This is the writing challenge! When you see this ask, answer with the last five lines that you wrote for your stories and send this ask to five other people! HIIIIIIIIII
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HI! ALSO THIS IS LATE!
Okay so this is NOT a BTS fic nor is it 5 lines, but it truly is the last thing I’ve written-
“You’re gonna catch a cold.”
Seungcheol holds an umbrella over your shivering form, a kind gesture but ultimately pointless because you’ve already been walking in the rain for a good hour, and you’re soaked to the bone.
“Come inside with me,” he sighs, holding himself back from really begging you. “It’s pouring.“
You don’t listen; you wouldn’t be you if you came quietly. Seungcheol frowns when you take three steps forward to stand in the rain once more. The campus is empty at this time of night with the rain falling over the grounds in sheets. It’s a good kind of rain - the type to enjoy while indoors and enjoying a hot cup of tea. You hate it. How dare the world settle into peace when all you could feel was chaos running through your veins. Objectively, logically, realistically, you know you’re cold. Your lips are probably blue, and you’re shivering so bad you can feel yourself twitch and shake.
But you don’t care about any of that at all - not when all you can feel right now is a fury birthed from misery and disappointment.
You take a deep breath and release a blood-curdling shriek, the noise cutting through the ambient sounds of rain on asphalt puttering down a storm drain. The force of the shout is enough to make your throat burn from exertion. The rain feels cool on your skin as you let the sound die when you run out of breath. Passing out from exhaustion is imminent, and you wanted to sleep right here. If you could just close your eyes and never wake up…. well that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?
Seungcheol worries, heart dropping to his stomach at how you nearly trip over nothing after screaming. The worst part of all of this is that he can’t do or say anything to help you at all.
“I’m an idiot,” you croak to yourself, loud enough for Seungcheol to hear you. “I’m an idiot…” Your head spins from not eating all day and the cold, and you slowly crouch to gain your bearings.
Seungcheol notices that you are crying before you do. He’s back again, hovering, with his stupid umbrella and his stupid, caring voice telling you to come with him, take his hand. "I won’t tell you not to cry,” he promises, “Just come inside.”
Your sobs come out in painful bursts, pushing through your closed lips in a mixture of air and spit and muffled noises that bubble forth anyway. You can feel his hand touch your shoulder, warm and hesitant.
“Please?”
