Mod Post: Round 3 Lightning Drabble Round (Open to Everyone!)
Hello!
The mod team (roebling and myself, almostblue) just want to say again that we are so incredibly grateful to everyone who has written, read, and commented for this third round of TBB. Thank you for your time and effort and talent! It's been amazing to see so much great enthusiasm and energy ( Read more... )
The mod team (roebling and myself, almostblue) just want to say again that we are so incredibly grateful to everyone who has written, read, and commented for this third round of TBB. Thank you for your time and effort and talent! It's been amazing to see so much great enthusiasm and energy ( Read more... )
Youngjae hates taking the bus. Or rather, he hates watching his bus pull away from the stop just as he turns the street corner, then waiting a whole 20 minutes for the next one to arrive. And that’s if the buses are running on schedule, which they do when it’s sunny.
But today it’s raining, and this stop doesn’t have the luxury of an awning. He’s grateful for the pitter-patter of rain on his umbrella instead of his head. Youngjae almost forgot to grab it before leaving for his part-time job this morning. With his free hand, he adjusts the messenger bag over his shoulder and cranes his neck in a vain search of a bus that’s a half an hour away. If he’s lucky.
He sighs. The bus stop is clear of other would-be riders, so when his phone goes off in his pocket, he doesn’t think twice about humming along to the rest of his alert tone. It’s a text from a friend, asking to copy his notes from yesterday’s lecture. Youngjae scoffs. He swipes the message away without replying. It’s future Youngjae’s problem to deal with.
Now that he’s comfortably missed his bus, Youngjae grapples with keeping his umbrella sheltering him and untangling his earbuds in his bag. He slides the plug home, nestling one bud in his ear. He presses play and then turns the music up to a comfortable volume, locking the screen and tucking the phone back into his pocket before messing with the other earbud. It’s a nice pair, one he researched and saved up for. High impedance, decent drivers, they’re worth every bit he spent on them.
The world outside washes away under the sway of the music. Cars passing without disturbing him, people walk by unnoticed. Youngjae checks to make sure he’s still alone at the bus stop before letting his feet tap to the beat. His free hand starts moving in small motions, touching his chest and fanning away as he silently lip-synchs along. By the end of the song, Youngjae’s screwing his eyes shut as he mock belts the final lyrics.
Sound fades to silence as the track ends, and Youngjae realizes he’s no longer the only passenger-to-be.
A familiar, willowy teenager watches him from a few feet away. He’s got a backpack slung over only one shoulder, holding the strap with one hand and hiding a giggle behind the other. Youngjae pauses his music before looking again. He recognizes the kid from the coffeeshop inside the school bookstore. He’s kind of cute, in the way puppies are when their paws get dog-sized before the rest of their body catches up. They’ve talked a few times about harmless things like the weather and what the manager plays over the speakers, but Youngjae can’t remember the teenager’s name. “Hey!” Youngjae gears up to start in on the guy for laughing at him. The kid bites back another laugh, blinking fast. The rain soaks into his shirt, making it cling, as fast as the rain makes his styled hair droop.
Oh.
“You’re the kid from the coffeeshop, right? Forget your umbrella?” Youngjae asks.
“Yeah. And no, it’s broken,” he says with a jostle of his backpack. “It got stepped on today.”
Youngjae holds his umbrella higher. “Do you want to share?” he asks, surprising himself. He regrets the question almost instantly. The kid is already wet. What’s an umbrella good for now, anyway?
The kid seems just as shocked. The surprised, wet puppy look is more persuasive than Youngjae anticipated. “Sure.” He ducks his head under the safety of the umbrella, only for his hair to tangle in the metal stretchers. “Ah, um, could you…?” he asks, question trailing off as he gestures for Youngjae to raise the umbrella. Youngjae obliges him, squinting up at him from the corner of his eye.
“My name’s Youngjae,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that before.”
The teenager grins and offers his hand. “Would you mind if I held it?” Youngjae shrugs one shoulder and passes the umbrella to him. “I’m Junhong.”
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