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Like the Touch of Rain, He Was

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Kim Seokjin loved the rain.

He loved when it was warm, when it was cold, when it left sharp stings against his arms or when it misted in his hair. He squealed when his umbrella was whipped away and laughed when his foot splashed loudly into a puddle. He liked to trail the tracks with a finger as drops made their lazy way down his windowpane. Seokjin loved the rain—

And Park Jimin loved him.




Seokjin and Jimin had met at a music festival, skies clear and blue. The show was at its grand finale, the main vocalist belting out his sorrows in regards to a man and woman who loved him more than each other, how they would fight and he was trapped. His voice was high and wispy like the clouds would have been if there had been any on that heated July day. Seokjin’s heart had felt heavy, sympathetic to the singer's plight, but the gloom was held off by the beautiful day and the excitement of the festival.

He shouted aloud, arms waving in the tightly packed crowd, encouraging the band to tell them how you really feel! He had been so consumed in his own world that he failed to see the small man next to him, not quite as excited, kind of just being pushed along with the whims of the crowd—and one flailing Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin barely noticed the small hand on his elbow gripping it in pain. When he felt small nails dig into his skin he jolted and swung his head around. He was met with wide, brown, shimmering eyes. The man had a palm pressed to his nose, which Seokjin could only guess was the target of his wayward dancing. The skin under the hand was starting to bloom red.

“Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!” he panicked. He turned fully to the injured man, reaching to inspect the damage by pulling the small hand away from the nose. As soon as Seokjin could fully see his face the man's lips had started to quiver, those eyes squinting against the sunlight and pain and probably dawning headache. “I didn't mean to! I wasn't paying attention. Do— I— Oh, my gosh, should I call someone?”

A sniffle could be impossibly heard over the roar of the show, Seokjin already so attuned to this man, even on their first meeting. “No, I just—” he started, voice pitched funnily through his damaged nose, “It's not that, its—”

Those glimmering eyes had given up trying to hold it all back. A single crystal tear escaped over his lash line and fell over a rounded cheek. Seokjin stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

He was jarred from his shock, though, by wetness on his own face. He blinked up to the sky, confused as to where it had come from. The sky was as it had been before—clear, flat, cloudless—but water was raining down. Rain was coming down in trickles, a dozen drops falling onto Seokjin and the man that was wiping his eyes with the cuff of his shirt.

Seokjin furrowed his brow. Seokjin and Jimin had met at a music festival, skies clear and blue. He didn't know much about signs but, to Seokjin, if his beloved rain had surpassed the impossible just to be close to this stranger… well, let's just say Seokjin would too.




The first time Seokjin took Jimin out on a date it rained.

It was a light rain, the kind that made you wonder if leaving your umbrella at home was such a good idea but then realize that a simple hood on a light coat was more than enough.

On a warm day in August he had picked Jimin up from the train station in his old beat up truck and drove them to just outside the city where he knew a place to harvest the ripest fruit he'd ever tasted.

When they arrived Seokjin rushed to get them two huge baskets from the sign-in tent, enough room to carry all the late summer apples, nectarines, and peaches they could pick within two hours time, their arm muscles straining under the weight.

Jimin smiled and was polite through the whole first hour, Seokjin finding his shy sighs and wayward ramblings to be endearing. They picked from the same trees, hesitantly brushing hands whenever Seokjin plucked a particularly juicy fruit and tried to sneak it into Jimin’s basket for him to enjoy at his leisure. The younger at first didn’t react but by the fourth peach he locked eyes with Seokjin and grinned knowingly before placing a green apple into the elder’s basket.

The second hour didn’t go as planned but, somehow, neither of the two men could bring themselves to care.

Jimin had just descended the ladder and was playfully holding his arms up miming that he would catch Seokjin like the prince he kept jokingly referring himself as. Laughing, Seokjin shook his head before kissing an apple showily, tossing it in a graceful arc to be plucked from the air by Jimin’s deft fingers. Seokjin expected the younger to drop the apple, to laugh and say he was cheesy. What Seokjin didn’t expect was for Jimin to cradle the apple to his chest with his tiny cupped hands, the green clashing with the orange of his sweater—and to begin sniffling.

Alarmed, Seokjin climbed down the rungs of the ladder two at a time to reach the man who had now crouched down in the grass to hide his face between his knees.

“Ji-Jimin-ssi?” Seokjin fell to the hard ground, knees knocking into Jimin’s basket and probably scattering half his load of fruit but he was too worried to check. He held his hands out uncertainly, a feeling of déjà vu gripping him as he once again found himself unable to take any action to stop the other man from crying. “Wh-What’s wrong? Did I hit your hand? Why are you crying?”

As Jimin sobbed softly the bright sunlight that had been accompanying them on their outing suddenly disappeared, a cloud moving in to throw the two in shadow. Seokjin shivered slightly, but be it due to the lack of heat or the cold dread that came with a crying Jimin, he did not know. A few moments later he could hear muffled words. Gulping, he lifted the younger man’s chin so that he could decipher them.

“I’m s-so sorry.” Jimin’s words were warbled so Seokjin moved closer. “Every— Every time w-we meet I end up cuh- cuh- crying!”

“No! That’s not true, Jimin-ssi.” It was but now wasn’t the time to point it out. “I mean, there must be a good reason for it, right?” Seokjin rubbed a thumb along one of Jimin’s cheeks, gently massaging the tears into the skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Its stupid,” Jimin pouted.

“Aw, no its not. Just tell me.” Seokjin lowered his voice to be as soothing and persuasive as he could.

“No, its stupid. You’ll laugh.” Jimin turned his head to the side trying to avoid Seokjin’s gaze.

The elder turned his face right back. “I won’t, I promise. Just tell me, please? So I— I want to help.”

Jimin hesitated, Seokjin waiting, breath held. Jimin panted before answering, “It’s because I’m so—“ A raindrop plopped onto Seokjin’s shoulder, startling him and breaking the intense stare he had directed at Jimin’s puffy eyes. Two more hit Jimin’s forehead and rolled down into his eyebrow. “—happy.” His cheeks dusted rosily. “I cry when I’m happy, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Happy?” A small quirk started to tug at his lips. He looked down at the apple still clutched in Jimin’s palms. “Is this because… of the golden fruit?” His words were laced with barely hidden humor.

“I told you it was stupid!”

