"The Stranger In The Rain"

The storm hadn’t stopped. Rain hammered against the windows of Taehyung’s little studio, drowning the world outside in a relentless rhythm. Inside, the air was heavy, too heavy for a room so small. Taehyung felt it the moment Jungkook stepped in—the atmosphere bending, warping, as though the space itself had to adjust to fit him.

The stranger—Jungkook—stood silently, water dripping from his coat. His eyes scanned the shelves stacked with pots and clay figures, but they lingered longer on Taehyung.

“You’re… a potter?” Jungkook’s voice was calm, curious.

Taehyung swallowed, suddenly aware of how loud his own heartbeat was. “Y-Yeah… it’s my family’s work. I just keep it alive.” He rubbed the clay off his palms, nervous. “You… want to stay here tonight?”

Jungkook nodded once. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

Taehyung hesitated. It wasn’t like him to let strangers in, especially during storms when the town itself seemed haunted. But something about Jungkook’s presence pulled him in—a magnetism he couldn’t explain. Against his better judgment, he stepped aside.

“You can stay. The guest room’s upstairs.”

Jungkook’s lips curved, faint and unreadable. “Thank you.”

As Jungkook moved past him, Taehyung noticed it. The air grew colder. Not like a draft from the storm, but a chill that crept under his skin, sinking into his bones. Goosebumps ran up his arms, yet Jungkook didn’t seem bothered by the wet clothes clinging to his body.

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the rain. Taehyung sat at his worktable, pretending to focus on the clay, but his hands trembled. He couldn’t stop replaying the dream, the red mark, the faceless man—and now Jungkook.

Why did his name feel so… heavy? Why did his voice sound familiar?

He shook his head. You’re overthinking, Taehyung. It’s just a dream. Just a stranger.

But when he finally went upstairs, passing by the guest room, he paused. The door was half-open.

Jungkook stood inside. His coat was gone, his damp shirt clinging to his chest. The faint lamp light cast shadows across his pale skin, and for a fleeting second, Taehyung swore he saw something—something almost glowing, just beneath the fabric, right in the center of his chest.

That mark.

Taehyung’s breath hitched. He blinked, and it was gone. Just a shadow, a trick of the light.

But Jungkook had noticed him.

“Can’t sleep?” Jungkook’s voice broke the silence.

Caught, Taehyung stammered, “I—I was just… making sure you’re comfortable.”

Jungkook’s lips curled, unreadable. “I am. You don’t need to worry.”

Yet his eyes lingered on Taehyung—long, steady, like he could see more than what was on the surface. Like he could peel open his thoughts and drink them whole.

Taehyung felt his chest tighten. “Goodnight, then.” He hurried to his own room, heart pounding.

But sleep didn’t come easy.

When Taehyung finally drifted off, the dream returned. The same faceless man. The same closeness. The same burning red mark glowing under his touch. Only this time… he heard something. A whisper, low and breathless against his ear:

“You’ve found me.”

Taehyung gasped awake, shivering. His room was dark, yet he swore he heard footsteps in the hallway. Soft. Slow. Passing by his door.

He sat frozen, barely breathing, until the sound faded.

The next morning, the storm had cleared, but the unease hadn’t. Jungkook was already awake, standing by the window as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Morning,” Taehyung said carefully.

Jungkook turned, his expression calm but his eyes dark, bottomless. “Thank you… for letting me stay. I’ll be gone soon.”

Taehyung felt a pang in his chest he couldn’t explain. Why did he care if Jungkook left? They had only just met. And yet…

Before Jungkook walked out, he glanced back once more. His lips parted as if to say something, but instead, he only gave a faint smile—one that left Taehyung’s stomach in knots.

And then he was gone.

But Taehyung knew.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the beginning of something he couldn’t escape.

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