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in the rain

characters: bokuto and gn! reader; post! timeskip

wc: 1.8k

warnings: none that i can think of?? it’s pure fluff

tagging: @ichigomis​

a/n: i had fun writing for this collab! please head on over to @ichigomis blog for more! i'm not too happy with how it turned out but i hope y'all like it...also this is loosely inspired by the umbrella scene in the first season of miraculous ladybug, the song just makes me emotional okay? okay! also, one umbrella leads to the song on youtube while the other leads to the song on spotify! happy reading!

give this a listen while reading ☂ ☂

The rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up anytime soon, and unfortunately, you can’t afford to be late to work. You let the curtains close with a sigh before walking to the couch. You reach for the TV remote and turn off the TV, the room falling silent save for the pitter patter of the rain. After grabbing your bag, which you had dropped at the foot of the couch the night before after work, you pulled on your rain coat and shoes. Your fingers reached for the keys in the bowl by the entrance, the metal cold against your skin, while your other hand slings your bag over your shoulder before grabbing an umbrella from the coat closet.

Stepping outside, you shove the keys into your bag after locking your front door. A shiver skitters down your spine as a gush of wind rushes past you, lifting your hair slightly. Pulling your coat tighter, you open your umbrella and begin your walk to the bus station. Maybe you should’ve worn rain boots, or a warmer coat, or maybe if you had a boyfriend so doting that they’d drop anything for you, maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with this rainy weather.

While you enjoy the grey skies and the smell that clings to the dew in the air after it rains, you only like it when you’re staring outside from the comfort of your apartment. You debate turning around and using one of your sick days because the temptation of being indoors, enveloped by the warmth of your blankets and the heat that seeps into your body from the mug of hot cocoa in your hands, is too great. But you continue trudging along, because who else is going to be responsible for you if not yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, a man with black and grey hair was also trudging toward the same bus station as you. Normally, he wouldn’t mind this sort of weather, but today he just couldn’t deal with it. He had forgotten his umbrella amidst his rush in getting out of the door. He had forgotten to set his alarm after getting home late after practice, making him late this morning. He even skipped breakfast so as to not miss the bus; he knew today would be worse than the day before because not only was he tired, but he was hungry. He’s just glad he packed his lunch last night before going to bed, so at the very least he has food for later.

Grumbling to himself about how he was soaked through and how his hair was getting into his eyes, he sighs in relief upon seeing the bus station that would provide some cover from the pouring rain. He picks up his pace, ignoring how ridiculous it may seem that he’s running for cover despite him being completely drenched, droplets of water dripping from the ends of his hair, some landing on his face and others landing on the ground. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees your dry figure, wrapped up in a coat appropriate for the weather and an umbrella clutched tightly in your hands. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be taking the bus this early, usually he was the only one waiting.

You tilt your head up, gaze following suit when you hear footsteps quicken their pace. Your eyes land on a pair of golden ones that are widened in…confusion perhaps? It didn’t really matter, because you swear the rain is gone the minute you look into his eyes. And after one look, you know he’d put the sun to shame.

You both step up to the bus stop at the same time, with small smiles exchanged instead of hellos, and stand with a respectable amount of space meant for two strangers. You close your umbrella and wrap the chord around your wrist so as to not leave it behind.

Despite the cold seeping into his skin, he can’t help but smile at the warmth blossoming in his chest. Because even though you threw one smile his way, that was all he needed to know that he’d like to see you smile again…but he wants you to smile with him, not at him.

You notice that he keeps adjusting his hair, the frustrated pout on his lips endearing as you side eye him while he fights to get his hair out of his eyes. You bite back a smile and look down, hoping he won’t catch you biting your lower lip in a poor attempt at holding in your laugh.

He shuffles in his spot a bit as he readjusts the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. His movements catch your attention, which was what he was going for. His gaze catches yours and he gives you his best smile, despite it being too early for anything of the sort. You return the smile as best as you could, but who are you kidding? It’s not even seven in the morning. He extends his hand out to yours then pulls it back, and instead settles on waving his hand ever so slightly, which he then plays off by scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

He lets out a breathy laugh, a puff of air slipping past his lips. “Sorry, I just…I never see you at this stop.”

