Work Text:
It was 6am and Seokjin had been up since 4. He wasn’t usually awake that early but someone (who he’d like to have a word with) decided to do road work in front of his floor level apartment and since a couple of weeks ago, Seokjin’s hadn’t been able to sleep well. But even if he was tired, even if he didn’t have time to perfect his coffee like he liked to in the morning, even if his back was hurting, he wasn’t annoyed to sit behind his worn out driver seat and get comfortable, checking the mirrors and height of everything. He wasn’t bothered by the thought of working because at his first stop at 6:15am, a couple got on the bus. Namjoon and Yoongi.
“Good morning, Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon sang. Yoongi echoed him more quietly but sending him a similar beaming smile.
“Good morning, you two.” He looked at them fondly, he knew he did and he was trying not to but he couldn’t help it. Every time he thought of the two men, something in him would flutter a little - it was barely there but he knew where to find it. It was something the characters from the stories he wrote at night would feel and experience and talk about. He knew what it was but he himself could barely believe it. He had always refused to put words on it, fearing the consequences.
Maybe what always made it worse was how he could feel the fondness back. He could see how Namjoon and Yoongi’s eyes lingered on him for a second, with a smile so deep and earnest it put wrinkles in their smooth and perfect skin. Then they would look back at each other with that same expression, not one wrinkle fading out. And Seokjin would catch himself more confused than before - yet somehow more hopeful too.
They never talked much, the three of them. Seokjin was focused on the road, and though the couple was distracting and he could always feel himself catching glances at them every chance he got, he was very dedicated to his job and the safety of his passengers. However, the two of them talked often (and sometimes Seokjin would tell himself that they always made sure to talk loud enough so that he could hear them. However Seokjin had a special kind of bow in his mind where he kept such thoughts, he always pictured it made of wood and with a golden lock. In that tiny box in the back of his mind, that's where he kept all of the thoughts he had on Namjoon and Yoongi, thoughts that could hurt him a little if he wasn't careful enough.)
Namjoon and Yoongi worked together, so sometimes they would talk about the bills, or the things they didn’t get to sort out or clean the day before. That day, as Yoongi climbed in the seat closest to the window and Namjoon sat next to him, pressing their thighs, they resumed a conversation they must have begun at the bus stop.
“I’m not sure,” said Yoongi lost in his thoughts, “but I think in terms of music arrangement and melodies and such, Lush is the most beautiful album Mitski has done yet. There’s something quite religious about the whole thing and her voice on every track is just so pretty .”
Namjoon hummed. “I get where you’re coming from but Bury Me At Makeout Creek has such superior lyrics as a whole. Like First Love/Late Spring and Last Words of A Shooting Star or even Burning Hill , those are straight up poetry.”
Seokjin smiled, not looking back at them. Namjoon always talked so passionately and he just knew how big his eyes were growing right now. He knew how Yoongi must have been pouting slightly - that was just his way to get focused on the thoughts racing through his mind.
“I absolutely agree with you and we should find a way to showcase her poetry work in the book store, but,” Yoongi added with what sounded like a wince. “I think though beautiful, those works aren’t really impactful. As a woman of colour she has so many stories to tell, so many things to voice and create things that other woman of colour can relate too. I think that’s her biggest strength. Take Your Best American Girl for exemple. That’s a truly impactful song. When she sings “ Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me ”, that’s something so important that touches on both growing up with a different culture and still trying to incorporate bits of the different cultures you were born in and trying to create your own identity - but then again what is our self without the gaze of other people.”
Yoongi was rambling and the bus was empty and his words lingered in the air filled with noises from the bus. Seokjin loved it when he would get in his head and start spurring ideas like that. He was so unashamed of his thought process, it felt like he was inviting you on a boat and taking you down his stream of thoughts, letting you savour the sights and explaining every rock, tree, steam. There was something so peaceful in it that Seokjin often found himself relaxing a little more than he should be and he almost missed the next stop, having to hit the brake with more force than what was comfortable. He turned around to Namjoon and Yoongi, worried that the latter had gotten sick and flashed them a sorry smile. They looked back at him with beaming faces, two dimples and a gummy smile.
