Work Text:
This is what Yoongi knows:
He hates the morning commute, because everyone gets stuffed inside the trains like sardines, ignoring each other as much as they can as their personal space gets invaded out of necessity for everyone to get to work on time.
He starts coming into work earlier, taking the trains that are less crowded, where he can sometimes snag a seat at the far end, saving the seats next to the door for the elderly and pregnant. Waking up earlier is a pain in the ass, but it’s a fair price to pay for the few inches of breathing room and the boost to his sanity meter during the hour long ride. He still shows up to work grumpy and Hoseok still tells him to get more sleep, but at least he gets space on the train.
This is what happens:
A boy shuffles over at one of the early stops, clutching his briefcase in front of him as he peers at Yoongi with big brown eyes. “Is this seat taken?” he asks, and his voice is as soft as his hair. Yoongi almost misses the words in the thrum of passengers boarding and the lilting notes of piano in his earbuds, but the message is clear enough when the boy glances at the seat next to him.
Yoongi moves his bag aside wordlessly, the universal signal for no, it’s free, go ahead, setting it in his own lap and leaning back into his seat as the younger boy sits beside him. Yoongi gets a whiff of vanilla and flowers, and usually a stranger’s strong scent would bother him, but on this boy it just seems right.
The smell fades immediately anyway, so Yoongi tries to relax in his seat as the train begins moving again. The boy next to him fidgets for a few minutes, but soon he settles into his seat too, and Yoongi stops glancing at him from the corner of his eye to stare blankly ahead instead.
It’s a long ride, and his thoughts fade and wander along the notes of music in his ears. The train stops and goes, passengers disembark and the train fills up again, an endless repetitive cycle that lulls Yoongi into a daze. He thinks of freshly baked cookies and vanilla ice cream, the impossibly soft fur of the rabbit in the pet shop Namjoon had dragged him to the other day. He thinks of the row of flower pots lined up along his neighbor’s windowsill, the vivid splashes of colors against brown and white and gray, and the crisp clear blue sky of summer.
He doesn’t even notice the head leaning on his shoulder until he realizes he’s almost at his stop.
The boy’s breathing is even and the soft puffs of air tickle Yoongi’s collarbone now that he’s aware of the boy leaning against him. His hair is as fluffy as it looked, brushing against Yoongi’s cheek, and Yoongi feels. Bad.
He clears his throat.
The sound grates through his windpipes and the boy stirs slowly, lifting his head by centimeters and blinking languidly. His eyes are hazy as he stares at Yoongi, still blinking, but abruptly they clear and the boy sits straight so quickly his head smacks against the metal hand hold on the back of his seat.
Yoongi feels bad.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, wincing as the boy puts his hands to the back of his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“N-no! No, no, no, I’m the one who should be — I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I drifted off, and I, uh, drooled on your suit oh fuck,” the boy stumbles over his panic and he stares, wide eyed, at Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Hey, it’s okay —”
“No, I’ll… I’ll pay for your.” He mumbles under his breath for a moment, searching for the right words. “Your dry cleaning! Please let me pay for your dry cleaning, here, this is my. Oh no wait, um…” the boy pats his pockets desperately, moving and speaking too quickly for Yoongi to jump in and placate him. “Do you have a business card?”
“Calm down, kid,” Yoongi says, hands tightening on his bag so he won’t reach out to brush the boy’s bangs out of his eyes. “It’s fine.”
“I’m so sorry,” the boy mumbles, eyes downcast, panicked energy fading as he sinks into his seat.
Yoongi feels worse and worse, but the train is slowing to a stop and he needs to get up or he won’t be able to squeeze through the crowd to get to the door. “Listen to me,” he says, and the boy looks up with a glimmer in his eyes. Oh, god. “You didn’t mess up my suit, and you don’t need to worry about my dry cleaning.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is small. Yoongi wants to pat his head.
“I’m sure,” he says firmly. “I have to leave now, but have a good day, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The boy gives a small nod and a sniff, but it’s the most Yoongi can wait for. He stands and shuffles out of the seat, squeezing his way to the doors just as the train jerks to a stop and the doors open with a hiss.
Yoongi can barely manage a backwards glance, eyes widening in mild surprise when he finds the boy looking back at him through the gaps between people. He doesn’t look like he’s going to cry anymore, at least. He lifts his hand in a small wave, but someone shifts and Yoongi loses sight of him.
He goes to work with the tiniest furrow between his brows.
Hoseok blinks at the fading drool stain on his shoulder when Yoongi shows up at the first meeting of the day, but he doesn’t say anything, and Yoongi wonders if the boy will take the same train home.
“I… I brought you coffee, hyung.”
