. Short conversations. Longer glances. You learn things slowly. His name—Jungkook. That he likes late-night walks. That he doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he means it.

He learns you, too. The way you hesitate before answering sometimes. The way you pretend not to care when you actually do. The way you always choose the window seat.

—

One night, the power goes out in your area. The street is dim, quiet in a way that feels almost unreal. You step outside, phone in hand, searching for signal. And there he is. Leaning against the fence, looking up at the sky like he’s been there a while.

“You always show up when things get weird,” you say, walking closer.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Or maybe you do.”

You stop beside him. For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then—

“You’re not scared?” you ask.

“Of the dark?”

You shrug. “Of being out here like this.”

He glances at you, just briefly.

“Not really.”

“Why?”

There’s a pause. A real one this time. Then he says, softer—

“Because you’re here.”

Your heart stumbles. Just a little bit. —

It doesn’t turn into anything dramatic. No sudden confessions. No big moments. Just him walking you home without asking. Standing a little closer than before. Remembering small things you don’t recall telling him. And one night… His hand brushing yours. Not by accident. Not fully on purpose either. But neither of you pull away.

—

Somewhere between the rain, the quiet, and all the almosts… You realize something. You didn’t fall for him all at once. It was slow. So slow you didn’t even notice it happening. And when you finally look at him—really look—

He’s already looking at you like he’s been waiting for you to catch up.