Seokjin’s smile widened. “But I’m not laughing, am I? Look, I’m smiling.”

“Smiling?” Jimin sniffled. The elder nodded. “Why aren’t you making fun of me?” Jimin rubbed tears from his face only for them to be replaced by the water from the sky. “Why would you smile about me acting like a baby and ruining out first date?”

“I’m smiling because our date isn’t ruined, silly. I smile when I’m happy, Jiminnie.” Jimin’s eyes rounded at the new nickname. “And I was worried before but now I’m happy that you’re okay and we can continue our date.”

“B-But, Seokjin-ssi, it’s raining! We can’t finish harvesting.”

“So?” He looked up at the sky, lazy drops kissing his skin and melting into his thin shirt. He breathed deeply of the acidic tint to the breeze, cherishing the feeling of it filling his lungs with life. “Did I ever tell you that I love the rain?” He looked back to Jimin, winking. “So to me this makes it ten times better. We can’t finish picking our fruit but we can still enjoy this lovely weather—together, right?” He stood up, brushing off his jeans. “Would you give me the honor?”

He waited as Jimin looked at the hand Seokjin offered him then over to their baskets of fruit that were covered in rainwater and bits of grass. Jimin chewed on his lip. “Okay.” He took Seokjin’s hand and stood up, the elder tightening his fingers reassuringly. “I guess we can sit under the trees until it stops.”

There were still fresh tear tracks lining Jimin’s face but Seokjin didn’t comment on them. If Jimin was happy enough to spend time with him that it made him cry who was Kim Seokjin to deny him that? He led them over to a large nectarine tree, the two sitting in the damp grass with only a few inches between them.

The rain continued. Seokjin closed his eyes and immersed himself in the feeling of being so close to the warmness of Jimin’s body and the refreshing thought of the rain purifying the grove around them. He really did like the rain and for some reason it looked especially beautiful as it slowly overflowed from the tree’s leaves to fall onto the hair and cute nose of the man next to him. Sighing, he reached over and lightly placed his hand over Jimin’s. The rain picked up its pace, masking the sound of another sob.

When the hour was up and it was time for them to return their baskets and leave the farm he found the rain was thinned out to a drop or two every few seconds. Standing, Seokjin peeked out through the branches and saw a rainbow so magnificent and close he swore it could wrap him in the colors and be worn on his skin. His gasped pulled Jimin from his seat to see also.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jimin asked, eyes sparkling.

He nodded in agreement; noticing the drops of water pearled on Jimin’s hair, reflecting a prism of colors too. “Yeah, its stunning.”

As they finished gathering their belongings, giggling and shyly holding hands as they ran through the gentle rain towards the exit, Seokjin realized he didn’t need an umbrella or a hood on a light coat. The first time Seokjin took Jimin out on a date it rained—but he had the green leaves of the trees and the cover of Jimin’s apologetic hands to shield the water from his eyes.




It was a typical rainy day.

Which was odd because Seokjin swore the weather man predicted clear, crisp late winter skies with maybe a few clouds closer to sunset—but no, here it was, noon, dark and gloomy with a steady rain going for about twenty minutes now.

Seokjin was sitting at his kitchen island with a steaming cup of cranberry cocoa. He looked outside his kitchen window and sighed contently as the image of the brick apartment building next door was blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors due to the water washing down the glass. He didn’t have any plans for the day except relax and enjoy his favorite weather in peace.

Tell me what to do…

Seokjin whipped his head around, spotting his phone crooning the latest SHINee song from its perch on the living room’s coffee table. He hadn’t been expecting a call but that didn’t stop him from thinking of all the reasons one of his friends or even his parents could be calling him. Standing, mug in hand, he walked over and answered before it could go to voicemail.

“Hello? Taehyungie?” There was soft breathing coming from the other end of the line. Seokjin crease his brow. “Yah! What’s up?”

“Is Jimin over there? Is he with you?”

“Huh?” Seokjin responded. He actually hadn’t spoken to Jimin today other than his usual good morning text to his sleepy boyfriend and then a “good luck!” to cheer him on before the younger went off to class. “No, not really. You know it’s Wednesday and Jimin always has class on Weds—“

“But he’s not there, hyung. Are you sure he didn’t stop by?”

The worry in Taehyung’s voice started to register to Seokjin and he felt his own responding. “What’s wrong, Taehyung? Is something going on with Jimin?” His grip on his mug tightened.

“Something’s not right. Something’s up.”

“Wait, how do you know?” Seokjin sat his drink on the coffee table, switching the phone from one hand to the other so he could wipe his sweaty palms on his thighs.

“It’s raining, hyung,” Taehyung said ominously. “I know the signs.” With that he hung up, leaving Seokjin with less answers than he had started with and a stone weighing down his heart.

He stood frozen to the spot, his phone still held up to his ear, until a few minutes later when it began to ring again.

“Jin-hyung? Is Jimin with you?” came Jungkook’s voice. “It’s raining.”

Seokjin sat down on his couch heavy with dread.

Later that afternoon, after a quick shower and messily throwing on a loose pair of sweats over thermal pants paired with his winter coat, Seokjin stood in front of the door to his boyfriend’s apartment.

He faltered, not wanting to knock, something indescribable holding him back, but he clenched his fingers against it before raising a fist to the hard metal door.

There was no answer to his rapping.

He tried again, and again. And again, until—

“Hyung?” came a throaty sniffle through the tiny crack that Jimin opened, the inside of the apartment darker than it was outside.

“Jiminnie?” Seokjin pressed his palm against the cold metal, hard enough that Jimin knew he wanted to be let in but not enough resistance that Jimin couldn’t slam the door in his face if he saw fit.

And gosh, did Seokjin hope Jimin wouldn’t shut him out when it was obvious something was wrong.

Another sniff and the sound of a nose being blown and then the door was opened wide enough for Seokjin to slip through with a relieved sigh, shaking the rain from his umbrella at the entrance.

The lights in the apartment were off; the only light coming from the illuminated screen of Jimin’s phone on a side table as yet another phone call rang unanswered, probably from Taehyung or Jungkook. Jimin shuffled down the hallway and into the living room, Seokjin quietly not far behind, the brunette plopping down on the couch and causing a cloud of moist tissues to flutter up into the air. It seemed that Jimin had been trying—and failing—to stop crying for a while but the steady trails on his cheeks showed that it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

Seokjin hovered over him tensely, not knowing where to even begin as he watched Jimin burrow under a large blanket, a suspicious rectangular bump in the middle hinting that he’d sequestered the box of tissues into his moping space. He waited, heart cracking with every tiny muffled sob that leaked from the thick quilt.


