the first time you meet
an example of what you can request! this is a drabble reaction, therefore it’s much longer than a normal reaction, but the length will vary from request to request so some drabble reactions might be shorter! (also can you guess who my bias is haha?)
“Not again!” you mumble as you feel another set of drops hit your head. You’d been in the city centre for almost an hour now and every few minutes a small amount of rain drops would fall from the sky and hit your head, wetting your hair just enough that it frizzed up.
You clutch the bag full of things you’d purchased tightly and run to the nearest bus stop in sight, trying to avoid the few minutes of rain. You sit down on the plastic bench, pulling out your phone to distract yourself when you hear the rain picking up.
The small shower turns into a downpour in a matter of seconds and the roof of the bus stop is unable to handle the pressure, starting to leak. You sigh, mumbling profanities to yourself and run directly into the rain, eyes searching for a more secure shelter.
You spot a café across the street - posh looking, probably full of people going for afternoon tea, but it looks warm and dry and right now it’s either that or getting soaking wet.
You burst through the doors loudly, your hair dripping with water, making all eyes in the café turn to you. For the billionth time today you’re glad you’d worn waterproof makeup, because at least you don’t look like a raccoon, but the people looking at you still look disgusted.
It’s all high society in there - old ladies dressed in matching skirts and jackets, young businessmen discussing contracts and young, flimsy women in dresses too short for this cold weather. What’s worst of all, there’s not a single seat open for you to take, except the one by a table that’s already occupied by a young man who’s sipping on his coffee quietly, looking like he’s enjoying his solitude to the fullest.
“Excuse me miss,” a waitress approaches you, snapping you out of your thoughts. “If you don’t have a reservation, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Her voice is clear and loud enough for everyone in the café to hear, spurting poison onto you. You don’t want to go back into the rain, but you have no reservation and with not a single table free it looks like that’s exactly what you’ll have to do.
“She’s with me,” comes a voice from the side and you turn around to see the man with the free seat at his table grinning at you. “Isn’t that right?”
“I - I - Yes?” you stutter momentarily. You notice the waitress looking at you with doubt and quickly decide to laugh it off.
“Yes, yes, that’s right, I’m with him!” you point at the man.
“Very well then, please take a seat and I’ll be with you in a moment,” the waitress turns around, flipping her hair arrogantly as she walks back to the counter. You scurry across the café, plopping down in the empty seat and dropping your bag on the floor.
“Thank you,” you say, watching the man’s smile widen, revealing his chubby cheeks. “I would’ve had to go back into the rain if it weren’t for you.”
“That’s just fine, I couldn’t let that waitress send you off like that,” the man chuckles. “My name’s Xiumin.”
You swing the groceries bag back and forth as you walk cheerily back to your apartment. Things had been going wrong for you the entire day, but for some reason nothing bad had happened in the past hour and your mood switched back to happy immediately.
You hum along to songs coming from cafés and various shops as you walk, taking the chance to enjoy the sun on your skin. Just as you’re about to round the corner, something in your hand snaps and the weight from the groceries bag is suddenly gone.
You look down almost reluctantly, keeping yourself from admitting that the contents of the bag have spilled all over a sidewalk, just as rush hour is about to start. You groan when you see the mess, dropping down to your knees to start tidying up and putting everything in the bag again, but things just keep tipping over and leaking.
“Do you need some help with that?”
You look up to see a stranger offering you a kind smile and nod quickly. You can use all the help you can get, especially if you don’t want a crowd walking all over the egg carton.
The stranger drops to his knees, quickly picking everything up and dropping it into the bag, speeding up the process immensely.
“There we go,” he says, picking up the bag as you both stand up.
“Thank you so much,” you say. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something else went wrong while I was picking things up.”
The stranger chuckles.
“My name is Suho,” he says. “And I think this bag is too heavy for you to carry on your own so I’m going to carry it for you.”
You introduce yourself in return, carefully asking if he’s really alright with carrying the bag for you and making him laugh.
“I offered, didn’t I?”
You grin widely, glad to see something finally going right after an entire day of terrible mishaps. You begin walking down the street, your hands behind your back as you chat casually with Suho, telling him about every embarrassing incident that had taken place during the day.
You reach your apartment in no time, stopping in front of the front doors of the building and you finally take the bag from Suho’s hands.
“Sorry for making you carry that,” you apologize.
“It was nothing, really,” he smiles back at you.
“I’m going to head up then.”
“I should go too, I guess. Goodbye!”
Suho turns around and just as he’s about to walk down the stairs you make a split decision and call out to him again.
“Wait!” you shout. “Would you… Would you maybe like to come in? Just for a cup of tea or something.”