Then people got on his bus and he couldn’t hear the couple for a couple of minutes, though when he glanced in their direction they seemed to be whispering something at each other, hands intertwined while Namjoon’s free one was digging in his pocket.
The next thing he heard from them when people had sat down and he had started driving again was Namjoon still arguing his case. Seokjin looked down at his lap, a little flustered, as he thought of the other man never giving up on his convictions. It was something Seokjin had always found so difficult to do, it had always been easier to just give in. Maybe that’s how he ended up as a bus driver.
“Is it really a bad thing if a person of colour doesn’t vocally talk about being a person of colour?” Namjoon rhetorically asked. “It’s also something similar with LGBTQ+ people, is not being an activist that bad? Because not everyone builds their identity on their culture or their sexual orientation, like sometimes it’s just part of you but it’s not something you want to focus on in your everyday life too much. I’m not sure if what I’m saying makes sense…”
No, it does, thought Seokjin.
“No, it does,” said Yoongi. “But is it exhausting to be part of a minority and constantly having to fight for your voice to be heard and your rights to be respected? Yes, yes it does. Is it okay if not everyone wants to shout out their convictions and sometimes just live a quiet life? Yes, that’s absolutely fine too. But when you are an artist with a platform, I think it’s important to use it to try to make the world a better place. Which doesn’t have to be a great gesture, it can just be a singer singing about their experiences and having people relate to them.”
Namjoon sighed. Seokjin was once again entranced by Yoongi’s mind. But this time he didn’t miss the next bus stop and slowed down gently, glancing at him to check that he wasn’t getting car sick. When Seokjin turned his head towards Yoongi, he found him already looking at him, smiling. Namjoon had two fingers in the shape of an L on his chin, thinking about everything Yoongi had just said. The bus driver blushed when their eyes met and he quickly looked back down to his lap, opening the front door to let a couple of people in.
“I know where you’re coming from,” replied Namjoon after the doors had closed once again and Seokjin could hear them properly. The fleeting thought that this was done of purpose birthed in his mind but he dismissed it by putting his turn signal on to the left. “But I still stand by the stance that artists should feel free to talk about certain topics or not. Especially when their art is as personal as Mitski’s.”
“That’s valid.” Seokjin heard the distant and soft sound of lips against cheek. “I’ll still hype up Your Best American Girl more than her other songs though!”
Namjoon chuckled. It sounded like crystal clear water tumbling down grey rocks, pearls of water glistening at its surface. It sounded like music to Seokjin’s ears and he wished it was the only sound that he had ever heard before in his life, the kind of sound that mends your wounds and gives you hope. His heart grew wide in his chest and as he stopped his bus at a red light, he turned around to take them both in their glory.
The sun was still low in the sky, coming in through the right windows of the bus - the one right next to Yoongi’s seat. The couple was intertwined together, arms crossed over each other an incredible amount of times, fingers dancing together. Yoongi’s feet were resting on top of Namjoon’s feet so high up that he was almost sitting on his lap. Namjoon’s head was resting on Yoongi’s shoulders, neck bend over in what looked like an uncomfortable angle but he showed no sign of pain. Yoongi was looking down at him, eyes diving deep in Namjoon’s. They looked like they were searching something in each other, something that no words could describe.
Seokjin couldn’t take his eyes off of them and suddenly they were both looking back at him, mouth slightly open and eyes a little wide. The bus driver snapped his head back towards the road and closed his lips that had somehow parted while looking at the two of them. He stared in front of him and noticed that the red light had turned green. He started his bus again, gulping his feelings deep within him, letting them settle in his stomach and hoping they wouldn’t leave their warm alcove.