Seokjin immediately pushed his coat off his shoulders, the material pooling on the floor, then sat on the edge of the couch. He placed a hopefully soothing hand on the covered lump that was the top of Jimin’s head. “I’m here, baby. Are you okay?”

Jimin reached a hand from under the blanket and latched onto his boyfriend’s wrist. Seokjin winced at the grip. “Hyung… Am I a failure?”

Seokjin didn’t know what he had expected when Jimin suddenly went missing today but this he could certainly deal with. He held back a smile he knew would be inappropriate. “No, of course not. You’re the most successful person I know and that says a lot since I know Namjoon.”

There was an answering silence; Seokjin believed every word he said and it was only a matter of time for Jimin to come to the same conclusion—

“Then why am I days away from getting kicked out of the School of Arts?”

Oh. Well…

“Who said that, Jimin? There’s no way they’d kick you out, you’re the best dancer the senior class has seen since Hoseok!” There must have been a mistake, or a nasty rumor, because Jimin was an exceptional arts student. “Why would you even think that?”

There was more silence, this time accompanied by a snort that was nasally and partially confused. “M-My…”

“Your?” Seokjin prompted.

“’C-Cause mah-my mom said I—“ he was cut off by another sob but Seokjin was there to use his other hand to rub comforting circles on the back of Jimin’s hand, “—She said I should’ve just s-stayed home. That dance wasn’t something someone like me was made for.” Seokjin didn’t know what that could specifically mean because Jimin was so smart, and so talented, and so, so dedicated to everything he was passionate about, including dance and singing. “I should’ve just joined the family business, helped run the shop l-like she wanted.” He didn’t know much about Jimin’s family business except that it was some weird hybrid of an organic store and meetinghouse and his father left yearly for some weatherman conference or whatever. It was all very sketchy, honestly, and Seokjin couldn’t picture Jimin being held down as some cashier or stockperson surrounded by dry herbs, never being able to cross the big stage like he’d dreamed.

“Well, it seems to me that your mom was—is—wrong.” He tugged the blanket down, uncovering the top half of Jimin’s face so he could look him in the eyes. “You seem to be doing just fine as a dancer so there’s no validity behind her statement.”

Jimin’s gaze grew clouded and a fresh wave of tears brimmed at his lash line. The rain outside increased. “Then why did I bomb my dance exam today? I had one job, one reason that I went to college and I c-couldn’t ev-even—“ Seokjin could see this quickly reverting back to how he had found Jimin: saddened and hidden away from the world in the dark. In a fit of desperation he yanked the quilt off of his discouraged boyfriend and threw it to the floor out of reach. Jimin gasped, hands reaching out uselessly for his cover.

“Okay, and?” Seokjin leveled him with a glare.

Jimin looked away, biting his lip. “A-And that means—“

“Absolutely nothing.” His voice had grown deeper, serious. “I never saw you as the type to give up on something you cared about, Jimin, especially after one slipup.”

“It was more than a slipup,” Jimin whispered ashamedly.

“Okay, fine,” Seokjin threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “A misstep, a mistake, a disappointment, a downfall, a failure. Whatever you want to call it, it was one time. And how many times have you literally succeeded?” Before Jimin could respond with any more reasons why he deserved to quit dance Seokjin cut him off, “More than you can count.” He dropped his hands down onto Jimin’s quacking shoulders. “Who was offered a full scholarship based on a playful dance battle in the middle of the mall’s food court?”

“M-Me,” came the small response.

“And who entered into school alone but grabbed the love and respect of all his sunbae within the first few weeks? Even going so far as befriending those in different departments?”

“I— I did.”

“And who was offered work as a singer over the summer at the bar down on Thirtieth Street? The guy that won last year’s dance competition for the national team? Opened this year’s school recital with a solo—a solo, Jimin—even though there were four other people on the list for the panel to choose from and duets were a viable option?” His voice softened, running a hand through the younger’s fringe. “And who still finds the time to call his mother every night and tell her he loves her and promises he’ll be home on his next break to help at the shop even though he could be spending the extra time in the studio?”

He gives the quiet man a tiny smile, running his thumb to remove the last of Jimin’s long-stopped tears. “You do. So, like I said, okay… you failed today. And…?” he asked, holding his breath as Jimin stared up at him. He saw a tiny sparkle forcing its way to the forefront of his eyes.

“And th-that means…” he raised his hand to grip Seokjin’s wrist again but this time the touch wasn’t frantic or anxious, it was gentle, thankful, “absolutely nothing.”

Seokjin was relieved to see Jimin returning his small smile, a little watered down but happy nonetheless.

It had started as a typical rainy day—but Seokjin never even noticed the rain had stopped.




The rain hadn’t let up since about two hours before Seokjin clocked out of work.

It was Thursday evening and Seokjin was working overtime, again. For the past few weeks he had been picking up extra shifts at the office—covering for people who took sick days, coming in on his days off, staying late to help that attendant with organization and even those security guards to lock up the building—just so he could save enough money. He needed the time to bulk up his paychecks enough to buy Jimin the perfect gift for their first anniversary.

He worked through reports with the sound of rain lulling him into a calm state, filling his mind with thoughts of his cute boyfriend and how hard he wanted to work just to see that sweet smile directed at him. With images of a the fruits of his labor, Seokjin printed out his last file and placed it in a folder on his supervisor’s desk for review in the morning.

Grabbing his half-full mug he poured it into the water fountain on his way out the door, heading down the stairs as he buttoned his light summer jacket. It was a warm night, which meant the rain would be humid and muggy probably, but Seokjin didn’t want to catch cold and have to miss any available shifts. He stopped in the main office to pick up his pay before bursting through the door to the sidewalk, grinning as the smell of ozone hit him, inhaling as he twirled the wooden handle of his umbrella between his fingers.

