COUP DE FOUDRE, dreamnotfound

COUP DE FOUDRE

- coup de foudre -
𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.4ᴋ

GEORGE ALWAYS HATED London traffic- especially when he was planning on commuting. Public transport had always been something he'd avoid, however, all feelings of loathsome distaste were trumped by the fact George hated driving himself around even less. He rather enjoyed being chauffeured around by his roommate, Karl, who was otherwise unavailable today.

"Yes, I know it's going to rain," He dismissed Karl's motherly concern, "and yes, I have an umbrella," He did not.

Despite all warnings, George hooked his fingers around the metal chain of his keys and hastily made his way out the door, wrapping himself up warmly with his thick, hoodless coat. Considering it was currently the off-season between winter and spring, the frost-biting winds and bipolar rays of sunshine were much more occurant than necessary.

He locked the door to hear an audible grumble from his flatmate, tucking the keys away in his pocket with a soft hum of amusement. George navigated through the winding staircases as he reached the main door, peering through the glass to see a dimming sky and amber hues of the sun shining through mobile clouds.

Pushing against the handlebars, his exposed skin was met flush with the feeling of cold winds, traces of sunshine, and warmth hiding behind the towering buildings. Sometimes he hated London- England entirely. Why show sunshine but in reality be cold? George just couldn't comprehend it.

But that was early this afternoon.

George was hurriedly tapping his thumbs against his phone screen, attempting to send Karl an update on his location: i'm about to get off on the next stop... i'll be back in like 20 mins max .

He was uncomfortably restricted to the bus' window and the large man seated beside him. It wasn't a particularly good use of space for his coat to be occupying more room than his petite body, however, he would rather be warm and squashed than being cold and pressed flush against the odorous stranger.

George didn't wait much longer when the vibration of Karl's response lit up his screen: okay, but make sure the donuts don't get wet.

Wet? George glanced outside and noticed how the rain collected on the dotted glass beside him. He huffed in annoyance, believing this journey to the bakery could've been a quick, interference-free trip. But of course, Karl had to be right: it rained.

Beyond the rain-stained glass, the small brunette paid attention to his surroundings, noticing how his loathsome journey was almost at its end- thank god . He moved his fingertips to the vibrant red (or his otherwise identified grey) to press the white block capitals 'STOP' of the bell.

The audible ding of the vehicle and illuminating sign served as a warning for George who held the large box of donuts securely in his arms.

"Sorry," He apologised pathetically to the plump stranger beside him in attempts to tiptoe past him. He thanked the driver before he was faced with the chilly London breeze and the unmistakable smell of rain.

It wasn't until the view of the rusting red seats through the transparent plastic case of the bus stop was in his sights that he noticed the feeling of light precipitation freckle his pale cheeks. George's cheeks were flushed red in the bitter chill of winter's departure, but it was when he raised his fingertips from their warm home in his pockets to brush the water from his cheeks did he realise that the rain would only get heavier.

"Of course it's gonna get heavier," He huffed in frustration to himself, picking up a quick jog to avoid the rain and take shelter under the dilapidated bus stop. He was going to wait this out, and whether it was a good idea or not, it was the only one he had.