He also pushed another thought away from his mind, what must have been an illusion really. Because out of the corning of his eyes, while Namjoon and Yoongi were still intertwined and looking at him, he could swear he saw them blushing.
×××
Sometimes Namjoon and Yoongi would talk during the whole 30 minutes ride to their book store. Other times they would sit in silence, checking something on their phones or nose deep in a book. Sometimes they would just hold each other’s hand while looking at the scenery flying around them.
Seokjin had known them for almost 6 months now, and even though it did feel like he knew them, he really didn’t. He knew the time they left their home and opened their book store, he knew Yoongi’s favourite shirt and Namjoon’s favourite pants. He knew of their restless nights when neither of them could find solace in their minds. Those mornings they would have to drag their feet inside the bus, dark circles under their eyes. Those mornings they would still show Seokjin their prettiest smile.
He was just their bus driver but he knew about the kitten they had adopted a few months ago. They wanted a puppy but they were away from their home so much that the dog would have just gotten sad without someone to keep them company. Seokjin knew about their cat because they had showed them pictures. It was probably the first time they had really talked about something other than small talk. They had wanted to show him pictures. They had taken those pictures just for him .
Seokjin knew that was when he let his feelings grow a little. When he allowed himself to feel a little again. He had read the love stories he had written years ago, in search of that spark that had pushed him to put so many words on paper to describe what was just a chemical reaction in his brain. He didn’t want to let himself hope for nothing, he knew how much he was asking and how impossible it sounded - but he let his feelings grow.
And as his feelings grew, the things he noticed grew as well.
Like the way Namjoon would wet his thumb with a lick and smudge the dry toothpaste that had remained on Yoongi’s face. Or the way Yoongi would spend half of the trip trying to tame Namjoon’s hair down from their sleepy state. Seokjin would listen to them talking about the groceries they needed, how they didn’t have enough litter for their cat anymore (the cat either remained unnamed or they got too used to calling them The Cat).
They were just very domestic in a way that made Seokjin’s heart sink thinking about the empty apartment he would be coming home to at the end of the day. It made him wish he could come home with them - he could call them home .
×××
The trip that morning had started with an interesting conversation they sometimes had, conversations that always made Seokjin want to jump in and add his own argument into the mix. Conversations that he was never brave enough to partake in.
However after they had caught Seokjin staring at them, Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t talk much after that, both of them too absorbed in something on their phone. Sure, the bus driver was a little upset that he didn’t have his morning entertainment anymore, but if he was honest, feeling them next to him was enough. He wasn’t a huge believer in energies or auras or all that stuff, but he couldn’t deny how at peace he felt when they were sitting next to him on his bus. There was something calming and appeasing about their sent maybe? Or maybe it was their words? Or their overall demeanor? Or the fact that Seokjin was definitely in love with them, yes maybe that was it.
Namjoon and Yoongi didn’t talk much that morning, but they were still so intertwined together. Seokjin kept glancing at them, as discreetly as he could, and he could feel the love radiating from them. From the way they behaved, he assumed they had been together for a while. They both had similar looking rings in their fingers that they never took off, but it wasn't on the right finger. Maybe it was just a promise, he figured. A promise that most likely didn't involve him.
Around 5 minutes before their stop, Yoongi grunted and caught Namjoon and Seokjin's attention. The bus driver felt a little voyeuristic hearing about their conversations like that, but that was also part of his job right? Being a quiet and distant part of his passengers' lives.
"Another email requesting Murakami," he sighed. Namjoon echoed his grunt. "I really don't know what to do anymore…"
"We should stick to what we said," Namjoon replied firmly. "If we hope to make the entire bookshop feminist in the future, I don't see where Murakami would fit in it."
