The lecture hall hummed with the soft rhythm of rain tapping against the wide windows. The smell of damp earth floated faintly through the air, the kind of scent that made people dreamy.

Professor Jeon Jungkook was standing by the blackboard, a piece of chalk in his hand. He had been explaining a passage of literature, but his students had noticed something strange—every time it rained during class, he would pause for a second, as though caught in a memory, and a small smile would appear on his face.

Today, someone finally dared to ask.

“Professor,” a girl near the front row raised her hand, her eyes bright with mischief. “Why do you look so happy when it rains? Don’t most people get gloomy?”

A ripple of laughter ran through the class. Jungkook blinked, caught off guard, but his lips curved.

Another boy, leaning back lazily in his chair, added, “Is it because you have a romantic story about rain? Maybe a secret love story?”

The room buzzed immediately with interest. Whispers flew from one desk to another.

“Come on, sir, tell us!” another student called from the back. “We won’t write it down in notes, promise.”

“Yeah,” a girl chimed in, “you always tell us about poets and their tragic loves—what about yours?”

Jungkook tapped the chalk lightly against the board, buying himself time. He wasn’t a man who shared personal things easily. For years, his story had lived quietly inside his chest, too precious, too fragile to give away. And yet… perhaps because the rain was falling just like it had back then, or perhaps because of the way his students’ eyes were glowing with curiosity—today felt different.

He set the chalk down carefully on the ledge, dusting the white powder from his fingers. Turning back to the class, he folded his arms and leaned against the desk.

“My love story, huh?” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “Well… it isn’t the kind of story you’d expect. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t even simple. But it was… mine.”

The laughter faded into silence. Dozens of faces stared at him, expectant and eager.

Jungkook’s gaze drifted to the window. Rain trickled down the glass, just like it had that night. For a moment, his reflection overlapped with the memory of another boy’s smile.

“It began years ago,” he said, almost as if speaking to himself. “On a rainy evening, when I stepped off a bus. I didn’t know it then, but I was about to meet someone who would change my life forever.”

The students leaned forward in their seats.

“He was standing there, drenched from head to toe, staring up at the sky as if he’d never seen rain before. Everyone else was running for shelter, but he… he looked like the rain belonged to him. I remember thinking he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, tinged with something bittersweet.

“His name,” Jungkook said finally, “was Taehyung.”

The rain outside seemed to deepen, as though it, too, remembered. The classroom blurred at the edges, and his words carried them all into the past, where a younger Jungkook first laid eyes on the boy who would become his everything.

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The bus came to a screeching halt at the corner of a narrow street, its headlights glinting off puddles that reflected the dim city lights. Jungkook stepped down carefully, tugging his hood over his head as the rain poured heavier.

The world smelled of wet asphalt and rusted railings. He adjusted the strap of his satchel and was about to hurry toward his apartment building when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, just a few steps away from the bus stop, a boy stood soaking in the rain as though it were the gentlest embrace. His dark hair clung to his forehead, raindrops sliding down sharp cheekbones, his shirt plastered against a lean frame. And yet, instead of shivering or seeking shelter, he was smiling—genuine, wide, like a child tasting freedom.

Jungkook froze.

It wasn’t the kind of smile you saw every day. It wasn’t polite or practiced. It was… luminous, almost unreal. For a second, the rain didn’t matter. For a second, Jungkook forgot to breathe.

The boy turned slightly—and their eyes met.

Caught staring, Jungkook stiffened, his ears burning. He quickly looked away, pretending to fumble with his bag strap. But when he glanced back, the boy was still smiling, now softer, almost amused.

“Do I look that strange?” the boy’s voice came light, playful, and carried easily through the rain.

Jungkook blinked. “H-Huh?”

“You’ve been staring,” the boy teased, tilting his head, droplets spilling off his hair. “Is it because I’m standing in the rain?”

Jungkook swallowed, searching for words. “A little, yeah. Most people… run for cover.”

The boy chuckled, his laughter low and warm, blending with the patter of rain. “Maybe I like the rain too much. It feels new to me.”

“New?” Jungkook tilted his head.

The boy nodded, his eyes gleaming despite the grayness around them. “I just moved here this morning. Everything feels… different. Even the rain tastes different.”

Jungkook’s curiosity slipped past his usual shyness. “So you’re new to the city?”

“Mm,” the boy hummed, fishing a damp slip of paper from his pocket. “Though right now, I’m mostly new to being lost. I’ve been trying to find my apartment for the past twenty minutes.”

Jungkook stepped closer, peering at the paper. His eyes widened. “Wait… this address—” he blinked, almost laughing in disbelief. “That’s my building.”

The boy’s lips parted in surprise before curving into that radiant smile again. “Really? Then I guess we’re neighbors.”

For reasons Jungkook couldn’t explain, his chest felt warmer despite the chill.

The boy tucked the paper back into his pocket, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked completely drenched, and Jungkook couldn’t stop staring. Something about the sight was oddly fragile—like sunlight trapped in rain.

“You’ll get sick if you keep standing here like this,” Jungkook finally said, his voice softer. Without thinking, he reached into his bag and pulled out his folded umbrella. He hesitated, then stepped closer and opened it above them both.

