Work Text:
Wonwoo wakes up in a mood better than most, the summer sun’s morning call casting deep orange hues across the whites of his tiny-but-cozy bedroom.
Instead of hitting the snooze button and ignoring life for an extra 15 minutes of sleep, Wonwoo flips his legs off the edge of the bed, his feet searching for slippers. Serenity blue, Wonwoo’s favorite of the two 2016 Pantone Colors of the Year. The Rose Quartz pair were given to his roommate, Mingyu, who proceeded to wear them for a month to his university classes and ultimately lost the left one in what he says was an ‘epic game of tug of war with a cute fluffy dog at the park.’ The dog won.
Feeling unusually productive at 6:30 am, Wonwoo tidies his bed and steers himself in the direction of the kitchen, failing to block out the obnoxiously loud snores coming from Mingyu’s room. He seriously needs to get that checked Wonwoo thinks as he brews his first cup of coffee for the day.
He gathers his belongings in preparation for his lovely commute to work. And by lovely, he means the grueling hour long car-and-train-combination it takes to get into the city. Why he chose to live out of town instead of in the city, where he works? Ask inflation.
The door to his apartment closes behind him, Mingyu’s hearty snores still heard from the hallway of Wonwoo’s building. He sends his roommate a text to get your snores checked. i'm serious dude there’s something really wrong and heads to his car, allowing the muscle memory embedded in his subconscious to lead the way to his workspace.
The drive doesn’t take as long as it usually does. Wonwoo questions what he did to deserve a pretty decent morning. He vows to fix up his bed every morning in exchange for good karma as he heads to the train station from the parking lot, entering the coffee shop he visits when his first cup of coffee isn’t enough...in other words, every single morning. Jeonghan, the shop’s barista, already has Wonwoo’s second cup of morning brew ready and waiting, and they exchange ‘hellos’ and ‘good mornings’ as quickly as they exchange their bills and change.
Wonwoo’s about to exit the shop when he hears Jeonghan mutter an oh shit, it’s him. Jeonghan quickly swipes his hand through his hair and checks his reflection in the metal of the espresso machine next to him. That’s a new occurrence, Wonwoo thinks, but so is the shop patron with an unnaturally soft smile and deep brown doe eyes that he passes by on his way out. Wonwoo nods his head in acknowledgement, and leaves.
He can hear the train approaching as his feet align with the yellow “caution” painted on the concrete tracks. The whoosh of the train turns into a screech as the brakes bring the train to a halt, and as the doors open Wonwoo makes his way to his usual seat. With the amount of times he’s sat in the same spot, he’s surprised it hasn’t already molded to his bodily curves (or lack thereof).
Wonwoo walks through the aisles, looking for an empty seat in the first train car, only to be greeted by rows and rows of lolling heads in shades of grey and white. Did an entire senior citizen center decide to take a day trip to the city today? How dare they? As annoyed as Wonwoo is, he passes through the train vestibule and into the second train car, where he’s immediately embraced by the sounds of three screaming toddlers and a group of teenagers blasting trap music from their phones at max volume. The first train car wouldn’t treat me like this, Wonwoo complains, longing for the peace and quiet that his usual seat provided him with.
Wonwoo finds an empty three-seater and slides in until his hip lays flush against the window. He takes a deep breath and allows himself to slowly be engulfed by the surrounding sounds, in hopes that he would eventually grow numb to the occasional screeches and the rhythmic gibberish that people call rap nowadays. Nah…fuck that he thinks to himself. He pulls his obnoxiously large noise cancelling headphones over his ears (“Yes, Mingyu, they’re completely necessary and the size only helps diminish the surrounding noise, you idiot.”) and queues up one of his favorite Modest Mouse albums (“YES, they’re still relevant. Not everyone listens to brain-rotting music like you, Mingyu. I mean… seriously? You listen to Rebecca Black every Friday.”)
Once he’s completely sure that nothing else can be heard but sweet indie beats and guitar twangs, he pulls out his sketchbook and wills himself to get into the zone – defined by Wonwoo as a period of enough focus and concentration on his work to make his one hour commute feel like 15 minutes. He starts storyboarding illustrations for a new children’s book he’s working on when he’s suddenly greeted by a blinding light, so conveniently directed at the open page of his sketchbook.