"Joonie, he'd fit because people want to read his work," his voice sounded a little sad and a little desperate and something broke in Seokjin's heart. Yoongi's eternal pout wasn't as pensive as it usually was. "Barely anyone reads books these days, if we're not even selling the ones people want to read, what's the point of having a bookshop? It's just gonna be our private collection and a place to store the plants that don't fit in the apartment and where we drink tea all day and-"
"Honey, breathe." Namjoon's voice sounded like the sweetest thing Seokjin had ever heard and when he turned around panicked by Yoongi's own panic, his eyes laid on Namjoon's strong hand taking in Yoongi's slender fingers and his other rubbing his back patiently. Yoongi had Namjoon. He was good.
"I know," Namjoon went on with a tone so comforting Seokjin was sinking in his seat. "I know how hard it is. But if we don't have our morals, what else are we going to have? And it's not like the demand for feminist bookshops isn't there, because it is. We might just eat more instant ramyeon at the end of the month." He paused, something in Seokjin told him that Yoongi must have nodded and that Namjoon had planted a kiss on his scalp. Seokjin felt weird at the thought that he could trust that something. "It's gonna be okay honey, I got you."
That’s when Seokjin realised something. He felt a little silly only realising that then but he really admired them. Ever since meeting them, he had fallen more and more in love with the couple, that was undeniable (not matter how much he had tried) but he had failed to notice how inspiring they were. How their relationship was balanced and kind and everything Seokjin had ever tried to achieve either in his stories or in his life. He also realised that most days he couldn’t tell the difference between the two, but that the fact Namjoon and Yoongi took his bus and smiled at him every morning had grounded him in this reality. Had made him want the next day to come just so he could see them again. Upon hearing them so intimate and compassionate, Seokjin realised that maybe just being their friends would be enough for him. He had been too scared to approach them on the ground of rejection, but maybe he would be contempt with just being in their life. Maybe just being their friends would be enough.
But it had been a few years since Seokjin had made an accurate guess at where his life was going to lead. It had been a few years since Seokjin had had any idea of what was going on in his life.
A heavy but comfortable silence fell between the three of them. Neither of them said anything or looked at each other (at least as far as Seokjin knew) until the couple reached their stop. Seokjin opened the back and front doors and everyone left through the back door but, like always, Namjoon and Yoongi waited for the couple of people to get in before they walked out the front door.
“Have a good day, Seokjin-ssi,” Yoongi said. It sounded like flower petals floating in the wind.
“Thank you for the drive,” added Namjoon, grasping at his lover’s hand. It sounded like watering a plant on a hot summer evening.
Seokjin gulped. They waited for his reply but he found his brain stuck on the overwhelming feelings crashing through his body. All he could do was smile, as wide and sincere as he could, and wave. His smile grew so big his eyes closed a little, and he could only catch a glimpse of Namjoon and Yoongi’s wave back at him.
He closed the front door and watched them walk away from the bus stop. After a couple of steps, they both turned around and waved some more at him. His heart sank deeper in his chest.
He turned his engine back on and drove off, already waiting for the next morning.
But about ten minutes later, as he slowed down at a red light and felt a wave of sadness hit him in the chest, missing the distant comforting chatter of Namjoon and Yoongi, Seokjin looked at their seats to his right and a piece of paper caught his eyes. He glanced back at the road, cars were still coming from the sides and his traffic light was still red. He quickly got up and reached over to their seats, extending his arms as far as he could to grab the paper. When he shifted back into his seat, the traffic light was turning green and he put the paper away in his pocket.
During lunch break, he took his time before having to join his colleagues at the cafeteria. He reached inside his pocket and took out the small piece of white paper slightly crumpled around the edges. He unfolded it and almost dropped it immediately.
Dear Seokjin-ssi,
This letter must seem awfully formal to read, and well it was awfully formal to write, but we have been trying to gather our thoughts for a few weeks now and this is the best we could do. We’re both men of words and I remember you once mentioning one of your piece of writing (that we would feel honored to get the chance to read one day), so maybe this way we would all get to say what’s on our heart.
Though we haven’t known each other for very long, and though it seems like we don’t know anything about you when we try to describe you, there is undeniably something strong between us. At least we think so. And we’ve been trying to tell you this for a while now, so guessing if you’re reading this we finally got the courage to leave the letter on your bus.