Suho turns around, a gentle smile playing on his lips, looking excited.
The streets are busy, bustling with people who push and pull their way through the crowd, tagging along any poor soul that isn’t strong enough to stand their ground. You stand by the corner of a townhouse, balancing on a wooden board and pushing yourself on your tippy toes so you can see across the crowd better.
At the other side of the street is a man playing guitar, his fingers tumbling over the strings creating a lovely melody you can barely hear half of. He’s immersed in the music, not paying attention to anyone going past him, but somehow he looks like he’s aware of everything around him.
You push your hair behind your ear frustratedly, pulling your hat down further so your ears don’t get cold and jump off the board. You take a deep breath, grip your bag with more strength and start pushing through the crowd.
At first you get shoved around, pushed into people who only push you into others, but after you’re half-way through, it gets easier to move forward. Safely out of the crowd, you smooth down your coat and look up.
The guitarist is standing in front of you, fingers still strumming over the strings, but now you can hear him singing too - mumbling mispronounced words here and there. You smile through the songs he plays, not moving until he finishes up for the day and giving him a gentle smile when he does.
By the name printed on his guitar case you assume his name is Lay, though there’s something else scribbled underneath it in small, hurried handwriting in a language you don’t understand.
“Do you want to go drink something warm with me?” You ask cautiously, waiting for him to nod before you grab his arm (the one he isn’t holding his guitar case in) and dragging him along the street.
“I know just the place!”
“Hello! Would you be interested in purchasing the new - “
“No, now go away,” you groan to yet another advertiser before you shut the door firmly in his face. These people had been pestering you for weeks and you could do absolutely nothing to stop them from appearing.
You walk back to your kitchen where your laptop is waiting on the table, the screen showing a half-finished essay which was due the next day. You sigh, sitting down in front of the screen and placing your fingers on the keyboard, your mind at a loss. You have no idea how you’re going to finish writing 4000 words in time, especially with the advertisers constantly passing by your flat and interrupting you.
You manage to get your fingers moving after a while, bullshitting your way through the paragraphs and hoping it would be enough to convince your literature professor (which you knew it would not be), when the doorbell rings again.
You growl, throwing your head back to show how irritated you are, and slam the laptop screen shut. You make your way to the entrance, fully prepared to murder the person who’d dared to disrupt you again. You open the doors quickly, not even bothering to check who’s outside first.
“Hello! I’m sorry for wasting your time but-”
“I don’t care who you are and what you’re selling, just get the fuck away from my flat and never come back. I’ve had enough of people like you today,” you interrupt the brown-haired man standing at your doorway, nervously rubbing his hands together, trying his best to keep a smile that’s already fading.
“I just said I don’t care, didn’t I?” You interrupt again, adding a rude tone to your voice. “Just fuck off and get a life, okay?”
The man is now staring at you, thoroughly confused and looking a bit disgusted. You glare at him coldly, wondering why he’s still here and not getting his ass out of the building.
“I was just going to ask for directions since I’m lost, but alright, I guess I’ll go to someone else,” he finally shrugs.
Your eyes widen in realization of what you’d just done - shouted and let all your anger out on a man who had nothing to do with any of your problems - and you end up hiding your face in your hands, blubbering out apologies as fast as you can.
After an explanation, some forgiveness and forgotten introductions, you end up smiling at each other again.
“So uh Chen, would you like to come in so I can explain the directions to you while actually looking at a map?”
You toss an empty energy drink bottle into the trash can, letting it hit the very bottom with a satisfying thud. For the fifth time today you search through your pockets, trying to salvage any change you can use to get the producer (who happens to be your boss) another bunch of chemical-filled energy drinks.
You gather whatever coins are left, counting the amount and realizing that you’re a desperate 100 won short. You sigh, clutching the coins tight in the palm of your hand and closing your eyes trying to think of a solution.
If you didn’t get those drinks there’d be a scolding, if not a firing, waiting for you back in the studio. Your boss was nervous enough with the artist running late, he certainly didn’t need his assistant messing up with her job.
“Do you need any help?”
You open your eyes to find a man staring down at you, his face wrinkled in worry. He’s attractive - far more so than any other worker you’d seen here and for a moment you have trouble believing he’s talking to you.
“Not unless you have a 100 won coin I don’t,” you answer his question, running your hand through your hair. The stranger pats his pockets, pushing his fingers inside once he thinks he’s found something and finally retrieves just what you needed - the 100 won coin.
“Oh,” you exclaim, your eyes fixated on the small circle. “Can I … Can I have that please? I’ll pay it back as soon as I can!”
