BTS One Shots

Downpour | Yoongi

Gif credit: sugagifs.tumblr.com

When rain ruins the end of a night out, help comes from an unexpected and unwelcome corner. Even more surprising, you accept it.

pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: angst, tiny bit of fluff
warnings: none
word count: 3k
a/n: guyss happy jk day (even though it's not officially 1 September yet where I live lol)!! I hope you enjoy this fic :)

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Great, is all you think as you step outside, hit right in the face with the cold night air. It's raining. Your breath comes out in white puffs, mixing with the thick cloud of cigarette smoke that hangs in the air.

It's hours after midnight and your makeup gave up on its job hours ago, your body tired from walking and dancing and standing around all night. After having decided it's time for you to go home – much to the dismay of your friends, who are still inside, planning to stay there until morning – you're now standing just outside the entrance to the club in your coat, one that's way too thin for this kind of weather, and definitely not waterproof. You're already shivering – and you're not even that wet yet.

The rain is beating down onto the pavement, the ricocheting spatters soaking your shoes, ice cold water seeping through the brightly coloured fabric of your All-Stars and wetting your socks. Looking around, you squint, trying to see through the raindrops falling from the sky. Within seconds, you spot it – right across the street, a beacon of light in a sea of darkness.

The bus stop.

You have just five minutes left to catch the last bus that can drop you off at your apartment complex. If you run, you'll be able to make it only half-soaked and then sit down and wait on the bench in a relatively dry bus stop.

You take a breath. The booming music, the loud voices, the whooping coming from the club suddenly feel like they're trying to pull you back in there. Honestly, the idea doesn't sound all too bad – you can just go back inside and party with your friends until the rain ceases, and you can go home warm and dry, rather than submitting yourself to this shit.

But you decided to go home for a reason – and, besides, there's no partying with soaked sneakers.

Come on, you tell yourself, starting to hop from leg to leg. You can do this. It's only a few meters. You'll be fine. The bus will be warm, your apartment will be warm, it'll all be fine.

It feels like that moment you go through before jumping into the pool – seeing the cold water in front of you, knowing that all you have to do is make the jump and that you'll be fine, that you'll get used to it, but also not being able to push yourself over the edge, not able to actually jump.

You take another breath, feel a burst of bravery surging through you and you charge forward, running like your life depends on it, plopping down onto the bus stop bench in seconds, a relieved sigh escaping you.

You were right – you're only half soaked. But it really doesn't seem to be doing you any favours – your body is shivering like crazy, teeth clattering so loudly that you think the people in the club might just hear it.

You wait. A minute, five minutes, ten. Frowning, you look up and down the road- no bus. You glance at the time, just to be sure, and your frown deepens. The bus was supposed to have arrived and left minutes ago, and yet it's not there.

With a huff, you look up at the board to see how long it's delayed this time- but when you read what's on it, your heart drops, eyes widen. Cancelled.