Chapter 2 — The Echo of Rain

Jungkook’s POV

Rain always made my world quieter.

It felt like the city pressed a pillow over its own mouth—traffic fading, people hurrying, voices swallowed up by the gentle hiss of falling water.

I liked it that way. Rain was honest. It didn’t try to hide anything.

I kept my hoodie up, head down as I walked toward the café. I didn’t really need coffee so early, but I liked the tiny bubble of warmth it made in my hands. Mom used to say I was born with winter in my bones—always chasing something to keep the cold out.

When I stopped in front of the glass, I caught my own reflection: tired eyes, hair messy, mouth set in a thin line that never seemed to loosen. I noticed someone sketching by the window. At first, I tried to ignore him. I wasn’t here to talk. But when our eyes met, something shifted inside my chest—like the first note of an old song you loved but almost forgot.

He smiled. Just a small smile, but it was… open. Like somehow he saw me, not the version I tried to hide.

I almost looked away, but curiosity got the best of me. I stepped inside and stole a glance at the menu I already knew by heart. Ordered iced americano—no sugar, no frills, easy. My voice was soft, barely louder than the rain outside.

Is it weird, wanting to hide but also wanting someone to see you?

While I waited, I glanced over. He still had his pencil out but wasn’t moving it. Our eyes met again, and I noticed the way his hair clung damp to his forehead—the kind of thing you only notice if you’re looking for reasons to notice.

God!!! Get a grip.

When my coffee came, I thanked the barista and tried not to trip as I turned around. I should have just gone, but then—

“Hey— ”

The voice stopped me. His voice.

I looked up, surprised and a little nervous. Instinct said to run, but his eyes were gentle. He offered me the seat across from him. Said it was warmer here. Maybe he was just being polite, but it sounded like he meant it.

I almost said yes. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be known that quickly. It’s easier when people guess wrong and you don’t have to correct them.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Sure. Just thought I’d ask.”

I gave him a little bow, like Mom taught me. Polite. Distant. Safe.

But as I stepped back into the rain, I caught my reflection one more time in the glass—this time with his face blurred behind mine. I walked home with my hands squeezed around the coffee until it nearly hurt.

That night, I tried to read. Scrolled through my phone. Ate instant noodles, even though they never tasted like anything. But all I could think about was how someone I’d never met had looked at me—really looked.

And for the first time in a long time, I wondered what I’d say if someone actually wanted to listen.

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The next morning, as I pushed open the café door, my heart raced. He was there—even before I walked inside. This time, maybe I’d try to stay...

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