Yoongi blinks up at the familiar voice, wondering if he really spaced out hard enough that he didn’t notice the boy weaving his way towards him.
“How did you know I’m your hyung?” he asks, pulling out his earbuds and moving his bag aside so the boy can sit. He isn’t in the same seat as yesterday, but the train is still empty enough that he must’ve been noticeable. The boy sits carefully, setting his bag on the floor and holding out the cup as an offering.
“I guessed,” he replies, and there’s an endearing little half tilt to his smile when he talks, a quirk to his lips that Yoongi stares at until he realizes he’s staring.
He clears his throat and looks at the cup. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” the boy says shyly, hand falling to his lap when Yoongi finally takes the cup. It’s hot, the cardboard sleeve doing little to prevent heat from seeping through, but it feels nice in his cold hands. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I just got you a dark roast. Ah,” the boy rummages through his pockets and produces a handful of sugar and cream packets. “I brought these, just in case.”
Yoongi is staring again, but he can’t help it. There are little stars in the boy’s eyes, and he looks so pleased with himself — a stark contrast from the worried boy of yesterday. Yoongi doesn’t feel so bad anymore. Thinks, suddenly, of the lines telephone wires make in the sky, a constant thread in the blur of cities and homes passing by. He takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“You wouldn’t give me your number, but I wanted to repay you for letting me sleep on your shoulder yesterday and for… not getting mad about your suit,” the boy has a faint flush in his cheeks, and Yoongi takes a sip of the coffee for something to do besides stare. “I’m Jeongguk, by the way. Jeon Jeongguk. I was born in 1997.”
“I’m Min Yoongi and I’m definitely your hyung.” He pauses, savoring the bitter notes on his tongue for a moment before he squints and tilts his head. “You didn’t ruin my suit, Jeongguk-sshi, and I didn’t even realize you were sleeping on my shoulder until I needed to leave. You shouldn’t… be so hard on yourself.”
Yoongi realizes as soon as the words come out of his mouth that he’s a hypocrite and he has no place trying to give advice to this boy he literally just met, but Jeongguk smiles shyly and relaxes into his seat, leaning against his side to keep facing Yoongi.
“This is delicious, by the way,” Yoongi adds, “I usually drink black coffee, but I haven’t been waking up early enough to make it myself.”
“I’ll bring you coffee every morning, hyung,” Jeongguk declares. He looks away for a moment to stuff the sugar and cream packets back into his pockets, and then he looks back up. His hair is falling into his eyes, which are still sparkly, and his smile is blinding but… cute. Yoongi has never seen anyone pull off soft and fluffy in a three piece suit, but clearly Jeongguk has magical powers. He feels a smile tugging on his own lips, so he takes another sip of coffee to hide it.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Yoongi says, raising an eyebrow and lowering the cup to his lap. “Unless you plan on drooling on my suit every morning.”
Jeongguk snorts and immediately flushes, averting his eyes and pretending to cough as if he didn’t just embarrass himself. Yoongi grins.
“Never mind, I’m not going to bring you coffee anymore,” Jeongguk says. He looks back at Yoongi with a sly smile. “Unless you tell me what songs you were listening to yesterday.”
“Songs?”
“The music in your earbuds? I could hear it when I, um, fell asleep.” Jeongguk rubs the back of his neck, but he doesn’t look away. “They were really pretty.”
It’s Yoongi’s turn to flush. “Thanks. I composed them.”
Jeongguk’s smile turns into a look of wide eyed admiration, and the obvious awe in his eyes does a good job at keeping Yoongi’s ears burning. It’s different, talking about music with Jeongguk, who appreciates and enjoys music with a depth Yoongi’s noticed in Namjoon and lets it move his body in a way that reminds Yoongi of Hoseok.
He doesn’t fall asleep this time, and Yoongi doesn’t space out. In fact, he nearly misses his stop, the announcement filtering into his ears a second late, the doors sliding open and people rushing out like a well oiled machine that Yoongi throws a wrench into.
“See you tomorrow, hyung!” Jeongguk waves, standing slightly in his seat to watch Yoongi slip through people to get to the doors before they close. Yoongi doesn’t even have a chance to turn back and get a last look at Jeongguk; the doors slide shut and the train takes off, leaving Yoongi standing blankly on the platform, nearly empty coffee cup in hand and one earbud dangling against his chest.
The song they had been listening to — a work in progress Yoongi’s been working on for a week — finishes and slides into a completed track just as the next train arrives with a giant rush of wind and sound. Yoongi turns and hurries up the stairs before he gets pushed along by the incoming crowd, slipping his dangling earbud into his ear and swiping through the gates automatically.
