.mornings like any other
first encounter drabble series: 01
pairings: jungkook x reader
The sun shines down relentlessly, beating the concrete covered expanse of the city with a frightening ferocity. It’s still early in the day, only a few minutes shy nine. You stand at the bus stop, awaiting the arrival of your transport. There’s nothing remarkable which stands out, this Wednesday morning remaining as ordinary as any other. You and your fellow commuters seek shade under the overarching bus stand, a flock of sweaty bodies and tired sighs huddled together in the small space. You tune out as the world continues to hum the melodies of routine and familiarity- the rustling of newspapers, the broken and muffled sounds of bass drums leaking out of headphones, the screeching of tires as vehicles trapped in the rush hour come to a halt infuriatingly often. And yet, despite the bustling nature of the city, you find yourself wrapped up in your own peaceful little bubble, your mind riddled with no thoughts in particular. Afterall, it was just a morning like any other.
He takes a tentative sip from the cup of piping hot liquid he holds in his hand. Its bitterness sends a jolt of displeasure through his senses and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. A string of profanities form on his tongue, threatening to pour out of his lips, but he bites them back in defeat. There’s nothing remarkable which stands out about this Wednesday morning. In his bleary eyes the city appears grim and lifeless, as if every surface had been doused in palettes of smoke and ash. To him, even the golden beams of the glorious sun lose their splendour as they fall upon the charcoal asphalt of the roads. Huddled up in a crowd, he stands under the bus stand waiting for his bus to arrive. He tries to ignore the little boy nestled in his mother’s arms who finds game in kicking his back or the portly middle aged man with a balding head who’s far too interested in picking his nose. Instead, he zones out on his surroundings and his mind swirls with abstract thoughts and yet his focus lies on nothing in particular. Afterall, it’s just a morning like any other.
You’re violently ripped out of your peaceful reverie when the woman standing to your left, showered in an unpleasant excess of cheap perfume and dressed in clothes visibly too tight for comfort, yells a greeting into the receiver of her phone. You try shrinking back into your own silent world, however sadly, you’re forced to listen to her pointlessly dramatic conversation and the condescending tone of her voice which sounds much like nails screeching down a chalkboard. It hits your final nerve when she bursts into a fit of laughter loud enough to be tagged as a health hazard and your body unconsciously jerks away from hers.
You’re met with a slight ‘oof’ as you bump into a sort of soft wall to your right. Your mind flashes a warning sign when something warm pours onto your forearm, however, before you can begin to register any of it to your coherence, your clumsy feet lose all footing on the ground. Your arms flail around as you desperately try grappling onto anything, anyone, in an attempt break your fall. With the grace similar to that of an intoxicated crab, you successfully latch onto the shirt of the person closest to you and yet, events only seem to unfold for the worse.
Air is knocked out of his lungs as a delicate frame collides onto his from the side, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as the cup of coffee is tossed out of his grip. The muddy brown pours onto his pristine shirt but before he can mourn the demise of his favourite white outfit or reprimand the bloody culprit a desperate hand slams onto his chest- hard, finding purchase on the very fabric of his ruined shirt. He stumbles precariously and having been caught off guard he collapses onto the ground with an ominous thud.
He groans in discomfort, his butt throbbing uncomfortably as it seems to have taken the entire impact of the fall. It takes him a moment to realize that he holds something soft and heavy in his arms. It doesn’t take him long to identify the person as the one and only despicable culprit themself. Annoyance bubbles in his blood, as he shoves aside the person lying atop him to pull himself into a sitting position. Raking his hand through his hair he refuses to look up knowing all too well of the countless stares which had fixated onto the two sprawled across the scorching ground.
You can feel your knees graze the asphalt below but the worst of the fall never comes. Your eyes are screwed tight and by the time you regain your senses you find your face buried in the crook of someone’s neck and your body engulfed in a tight hold. You listen to the thumping of your own escalated heartbeat, finding yourself at a loss of both words and actions as you lie on the ground entangled in an embrace. A few moments pass before you’re roughly pushed to the side by your saviour.
When he finally does look over his shoulder at the culprit ready to
snap, he loses his train of thought as his narrowed gaze meets those of a shell shocked girl staring at him with wide eyes brimming with apology and embarrassment.
When he turns to look at you, a scowl’s etched onto his incredibly handsome features and you stammer out an apology as you feel blood rush to your face as both mortification and guilt overcome you. You dare yourself to meet his eyes, surprised when your teary ones meet his own softened gaze.
Anger dissipates from his system the same way a trail of smoke vanishes in air. A funny sense of warmth swirls in his chest while his stomach clenches in a manner pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. His eyes drink up her features, and he etches every little detail onto his mind- her eyes, her, nose, her lips, the glorious mess of her unruly hair. Colour once again seeps into his vision, as she shines with the very same intensity the sun itself had failed to shine with in his world. The monochrome of his world bursts with blossoms of vivid colour, the same way spring brings with itself the buzz of life following a cold, dark winter.
His voice sounds strangled as he tells you not to worry but the smirk on his face causes an airy laugh to escape your own lips.
He pulls himself back onto his feet, turning around to extend you a hand which you gladly take. Neither of your smiles falter- his is a bit teasing while yours is a little shy and neither of you say it out loud, but it’s no surprise how both of your minds silently muse if miracles always happened on mornings just like any other.