What was he thinking? Was he even thinking? No. He was a logical man and always thought things through. So, he definitely wasn’t thinking. Not if he thought running away was going to change anything. What was he doing? Yes, his mother would never agree with his life choices, but he had no idea where he was going to go or what he was supposed to do next. And despite the high grades Namjoon had strived to achieve in school, he had been stupid enough to leave his phone at home.

With a groan the eighteen-year-old dropped his bag and slumped against a brick wall. What was he doing? This had been such a stupid idea. And yet, he couldn’t find the courage to go back home. Namjoon let out a sigh and stared up at the sky. The dark sky that had been bright not a moment before. Not only did he have such a stupid idea, but he had to put it into play just before a storm. What was he doing? He had nowhere to go, no shelter and no money for food.

It wasn’t until the rain soaked through his clothes and drip from his hair did he let slip the tears, somewhat glad that they could mix with the rain. Soon enough he pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face. Why did he run away? His mother would never understand his feelings. These feelings that had only risen recently and all because of that angelic face.

He was sure his mother would have been proud of him for finally finding someone he could care so much for. But of course, his angel was the wrong gender.  Namjoon wanted to hold the boy, protect him from all those who despised his choice in uality, take care of him, but he couldn’t even find the courage to talk to him. The boy was far out of his league and now he was sitting out in the rain for someone who didn’t even know he existed.

Having been immersed in his thoughts for so long, he didn’t realise the lack of rain that had ceased falling on his shivering body. When he sat up to wipe his eyes, he froze, looking into those perfect brown orbs that had caught his attention so many times. His head had been down, his face was pale and his eyes were red. Namjoon had no doubt the boy in front of him could see that he was crying. Why him? Why did it have to be him? He couldn’t keep his heartbeat in check.

“Namjoon, right?” That voice. That honey voice knew his name and all he could do in response was nod. This entire ordeal was his fault and yet Namjoon could only stare. “What on Earth are you doing out in the rain?” The rain. Right. It wasn’t until then did he realise that he was under an umbrella. Under the angel’s umbrella. And he was shivering.

“I-I-I, U-uh, I r-r-r.” he couldn’t stop stuttering and gave up on trying to explain himself.

“Oh never mind,” the boy muttered, standing and holding out his hand. “Come on, you’re not staying out here. It will be a miracle if you don’t catch a cold by tomorrow, the least you could do is avoid pneumonia.” A cold. It would be your fault. Namjoon thought to himself, and yet he couldn’t be mad. It wasn’t like the boy had any idea what he had done.

Taking the boy’s hand, he allowed himself to pulled to his feet. The angel pushed his umbrella into his hand and pulled off his scarf, wrapping the pink material around Namjoon’s neck before turning to grab the latter’s bag. “Alright, it’s not that far to walk. You can last that long, right?” Again, only a nod. Indeed, the walk wasn’t long and he found himself gawking at the small house in front of him. “Look, I know it’s a bit untidy, but that look is uncalled for.”

Namjoon shook his head quickly and replied, the walk having warmed him up the slightest. “N-n-no. It’s a-amazing.” The angel grinned and guided him up to the front door, unlocking it and opening it wide.

“Well, I’m glad you think so. Sit over there, I’ll make something warm.”

“I’m s-soaked.” At this the angel laughed, muttered an ‘I don’t care’ and pushed Namjoon towards the chair before rushing off to what he assumed to be the kitchen. It was only a small house but it was warm, much warmer than his own home had ever been.

“Alright,” the angel murmured, returning with two large mugs of hot chocolate. He sat next to Namjoon and pushed one of the mugs into the boy’s hands. After watching him take a few sips he leant back on the couch and asked. “So, what were you doing out there?”

Namjoon paused, staring at the steaming drink just as he was about to take a sip. What was he doing out there? Should he admit that he ran away, that he had been crying in the rain. No, he didn’t need that pity. But, what could he say? “You know,” the angel mumbled, breaking the silence, “You don’t have to talk about it. But, that bag seems to have a few thigs in it. If you need a place to stay, you can stay here.”

“What about your family?” The words came out without a thought. Namjoon knew he should have just declined, but he did not want to go home. He did not want to face his mother. But what was worse was the silence that followed his question.

“They’re not around,” the boy finally answered. “The house is my own, I don’t even have a room-mate.”

“Oh.” Really Namjoon? Is that all you can think to say? Namjoon offered the boy a smile. Or at least he tried. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t have a job.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“In that case. I’d have to stay.” What was he thinking? At that moment, Namjoon didn’t care. The look of delight on his angel’s face melted his heart and there was no way he wanted that look to disappear. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

“Please, call me Jin.”