What in the world of warcraft is disrupting my zone time, Wonwoo squints as he slowly trails his view towards the light’s origin. It’s the moment Wonwoo’s eyes make contact that the sun decides to completely bare itself from the clouds spotting the sky, and place itself right behind the culprit.
For a few seconds, all Wonwoo can see is a silhouette surrounded by a sea of golden yellows and pastel blues. As his eyes adjust to the light, he starts to process the profile of a young man. The sun’s effects start to dim as it disappears behind the thick clouds, but Wonwoo swears the sun somehow found it’s way into the train car because this boy was blinding. His hair rivals the hues of the sun’s rays, a mixture of muted blondes and glowing yellows blending together, his locks resting neatly-yet-not-neatly-enough over his forehead and ending just a little bit below his eyebrows.
Wonwoo takes note of his neon yellow shirt and decides against looking directly at it, because he knows for damn sure his insurance doesn’t cover blindness, and redirects his attention to the gold-plated watch resting daintily on his wrist. As if the sun decides that it’s the funniest star in the center of the universe, it appears for a split second and Wonwoo is greeted by a searing burn as the light bounces from said gold watch directly into said Wonwoo’s eyes.
What fucking anime is this? He scoffs as he turns away and takes a few moments for his pupils to recover from the overexposure, furiously blinking away the black sunspots floating in his sight. He checks his watch and damn he’s already lost five minutes of his precious zone time because of dumb Sunny Boy. Hah, Sunny boy….good one. He reopens his sketchbook to continue where he left off.
Wonwoo eventually finds himself at his office building, fine-tuning the line work on his finished sketches from this morning. He walks over by the far wall of his studio to where his paints lay rested on multiple shelves, and begins to plan out his color palette. Every color but one was picked with ease – because for some odd reason, he couldn’t spot a yellow that was bright enough.
––
The next morning, Wonwoo prays to the god of trains in hopes that he gets his usual seat. Yesterday’s commute didn’t quite cooperate. He boards the train and heads towards the first car, eager to see if his seat is vacant, and mentally fist-pumps in his brain when he spots the empty seat. He physically fist pumps as well, for extra emphasis on his excitement, but he suddenly slows at the sight of the sun shining on his seat.
All alliterations aside, a weird feeling creeps up on Wonwoo, and he changes his mind about sitting there. He starts to question his existence as he heads to the second train car for the second day in a row, trying to convince himself that he’s hit a snag at work lately and needs a change of scenery in order to spark new inspiration. Yeah, that’s it.
He finds himself in the same seat as the previous day, hip once again flush against the window. Luckily, no screaming kids or trap music can be heard, so Wonwoo opts for the train’s self-composed soundtrack instead of his usual indie rock mixes. He pulls out his sketchbook and smoothes out the open page in front of him, ready to storyboard more ideas.
The train vestibule doors open as the conductor walks through, readying himself to collect tickets for the morning. Wonwoo doesn’t even waste his energy pulling his monthly pass out, as he and Coups, said train conductor, are on an ‘I see you every morning so there’s no need to see your pass everyday’ basis. There’s no way Coups is his real name though, Wonwoo thinks.
He keeps his eye on the conductor as he makes his way through the seats, punching people’s tickets and rendering them unusable. Wonwoo smirks as Coups lingers too long at one of the rows, smiling brightly at a passenger with a hair color rivaling the neon green highlighter currently resting in Wonwoo’s canvas pencil case.
Coups passes Wonwoo’s row, giving him a nod and an expression that reads I thought you sat in the first car but whatever you can do what you want, and continues through the car. Wonwoo focuses his attention back to his storyboarding when he hears a voice yell “COOUP COOUPS! Get it, like the sound a train makes?” immediately followed by what sounds like a snort, a cough, and a five-year old’s giggle all combined into one. Wonwoo, curious as to who the hell would want to be this annoying at seven in the morning, looks over the back of his seat towards Coups, whose shoulders are bouncing in reciprocated laughter.
He disregards the train conductor, though, because his eyes are immediately caught on what he thinks is the brightest smile he’s ever seen on a human being. It’s him – it’s Sunny Boy again, and Wonwoo takes a moment to observe the boy’s face. It’s not even his smile that Wonwoo latches onto at first, but how the rest of his facial features respond to it. His cheeks, rosy due to laughter, billow in such a way that Wonwoo swears he could pop them with a little boop. Sunny Boy’s eyes, though, are probably the most striking if Wonwoo had to be honest. If the little crinkle on the bridge of his nose was the center of the sun, his eyes were the rays, tilting at the perfect slant away from the center of his face and radiating more warmth than the sun could ever dream of making.
