It’s raining.

He stands waiting at the bus stop, feet tapping slightly to the upbeat music from his usual “bus ride” playlist. Yes, he has specific playlists for specific reasons, being meticulous in nothing but making playlists and arranging songs with precise details. Jongin just loves being weird about random stuffs like that.

The sky looks a bit gloomy, and grumpy. Skies don’t technically look grumpy, but Jongin thinks they do, in a way or another. Talk about being weird. The clouds appear irritated by the absurdly high humidity, can’t blame them, since this kind of weather does bother the hell out of every one, let alone a sensitive weather-prone Jongin.

“Please don’t rain,” he mumbles incoherently, holding back a sigh. He doesn’t need more grumpiness.

Luck does not strike on poor Jongin this time, or any other time in the near future, because tiny rain drops starts landing on the dry cement surface, letting go of themselves. The tiny rain drops keep getting bigger and bigger, and eventually, all Jongin can see is just white blinding the surrounding.

It has been fifteen minutes past the usual arrival time for his bus ride home and Jongin is getting jittery. The nearest coffee shop is like, ten freaking minutes walking from here and the owner is not really fond of having customers wetting her precious carpet floor.

He forgets the umbrella, every single time.

While Jongin is busy debating whether or not to get drenched or just, wait hopelessly for a miracle, his ears perk up at a sudden voice.

“Hey!” He looks up to a scrawny boy, standing a few steps in front of him, with a blue umbrella in his left hand. If Jongin squints, he swears the boy looks really familiar.

“What the hell are you waiting for?!” Jongin dumbly points a finger at himself, and gets another yell in his face, “Of course! Hurry up or we’ll both get wet!”

As Jongin reaches him, he immediately passes him the blue umbrella, “Hold this, you are taller.” Jongin’s eyes want to bulge out at the infamous short people logic but he relents anyway.

With his height as an advantage, Jongin can get a good view of his savior’s face, adorn with cotton cheeks, plump lips and a cute button nose. But what catches Jongin’s eyes are the coffee-shaded moles dotting on behind his ears and scattering on the span of his porcelain neck.

Jongin briefly wonders where this constellation ends, and poor boy doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Umbrella Boy turns sideways and looks at him dead in the eye.

“I rarely do charity so please don’t tell me I just wasted my kindness on a .” He grunts.

“I’m sorry?” Jongin tilts his head, confused, he hopes his cheeks are not blatantly blushing, having caught red-handed.

“What I was saying is, where are you heading?” Umbrella Boy patiently replies.

“Oh. Home. I’m heading home.” Now he just looks at Jongin as though he was dumb, but let’s admit, the statement is not entirely wrong. Jongin is a hopeless case, well, kind of.

“Well that’s a little bit too specific, can you be more general?” His voice is dripping sarcasm.

For such a small creature, this guy sure has the wit to make up. Jongin believes that short people are mean because they’re closer to hell, and Umbrella Boy here is the perfect example.

“U-uhhhhhh, it’s right over there. My h-house, of course,” he points at a direction in front, blinded by the rain. Umbrella Boy looks up at Jongin through the brim of his glasses, incredulous.

Jongin is really hopeless, or he’s just awkwardly shy around people, therefore, behaving dumb.

Umbrella Boy lets him slide this time, it’s either that, or he just stops trying to initiate a normal conversation with Jongin. Therefore, Jongin takes this as his cue to try.

“You going to the grocery store in the upper town, right?” He points at the slightly wet paper bag that the boy is hugging tightly to his chest. The sight is utterly endearing. Jongin slightly hopes he’s not being too much of a freak with the statement inside his head.

“Yes. The strawberries there are always fresher and two thousand wons cheaper for a hundred grams than at Mr.Kang’s,” he stops midway, turning to Jongin, “You didn’t get that from me, okay?” and ends with a serious push of his glasses back on the brink of his nose, his cute button nose.

“Oh... sure then. I don’t go out groceries shopping, or generally go outside, that much, but thanks for the information anyway.” He flashes a genuine smile, and is he mistaken or the boy just slightly blushes?

“That explains a lot.” The conversation ends there, leaving them walking side by side in the steady sound of rains splattering on the blue umbrella.