Seokjin walked the blocks of the city in lieu of catching the bus, a perky little hop in his step whenever he jumped from the curb and over a puddle in the streets. He was in a good mood; between his favorite weather and having the money to buy Jimin’s gift he couldn’t keep from humming merrily under his breath. On his way home he stopped in at the jewelry shop between Fourth and Fifth Avenue to pick up the present, a ring he couldn’t help picturing as a beautiful addition to the younger’s jewelry collection: a thick band of silver with small leaves etched into the sides. Luckily, he hadn’t gotten off so late that the store was closed but he did notice the minute glare he was given as he took his time inspecting the ring; he smiled sheepish and apologetically.

Gift bag shoved securely into one of his pockets he hailed a cab, too eager to be home to relax and search for flower boutiques online that would deliver Jimin his favorite purple and pink peonies and lilacs to his doorstep the morning of their anniversary. The car rolled up, splashing the cement with the dirty runoff from the drain, but even the possibility of getting muddy couldn’t dampen the grin splitting his face.

When he pulled up to his address and exited the car Seokjin found he was very mistaken. There was at least one thing that could wipe the smile from his face.

Park Jimin sat on the stoop to Seokjin’s apartment, jacket loosely clenched in his fists, crying freely in the rain. Shocked, Seokjin ran up to him, not even taking the time to open his umbrella or throw up his hood.

“Jimin? Jimin!” He dropped to one knee onto the wet cement in front of the stairs, the cap of his knee quickly soaking through. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying out here?”

“J-Jinnie-hyung?” Jimin choked out between the small shakes of his shoulders, body trembling with his cries. He looked up, red-rimmed eyes meeting the confused and worried ones of his boyfriend. “I— You—“

“Shh,” Seokjin ran a hand through Jimin’s wet fringe, grimacing as the strands plopped back down and stuck themselves again to his forehead. Jimin was mumbling, face pinched as he tried to voice something. “Can you take a deep breath for me, huh, baby? I know it’s hard but we need to calm you down a little so you can tell hyung what happened.”

Jimin took a huge shuddering breath, eyes widening with the action. “I— Hyung!” The one word seemed to have pushed out all the air in his lungs. Seokjin reached to entwine their fingers reassuringly. “I th-thought… I th-thought… You’re okay?!

“What? Okay?” Seokjin gave him a perplexed expression. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Jimin’s eyes closed again, more tears leaking past his lashes to mix with the steady rain. “You weren’t here,” his voice pitched and broke. “I was scared.”

“…Huh… That’s what this is about?” Knowing that his boyfriend wasn’t in any immediate danger but probably had just been missing him—thus the unexpected visit—Seokjin sighed, lips twisting up in humor. He ran a thumb across a cheek, collecting the moisture there. “There’s no reason to be afraid. I was just at work, silly.”

Jimin stilled, eyes still closed and words breathy, “Work?” Seokjin felt as the hold Jimin had on his fingers turned vise-like. “You were at work?

It felt like Seokjin’s head was starting to spin from whiplash, with how quickly he was plummeted right back into confusion. What was so unusual about him being at work? But before he could ask, Jimin continued.

“All this time—the past four fucking hours—you were safe… at work?” Jimin grew steadily louder. Seokjin’s arm was yanked where their hands were connected and he lost his balance, tumbling forward and catching himself on Jimin’s shoulder with a yelp. Jimin’s eyes snapped opened and Seokjin found himself face-to-face with a murderous glare. “I thought you had the day off!” he seethed. “You ditched me on our anniversary for some damn extra cash?

“A-Anniversary?” a squeak, barely passed through the sudden panic and tightness of Seokjin’s throat. “That was to—“ He didn’t even need to finish the sentence because he knew. He knew it was today by the way Jimin’s frown was laced with hurt and anger, tears dried from his eyes and replaced with a contempt that burned through his irises.

How could he have forgotten the day of their anniversary? The day to celebrate the first time Seokjin spent hours mulling over the wording of a text that would change the coming months and fill them with sunshine laughter and cute dates to keep him up at night smiling. The day that Jimin jokingly said he’d think about it but then turned around screaming of course! before the disappointment even had the chance to materialize in Seokjin’s heart. The day Jimin gave him something to love other than his companionable rain?

He’d spent so much time preparing for their anniversary—planning, working extra hours, keeping everything a secret—that he’d been on autopilot and agreed to any extra work shifts thrown his way, even went so far as doing a double shift on the day he’d taken off months in advance in anticipation. How could he be so careless?

Jimin suddenly stood, throwing off Seokjin’s hand from his shoulder, and walked down the steps and past him over to the curbside. Jimin’s back was facing him, straight, shoulders hunched up to his ears as if he were sucking in all the oxygen around him and holding it. Seokjin, wary, watched him as the rain slowed down to a drizzle, the sky spotting with hints of stars forcing their way through the clouds. Seokjin was wet and cold but he would wait for Jimin to make the next move, to say something, do anything—to yell, walk away… break up with him. He deserved to wait a thousand years if it ended with the punishment he earned.

Suddenly, the summer air felt too dry, static charge thinly lacing the air; Seokjin felt the hairs on his arm lift in warning.

Jimin’s shoulders dropped hard—just as the skies opened up. What little open sky that shyly peeked out was lost to dark, thick rolling clouds as black as the bottom of a lake, clouds so all-encompassing that the glow from the streetlights was lost. The loud cry from Seokjin’s boyfriend was swallowed up by the sound of the rains pouring in sheets so solid they hurt as it fell over Seokjin’s body, wet clothes plastering to his skin and weighing him down until he felt he’d become one with the ground. The winds snatched his still-closed umbrella from his hand and threw it in the street right along with his workbag. Seokjin’s heart rate escalated.

It was the first time Kim Seokjin was actually terrified of the rain.

“Jimin!” he called. His sight was blurred but he could just barely make out the brightness of Jimin’s white and red shirt a few feet in front of him. “We-We need to get inside…”

“No!” The word were whipped back to him on twisted wind. “I’m not going a-anywhere with you!” Jimin moved to face him. He was crying again, evident by the splotchy redness of his cheeks but this time instead of an undercurrent of melancholy in his expression there was only infuriation. “I thought you were hurt, Seokjin! You couldn’t have taken it upon yourself to pick up your shitty phone and call?


He was interrupted by the sound of the door opening to the apartment complex. Out from the frame came Namjoon and Hoseok, anxious faces immediately searching for the two outside.

“Jimin!” Hoseok cupped his hands over his mouth, projecting over the sounds of the horrendous weather. “It’s a hurricane warning! Seokjin, you have to come inside now!