His face is like a smiley face emoji, Wonwoo thinks as he turns back to his sketchbook. He decides to pull his headphones on after all, to prevent being further interrupted by unexpectedly loud noises or giggle-snorts.
At work later in the morning, Wonwoo asks the intern what time it is, to which he receives a there’s a clock on the wall over there go check yourself as an answer. Well, thanks Chan. Remember that when your internship is over and you’re looking for a full time job, Wonwoo scoffs as he checks the time. It takes him a moment to read the analog clock, because it’s 2017 and everything is digital nowadays. 10:10, he finally reads as he grabs his pencil and starts to sketch the character for his book.
Wonwoo always thought the eyes were the hardest feature to draw, and this time is no excuse. He spends hours trying to perfect the eyes, trying to figure out where he’s going wrong along the way. A bit frustrated at the lack of progress, Wonwoo scraps his 30th piece of paper and starts doodling, hoping the mindless doodles will help spark some new ideas. A few mandalas, traditional tattoo style roses, and three poop emojis later, he turns his attention from his desk to the floor of his office, where the sun has cast glowing streaks through the blinds of his window. Wonwoo’s hand starts to move on his own, and by the time his eyes could catch up to the rest of his brain, a small sun appears on the corner of his paper, right above the third poop emoji.
––
Wonwoo wakes up the next morning with the sun shining on his face and a headache throbbing through his temples, and a breathy nooooooo makes its way out of Wonwoo’s mouth right as his body rejects his brain’s commands to get out of bed. The smell of caffeine wafts its way into his room, and he’s sorely reminded of the reason why he’s in such a shitty mood so early in the morning.
“Good morning sunshine,” a voice calls from the kitchen as Wonwoo half-zombie-walks, half-angrily-stompts towards the coffee machine.
“...Minghao,” Wonwoo replies, hardly carrying enough energy to say one more word.
“Sleep well? We sure did.” Wonwoo finally looks at Minghao, donned in nothing but boxers and a coffee mug in hand, and swears the smirk emoji was based off of the expression that Minghao currently holds on his face.
Wonwoo pours his coffee into a thermos, grabs his bag and heads towards the door. That moment, the morning birds decide to pay Minghao a visit in the form of both Wonwoo’s slender middle fingers, and he slams the door shut in tandem with Minghao’s laughter. He pulls out his phone and sends Mingyu an angry dude...we need to re-discuss ground rules because last night was NOT okay and makes his way to the train station.
This time, Wonwoo immediately heads towards the second train car because third time’s a charm. What exactly is he trying to charm by sitting in the second train car? He’s not quite sure, but it’s too late to turn around without looking like a fool.
He passes by a couple on his way to his seat, a dusty blonde boy asleep on the shoulder of another. The human pillow, a friendly-looking face with full cheeks and hair that changes from blonde to light pink depending on the light, gives Wonwoo a small smile as he walks by. Wonwoo, despite having a bummer of a morning, smiles and nods back in reply, looking over at the sleeping boy once more before making his way to his seat.
Why does that guy look so familiar? Wonwoo asks himself as he places his headphones over his ears after settling in his seat. He scrolls through the albums on his phone until his finger stops at the soundtrack to The Titanic. Fucking Mingyu, my phone must have synced this album after that one time he decided to go on a dramatic romance OST binge using my laptop. He started his Cream playlist, because who doesn’t love a good blues rock medley to start the day, and once again pulls out his sketchbook to get some work done.
Wonwoo is able to get a decent amount of sketching completed before he starts getting distracted by a pendulum of blurred blues and whites, rhythmically swinging at the edge of Wonwoo’s peripheral vision. He turns slightly, his eyes following the constant swing of the colors, which happen to contain itself in the form of calf socks. Calf socks on the feet of none other than Sunny Boy himself. Wonwoo’s… not as surprised as he should be, and he shakes his head in potential defeat.
His eyes follow the back and forth movement of Sunny Boy’s foot, the ankle and bottom half of his calf nestled inside an array of gradient blues, the hues broken up by multiple fluffy clouds. His socks have clouds on them. He’s literally walking on clouds. Damn...I’m actually funny, huh.