The boy blinked at the sudden shield of fabric over his head, then at Jungkook. His eyes crinkled. “Are you… offering to share?”

Jungkook shifted awkwardly, gripping the umbrella handle tightly. “I mean, unless you prefer to keep getting drenched.”

The boy’s laughter bubbled out again, light and melodic. “You’re kinder than you look.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow, though the corners of his lips threatened a smile.

The boy only grinned wider. “I’m Taehyung,” he said, extending his wet hand.

Jungkook hesitated, then clasped it. The coldness of Taehyung’s skin sent a shiver up his arm, but there was warmth in the way Taehyung’s grip lingered.

“Jungkook,” he said quietly.

And so, with the umbrella barely wide enough for two, they began the walk home side by side—two strangers bound by rain, laughter, and a strange feeling that neither quite had the words for yet.

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By the time Jungkook and Taehyung reached the apartment building, the rain had softened into a misty drizzle. The umbrella dripped quietly in Jungkook’s hand, while Taehyung shook his hair like a wet puppy, laughing under his breath.

“Home sweet home,” Jungkook murmured, pulling out his own keys.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, fumbling around—first his jeans, then his jacket, then the small crossbag slung at his side. His smile faltered.

“Uh-oh.”

Jungkook glanced at him. “What?”

“My key,” Taehyung said, patting himself again. “I’m sure I had it… The broker gave it to me this morning, but—” He pulled out the damp slip of paper again, but no key. His brows furrowed. “Maybe I dropped it in the rain?”

Jungkook sighed softly. “You should call your broker and ask for another. But until then…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can wait at my place. You’re soaked through. You’ll catch a cold like this.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, then softened with gratitude. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Jungkook shook his head quickly. “It’s fine. Come on.”

His apartment was tidy—almost too tidy. Books lined the shelves in perfect rows, the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air. Taehyung stepped inside and let out a low whistle.

“Wow. Cozy.” His eyes roamed the space, taking in the simple couch, the framed photos of landscapes, and the bookshelf crammed with worn covers. “You live alone?”

Jungkook nodded, setting the umbrella aside. “Yeah. It’s quiet.”

Taehyung slipped off his wet jacket, then hesitated. His shirt clung to his skin, translucent from the rain. Jungkook caught himself staring—his ears burned, and he quickly turned away.

“I’ll… get you something dry,” Jungkook muttered, disappearing into his bedroom.

He returned with a soft gray hoodie and sweatpants. “Here. They might be a little loose, but better than…” His voice trailed off when Taehyung smiled warmly at him, accepting the clothes.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

When Taehyung emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, Jungkook nearly dropped the mug he was holding. The hoodie hung slightly off Taehyung’s frame, the sleeves a little too long, the sweatpants gathered around his ankles—but somehow, it suited him perfectly.

Jungkook’s throat went dry. Why does he look better in my clothes than I do?

Taehyung tilted his head. “What? Do I look funny?”

Jungkook coughed, averting his eyes. “N-No. They… they fit fine.”

A grin spread across Taehyung’s face. “I knew it. You were staring.”

Jungkook flushed, busied himself with the kettle. “Do you want tea?”

“Hot chocolate, if you have it,” Taehyung replied immediately, eyes twinkling.

Jungkook froze. “…Hot chocolate?”

Taehyung nodded eagerly. “Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

A strange flutter ran through Jungkook’s chest. Mine too. But he only nodded silently, reaching into the cupboard where the tin of cocoa powder sat waiting—as if it had been placed there just for this moment.

While Jungkook stirred the steaming cups, Taehyung wandered toward the bookshelf. His fingers trailed over the spines, pausing when he noticed the titles.

“You like romance novels?” Taehyung asked, half-teasing.

Jungkook stiffened, glancing over. “They’re… classics.”

Taehyung pulled out one—its corners worn, the pages soft from rereads. “‘When It Rains, I See You,’” he read the title aloud, smiling. “That sounds exactly like something you’d read.”

Jungkook blinked. “…You don’t even know me.”

“Maybe,” Taehyung said, slipping the book back gently, “but I feel like I will.”

The words lingered in the air, heavier than the steam rising from the cups.

When Jungkook handed him the hot chocolate, their fingers brushed. Taehyung’s hand was still cool from the rain, and Jungkook felt heat rush to his ears. They both pretended not to notice, sipping in silence.

Taehyung leaned back against the couch, eyes half-lidded in contentment. “Your place feels… safe. Like I could fall asleep here.”

Jungkook’s chest tightened. Safe. Warm. Words he hadn’t realized he craved.

But just as quickly, something tugged at the edges of his mind—like a whisper. He glanced at the door, convinced for a second that he’d heard footsteps in the hallway.

Nothing.

When he looked back, Taehyung was watching him quietly, as if he had noticed the flicker of unease. But instead of asking, Taehyung simply smiled again, soft and reassuring.

Jungkook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was the rain.

Either way, tonight, the only thing that mattered was the boy in his hoodie, sipping hot chocolate in his living room, making the world feel less lonely.

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