Instead of going to his desk when he arrives at work, he heads straight to the studio. He doesn’t emerge until hours later, when the office is filled and Hoseok has popped by three times to remind him about another meeting coming up in a few hours.
“Did you stop by for coffee?” Namjoon asks, peering at the empty cup Yoongi sets on his desk. He squints and tilts his head to see better. “You told the barista your name was ‘Train Hyung’?”
Yoongi blinks slowly at Namjoon, his heart stuttering strangely in his chest when he finally notices the scrawled handwriting on the side of his cup.
“It was a gift,” he says. “There was this kid on the train and he just — he just felt bad for something that happened yesterday.”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Yoongi like he knows there’s more to the story, but he doesn’t press it.
Yoongi leaves the cup on his desk for the rest of the day. He doesn’t notice, but Namjoon wisely says nothing about the little smile on his face every time he looks at it.
Yoongi saves Jeongguk a seat every morning, and Jeongguk brings him coffee with enough regularity that Hoseok and Namjoon start planning their work activities based on which days Yoongi will have the caffeine boost to handle meetings with their other coworkers.
“Where did you get this from?” Yoongi asks one morning, a few months into their daily routine, when Jeongguk shows up with a stainless steel tumbler instead of the usual paper cup and cardboard sleeve.
“Oh, it’s mine,” Jeongguk says casually, setting his bag down by his feet. “You can just give it back to me tomorrow, hyung.”
Yoongi looks at him suspiciously, but the drink is steaming hot and tastes even better than usual. “This is delicious. Thanks, Gguk-ah.”
Jeongguk has that cute faint flush on his cheeks again, but he just giggles and shrugs. “Hey, hyung, finish telling me the story from yesterday — why did Namjoon-sshi try to take dance lessons from Hoseok-sshi’s friend?”
Yoongi takes another sip and pretends it’s the coffee that’s warming him down to his toes and not Jeongguk’s smile, but in the back of his mind he knows he can’t kid himself.
Jeongguk is cute, endearing, and incredibly hardworking, as evidenced by the mornings he pulls out his laptop to finish up some reports before they’re even due, humming along to the songs coming through one of the earbuds Yoongi shares with him. He’s also just as much of a perfectionist as Yoongi is, and Yoongi spends a few morning rides just petting Jeongguk’s hair as he leans against his shoulder, neither of them listening to music at all.
Those are the mornings Yoongi talks about himself the most, sharing stories about his first forays into the music production industry and the times he had to redo songs fifty times over before they were accepted by his bosses. Jeongguk doesn’t say much those mornings, but he always makes a funny soft sound in the back of his throat when Yoongi has to leave, his eyes liquid brown and sad when Yoongi stops petting his hair.
Those are the days when Yoongi pauses by the corner store on his way back home from work, wondering if he’ll finally be able to buy a silly snack to cheer Jeongguk up the next morning. It shouldn’t be weird, but what if it is? Jeongguk brings him coffee all the time, but this feels like a bigger step, like the strawberry Pocky will be a sign for how much Yoongi really likes him.
And what if Jeongguk doesn’t think of him that way — what if he’s just his cool train hyung who drinks black coffee without sugar like some kind of monster? Jeongguk has a friend group that sounds just as supportive as his own, and the stories he shares about Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jimin’s shenanigans make him smile to himself in the middle of work. Yoongi tells himself that his smiles are because they get into the craziest situations, but that’s only halfway true. The other half is the way Jeongguk lights up when talking about his friends. It’s obvious he cares for them a lot, even though he’s definitely a brat to all of them.
He’s a brat to Yoongi, too, but Yoongi eventually finds out that Jeongguk hardly ever lets his other hyungs know when he’s feeling down. Apparently, they figure it out themselves, but Jeongguk doesn’t like to worry them.
Yoongi tries not to spend too many nights running endless circles about what it could mean that Jeongguk chooses to share his bad days with him. What it could mean that Yoongi tells Jeongguk things he doesn’t even share with Hoseok or Namjoon.
Finally, he comes to a conclusion. He knows he likes Jeongguk, and he knows he likes him a lot. Right now, that’s all that should really matter.
The first time Yoongi drops a box of Pocky in his lap, Jeongguk’s eyes sparkle so much Yoongi wants to call NASA and ask if all the stars are still in the sky.
Yoongi finds out that his coffee delivery depends on the mornings Jeongguk wakes up earlier to work out, because he showers fast and swings by the cafe next to his train station with enough time to make it to the end of the platform where the last car will slide into place. Yoongi always sits in the last car, even though it isn’t as convenient to reach the stairs later, because it makes it easier for Jeongguk to find him.
Jeongguk always finds him.
