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New York is fucking weird. There are all sorts of people surrounding you, all on their own journeys; whether they’re tourists, transplants, or born and raised New Yorkers. There’s the constant hell of being stuffed on subway cars, bars and restaurants that suddenly become crowded as fuck after they somehow become trendy, being engulfed by groups of tourists who suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk asking if any tall building is the Empire State Building. He’s constantly surrounded by groups of people having inane conversations, and really? What’s the fucking point. He can’t help but wonder if this is really all there is to New York. If this is really the quintessential New York experience that people seek out or if it’s just constantly being so fucking alone watching others not be.
It always surprises Kun how a city with millions of nameless people you walk by each day can feel so startlingly empty, especially with the brutal cold and the dark skies when he steps out of his apartment in the morning and out of his office building at night.
-
They go out in K-Town. It’s annoying how it’s so crowded all the time now, Kun laments. Plus, it’s a freezing Saturday night in January, with leftover garbage slush from the snow earlier in the week. But Yukhei insisted on it, not wanting to trek out to Queens, and Kun isn’t going to say no to whatever Yukhei wants, especially on his birthday. So he meets up with Yukhei, Dejun, Ten, Kunhang, and Yangyang outside of BCD, waiting out in the brutal cold until they get a table for dinner.
They keep the soju flowing, Yangyang doing his best to keep up with the empty glasses, and even though Kun doesn’t really feel up to it, he’s glad he’s here with them, even if it meant leaving his apartment. They bar hop for what feels like ages and somehow end up at karaoke. Yukhei begs Kun to use his Korean so they can use the Korean catalog and he can do the Red Velvet songs. Sicheng and Yangyang also do a bunch of EXO songs, shoving a mic in Kun’s face to make him join them. They do karaoke until it’s late enough that Ten’s hands begin wandering on Kunhang’s thighs as if he’s forgotten they’re in public, no matter how dark the room is, and Dejun and Yukhei begin loudly plotting their exit even though they’re all here anyway for Yukhei.
They finally disperse into the cold night, all going their separate ways. Sicheng hates their roommates, so more often than not, they’ll crash at Kun’s after they go out on the weekends. It’s one of those nights that it seems like the Q is never fucking coming, so he and Sicheng wait on the mostly empty platform only filled with other late-night stragglers.
Sicheng is leaning against one of the poles, arms wrapped tightly around themselves bitching about how cold it is under their breath and Kun stares at the tracks, wondering if it’s normal for rats to be that fucking big.
The Q finally shows up and it’s fairly deserted. They’re able to get seats right away and Sicheng is automatically asleep on Kun’s shoulder, their arm looped through Kun’s. He lets them be and begins to mindlessly scroll through his phone, opening and closing the same 4 apps in a fit of boredom.
When they stop at Union Square, another pair of guys get on, drunkenly giggling as they sit across from them. Kun pays them no mind until he looks up and sees that the two of them mirror him and Sicheng exactly.
The one who’s awake is also scrolling through his phone, bundled up in a long grey coat and a light pink beanie with electric blue hair peeking out from under it. The one asleep is clinging onto him for dear life, his long hair completely obscuring his face. He must feel Kun’s eyes on him because he looks up. His eyes widen in surprise, almost deer-like. He has a sharp jaw and features yet everything else about him screams soft. He’s beautiful. Kun wonders if it’s normal to fall in love with strangers on the Q at 2 am.
He looks at Sicheng, asleep on Kun’s shoulder and turns slightly to look at his own friend on his own shoulder, giving a small nudge with his head. This time, he purposefully makes eye contact with Kun, smiling as if saying guess both of us are caretakers. There’s something monumental about such a minute interaction. For whatever reason, it feels special to have a moment that no one else is aware of is happening. It’s only for them.
Kun smiles back warmly and just like that, the moment is over. They both go back to their phones. He sneaks glances at him, trying to memorize his face without getting caught. For whatever reason, Kun hopes he knows that he and Sicheng aren’t together. He wonders if he’s doing the same thing until he’s shaking his friend awake and they get up right as the next stop is being announced.
He looks back at Kun one last time as they’re making their way off at Prospect Park, holding eye contact until the subway doors close. Kun wonders what the likelihood is that he’ll ever see him again as he shakes Sicheng awake, coming up on their stop next.
-
He thinks about that moment a lot.
He isn’t usually the type of person to put stock in fleeting moments like that, preferring real concrete interactions but each time he rides the subway, feeling infinitely alone, whenever he catches a glimpse of dyed hair he hopes it’s him. He’s surprised at how he’s always disappointed.
He’s thinking about it again one night that Sicheng drags him out to a concert at Terminal 5 for some indie band he loves, on a fucking weekday. Even though he whines the whole way there and back because, fuck it’s so out of the way, he’s glad he went. It feels like a way to ease him into whatever shit Ten has planned for his birthday that weekend. Luckily, it’s not as cold as it has been lately tonight, global warming is horrifying and even though he’s still wearing a parka, he has it unzipped and open. They go their separate ways transferring at Times Square, Sicheng heading to Queens and Kun back to Brooklyn.
