Seventeen imagines

One last time(for old time's sake)-Kim Mingyu

P r e s e n t

Jesus Christ, you hate the rain.

You sigh, repeatedly banging your head against the headrest and attempting to mute the sound of your windshield swiping back and forth from your head. There are only a few superficial things in the entire universe that get in your nerves, and two of which are at your presence at the moment: the rain and the sound of your windshield.

You had forgotten your umbrella. Banging your head a bit harder with your eyes closed, you remind yourself to take your mother's advice and buy a separate umbrella for your car so if cases like this occur, you'd have one ready.

You have been sitting inside your car twelve minutes now. You open your eyes and divert your sight to the digital numbers displayed by the stereo system. It tells you that it's 10:54 in the evening and you sigh in annoyance again, because all you really want right now is to rest.

So you decide to make a run for it.

One of your hands holds your bag over you while the other is tightly clutching your coat together in hopes of keeping your clothes underneath dry. You run, nearly slipping before you could even get to your apartment complex's entrance.

Mr. Lee, the hardworking security guard, greets you, a worried look ghosts over his face. You shake your bag a little, droplets of rainwater spluttering on the floor.

"Y/N," he approaches. "You know my number. Had I known you were outside..."

"Mr. Lee," you reply, touching his forearm once he's in front of you. "It's all right. I made it alive, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you always hated the rain," he remarks.

A small laugh escapes your mouth because you realize you never said it to him, but having been living in the complex for over four years, he must have noticed. And it confuses you a little because you have always been known for having mastered the art of concealing how you feel, yet standing there, you realize there's still a hint of transparency in you.

"Thank you for remembering that," you say with a sincere smile. "I'd love to chat, but my head's in a glitch at the moment from the lack of sleep. My editors have been keeping me busy."

"Ah, you must be so tired," he guesses with a sigh. It's only when he hands you a small pile of papers and envelopes that you notice the small bandage on his wrist. "A few of your subscriptions came it today. I think there are mails in there, too."

You nod and take the pile from his hand. "What happened to that?"

"Just a sprain, nothing your old man can't handle," he jokes. "The nurse from 4A was kind enough to wrap it up for me."

"Mr. Lee, you're not getting any younger. Please take care of yourself," you worriedly say. He nods and smiles.

"I'll let you go then. But you have to promise you'll come hang out here with me again. Been so boring lately."

"Will do, Mr. Lee," you reply, winking at him before walking away. "Goodnight! I'll see you in the morning!"

You punch your apartment's floor on the elevator buttons, shaking your slightly damp hair. It doesn't take long until you hear a ding, indicating that you've reached your floor.

Once you entered your apartment, you switch a light on, quickly drop your bag and mail on a table, and slip out of your wet shoes and coat. Your phone rings before you could even walk past the desk you put your bag on, so you take it as you walk around to switch on the rest of your apartment's lights.

Wonwoo, you read. You sigh for the hundredth time in the span of a few hours because you know exactly why he's calling. He had been calling you daily for the past three weeks, checking up on you and insisting to come to visit you at work or at your apartment. You always decline and make up an excuse not to see him—or anyone else for that matter.