BTS IMAGINES AND SCENARIOS

Euphoria at 2AM✿⁠ ( Jeon Jungkook/Jk)

The first time she met him, he almost ran her over.

To be fair, it was raining, and she was standing dead center in the crosswalk, staring at her phone while thunder cracked the sky open.
But still — the screech of tires, the flash of headlights, the blur of black leather — it all happened too fast.

When the motorcycle stopped inches away, her heart was in her throat.

The rider yanked off his helmet.

“Are you okay?”

His voice was rough with panic, his hair plastered to his forehead. He looked young — maybe her age — but the kind of young that had already seen too many nights.

She nodded, dazed. “I— yeah. I think so.”

He exhaled in relief, shoulders dropping. “Good. Because that would’ve been the worst first impression ever.”

Despite herself, she laughed. “You think this is an impression?”

He grinned, and the rain caught on the edge of it — like lightning trying to compete. “Depends. You planning to forget me?”

---

She should’ve walked away.
Instead, she found herself sharing an umbrella with a stranger in the middle of a storm.

“I’m Jungkook,” he said, tucking his helmet under one arm. “And you’re…?”

She told him her name.

He repeated it slowly, like a lyric he wanted to remember.

The rain poured harder, and he glanced at his bike, then at her soaked shoes. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

Before she could protest, he handed her the spare helmet.

“Hop on.”

She blinked. “What— no. I don’t even know you.”

He smirked. “Exactly. That’s what makes it fun.”

She should’ve said no. She really should have.
But something about his grin — reckless yet strangely kind — made her want to see where that bike could take her.

So she climbed on.

---

The city blurred into streaks of color — red lights, shop signs, silver puddles flashing by like memories in reverse. The wind bit her skin, rain stung her cheeks, and yet it felt alive.

Jungkook leaned forward, shouting over the noise, “Hold tighter!”

She did.

He laughed — not out of arrogance, but sheer joy. The sound of someone who hadn’t forgotten how to feel free.

By the time they stopped, the rain had turned to drizzle. They were at the top of a hill overlooking the city, Seoul stretched out like a galaxy of lights below.

She climbed off, helmet in hand, legs trembling slightly.

“You’re insane,” she said, breathless.

“Probably,” Jungkook replied, smiling wide. “But you’re smiling too.”

She hadn’t realized she was.

---

They sat on the curb, the city humming beneath them.

“Do you do that often?” she asked. “Pick up strangers mid-storm?”

He shook his head. “No. Usually I just ride until I can breathe again.”

She glanced at him. “You couldn’t tonight?”

He was quiet for a moment, gaze fixed on the skyline. “Some nights, I forget who I’m trying to be. The road helps me remember.”

There was something heavy in his tone — not sadness, exactly, but honesty.

“What about you?” he asked softly. “What were you doing out there, in the rain?”

“Trying to feel something,” she admitted. “Anything that wasn’t routine.”

He turned to her, eyes catching in the dim streetlight. “Guess we both got what we were looking for, then.”

---

They talked for hours — about nothing and everything.
About late-night ramen shops, about songs that feel like confessions, about how scary it is to want something more.

At one point, he pulled out his phone and played a melody. It was raw, unfinished — a gentle guitar loop with his voice humming low over it.

“Something I’m working on,” he said.

She listened, goosebumps prickling her arms. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, a little shy for the first time that night. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You sound sure about that.”

“Some things you don’t have to doubt.”

That made him laugh quietly, gaze softening. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“How?”

“You make people believe.”

---

When it was almost dawn, the rain stopped completely. The city below was waking up — headlights, bakery smells, buses humming to life.

Jungkook stood, stretching. “Come on. One last ride.”

She frowned. “Where to?”

He looked at her over his shoulder, eyes glinting. “Anywhere but here.”

They rode until the horizon turned gold. The city disappeared behind them, the roads widening into open air.

And somewhere between laughter and silence, she realized — this wasn’t about escape. It was about arrival.

---

When he finally dropped her off near her apartment, she hesitated, fingers still curled around the helmet.

“So,” she said quietly, “is this where strangers say goodbye?”

He smiled — small, sincere. “Not all strangers.”

He took a pen from his pocket and scribbled something on her wrist. A few messy digits, a name, and a little doodle of a lightning bolt.

“Call if the world feels too small again,” he said.

Then he was gone — engine roaring, taillights fading into the dawn.

---

A week later, she found herself on that same hill, no rain this time, just memory.
She held her phone, thumb hovering over his number — and smiled.

The city glittered below like it was waiting.

Then she called.