They finally exchange numbers when Jeongguk goes on a business trip for a week, and Yoongi gets caught grinning at the silly selfies Jeongguk sends him during meetings.
“Something funny, Yoongi hyung?” Hoseok asks, but there’s a sly look in his eye as if he knows exactly what Yoongi’s smiling about. “How’s Jeonggukkie’s business trip going?”
They haven’t met him yet, but they know enough about Jeongguk and Yoongi to think they have the right to tease Yoongi about him. They’re absolutely right.
Yoongi doesn’t bother trying to hide it from them, because Hoseok gives good hugs when he’s distressed about Jeongguk’s dimples and Namjoon never comments on the decidedly sweeter songs he’s been producing lately.
“He’s having a good time,” Yoongi says, still grinning at his phone. “Apparently Taehyung slipped a few print shirts into his suitcase, so Jeongguk’s been mixing up his ties with his plain shirts and hoping nobody notices.”
“I’d like to meet this Taehyung kid,” Hoseok declares, and Namjoon nods enthusiastically. “He probably has great fashion sense.”
“Maybe, but he makes Jeongguk’s life a little hard sometimes,” Yoongi says absently, smiling as another photo pops into his screen.
“It’s a good thing he has you then, huh,” Namjoon says, but Yoongi doesn’t catch it. He’s too busy laughing at the ridiculous filter Jeongguk’s added to his latest photo.
The day after Jeongguk comes back is also the day some event is happening in the city, so despite the early hour, the trains are packed. Yoongi makes it into the last car, but there’s nowhere to sit, so he shuffles over towards the middle between doors and hopes Jeongguk will be able to see him in the crowd.
He keeps his eyes peeled when they arrive at Jeongguk’s stop, but there are too many people and he’s — annoyingly — just a little bit too short to see over everyone’s heads.
“Hyung!” Yoongi spins in place and meets Jeongguk’s eyes. He had entered from the other door, but he’s slowly fighting his way through the grumbling masses to make it to Yoongi.
“Hey, you,” Yoongi breathes, eyes sweeping over Jeongguk when he finally stops right in front of him. Jeongguk grins, his hand coming up to grab the strap dangling from the ceiling railing.
“Sorry I fell asleep on you last night, hyung,” Jeongguk says, swaying into him as the train lurches into movement. He’s got that pretty flush on his cheeks, but he doesn’t move away from Yoongi. He has his briefcase secure between his legs, and he keeps his eyes on him as he slowly lifts his free hand to rest on Yoongi’s waist.
“It’s okay,” Yoongi says, not moving a muscle. “It was kinda nice hearing your snoring without the train background noise.”
Jeongguk wrinkles his nose, but he’s grinning. “I don’t snore, hyung!”
“I’ll record it next time,” Yoongi says. Jeongguk’s hand is heavy and warm on his waist. Very carefully, letting the train sway him as if he doesn’t have more control of his own body, Yoongi leans into Jeongguk.
He puts his free hand on Jeongguk’s shoulders, careful careful careful. Still facing him, watching the way Jeongguk’s eyes flicker over his lips and nose and eyes, the way Jeongguk’s throat moves when he swallows.
“Too short to reach the handles, huh, hyung?”
Yoongi makes a face. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
“Of course.” His hand tightens on Yoongi’s waist. “I won’t let you fall.”
Yoongi looks up into Jeongguk’s eyes, curved with his smile and sparkling with something warm. Thinks of the bright burst of pop music in his playlists now, the lock screen on his phone featuring Jeongguk’s eyes peering up through a video chat screenshot. Thinks of the stainless steel tumbler nestled safely in his bag and the glimpse of a coffee machine in the background of a recent selca.
“Too late.”
“Hey, hyung, how do you always have an empty seat next to you?”
Yoongi can feel his ears starting to burn, so he looks away and mumbles, “I tell everyone I’m saving this seat for someone.”
“Oh? For who?” Jeongguk is grinning cheekily so Yoongi grumbles and swats at his arm, which just makes him laugh. He laces their fingers together and keeps grinning at Yoongi, waiting.
For the love of my life.
“For this punk kid. He's a tall guy, drools in his sleep. You might know him."
“That was one time!"
“He’s my boyfriend now, so the height is okay. The drool, though —”
“God, hyung,” Jeongguk laughs, leaning forward to press a quick kiss on Yoongi’s lips, effectively shutting him up. “You can just say you love me, it’s okay.”
I love you, Yoongi thinks, and he sees peppermint candy and the sparkling light of the ocean and a boy who sees too much, works too hard, and makes Yoongi feel like everything good in the world is wrapped up in his smiles.
“Sometimes he snores in his sleep, too —”