The man chuckles, handing you the coin. You bow, thanking him over and over again, before running down the hallway to the vending machines, not even asking for his name.
You get the energy drinks just fine, though there is a short queue of people at the vending machines. With your hands full of bottles and a smile plastered on your face, you return to the studio to find your boss already working hard at the mixing table.
Without looking at the studio booth where the artist is singing their heart out, you hand over the drinks to your boss who offers a muffled thank you and sit yourself down beside him. You trail your eyes across the board, pushing a button here and there before finally turning them to the artist.
Your jaw falls wide open when you see the man from the hallway - the same one who’d lent you the coin - completely entranced in the music, his eyes closed, opening only to check the lyric sheet from time to time.
His voice is soft and smooth, jumping from note to note and hitting high notes like they’re nothing. You find yourself un-capable of doing anything but staring at him, though you have managed to at least close your mouth.
The recording ends all too soon and the man looks through the glass booth to check if anything had gone wrong with the producer when his eyes fixate on you.
“Oh, hello!” He greets, bowing his head slightly. “I’m Baekhyun by the way.”
You slouch comfortably in one of the armchairs of the library, book in one hand and a steaming cup of to-go coffee in the other. Your eyes trail over the words on the pages, mindlessly going over the paragraphs describing a grotesque fight in which your favourite character is sure to lose, because villains in books always die.
You reach the end of the chapter and as expected the last paragraph is the description of the villain lying in their own blood, the hero’s sword buried deep within their chest as the heroine cries over how much her newfound love must be hurting from taking a life. You roll your eyes at the ending and snort unattractively.
You shift your gaze from the book towards the coffee, worried you’ll spill it otherwise, and take a large sip of the liquid, feeling the sugar you’d drowned in it earlier rustle over your tongue. The bitter aftertaste hits not long after and you cringe when it comes, all sense of sweetness disappearing from your mouth.
You move to place the cup on the table in front of you so you’ll be able to read the last chapter of the book more comfortably and in a fraction of a moment your eyes make contact with a large smile and a warm pair of brown eyes, both belonging to the man sitting in the once-empty armchair on the opposite side of the small table you’d claimed.
“Hello!” he waves at you even though you’re only a few feet apart and you swear his smile just got wider. “I’m Chanyeol!”
His introduction takes you by surprise; your eyes end up widening and the coffee you’d been sipping on gets caught in your throat. You choke slightly, starting to cough up the liquid going down the wrong way and somehow the lid covering your coffee cup manages to slip open in the process. The next thing you know, you’ve managed to spill an entire cup of searing hot coffee all over yourself, your book and the leather armchair you’re sitting in.
You can see the librarian looking at you funnily from the counter and you know you’ll have to pay for the damage caused to your seat before you leave and since the chair is padded with leather the cost isn’t going to be low.
When you finally calm yourself down, you look back up at the man who’s still smiling widely, proudly showing you his dimple and give him a cold glare. He has peculiar ears, sticking out from underneath his hair and he seems tall - even sitting down he looms over you, which makes it hard to stare him down.
The man reaches out his hand, offering a small paper tissue that definitely won’t be of any help with the coffee running down your body, much less that on your book and chair.
“Uh, I’m sorry?”
You grunt angrily in response, grabbing the tissue from his hand and using it to wipe the brown residue from your shirt. As expected, it doesn’t help, and you end up calling the librarian over, asking her to bring you a rag or at least some more tissues.
When you’ve finally wiped all the coffee and nothing is dripping anymore you turn back to Chanyeol - the man who had invaded your booth and caused the accident to happen in the first place. You find him smiling at you, a grin that looks like it’s mocking you for what just happened and you angrily grab your bag from the seat beside you.
Just as you’re about to shove your now ruined book (it wasn’t a very good book, but it was still a precious part of your collection) into the bag, Chanyeol grabs your wrist.
“How about I buy you another cup of coffee?” He offers. His grip on your hand is surprisingly strong and it only gets stronger when you try to pull away from him.
“What, so you can spill it all over me again?” You remark snarkily, sarcasm sipping right through the words.
“No! No, I wouldn’t do that!” Chanyeol immediately shakes his head, chuckling and waving your concerns off with his free hand.
“You just did.”
“B - but that was all you,” he says, shying away when he sees your glare. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not in the mood for a coffee,” you say after a moment of consideration of his apology, finally smiling back at him and watching his face slowly brighten. “But a book might do.”
“What can I help you with?”
The man in front of the counter of the shop looks uncomfortable, large brown eyes wandering from one side to another nervously.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been met with this problem, you do work at an underwear shop, but it’s the first time you’ve seen anyone quite so out of place in the large space.