You turn your body so you’re facing him, an open invitation to a possible friendship. Your fingers fiddle with the chord of the umbrella as you breathe out, your warm breath mixing with the frosty air. You shrug and let out a huff of air, “I never go to work this early, but there were things that needed to be taken care of before the beginning of my shift so…” your sentence drifts, somewhat unfinished. He looks at you with an expectant look, gaze unwavering, interested.

He tilts his head in pure intrigue. “So?”

The smile you had been fighting earlier returns and settles itself permanently on your lips. “So…no one wanted to go in early to finish it and since I live the closest…well, you can imagine.” He hums in understanding, then looks over his shoulder to check if the bus had already turned onto the street.

“What about you?”

He whips his head toward you, eyes wide once again. “Huh?”

You laugh and unconsciously take a step toward him. “Why do you take the bus so early?”

“Oh!” He returns your laugh with his own, and you swear you’ve never heard anything more wonderful than that. “I head to the gym before practice starts.”

At that, you cringe. “You purposely wake up early?”

He nods his head, seemingly not as excited as before. “I don’t like it, but I do love my job. So, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He bites his tongue, wishing he hadn’t said that to you. Once seeing your unchanged expression, however, his shoulders relax.

“What do you do?”

His smile grows fonder. “I play professional volleyball.”

You don’t mean to look so surprised, but you can’t help it. His cheeks flush a soft pink, and you think he can’t get cuter than he looks in this moment. You can tell he enjoys what he does with almost a childlike innocence, but by his discipline you can also tell he takes it seriously. And that’s when you take note of how his wet clothes clings to his figure, and you can tell he’s well built. Suddenly, you wish his bus would arrive sooner so he doesn’t see your obvious ogling, and yet you’re disappointed to see it turn the corner moments after.

His smile softens at the corners, the pout he sported earlier breaking through his smile. “That’s my bus.” His voice is hushed as he tells you, afraid he’ll shatter the comfortable silence that had settled for a brief moment.

Your own smile falters a bit, and you look down at your umbrella. You chew on your bottom lip as you debate whether or not you should give it to him. You recall that you had sewn a patch onto it with your name and number in case you ever lost it. While you are aware that it’s just an umbrella, you somewhat pride yourself in not having lost it ever since you were in high school. And as you see the bus inch closer, and see the slight anguish in the man’s eyes as he looks at you as though he’s never going to see you again, you realize you don’t want to let the moment slip through your fingers.

“To hell with it,” you mutter under your breath as you step into his personal space. You open the umbrella and extend your arm, hoping he’ll take the umbrella.

He looks from you, to the umbrella, to the bus rolling to a stop. His eyebrows furrow. “I can’t take it. What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, just take it!” You look at him expectantly.

His hand reaches forward, his fingers brushing against your own, his larger hand encasing yours for a split second as you slip the umbrella into his grasp. Upon feeling the warmth of his hand your cheeks heat up.

“What can I give you in return?”

“Your name.” You say it with a slight lilt in your voice, clearly amused.

“Bokuto.”

You repeat his name barely above a whisper, and it’s already the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. And he wants nothing more than to hear you say his name again.

The bus driver honks, giving Bokuto a warning. He gives you a sheepish smile as he climbs onto the bus. Only when he’s in his seat does he realize he never got your name. As he’s putting your umbrella into his gym bag, he notices the patch you had sewn onto the umbrella with your name and number embroidered into the patch of fabric.

And yeah, maybe Bokuto hated the rain this morning, but having rushed to catch his usual bus on time, effectively forgetting his umbrella, led him to you. Your conversation, mundane as it may have been, would be the most eventful part of his day, even more so than his stressful morning.

Bokuto pulls out his phone, fingers adding your number to his contact list without a second thought, your name rolling off his tongue in a whisper, lips pulling into a soft smile.

He wastes no time in tapping on the call button, bouncing his leg while he waits for the phone to dial. The call is answered after the first ring, and he waits with baited breath to hear you speak his name again.

“Bokuto?”

He releases the breath he was holding, a boyish grin spreading across his face. He swears he can hear the smile in your voice, in the way you say his name like a prayer, and his smile only grows as he looks outside the bus window, a few grey clouds parting to show the hazy blue sky that had been hiding behind them.

“Hey, y/n.”