“Jimin, stop!” added Namjoon. “You have to calm down. You’re gonna flood the streets at this rate!”

“Flood the streets?” mumbled Seokjin, brow pinched.

As if on cue four phones simultaneously beeped with new text messages. Seokjin didn’t doubt it would be a national weather safety warning. It just emphasized how much they needed to hold off this conversation and find shelter.

Jimin didn’t budge, if anything he started crying harder, angrier, winds almost knocking all four men over.

In the past when Seokjin saw Jimin cry he had been hesitant, maybe even alarmed, but not this time. He had seen the man cry too many times to stand idly by and just feel the crushing helplessness as he waited for Jimin to open up to him and tell him how to help him. No, this time Seokjin would comfort him, hold his boyfriend tight because he had hurt Jimin—whether intentionally or not—and he was determined to right his wrong, fix what he had broken. Seokjin would explain why he’d missed their anniversary.

Rain pelted him as he took a step, then another, growing closer to the shuddering man with his fists clenched tight enough to show white bone through the skin of his knuckles. In the background he could hear his two friends telling him to come back, to stay away and get to safety, and that Jimin would be fine but Seokjin wouldn’t be if he stayed out there too long. He ignored them. When he was close enough Seokjin stopped and lifted his arms.

“Baby, come here—oomph!

With a jolt to the chest Seokjin felt himself falling. Jimin had pushed Seokjin back with the heel of his palms, affectively ruining his plan to hug his weeping boyfriend, and instead causing Seokjin to trip over the ledge of the curb and tumble down. The impact caused the gift he’d purchased earlier to escape from the depths of his pocket and roll away.


“Hyung! Are you alright?”

The concern from Namjoon and Hoseok just seemed to fuel Jimin’s fury even more. He stormed after the fallen man, velvet jewelry box crunching underfoot.

He paused.

Seokjin had closed his eyes when he lost balance but at the sound of the splitting cardboard he lowed the arm he’d protectively thrown up over his face. He watched guardedly as Jimin looked down, lifting his foot to see what he’d stepped on. The younger slowly bent, anger now marred with curiosity.

“Seok-ah, the rain—!“ His companion hushed Namjoon.

Lifting the gift Jimin turned his eyes towards his boyfriend. “Hyung?” Seokjin widened his eyes as Jimin pried the box open, the hinges bent awkwardly and creaking. “Wh-What is this?”

“Jimin, I— Its…” He swallowed, rubbing the water from his eyes now that the pouring buckets had lessened to normal raindrops again. “Its…” Taking a deep breath he went with the simplest explanation. “Its your anniversary gift.”

Jimin stood there wordlessly, staring at the contents of the box with an unreadable expression. Seokjin wanted to stand up but he didn’t want to incite Jimin’s temper again. Silence was better than screaming.

“It is?” whispered Jimin. Using his index finger and thumb he gently pulled the ring from the wreckage of its container, hand slightly quivering. He studied the leaf design in the dim lighting. “This… Its for me?” He looked towards Seokjin as if just the thought were unbelievable. “Where did you get something this expensive?”

Seokjin moved to rise up, Hoseok and Namjoon running out to aid him, deeming it safe enough now to come out from their shelter under the door’s awning, before the two ran back inside throwing meaningful warning glowers at Jimin as they closed the door. Once back on his feet Seokjin stalled by squeezing water from the cuffs of his work shirt, watching the small stream as it rejoined with the water of the sidewalk. Where should he begin?

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah.” Jimin’s lips thinned into a line; he waited. “I want to apologize for missing our anniversary.” Seokjin bowed his body into a ninety-degree angle, hands gripping the material of his pants at the back of his thighs. “I was stupid. There’s no excuse there. I wanted to work overtime so I could buy you that gift and a bunch of other things I had planned because you deserve it—deserve to be thanked and loved and spoiled to the moon and back because why not? You didn’t have to agree to go out with me but you did and here I am doing the opposite of what you need from a boyfriend. You need someone who is reliable and reassures you that you’re worth it but instead you got a jerk that works too much and forgets your anniversary because he was blinded by material things and not realizing what’s important is just being together because isn’t that what a relationship is? Being together? And I know I can’t bring back our first anniversary but I hope you don’t break up with me—even though I wouldn’t be surprised if you did—but, like, you can still keep the gift no matter your decision ‘cause its yours and I love you and still think you’re beautiful and know this ring is your style and—“

“You’re right,” Jimin interrupted his ramblings. Seokjin gnawed on his bottom lip, head still bent. “You’re right, this ring is my style so I have every intention of keeping it.” Yeah, well at least Jimin got one thing out of dating him. “But you’re wrong about something else.” He felt fingers on his chin gently urging him to raise his head so he does, bracing himself for Jimin to berate him. “Its true that you can’t bring our first anniversary back,” —Seokjin inwardly cringed— “but you forget that it’s not even over yet, am I right?”

Straightening up, Seokjin let out a small cough. What did Jimin mean? “But I missed it. I was at work all day when I should’ve been with you.”

“Okay, and? The day is over but is the day over?” He lingered on the last word, grinning as Seokjin caught the hint and looked down at wristwatch, 9:04pm mocking him. There technically were a little less than three hours left of their anniversary. “Exactly. So. I think since you’ve properly apologized you can start by giving me my gift the right way.” Jimin grabbed Seokjin’s wrist and slapped the ring and crushed box into the palm of his hand. Then, Jimin walked back to the apartment stoop, picking up his forgotten jacket and reenacting the pose that Seokjin fist found him in.

It took him a second but Seokjin startled and jumped into action. He snatched up his workbag and umbrella and moved into position at the curbside.

“Jimin-ah!” he sweetly called as he walked up to the stairs. The rain had ceased at some point and the wet ground was starting to lighten under the imposing summer heat. It was a significant change from the moment he’d stepped out the cab almost an hour ago. “Did you wait long?”

Jimin lifted his head, eyes comically round as he searched for his phone and checked the time. “Aish! How could you keep me waiting so long, Jin-hyung? Its our anniversary!”

There was a thud of pain in his chest at the reminder of what he’d done but Seokjin pressed on with an overly bright faux smile. “I’m sorry, baby. I stopped after work for some things.”

“Some things?” Jimin’s head quirked to the left. “Like what?”

