Radiant Short Story Collection

As long as you don't get rained on, I'm fine.

[Group Chat: The Three Musketeers + 1]

Chan-yeon: Has anyone seen my black umbrella? The heavy rain alert just went off.
Ji-seok: Isn’t this just Hyun-jin hyung sneaking it off because he wants to set the mood on a rainy day again?
Hyun-jin: I didn’t! I’ve got my own yellow umbrella. Besides, Chan-yeon hyung doesn’t even need one. As a true tall gentleman, he can just let that broad set of shoulders take the rain for him. 🙄
Ji-seok: Chan-yeon hyung probably checked the weather app, realized he left without an umbrella to go to his girlfriend’s office, and is already running out the door.
Chan-yeon: I’m on my way out now. And while I’m gone, don’t touch my stuff.
Hyun-jin: Look at hyung go! He’s a total K-drama male lead. Hyung, hurry up and go get her! 🌧️🏃‍♂️

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Sudden, torrential rain was pounding down on Seoul, and the once-lively streets had blurred into a wash of neon streaks racing across the gray asphalt. I stood trapped beneath the narrow awning in front of the office building, clutching my bag tight to my chest, while a sharp wind flung cold raindrops over my ankles. I had completely forgotten to bring an umbrella, and the subway station was a full three blocks away.

I drew myself up, ready to sprint like a maniac toward the giant curtain of water, and took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

Before my foot even touched the wet concrete, a huge sheet of black umbrella fabric cut across my view and instantly blocked out the heavy, gray downpour.

I blinked and looked up at the big black umbrella tilted over my head. Right beside me stood Chan-yeon oppa. He was wearing a dark trench coat, and the ends of his hair were slightly damp from the rain, but even in the middle of the chaotic storm he looked incredibly calm and reliable. With one hand he gripped the umbrella handle tightly, and his broad build shut out the biting wind in an instant.

"Oppa! What are you doing here?" I gasped in surprise, my heart pounding as if it were hammering hard against my ribs.

"I had something to take care of nearby," oppa said casually, but the faint breathlessness in his voice told a very different truth. He stepped into my personal space, closing the distance until our shoulders were almost touching. Then he readjusted his grip on the handle and deliberately tilted the umbrella toward me so it would cover me completely. Because of that, his right shoulder was left fully exposed to the pouring rain and quickly got soaked through.

"Your shoulder’s getting soaked," I said urgently, putting my hand on top to push the umbrella handle back toward him.

Our fingers met over the cold metal handle.

Time seemed to slow to a stop. Oppa didn’t pull away. Instead, his large, warm fingers moved to gently wrap around my hand on the handle and hold it there. The freezing storm brushing my cheek and the vivid warmth coming from his skin were a dizzying contrast. He looked down at me, and the steadfast intensity in those dark eyes made the noise of the busy street fade away like distant background music.

"I don’t care about the rain," oppa whispered. He leaned in slightly, and his low, secretive words brushed softly against my ear. In the narrow, cozy shelter between us, he murmured, keeping that aching closeness just barely out of reach. "As long as you don’t get wet at all, that’s enough for me."

Even in the cold, my cheeks quickly heated up. With my hand still safely covered over the umbrella handle, oppa led me step by step into the rain. Walking side by side through the storm, I was completely enclosed within the safe orbit he had made for me.

The place oppa led me to across the slick sidewalk was a small, cozy neighborhood café. Outside, the rain kept hammering the brick walls. A bell chimed overhead, and the roar of the storm was cut off at once, replaced by the warm, nutty aroma of roasted beans and the soft heat of steamed milk wrapping around us.

We brushed the thick raindrops off our coats and let out a collective sigh of relief, our small laughter drifting gently through the dim entrance.

The inside of the café was perfectly peaceful. Only the soft murmur of jazz and the steady patter of rain against the fogged-up windows filled the space. We found a small wooden table tucked into a corner hidden by lush green plants, out of sight from the entrance. Feeling the last of the storm’s chill slowly easing off my skin, I gave a slight shiver and sank deep into the bench seat.

"Stay here for a moment," Chan-yeon oppa murmured softly. His low voice was reassuring in itself. "I’ll go order."

I watched oppa walk to the counter. His broad frame carried an easy, relaxed air as he spoke gently to the barista. A few minutes later, he came back to the table carrying two warm ceramic mugs with wisps of steam rising into the air.

He slid a warm matcha latte with a vivid, lovely green hue over to me. "A warm matcha latte to help you shake off the cold," oppa said with a smile, settling comfortably into the seat across from me with a classic black Americano in hand.

"You’re my savior," I breathed in admiration, wrapping both hands tightly around the warm mug so the heat could sink into my chilled fingertips. Taking a slow sip, the rich flavor quickly filled me with warmth from deep in my chest.

Oppa gave a soft chuckle and set his mug down on the wooden table. He didn’t pull back into his own space. Instead, leaning his forearm on the table, he slowly slid his large warm hand over the wooden surface until his fingertips gently touched mine.

Slowly, oppa’s fingers slipped between mine, and our hands met in a tender, steady clasp. The warmth from his palm soothed me and anchored me firmly in this moment. He wasn’t gripping me tightly, but the weighty reassurance of his touch said everything for him, speaking of the intense yet quiet devotion filling the narrow space between us.

"Feeling better now?" oppa asked softly. His deep eyes met mine, filled with a firm, gentle warmth, and my heart gave a sudden jolt.

"Yeah, much better," I whispered. A soft smile spread across my face, and I gently squeezed oppa’s hand back.

Oppa moved over to the bench beside me, erasing the last bit of distance until our shoulders were touching. Without hesitation, I rested my head completely against his broad shoulder and buried my face slightly in the heavy fabric of his dry jacket. He shifted a little and, keeping our fingers tightly laced together on the table, rested his chin lightly on top of my head.

We spent a long, beautiful stretch of time completely lost in the sweet gravity of each other’s presence in that quiet corner. Outside, the rain traced chaotic patterns down the glass, but within the narrow refuge made by our corner table, the world had come to a complete stop.