Sunny Boy is too focused on the screen of his phone to notice his row mate staring at him from across the aisle, his thumbs furiously tapping his screen as his leg, crossed over the other, kicks in beat. Wonwoo, distracted by how the the tempo of the Cream song currently playing through his headphones doesn’t match that of Sunny Boy’s kicks, slowly shrugs his headphones off. The guitar riffs are immediately replaced by congo drums, synthetic claps, and a never ending stream of ring ding dongs radiating from Sunny Boy’s phone. Wonwoo is a bit confused until the music stops and boy in question rises from his seated position with a victorious fist punched in the air. Sunny Boy slowly retracts back into his seat as he whispers full combo while looking at his phone, starry-eyed by his accomplishment.
What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On. Wonwoo, still confused, turns back to his sketchbook, headphones finding their way back to shielding his ears from the surrounding sounds. He continues to sketch, but is now accompanied by the swinging clouds infiltrating the corner of his view.
He decides to work on the landscape illustrations for his book that day, pulling every blue hued paint tube he could find in his studio for his painted sky, and ends up adding a few more clouds than he initially planned.
––
For the next few days, Wonwoo chooses to sit back in his old seat, the first car calling his name as soon as he steps foot on the train. The past three days were nothing but distractions, and Wonwoo hopes that moving back to his old seat could help make up for the amount of zone time he’s lost.
He’s right in the fact that he gets many sketches done. The sketches, however, turn out to be a load of garbage, and Wonwoo releases his frustration in the rips and tears of his sketchbook pages. The deadline for his book is fast approaching, and Wonwoo can’t risk being late. Mingyu always makes fun of him, because Wonwoo, your dream is to have an entire shelf in the children’s section of Barnes and Noble filled with your books? That’s almost as lame as Minghao writing Your Name fanfictions at 3am in the morning – but to Wonwoo, it’s a pretty big deal.
Running out of ideas on how to break through his creative block, Wonwoo decides that he might try to sit in the second train car again. For science, he tells himself, as he walks through the aisle to the row he made himself familiar with days ago. He slides into the seat, all the way to the window as per usual, and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in the ambience that is his morning train commute.
Wonwoo feels the friction of the train against the tracks, letting his body sway with the movement of the car. He hears the train horn blaring, signaling its presence to the world outside. His fingertips graze over the rough, nylon blend fabric that covers the seats, the cushions underneath gently dipping against the weight of his body. He feels a warmth, slowly rising from the soles of his feet to the tips of his brown hair.
Wonwoo opens his eyes and finds himself blanketed in the golds and yellows that the sun brings on summer mornings. He turns his head towards the window allowing the sun in and his eyes meet with a familiar silhouette. Sunny Boy.
Wonwoo traces his eyes around the contours that the sun creates around Sunny Boy, noticing the way his elbow is propped against the train’s window sill, chin resting gently in the palm of his hand. His eyes are closed, and Wonwoo can’t help but be mesmerised by how ethereal this boy looks against the golden backdrop. Sunny Boy’s eyes open slowly, wide-eyed as his attention is directed beyond the window towards the sky. The sun seems to react to his admiration, and the rays start to shine brighter than before. Sunny Boy simply smiles in reply.
Wonwoo knows exactly what he’s missing. All he needed was the sunshine.
––
His coworkers throw him a mini celebration party, which, by Chan’s definition, is a cheese and cracker tray placed haphazardly on the meeting room table, two bottles of white wine, and a piece of college lined paper with a “nice one, wonwoo” hastily scribbled on it in orange sharpie. Wonwoo says his thank you’s and heads back to the desk in his studio, his final published book grasped in his hands.
His supervisor passes by the studio and tells Wonwoo to stop by HR on his way out, which happens to conveniently be at that moment. Jun, the magenta-purple-haired HR manager with permanent bedroom-eyes embedded into his eye sockets, waves him into his office as Wonwoo exits the elevator.
“So, Wonwoo,” Jun starts, “First I just want to congratulate you on your book! It’s pretty cute, my little brother talks about it nonstop.”
“Thanks man, means a lot,” Wonwoo says, choosing this default reply as opposed to aww, you shouldn’t have, you’re too sweet.
Jun leans forward over his desk, resting his head in one hand, a pen in the other. “Secondly, you can stop complaining about your morning commute. And nope, don’t deny it, because I hear you complain all the time.” Wonwoo starts to retort, but he’s interrupted by Jun’s pen suddenly pressed against his lips.