Reaching into his coat pocket he took the velvet box out, dusting some mud off as best he could. Seokjin had wanted flowers and balloons too but it was no one’s fault but his own that this would have to do. He held it out to his boyfriend, the shyness in his voice not faked as he said, “I got you a gift. I hope you like it.” He smiled genuinely for the first time since he’d left the jewelry shop. “Happy Anniversary, my love.”

Jimin grinned. Seokjin could tell there was tenseness behind the gesture but he couldn’t deny the spark of giddiness in Jimin’s eyes either. “Wow!” Jimin gasped dramatically, opening the box and picking up the ring. “Its gorgeous, oh, my gosh! Put it on me, hurry, hurry!” Seokjin chuckled at the younger’s antics as he gladly took the ring and placed it on the middle finger of Jimin’s left hand. It fit snuggly and matched the other jewelry decorating his hand nicely. It was a great choice.

He lifted Jimin’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into the warming metal. “Forgive me?” he whispered against the leaves, looking up from under his lashes and into the eyes of his boyfriend.

Jimin hummed, a frown tugging at his lips. “I’ll think about it,” he deadpanned. Seokjin dropped his hand as his heart plummeted, voice caught in this throat. Jimin laughed at his crestfallen face before popping up from the step and throwing his arms around Seokjin’s broad shoulders. “Of course!” he playfully said in his ear, but Seokjin heard the unspoken but don’t ever do that again. His arms encircled Jimin’s waist.

The rain hadn’t let up since about two hours before Seokjin clocked out of work—but that didn’t matter when there were many sunny days ahead.




It had started raining again just as Yoongi wanted to go out.

Seokjin walked into Jimin’s apartment without knocking. After almost two years of dating, Jimin’s roommate, Yoongi, never even batted an eye anymore if one second Seokjin wasn’t there and the next the elder was making three cups of cocoa over the stove. Today was a nice spring day and Seokjin came over to enjoy the afternoon playing some board games and maybe getting a cuddle session or two in with his boyfriend before the younger had to leave for his night dance class.

“Hey, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin greeted as he took off his boots and hung up his jacket. “Found any new birds to photograph?”

Said man rubbed an eye. “Working on it, hyung. Not many seem to be coming back this early in the season.”

“Good luck, man.” He clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, encouraging his smile to be returned.

“Thanks. Might go back and try again today. The weather is gorgeous.” He looked towards the windows, the blinds pulled back to showcase rectangles of golden light and budding green down below. “Oh, Jimin’s in his room by the way.”

Seokjin nodded, heading towards the hall leading to the bedrooms and leaving Yoongi to finish fiddling with his cameras at the kitchen table.

Walking past the bathroom he stopped to pick up a pair of Jimin’s red boxers and deposited them in the hamper behind the door. Next, he pushed aside a barbell that was sitting dangerously in the middle of the floor. He shook his head. When Jimin got in his workout zone he tended to be a little careless; luckily, Yoongi didn’t travel very far from his laptop and the natural lighting setup surrounding his bedroom window. Seokjin went by Yoongi’s door and the hall closet before turning right in the direction where Jimin’s room was located.

And also apparently Jimin’s do-it-yourself pull-up bar.

Seokjin stopped and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, mister, but what have I told you about using your doorframe as workout equipment?” He crossed his arms sternly.

Jimin grinned seconds before his lips turned into a cocky smirk, his arms flexing as he oh, so slowly pulled his shirtless body up once more, legs crossed at the ankles, holding the pose just as steady as he held Seokjin’s gaze. Seokjin wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin dipped into his greasy arsenal for a wink or two. “Something about how it’s not safe to do pull-ups—“ he relaxed his arms, unbending at the elbows, “—from the top of the door? I don’t know, my memories kinda—“ another pull-up, “—hazy.

Eyes narrowed, Seokjin gritted his teeth, be it against the audacity or at the sight of sweat pooling in the dips of Jimin’s back he didn’t know.

When Jimin realized he wasn’t going to get any more of a response out of his boyfriend, he challenged, “So, what’cha gonna do about it?” There it was, the Wink.

They stared at each other, air thick and ready to pop with Seokjin’s next move. Jimin’s arms were covered in minute trembles as his muscles exerted themselves to keep him suspended. Seokjin’s throat felt dry and he swiped a tongue along the seam of his lips. He watched as a bead of sweat made its way down Jimin’s neck before rolling over the bump of his collarbone.

Seokjin gulped. Jimin shivered.

“What am I gonna do about it?” Jimin’s Adam’s apple bounced; he nodded. Seokjin unfolded his arms and clenched his fists at his sides. “This!”

Faster than Jimin could react Seokjin pounced on him. Seokjin’s long fingers went straight for their target, the digits digging into Jimin’s sides around his ribs as he tickled the younger man until he let go of the door and fell into his boyfriend’s waiting arms. Seokjin then carried a giggling Jimin towards the living room and tossed him onto the cushion, Jimin squealing as he bounced on the springs.

“No! Stop!”

“Never! You asked me what I was gonna do and this is it!” Fingers deft and quick he wiggled them around Jimin’s neck and armpits and tummy, forcing pleads of forgiveness choked between guffaws to fill the room. “Didn’t I tell you to behave? You think you’re grown, huh? Bad little boys who don’t listen have to be punished!”

“Stop! I’m sorry! Hyung, stop!

Seokjin grinned evilly as he lifted one of Jimin’s socked feet and drew the cloth off. “Hm… Looks like we have some bad little piggies here, huh?” With a mischievous smirk he tickled the younger on the bottom of his foot too.

“Oh, my gosh, you guys are disgusting!” yelled Yoongi from the kitchen. He rushed out, camera still in hand. With a gasp he looked from the mess that was Jimin over to the window where the golden light was swiftly being replaced by the telltale gray of an incoming storm. “No! Look what you’ve done!”

Confused, Seokjin withdrew his hands and looked over to Yoongi then the window. “What?” He looked down at an out-of-breath Jimin who was gasping and clutching his sides protectively. Covering his cheeks were thing tracks from tears squeezed out from mirth. “Ha! You’re crying!” he snickered. “Baby can’t handle his punishment, huh? Aw…” he sounded apologetic but he was nowhere near so. “I guess he needs… more.” With a shout Jimin cried harder, laughter wracking him so hard he was convulsing, arms flailing as he tried to defend his exposed skin.

