STRAY KIDS ONESHOTS/IMAGINES || OT8

fix me . changbin

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genre: mechanic, runaway, driving au 
word count: 2.2K 
playlist: lowkey - niki 
a/n: finally updating after 10 years, i deleted the previous story cos i want to redo it hehe. anyway enjoy! it's actly 1am now and i have school tmrw sigh writing motivation comes at very untimely times 
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Car battery low.

No, no, no, no, no don't die on me.

I groan. Literally, can my day get any worse? The secluded suburbs of Gyeongju are engulfed in a thick midnight black, heavy rain droplets pelting down. With both my headlights and foglights on, the old car I loaned from a friend in the city is being drained of life faster than I expected, and with almost 30 kilometres left to the nearest town, I am almost a hundred percent sure I will be stranded in a cosmos field tonight.

Earlier this evening, the glorious multi-coloured sunset that painted the fields in a brilliant glow promised nothing but clear night skies and a smooth drive home. The abandoned railway tracks had moved along with my car, my windows wound down and the cool breeze making up for the temperature.

Now, I am just miserable.

Well, you couldn't have stayed there either. You were as good as dead.

The rain picks up, thunder clapping its clammy hands right after a bolt of lightning. My palms are slick with sweat as I grip the steering wheel, eyes trained on the slippery dirt road and occasionally on the blinking red light on the dashboard that torments me with every wheel oscillation...

The rusty vehicle makes what sounds like a coughing / choking noise and stutters to a complete halt, much to my resentment. I close my eyes and press my forehead against the wheel in irritation, water running down the windshield as I curse my ill fate for the 2728429th time that day.

After, one, deciding to sit up because too much blood is rushing to my head, two, realising that growling at a dead piece of metal is not going to help anything, and three, remembering I have a bag of chips, I squint through the foggy glass, and make out the traces of a dim light in the distance that reminds me of a garage setting. The distinct outlines of stacked shipping containers, probably from ancient steam trains that used to run along the tracks swim into vision, and I perk up upon realising it could be a small residence, or even a pit stop for lone travellers like me.

Without hesitation, I pull my (not very waterproof) jacket over my head and step out into the storm, sneakers squelching in ankle-deep mud as I run towards the only light source in my vision.

"Hey! Anyone there?" I call, already half drenched by the evil rain. I continue to run, and upon closer inspection I see that it is conveniently a car repair stop, no bigger than half a basketball court. Someone is closing up the stop for the night, and I holler through the rain, desperate for someone to come to my aid.

"Hey! Help! Don't close the shutters- hey!" I give up using my jacket as a shelter, instead flailing it wildly to catch the stranger's attention. It must have worked, because he lifts his head to look at me, eyes wide in confusion. Or, maybe shock at this uncivilised creature barging into his shop at twelve midnight.

Thankfully, he does not ignore me. "Miss, we are closed for today, but how can I help you?" The man must be around my age, 21 or 22, his rolled up sleeves of black coveralls showing off his toned arms. An unruly head of jet black hair frames his sharp chin, and he looks like a cross between a street punk e-boy and a high-school geek (minus the glasses).

I put my hands on my knees, panting as droplets of rainwater drip down stray strands of hair. "My- my car broke down in the middle of the street there," I point into the darkness, "and I'm stranded."