Rain always made Jungkook want to paint.
Not sketch. Not charcoal. Not even digital. Paint.
He liked the way it blurred edges—of streets, of sound, of thoughts. It gave him permission to be soft when the world wasn’t watching.
But of course, the world was watching. Or at least his world—currently seated across from him at a tiny ramen place just off-campus—was watching with those mismatched eyes and a barely hidden smirk.
“You eat like you haven’t seen food in a week,” Taehyung commented, sipping his broth without even lifting the bowl.
Jungkook paused, a noodle hanging halfway from his lips. “That’s because I’m poor. And this is my first meal today.”
“You had instant coffee at noon.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Taehyung shrugged, his own bowl barely touched. “You didn’t have to say yes, you know. To this. The coffee-slash-lunch-slash-rain-date.”
Jungkook scowled. “It’s not a date.”
Taehyung quirked a brow. “Sure. But you wore eyeliner.”
Jungkook’s chopsticks froze.
He had—just a thin, smudged line above his lids. Subtle enough to feel like armor. Dangerous enough that Jimin had wolf-whistled as he left the dorm.
He dropped his gaze, cheeks warming. “I like how it looks when it rains.”
“Me too,” Taehyung said softly.
Jungkook peeked up.
Taehyung wasn’t smirking anymore.
His eyes—one sharp, one slightly lidded—were watching Jungkook the same way someone might look at a favorite painting behind glass. Like if he blinked, it might vanish.
They left the ramen shop after an hour, sharing a clear umbrella Taehyung had apparently brought “just in case.”
“You don’t seem like the type to plan for rain,” Jungkook said.
“I’m not,” Taehyung replied. “But you are the type to forget it.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but his ears turned pink.
As they walked through the slick streets, Taehyung tilted the umbrella slightly toward Jungkook, letting his own shoulder get soaked. Jungkook noticed. Said nothing.
But he stepped a little closer anyway.
Back in Room 304, the atmosphere shifted.
It always did, somehow.
The rain was still tapping the windows gently, the sky a dull wash of gray. Jungkook sat on the floor, sketchbook in his lap, headphones in, while Taehyung laid across his bed reading something with far too many charts.
They didn’t speak for a while. Didn’t need to.
But then Jungkook felt it again—that weight of Taehyung’s gaze, pressing between his shoulder blades like gravity.
He turned, just a bit.
“What?” he asked.
Taehyung shrugged, lounging like a cat with too much attention. “You’ve got paint on your cheek.”
“I didn’t paint today.”
“Then maybe it’s charcoal. Still, let me—” Taehyung pushed up and crossed the room, kneeling beside Jungkook before he could react.
Fingers warm, he brushed something imaginary off Jungkook’s cheekbone. His touch lingered.
“You’re imagining it,” Jungkook mumbled.
“Probably,” Taehyung agreed, but didn’t move back.
Jungkook could feel his breath.
“Do you always stare like that?” he asked, not quite managing to sound annoyed.
“Only at people I like.”
The words settled between them like static.
Jungkook’s eyes flicked up. Big, soft, a little confused.
“I’m not playing games,” Taehyung added, voice gentler now. “You know that, right?”
Jungkook nodded. Barely.
But then his phone buzzed—three short bursts.
A text from Hoseok:
“Emergency. Jackson’s stuck in the vending machine again. Bring bail money.”
Jungkook laughed under his breath.
“What?” Taehyung asked.
“I have to go rescue someone.”
Taehyung sighed and leaned back. “From a vending machine?”
“It’s a long story.”
Jungkook stood, grabbing his jacket. At the door, he paused.
“I—” he started. “Thanks. For the ramen.”
“Anytime.”
“I liked today,” Jungkook said.
Taehyung smiled.
Jungkook left before he could say anything else stupid.
That night, Jungkook lay in his bed, sketchbook beside him.
He flipped to a fresh page and started drawing. Not hands this time. Not eyes.
A boy holding an umbrella. Tall, calm, shoulder wet from rain.
And another boy beside him, eyeliner smudged, eyes bright like he’d finally been seen.
He shaded the scene softly.
As if the rain was still falling.
___
To be continued
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