“I’m - uh,” the man stumbles over his words. “I’m looking for a bra, it’s - it’s a gift.”
“Alright,” you say, leaning over the counter so you can hear what he says through the excited shrieks of teenage girls running around the shop and pointing out ‘the cutest leopard print bra they’ve ever seen’. “Maybe some details?”
“She wears um … lace mostly?”
You let out a chuckle. What girl today didn’t like wearing lace?
“Anything else? The size maybe?” You continue prodding with questions, making the man in front of you even more uncomfortable and awkward if possible.
“I - I think it’s a 70C,” he coughs a bit. “That’s what all her other bras said.”
“Sure,” you beam widely. Watching a man shop for bras had always been the funniest thing possible, because they never knew what to do. “Any colour preferences?”
“White?” The man says, sounding it out more like another question than an answer. “Yeah, uh, white will be okay.”
“Follow me then,” you say, stepping from behind the counter and heading over to the corner of the store where the lacy bras were located. You pass some girls looking at you and the man strangely, but you pay them no mind, they’re probably just confused as to why a man is shopping for women’s underwear.
“This is it,” you point towards the designs on the wall. “So, which one would you like me to take down for you…”
“Oh, it’s Kyungsoo,” he quickly responds. “And the t-top one maybe?”
You nod, reaching out for the design at the very top of the racks and searching through it for an appropriate size. When you find it, you hand it over to Kyungsoo who takes it tentatively, not really wanting anything to do with the lacy material.
His eyes widen slightly as he touches the bra, running his fingers over the flower patterns on it. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere in the world but here and you can sympathize, because you don’t like working in an underwear shop all that much either.
“This -” he stops for a moment to reconsider his thoughts. “This’ll do, thank you.”
You smile at him again, knowing fully he would’ve picked the first design no matter how it looked because he just wants to leave the shop that will probably haunt him in his nightmares for weeks after.
“Great, then I’ll get this checked out,” you say, taking the bra from him and walking back to the counter. You pack the bra up into a gift bag and hand it over, telling him the price.
“I hope your girlfriend likes it,” you beam at him before he has a chance to turn around and leave.
“It’s for my mother.”
The brick wall is hard and uncomfortable, the humidness rising from it seeps into your clothes making them cling to your body. The tears slipping down your cheeks fall onto the palms of your hands which you have crossed in your lap.
The aftermath of any fight is brutal, but this one is so much more so because the fight had been with your best friend. The things you had said, the things she had done, it was all cutting deeper and deeper into your heart with every passing minute of waiting for her to call.
You check your phone again, looking for any kind of text or call that might give you a reason to talk to her and apologize, but there’s nothing there. You drop your phone into your lap, bringing your hands up to your face and sobbing heavily into them.
You don’t care if your makeup is running or if your hair is in a disarray, all you want to know is if she had really meant every terrible thing she said about you, if that is how she really sees you.
The sobs rack through your body and it’s not long before you start trembling. The tears aren’t stopping and neither is the pain piercing through your chest. You want to scream, you want to get up and punch something, anything, but you force yourself to keep it in, letting it out through muffled whines instead.
“Are you alright?”
You move your hands from your face, wiping away the tears as you do and look up to the person talking to you. He’s tall, looming above you, with tan skin and brown eyes filled with concern.
“You shouldn’t cry,” the stranger says, moving to sit down beside you. “Whatever it is that’s hurt you is not worth your tears.”
You shake your head drowsily, too tired to say anything back and look away. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, so fragile and all barriers down.
The stranger reaches into his pocket, bringing out a tissue and handing it to you. You look at him warily and tentatively reach out for the tissue in his hand.
“Thank you,” you mumble, pressing the tissue under your eyes and wiping away the residue of what was once your makeup.
“I’m Kai,” the man says, looking you over in a way that makes you very uncomfortable.
“Are you willing to tell me what happened?” Kai asks. You lower your head, thinking everything through and wondering what telling a stranger would even mean. It would be easier for you than talking to another friend - after all, there is a very high chance you’ll never see this man again, but telling someone would mean showing your entire heart without any coverage and you aren’t sure you would like to do that with someone you don’t know.
In the end, your heart wins the fight with your mind and you tell him. You tell him about the strain distance has put on your friendship, about how the fight had been brewing for months if not more and every terrible thing you had shouted at your best friend during it.
Once you start talking about the fight it doesn’t stop; the words flow out of you like a never-ending waterfall and you keep it up even as tears start slipping out of your eyes again.
When you finish the story, your heart feels lighter and your eyes have no more tears to cry, but a sound of gentle sobs is still filling the air. You look over to Kai, who’d been listening and saying nothing all this time, to find him crying too, trying to hide his tears behind a piece of paper.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “It was just too hard not to.”
