BTS IMAGINES AND SCENARIOS

Petrichor✿(Park Jimin/Jimin)

It's the kind of rain that feels like it's never going to stop-thick drops hammering against the pavement, pooling into little rivers that run along the gutters. My umbrella had snapped in the wind a block ago, so here I am, huddled under the flimsy roof of an empty bus stop, water dripping from my hair and down the back of my coat.

I wasn't expecting to see him.

Jimin.

We're not strangers-not exactly-but we've only ever been... acquaintances. We've crossed paths at a few mutual friends' gatherings, exchanged polite hellos and awkward small talk over bowls of tteokbokki. He's the kind of guy who seems effortlessly charming, but I never thought I'd be close enough to notice the tiny details-like the way his lower lip is a little fuller than the top, or how his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

But now, he's here. Standing across from me under the same tiny shelter, shaking the rain from his hair like a scene from a drama.

"Hey," he says, voice warm despite the weather. "I didn't think anyone else was crazy enough to walk in this weather."

I laugh softly, trying to ignore the way my heart picks up just from hearing him speak. "My umbrella had other plans." I gesture to the broken mess at my feet.

He grins, stepping closer. "That's tragic. Want to share mine?"

I glance at the small black umbrella dangling from his fingers. "Pretty sure it's only big enough for one person."

His lips curve into something just shy of teasing. "Then I guess we'll have to be really close."

The words are casual, but there's a flicker in his eyes-a quick flash of something that makes my skin feel too warm for the damp air around us.

We wait in silence for a few beats, the rain filling the space between us with its steady rhythm. The bus schedule says we have at least fifteen minutes to kill. He leans back against the glass, tilting his head toward me.

"So," he says, "are you still working at that little bookshop near Hongdae?"

I'm surprised he remembers. "Yeah. It's... quiet. Peaceful. You?"

"Still dancing," he says, brushing wet strands of hair from his forehead. "But I'm teaching more now. It's... different. Fulfilling, though."

Something about the way he says it makes me smile. "You always looked like you belonged on a stage."

His eyes meet mine, and for a second, it's like the rest of the world disappears-just the two of us, the sound of rain, and the faint scent of whatever cologne he's wearing, clean and warm.

"You've watched me dance?" he asks, his voice softer now, almost playful.

"Maybe," I say, trying not to sound embarrassed. "Once or twice."

His smile deepens, and he takes a step closer. There's barely a foot of space between us now, and I can feel the faint heat radiating from him despite the chill in the air.

"That makes me happy," he says quietly. "I've... actually noticed you, too."

My pulse jumps. "Noticed me?"

He nods, eyes tracing my face. "Yeah. Every time we've been in the same room, I kept wondering what you'd be like if we actually talked."

I swallow, unsure what to say to that. The rain seems louder now, like it's pressing us into this tiny moment together.

Without thinking, I hug my arms around myself. He notices immediately. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine-"

Before I can finish, he's slipping his coat off and draping it around my shoulders. The warmth is instant, and the fabric smells faintly of him-spice, soap, and something I can't quite name but want to sink into.

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," he says simply, his fingers brushing mine as he adjusts the coat. The touch is light, but it leaves a trail of heat along my skin.

We stand there like that, closer than we've ever been, and it's suddenly hard to focus on anything except the fact that he's looking at me like he's memorizing the details.

"Jimin," I start, unsure where I'm going with it, but he tilts his head, waiting.

"Yeah?"

The bus shelter feels too small, too intimate. My words get tangled somewhere between my chest and my throat.

He takes a slow breath, like he's deciding something, and then-he closes the gap. His hand finds mine, fingers lacing together like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"I don't want to waste fifteen more minutes pretending I don't like you," he says, voice low, almost lost in the rain.

I blink. "You-what?"

He smiles faintly. "I like you. I have for a while."

My brain is scrambling, but my mouth works faster than my thoughts. "Then why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because I wasn't sure you'd feel the same." His thumb brushes over my knuckles. "But right now, with you standing here in my coat and looking at me like that... I'm willing to risk it."

The air between us feels electric. I can feel the warmth of his breath, the faint tremble of his fingers in mine.

"I... think I like you too," I admit, my voice softer than I intend.

His smile shifts-less playful, more tender. "Then maybe I can do this."

Before I can answer, he leans in. His lips meet mine softly at first, like he's giving me a chance to pull away, but the moment I melt into him, the kiss deepens. His free hand cups the side of my face, his palm warm against my chilled skin.

The rain blurs into nothing. All I can feel is the press of his mouth against mine, the way his thumb strokes my cheek, and the faint taste of peppermint on his lips.

When he pulls back, we're both breathing a little faster.

"Sorry," he murmurs, though the smile tugging at his lips says he's anything but. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

I laugh softly, leaning into him, still wearing his coat. "You have terrible timing."

He grins. "Or perfect timing. Depending on how you look at it."

We don't notice the bus pulling up until the brakes squeal. He glances at it, then back at me. "My stop's the other way. Yours?"

"Same," I say, surprising even myself.

We end up sitting side by side, our shoulders pressed together, the coat draped over both of us like we've done this a hundred times. Outside, the city is blurred through the rain-streaked windows, but inside, everything feels sharp and warm.

By the time the bus lurches to my stop, I almost don't want to get up. He stands with me, following me out onto the wet pavement.

"Well," I say, awkward again now that the moment's over. "Thanks for the coat."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Keep it. I'll get it back next time we meet."

"Next time?" I tease.

His smile widens, and there's a promise in his eyes. "There will be a next time."

And as I watch him walk away through the rain, my heart still pounding, I know he's right.