#hinese

Sòng  huá     bù     kě.

Minghao lets out a small sigh when he reaches the bus stop, slowly lowering his hands from where they were sheltering his head from the light rain. The bus stop is crowded, full of people trying to escape the sudden shower.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath in Chinese, and lets out a sigh.

He lowers his head, and it takes him a moment to realise that there’s no longer any rain falling on him. That’s weird. There wasn’t any space under the small shelter.

When he looks up, he finds an umbrella over himself, and a slightly taller brunette standing next to him. 

“You’re Chinese too?” the question is asked in eloquent Mandarin, and Minghao can’t help but smile at the familiar accent.

“Yeah,” he nods. He probably shouldn’t be speaking to strangers, but this one seems friendly and he knows martial arts, so can can protect himself if the need arises.

“I’m Jun,” the boy says. 

“Minghao.”

“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Jun asks, peering at the rain that seems to be getting heavier.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it to rain at all,” Minghao says. He’s lying, because his flatmate had warned him about the weather forecast.

“Were you in a rush?” Jun looks at him with slight concern.

“Nah, was on my way home anyways,” Minghao shrugs. The rain falling around them is getting heavier, and he regrets not wearing a sweater in the morning.

“Which bus are you taking?” 

“17,” Minghao answers. “You?” 

“Oh, I’m taking 13. I remember these being such a nightmare to get used to,” Jun laughs, and Minghao nods. 

“I had to memorise the routes when I first came to Seoul. Everything felt so foreign then.”

“I know, and I used to be afraid to talk to people because i was scared I wouldn’t use the right level of politeness,” Jun grimaces. Minghao understands this perfectly.

He’s about to reply, but Jun reaches out his hand to flag down a bus. 

“It’s yours,” he says when Minghao turns to look. 

“Thanks,” Minghao reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, biting his lip. He doesn’t know if he should be asking for Jun’s number. It’s nice to meet someone form home, and it doesn’t happen that often. 

“I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow. If you wanna, you know, talk or something. I’m not a creep it’s just when my class ends,” Jun rushes to say, and moves to umbrella to shelter Minghao as he steps towards the bus.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Minghao smiles. “And thanks for the umbrella.”