We like you. We both do, equally but differently.
I, Yoongi, love your smile. I love how your eyes wrinkle when you smile at us. There’s something really raw and honest in it. I love your sense of humour. It might sound weird considering how we haven’t had that many conversations, but I know (and Namjoon does too) that you listen to us. I see when you laugh and how you laugh. I see how flustered you get when you realise you’ve lost yourself to joy for a split second. I want to see you losing yourself all the time.
I, Namjoon, love your attentiveness and care to things. You truly care about people and it shows. I see how you sometimes let people get into your bus for free, I see how you smile at everyone, I see how you always keep an extra attentive eye on men who sit next to women. You’re quiet but your attitude speaks volume at the kind of person you are. I think you’re hiding gems under those thick impassive eyebrows, and I want to categorise all of them.
Maybe this is awfully cheesy and maybe you hate everything we’ve pointed out. Maybe we’ll have to take another bus in the morning from now on. But just in case, in the crazy eventuality that the silent looks we’ve shared together mean the same things for you they do for us, just in case, here is this letter holding our open hearts.
To make things less tragically poetic, we really like you Seokjin. We would like to get to know you better, hopefully romantically. But even if it’s just friendly, maybe that could be okay too? We’re still on the fence about that to be completely honest with you.
If we do need to change our morning bus, please tell us soon.
thank you for reading our hearts
There was one more thing scribbled at the bottom of the page in blue pen, as if it was added last minute and written on a knee in a moving bus.
this might be very intimidating to you and we realise that, two guys already in a committed relationship coming onto you. but we really sincerely like you. it’s not like you were the missing piece in our relationship - because that’s wrong, our relationship is as great as it could ever be, and it also dismisses how important you are to us. it feels like you just fit with us. like there’s a place for you. like you could come fill that space and things wouldn’t be the same, but things would be just as great. this is a bit of a ramble, sorry about that. but this morning you’re catching the light in a very breathtaking way and your brown hair looks made of gold and we’re both very flustered
♥
×××
The next morning, Seokjin woke up at 4 am again. Though the road work outside his apartment woke him up again, he wasn’t mad about it. On the contrary, he spent two hours getting ready, beaming everywhere he went.
At 6am his bus was already in front of the first stop, but Seokjin’s wasn’t sitting behind the wheel. He was outside, pacing up and down the bus stop, hands buried in the front pockets of his uniform, trying to keep his composure.
He was going over the 4th point on his “ Why telling them is a good idea ” list to keep himself calm and motivated when two silhouettes with linking arms stopped in front of him. They were shifting nervously from one leg to the other. Seokjin looked up to catch their eyes in his own. They both looked as scared as he was, somehow that reassured him and made his shoulder sink down a little. He smiled, giving it his best to recreate the kind of smile Yoongi had talked about in his letter and took out a small piece of paper from his pocket to hold it in between the three of them.
“Good morning,” he said, his throat tight. “It’s true I’m a writer,” he went on with his memorized speech, “but that doesn’t mean I know how to put words on what I’m feeling. Sometimes everything is so loud and deafening and paralyzing that you can’t help but look at it in silence, struggling to even take it all in. Here’s my letter.”
Namjoon took it from his hand with shaking fingers that brushed against Seokjin’s tight hands. Both of them must have felt the same electricity run through their bones and up their spines. The taller man gulped and opened up the paper, Yoongi leaning his cheek against his arm to take a peek. Seokjin thought that was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
The both of them looked back up at him, a little confused for a second before beaming and making Seokjin want to give everything up for them. But before he could do anything of the sort, two arms were wrapped around him and soon two others followed. His cheek was pulled close to someone’s temple and his own temple was being pressed by someone’s cheeks.
They smelled like apple tart and pine trees and cheap shampoo and old books.
They felt like home.
×××
i like you too