“You guys ruined it! It was a perfect day, too!”

“Y-Yoongi-yah,” huffed Seokjin, now fighting off Jimin’s attempt to flip him over the side of the couch to escape, “i-if you d-don’t want to watch you’re more th-than—ah! Jimin, that hurt! No biting—welcome to leave.”

Pfft!” rolling his eyes agitatedly Yoongi went to put his camera away. “So you guys can continue this for who-knows how long? Leaving would just make the rain worse.”

“Huh? What was that?” Just then Jimin grabbed for the hair at the back of Seokjin’s skull, pulling it harshly so that Seokjin lost his balance and Jimin gained the upper hand. Now flat on his back on the carpet he yelped as Jimin wrestled one of his socks off with a maniacal chuckle at odds with the tears still streaming down his face.

“Never mind. I guess I’ll just watch a movie or something until you guys are done.” The dejected photographer’s mumbles were lost in the sound of snorts and howls.

Yes, it had started raining again just as Yoongi wanted to go out—but it was okay because there were way more fun things to do trapped inside.




Kim Seokjin loved the rain.

He loved when it was warm, when it was cold, when it left sharp stings against his arms or when it misted in his hair. He squealed when his umbrella was whipped away and laughed when his foot splashed loudly into a puddle. He liked to trail the tracks with a finger as drops made their lazy way down his windowpane. Seokjin loved the rain—

And Park Jimin loved him.

It was summer again, a drought sweeping the lands and leaving them dry, air charged and sharp, and, most importantly, the sky devoid of any clouds to deliver the comforting rain that Seokjin so craved after a hard week at work, a long day of sipping on bottles of icy water that heated too quickly for his liking, hours of the sun beating down on his scalp until his deep brown hair bleached to a syrupy bronze.

Seokjin was spending his day off how he liked to spend all his days off: laid up under Jimin, even though it was too hot to be so close to another body.

He ran a hand through Jimin’s recently cut hair, shifting the short strands through his fingers and lamenting the loss of the length but accepting that it was necessary to keep cool in such weather. He exhaled a breath.

“Hmm? What’s wrong, hun?” Jimin lifted his head from where it was resting on Seokjin’s chest.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s no problem, hyung, I wasn’t sleep. But why were you sighing?”

Seokjin mused over the question, thinking of how to answer. “Its just, its really hot.”

Jimin snorted and hit his shoulder playfully. “No shit, Sherlock. It’s been hot for about two months now. What’s really eating you?”

He tugged on the hair still around his fingers as a warning. “Watch yourself. I may love you but I’m still your elder.” Jimin rolled his eyes and laid his head back down comfortably. “I was just thinking about how you cut your hair—and before you say anything I know we’ve discussed it and agreed it was for the best—but like, I wish it would just rain, you know?”

“Rain?” Jimin stiffened, his soft and malleable body growing heavy and tense. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s this drought; it’s making everything so hot and sticky. The city is trying to regulate water usage and all that, and I understand the implications for health and food and stuff that goes along with a draught, but…”

“But?” Jimin started tracing patterns along the sweaty material of Seokjin’s shirt, focusing on the area over his heart. His movements were still semi-rigid.

“But I can’t help but have these… selfish thoughts?” He pulled on the hairs again but this time absentmindedly. “If it rained it would solve so many problems for the people of the city but all I can think about is how if it rained I’d just spend the time playing out in it. I wouldn’t care even a bit about the rain replenishing the dry crops or filling the river. If I saw a raincloud I’d just be so relieved that I would soon have a puddle to splash in again.”

They lapsed into silence, Jimin still moving his finger in zigzags and Seokjin looking up to the ceiling.

After a half-dozen minutes Jimin asked, “Hyung?” Seokjin hummed in question. “You… You really like the rain, don’t you?” He leaned up, grabbing Seokjin’s attention with his serious tone.

“Yeah… Yeah, I do, Jiminnie.”

“Why?” The word was heavy, laden with hidden meaning. Seokjin felt his breath catch.

“Because…” he breathed out, “it makes me happy.”

Something in Jimin’s eyes shifted. He couldn’t tell what it was about what he’d said but it seemed that it helped Jimin come to some great decision. Jumping up from his perch on his boyfriend Jimin threw his legs off the side of the bed and into his slippers, moving out the room and down the hall. Baffled, Seokjin followed him a few steps behind.

“Jimin?” The younger had stridden across the apartment and into the hallway closet, pulling out the first aid kit. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond, just rustled a hand into the kit until he found what he was looking for. Seokjin saw a glint of metal before Jimin shoved the bag back on the shelf and closed the door, this time walking off towards the bathroom. Seokjin entered right after him.

Jimin stared at his reflection in the mirror, eyes hard and set on his task as he opened his hand to reveal a set of silver tweezers. Seokjin watched as Jimin titled his head back, eyes still glued to his likeness, which mimicked his moves. Jimin lifted the tweezers until they were leveled with his face. He shifted his eyes to catch on Seokjin’s gaze in the mirror.

“Jin-hyung,” his hand shook slightly, “the rain makes you happy, right?” Seokjin didn’t know how that had anything to do with Jimin needing tweezers but nodded just the same. “A-And,” his voice quieted, “you love me, right? You love wh-when I make you happy, right?

“I—“ he started to answer. His heart rate had picked up a beat, head feeling stuffed, and he couldn’t fathom why. “Of course, my love.”

Sucking in a huge breath, chest heaving with the effort, Jimin closed his eyes tight and moved the tweezers towards his nose with apprehensive determination. Seokjin stood rooted as the tweezers shifted to pinch Jimin’s columella, the sensitive thin strip of flesh dividing his nostrils turning red quickly under Jimin’s grip.

Jimin’s hand twisted and yanked.

AH!” Jimin screamed the same time that Seokjin shouted his name in shock, slapping the tool out of Jimin’s hand, the metal clanking on the tiled floor.

“With the fuck are you doing?” Seokjin’s chest was burning, breath coming in heated pants as Jimin fell into a crouch before him, hands clasping his nose from the pain and eyes brightening with rapidly welling tears. “Are you trying to rip your nose off? Why?” His tone was exasperated, furious at Jimin’s unexpected stupidity.

Jimin curled into himself more, fingers pressing into his cheeks as his crying intensified and the redness of his face unfurled out to his ears and neck. He sobbed.