“Shush, let me finish. Anyway, boss decided to give you a raise as a reward for how well your book is doing. Which means,” Jun wiggles his eyebrows, “you can probably afford to move somewhere closer to work, you feel me?” He drops the pen on his desk and leans back in his chair, looking downright accomplished at the way he broke the news.
Wonwoo sits and takes a moment to process what Jun just relayed to him, and immediately rises from his chair in realization and excitement. He throws a quick thanks jun in Jun’s general direction and rushes out of the building, emotions elated at the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with his commute anymore.
He finds himself sitting in the first train car, heading back to his apartment. The sun is setting, painting deep golds and purples against the bright blues that were once a part of the sky’s day. It’s starting to disappear earlier and earlier everyday, a signal that the summer sun is starting to make its slumber.
As the train moves closer and closer to its destination, Wonwoo watches the sun behind the horizon. A weird feeling starts to settle in his heart.
He’ll miss watching the sun rise on the train every morning.
– ☀ –
The doorbell rings, and Soonyoung immediately jumps from his living room couch in excitement. My niece is here! She’s here and we’re gonna have sooo much fun!! He does a little dance and giggles out a Yeehaw!! as he moonwalks sideways over to his front door, instantly answering a door with an eager “Hello!”
He’s greeted by his five-year-old niece, a bright orange backpack securely balanced on her tiny little shoulders and her parents, Soonyoung’s sister and her husband Seokmin, standing behind her. His niece runs into the house with no hesitation, while his sister gives him the “you have our number, call us if you need us, don’t forget she’s allergic to pineapples” lecture he always receives whenever he babysits. He throws a pair of finger guns at his brother-in-law, who returns them accompanied with a piercing smile, and Soonyoung sends them off on their way. A gust of autumn chill makes its way through the doorway as it closes, reminding Soonyoung that winter is coming. He also really needs to catch up on Game of Thrones.
“Well…” he walks into the living room and finds his niece on the couch, already familiar with the blankets and cushions that lay across it, “I was going to take you to the park, but it looks like the sky isn’t agreeing with us today, princess.” He turns towards the window and frowns slightly at the sky, where a single cloud, probably the size of this entire town, Soonyoung thinks bitterly, decided to make its home for the morning. “Do you have anything else you want to do?”
“Uncle Soonie! Mom bought me a new book and I want you to read it to me!” She yells excitedly as she pulls open her backpack and yanks out a quaint little storybook with hand-drawn illustrations. Soonyoung decides to make himself cozy on the couch, because storytime should always be cozy, as his niece followed suit. She hands him the book and softly claps her hands together, undoubtedly looking forward to reading this book with her favorite, albeit only, uncle.
Soonyoung flips through the book, reading each sentence as his niece hovers her hand over the words in tandem. It feels..familiar, for some inexplicable reason. He turns the page and jumps at the sudden movement of his niece, as she jerks her head towards him, then back to the page, and back to him again.
She points to one of the illustrations of the main character and proceeds to shriek in surprise.
“Uncle Soonie!! This boy looks just like you! He has yellow hair! And both your eyes go like this!!” She pulls her hands towards her eyes, slanting her pointer fingers down towards her nose, and Soonyoung laughs… but maybe his niece is onto something.
He notices the messy mop on the character's head, dosed in shades of bright yellow. He notices how the characters’ eyes turn into charcoal-painted strokes that slant down towards each other slightly whenever the character smiles. He notices the little rose blush painted subtly on his cheeks and notices how the character wears silly patterned socks. He also notices the familiar expression the character makes whenever he’s standing in the warmth of the sun; bliss, satisfaction, a radiation of pure joy.
“Huh...weird!” Soonyoung can’t stop smiling, and continues to read the book to her in its entirety, his trademark goofy smile failing to leave his face. “It does sort of look like me, doesn’t it?”
He closes the book and hands it over to his niece, who jumps off the couch and toddler-waddles towards the window, the book clutched tightly in her little arms. He watches as she flips through the pages on her own, fingers tracing the illustrated blues and yellows. Soonyoung’s eyes, full of admiration, slowly wander from his niece to the window.
It’s that moment that the sun decides to break free from the clouds that held it captive for a majority of the morning, and the living room is instantly bathed in a warm golden glow.
It’s sunny, once again.