Strangers in the rain
Hello this is my first story
Seoul, 2:17 AM. The streets are nearly empty, only the hum of streetlights and the splashing of rain against the pavement. A sleek black car cuts through the silence, stopping in front of an abandoned warehouse. A man steps out, his face hidden beneath a hood. His boots echo on the wet ground. A scream breaks the stillness—and then… silence
In another part of the city, far away from the chaos, Taehyung sat hunched over his easel. The dim yellow light of his studio painted shadows across his sharp features. He dipped his brush into the black paint, dragging it harshly across the canvas. His phone buzzed beside him.
Jungkook
Don’t wait up for me tonight.
Taehyung
You disappear every night, Jungkook. Where do you even go?
Jungkook
Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.
Taehyung
…You always say that. One day, I will find out.
Jungkook
Don’t. For your own sake.
(“Seen 2:28 AM”) Tae’s hand tightened around the phone. He hated the way Jungkook spoke, like he was hiding something deadly.)
Morning arrived. The rain had stopped, but the city still felt heavy, like it was holding its breath. Taehyung walked into the university campus, his dark coat brushing against his knees. Students whispered as he passed; his beauty was quiet, almost intimidating.
“Yah, Tae!”
Yuna, his best friend, jogged to his side. She had her hair tied in a messy bun, her books pressed to her chest.
Yuna
You look like you haven’t slept. Let me guess—painting all night again?
Taehyung
(sighing): Something like that.
Yuna
(squinting) Or texting him again?
Taehyung
(coldly) It’s none of your business.
Yuna
It is when he keeps hurting you. Whoever Jungkook really is, I don’t trust him.
Taehyung
(pauses, his voice low) …Neither do I.
Meanwhile, Jungkook leaned against his car in a dark alley, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. His phone vibrated. A name flashed across the screen: “Minho.”
Minho
(on call) Job’s done. But someone saw us last night.
Jungkook
(calm but sharp) Who?
Minho
Some kid. Couldn’t have been older than 20.
Jungkook
Find him. No witnesses.
(Jungkook ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket. For a brief second, his mask cracked—his jaw tightened, his eyes dark. He hated this life, but there was no escape now.)
At night, Taehyung returned to his studio, restless. His phone buzzed again.
Taehyung
Jungkook… Can we meet tomorrow?
Jungkook
Tomorrow isn’t safe.
Taehyung
Then when? I can’t keep pretending you’re just some stranger.
Jungkook
…You’re safer pretending, Tae.
Taehyung
Don’t I deserve to know the truth?
(There was a long pause. Three dots blinked… then disappeared. Tae’s heart sank.)
Jungkook stood alone on a rooftop, the city sprawling beneath him. He looked at his phone screen, Tae’s desperate message glowing in the dark. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but he locked the phone instead. Rain began again, sliding down his face like silent tears.
Two souls. One drowning in secrets. The other burning with questions.
Neither knowing that their fates had already been tied—by blood, by darkness, and by a past neither of them could escape.
Comments