You look around quickly, stalling what you’re about to do and hoping that the rational part of your brain will stop you from doing it, but it doesn’t and you end up throwing your arms around Kai’s body, hugging him close and trying to comfort him as well as you can.
When he’s calmed down too you let go, shrinking back into yourself, too shy to admit it to yourself that you just hugged a stranger and an attractive one at that.
Kai only laughs, patting your head gently.
“Now how about we go apologize to that friend?”
The toy store shelves are brewing with dolls, games, lego collections and various stuffed animals of different shapes and sizes. It’s a paradise for kids who squeal and point at everything they see, but it’s an absolute nightmare for you.
You hurry through the aisles, searching for the biggest teddy bear you can find. Your niece’s birthday is in two days and you’d been putting off buying a gift for her for almost a month now, one of the main reasons being your unexplainable fear of little children.
You avoid the group of little girls running down the aisle your in and press yourself into the shelves, toppling over a box with a plastic doll in it. You sigh when they pass you by and turn around to fix the doll.
Your eyes wonder through the little slit on top of the boxes through which you can see on the other side of the shelves and stop on a large white teddy bear, almost as big as you.
“Got you,” you whisper to yourself, running over to the other aisle as quickly as you can. You make a move to grab the teddy bear’s ear, just about to pull it off the shelf when you see another hand doing the same.
You let go of the teddy bear quickly, letting the other person take it and look up at exactly who had chosen the same toy as you.
Lucky for you, it’s not a child. It is however, a very attractive man, clad in a leather jacket with blonde hair falling over his tan skin.
“H - Hi,” you mumble. “I kind of need… that.”
You point at the teddy bear the man is holding.
“What for?” the man asks.
“What do you need the bear for?”
You hesitate, playing with your fingers nervously.
“It’s for my niece,” you finally answer. “Her birthday is in two days and she told me she wanted ‘the biggest teddy bear possible’ so…”
“How old is she?”
“She’s uh…” you say “She’s turning four.”
“Oh!” the man laughs. “Oh, of course, go ahead and have it then.”
He hands the teddy bear over to you, pushing its gigantic body into your tiny frame and almost making you fall over.
“I was going to buy it for someone too, but they’re turning twenty-two,” the man chuckles. “I’m Tao by the way.”
“Well Tao, I think you just saved my life - I wouldn’t have made it out alive if I had to go to another toy shop crawling with little kids,” you giggle and Tao joins in your laughter.
“Good thing I was here then.”
“Look, I know we’ve just met, but … I can’t help but feel like I’ve known you for years.”
You gulp heavily.
“In this world, there’s such a small chance we’ll get through it so I just want you to know that I don’t think of you as just someone I need to survive … so before we go in there and end this, I’m telling you that I truly, madly, deeply love -”
Loud laughter interrupts the touching monologue of the male character on screen you’d been drooling over since the movie started and you turn to glare angrily at the man in the row in front of yours.
“Can you please,” you begin saying hushedly “please shut up.”
The man turns around and looks at you, his fringe swinging across his forehead.
“Why, the movie’s rubbish?”
You frown. This movie is an adaptation of one of your favourite books and though you must admit it’s put too much focus on the love line, you’d still like to watch it in silence.
The man seems to take your frowning face as a disagreement, because he continues speaking.
“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this disaster of a movie? The guy has glitter on his face!”
You glance back at the screen where the main character is conveying his love by killing everyone around him and there is a certain sparkle to his complexion you hadn’t noticed before.
“And look at the girl, how can anyone be that orange-looking?”
You turn your head away, trying to conceal the chuckle coming up, but you fail desperately and end up giggling into your sleeve. When you turn back around, the man is watching you with a small smile on his face, munching on a popcorn.
“My name is Sehun,” he introduces himself. “Would you like me to point out any other terrible detail you’ve somehow managed to overlook?”
You grin, grab your things quickly and climb over the seats into his row, sitting yourself down right beside him.
“Popcorn?” he offers and you gladly take a bunch of it out of the carton.
He starts pointing out every single mistake the director made while making the movie and with each one your laugh gets louder until you’re both getting scolded by the other viewers for being too loud.
That doesn’t stop you though and you carry on for the rest of the movie. About half way through your discussion you start noticing things on your own too and soon you’re the one pointing out how unrealistic the scenes are to him. You even win the competition for finding the most terrible fake-blood scene in the movie.
When the movie ends, you hurry outside, escaping from the lady with the heavy purse that had been cursing at you the entire movie.
“Soooo,” Sehun drags out slowly. “We should do that again sometime.”
You can only laugh and nod.