“Why, Jimin? Why are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“Y-You wah-want… wanted—“ Hiccups kept breaking up his speech. Seokjin groaned as he fell to his knees, hands cupping Jimin’s own and gently prying them apart. Voice no longer muffled but still choppy, Jimin said, “Y-You want rain, h-hyung. I know it hasn’t rained in a l-long time. Pl-Please don’t h-hate me. I—I just wanted it to r-rain for you, hyung.” His face was blotchy and wet, snot leaking from his injured nose and pooling on his upper lip.

“What does using tweezers on yourself have to do with rain?” His mind was muddled, confused, and a pressure was building behind his eyes. He didn’t understand, couldn’t fathom how he could have pushed Jimin to such an extreme by talking about the damn weather.

Jimin didn’t respond, instead burying his face in his hands once more and crying harder. The sunlight streaming through the tiny window inside the bathtub was abruptly cut off; dark and roiling gray replaced the golden hue. Seokjin stood up and grabbed one of Jimin’s washcloths, soaking it under the cold tap before squatting once again in front of his messy boyfriend. He scratched at Jimin’s scalp until the other man lifted his head and stared at him imploringly. The elder started to wipe his face clean.

“I don’t hate you, Jimin. I could never.” He dabbed softly at the swollen part of his nose. “I’m just… confused, is all. I don’t like it when you’re hurt, you know?” He folded the cloth to a clean part then pressed it to one of his puffy eyes, soothing it.

“I just wanted to make you happy.” The whisper was so quiet Seokjin would have missed it if it weren’t for their close proximity. “I wanted it to rain.”

Seokjin hummed, pressing the coolness to the next eye. Jimin’s tears had slowed to a trickle. “Now that you’ve calmed down, care to explain to me how all of this makes sense? How what you did have anything to do with raining?” He blew across his boyfriend’s face, the warm air drying the dampness across his skin.

With a pointed finger Jimin gestured behind Seokjin and towards the open window. The ledge was sprayed with drops of cool liquid that would soon evaporate in the summer heat. “That.” The elder turned, eyebrows raised in surprise at the impossible downpour outside in the middle of an extreme drought. He whipped back around and stared at Jimin in bewilderment. “When…” he avoided Seokjin’s eyes, head hung in hesitation and maybe even shame. “When I cry it— it rains.” He bit his lip and gripped his elbow, pulling into himself again. “I’m a witch. A weather witch, uh, specifically.”

His eyes rounded, face igniting with a crazed amazement. “Weather witch?” Jimin hummed in affirmation. He rose, leaving the witch on the floor, and stuck his hand out the window. He could see silhouettes of people running in the streets with loud exclamations, parched bodies soaking up the wetness. It was real rain, not a trick. And Jimin’s tears had been real, too. Could that have been a coincidence? He dragged the back of his hand across the moisture on the window’s glass. “For how long?”

Jimin gave a dry laugh. “I mean you can’t just become a witch.” He seemed to catch himself being snarky because he let our a little squeak, voice returning to its demur tone of before, “I mean… I was born this way. My parents have magic too. Our little shop? It’s a magical shop that sells trinkets to help with good weather for weddings and other things like that. I… didn’t really have much of a choice,” he shrugged, “being what I am.”

Seokjin didn’t know how much of that he believed. There was a little niggling thought at the back of his mind, memories of weird things, weird clouds appearing when they shouldn’t, the few drops of rain at that summer concert that led him to loving Jimin. He chose to contemplate those later. “Does anyone else know? Am I... the only one?”

Jimin swallowed thickly. “No. Everyone knows, kinda. You’re the only one who didn’t.”

“Taehyung? Jungkook?”


“Namjoon and Hoseok? Your roommate Yoongi?”

“They all know.” A pause. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Huh…” A thoughtful response.

“Yeah…” A guarded reply.

They lapsed into stifled silence. The rain slowed down until it disappeared.

“Jimin?” The man startled, jumped a little where he had eventually fell down to rest on the floor. “Can you promise me something?”

“Do you want me to leave?” he hurried out, voice panicky. “I know it’s my apartment but I’ll go, I swear. I won’t come back until you get your things and leave.” His breath caught. “I understand if you never want to see me ag—“

“Can you promise me something?” he cut off Jimin, voice stern and gruff as the droplets on his hand dried in the blaze of the July sun.

“O-Of course. Anything.”

“I need you to promise me—“ Seokjin dropped to the floor beside Jimin, reaching to twine their fingers together and force the younger to look at him, pay close attention. “—promise me you will never, ever hurt yourself for my sake again, do you understand?”

“What?” Jimin was stunned.

Seokjin breathed out, releasing the pressure on his heart that had held fast since the second Jimin had left the bed and ran out to the first aid kit. He softened his features into a smile. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay but only if you promise that you won’t pull a crazy stunt like you did just now.” Jimin squeezed his hands and he returned the gesture. “I like rain, Jimin, I won’t lie ‘cause I really do, but nowhere near enough to want you to force yourself to cry. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone. I don’t care if the whole earth dries up and the world is forced to ask all the rain witches or whatever to come together and cry to save the planet—I wouldn’t let you go. I wouldn’t want you to shed another tear for as long as I’m around, if it can be avoided.” Placing their foreheads together he felt the warmth of his partner, imagined the meaning—the love—of his words flowing from him and into Jimin where they were connected: their hands, knees bumped together, faces.

“Remember what I said on our first date? ‘I smile when I am happy, Jiminnie,’” he quoted. Jimin’s gaze snapped down, locking on the smile lifting Seokjin’s cheeks up adoringly. “Do you understand? Do you promise?”

If Seokjin could he'd live in a rainforest surrounded by the sweltering heat and soothingly fresh rain that always had the power to bring a smile to his face—

But then again, maybe being with Jimin was happiness enough.

Jimin let go of his boyfriend’s hands and instead wrapped his arms around his neck; burying his face in Seokjin’s chest, back heaving as he tried to hold himself together and not cry just from sheer relief. Seokjin rubbed circles along his spine.

“I Promise. I promise, I promise, I promise, baby.”

Seokjin kissed the top of his head. “That’s all I ever ask for, your happiness, my little witch.”

Kim Seokjin loved the rain; he loved Jimin more. And he was so lucky—so happy—that a weather witch like Park Jimin had come to love him too.