It is until Jongin has already stepped inside his cozy house has he realized he still hasn’t asked for Umbrella Boy’s name yet. But at least he didn’t forget to wave him goodbye, along with a “thank-you” and his signature smile, the one where his eyes turn crescents when said boy disappeared in the rain.

He somehow believes they will definitely see each other again.

Turns out Jongin is right. Their next encounter happens two days later, in the exact setting. Except this time, Jongin is looking out in the rain, hopefully waiting.

“Oh hell no.” His savior finally shows up, holding his blue umbrella in one hand, and a plastic bag in the other. Umbrella Boy clearly sees Jongin sitting there, as he attempts to walk away really quick.

“Hey! Umbrella Boy!” Jongin would be wagging his fluffy puppy tail with all the excitement he emits, if he had one, mind you.

“I have a name.” Said boy does stop on his track, giving him a deadly glare, which could clearly burn holes if Jongin’s skin was not so thick.

He takes hold of the umbrella without being reminded, and flashes him a toothy grin. “I see that fate has brought us together again.”

“I see that karma is getting to me,” Umbrella Boy rolls his eyes, then points at Jongin’s chest, “and you forgot your umbrella again.”

“What’s your name? I can’t just keep calling you ‘Umbrella Boy’ every time we meet,” He tries to sound genuine.

“First of all, now you decide to ask for my name? Second of all, we only met twice, how are you so sure about next times? Thirdly, get yourself a damn umbrella; I don’t do charity on a daily basis.” Umbrella Boy ends his ‘lecture’ with a huff, refusing to look at Jongin’s eyes.

“My name is Jongin.” He tilts his head, trying to catch the boy’s eyes. He doesn’t wear glasses today, so he gets to look at those big round orbs, in the shade of freshly roasted coffee beans.

“The name is Kyungsoo, and could you please stop being so weird? Even without my glasses on, I can tell you’re being weird again. Are you always,” he gestures, “this weird?”

“Why did you forget your glasses? People don’t normally forget things like that, you know, glasses and stuffs?” Jongin ponders.

“I see that someone’s in a chatty mood today,” Umbrella B—no, Kyungsoo, snarls. “I lost them in the rain when tripping after taking you home last time. So thank you. And I hate wearing contacts, they literally water out of my eyes.” Kyungsoo says, switching the plastic bag to his other hand.

Jongin swiftly takes hold of the bag, ignoring Kyungsoo’s bulging eyes, muttering something about “compensation”.

“You really don’t have to.” He swears Kyungsoo indeed blushes. Wow. Even the petit spawn of Satan gets embarrassed sometimes.

When they reach that crossroads after the small slope, where Jongin’s house is in the left and Kyungsoo’s is in the other, Jongin turns to Kyungsoo, a bit hesitant. “Let’s get to your house first.”

“Huh? There’s really no need to, it’s just a few walks from you—” Kyungsoo stops immediately when Jongin casually links their hands together and drags him along, turning to him with a “Lead the way.”

“I cannot let you risking your life again in the rain like that, honestly.” Kyungsoo hopes he’s just imagined Jongin saying that. Nevertheless, the butterflies in his stomach are real.

Turns out it takes more than just “a few walks” to get to Kyungsoo’s house, approximately ten minutes walking. Kyungsoo looks a bit flustered trying to unlock the door, completely opposite from his menacing attitude on their very first encounter.

“D-Do you,” He clears his voice, trying to sound nonchalant, “want to come inside? Since i-it’s rain-ning and you’re probably cold and stuffs…” Goddamn it Kyungsoo! Stop stuttering and man up!

He actually expects ‘no’ as an answer already. What he doesn’t expect, and not in a million years will he ever do, is a quick peck on his cheek, with a promise said in a whisper, “Maybe next time, Umbrella Boy.”

Despite the cold weather, Kyungsoo swears not only his cheek, but also his whole body heats up in an instant.

Kim Jongin happily skips on his way home through the rain, serotonin surging through his body, heart beating wild, mind a little bit hazy. He’s pretty sure he’s used up all the bravery in his 20 years of living. Before he closes his eyes for a sound sleep that night, he can still feel the absolute softness of Kyungsoo’s cotton cheek.

They say third time’s a charmer. But, well, not to everyone. Because the third time of thei