Sicheng gives him a quick hug.
“Let me know when you get home. And let me know if you need to talk about your feelings, don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been acting sadder,” they say.
Kun is grateful for Sicheng. They know him so well, they know the best way to get him out of his head and out of his apartment, understanding how sometimes he also needs that baby step into one of their how hectic hangouts with everyone. It’s the same way Kun will destroy anyone who treats Sicheng poorly, how he’s yelled at their shitty roommates who don’t respect them. He would lay down his life for Sicheng.
“I’ll let you know if I do,” Kun replies. “This has helped though. I’ll see you soon. Text me when you get home.”
Sicheng hugs him again and Kun wonders just how sad he looks. “Yeah, Ten’s birthday, yeah?”
Kun nods and Sicheng heads to the other platform. They’re lucky enough to have a train pull up as they get down the stars while Kun has to wait, constantly refreshing Twitter and Instagram while watching the mutant rats come out and run along the track.
Once his train comes, he immediately sits down and begins to stare out the window. He watches as the concrete walls and pipes give way to the night sky. It must have started raining sometime in between him and Sicheng entering the subway and now. There’s a steady pattering of raindrops hitting the window next to him.
He thinks about how the blue-haired boy might be doing. He watches the raindrops hit the window and he wonders if he likes the rain or the cold. Or if he likes the way New York winters can be brutal while simultaneously mild. He wonders how his voice sounds and what he likes to drink in the morning; if he prefers tea or coffee. Kun wonders if he dyes his hair often and what he does that lets him have his hair dyed brightly and if he actually enjoys it.
It feels silly to think about him when he’s only been going through the motions each day but he’s a welcome distraction. He lightly taps on the window as raindrops fall on the other side of the tip of his finger.
He’s suddenly taken out of his thoughts as the train screeches to a halt at Prospect Park. He shakes off the loneliness and stands up and stretches for his own upcoming stop.
-
They end up back in K-Town for Ten’s birthday. Kun was honestly expecting it to turn into a night of queer bar and club hopping, but he’s relieved he’s doing something a lot more low key by his usual standards. The mild night from earlier in the week has carried over to tonight, to Kun’s relief. They eat somewhere else —Ten’s priority for his birthday being drinking— and they demolish two watermelon halves filled with soju before heading to karaoke already bombed.
It’s fun — he feels like he’s letting loose more than he did on Yukhei’s birthday. He feels way more present than he did then, he’s talking to everyone, he takes shots with Ten when he begs him too. He’s trying his best.
It doesn’t stop him from feeling an overwhelming sense of wistfulness when he goes to the bar with Kunhang and Ten. He watches how Kunhang makes sure he’s always touching Ten, casually draping his arm on his shoulder. Ten leans into it, carefully tracing the spot on Kunhang’s arm where Kun knows Ten’s handwriting is. They’re talking to him, including him in the conversation, but he still feels like he’s intruding on an intimate moment. Kun thinks of the scrawl of text delicately placed on his collarbone. The fact that he hasn’t met his soulmate yet doesn’t bother him too often but there are moments like this that he wishes he has.
Unlike Yukhei’s birthday, he’s heading home alone. He wishes Sicheng was here with him, wishing they were here to stop him from getting so stuck in his head. Instead, he’s alone with his thoughts and wishing, not for the first time, that the seat next to him wasn’t empty and that there was a hand laced with his. He keeps his eyes closed, fingers quietly tapping away a beat to the song he’s listening to as he barely hears the announcement of the next stop.
It feels like fate.
At Union Square, he gets on the train, also alone and sits across from Kun. His hair is no longer dyed blue, now blond and tucked under a black beanie but there’s that same jawline and chapped lips Kun has found himself daydreaming of for weeks.
Kun is just drunk enough that he can’t help how openly stares, unable to believe that whatever God is looking down at him in this hellish rat-infested city gifted him this. He notices a lot more about him this time. There’s a scar next to his eye. He has a hint of highlighter on his cheeks. He has a choker on, one of the thick black ones with a ring in the center. Kun knows it’s not the alcohol making him think that he's the most ethereal looking human being he’s ever seen. Maybe he was meant to fall in love with a stranger on the Q at 2 am last month. He drinks in every detail of him before he vanishes again.
When he looks back up at his eyes, he sees that he’s staring back at him with an expression of wonder on his face.
“It’s you,” he says mesmerized. His voice is deeper than Kun expected. He thinks of the mark on his collarbone, a neat print with those same words. Everything clicks into place and he unconsciously runs his hand where they sit.
“I haven’t stopped thinking of you,” Kun says, unable to stop himself from being so honest.
His eyes widen. He slowly gets up, not taking his eyes off of Kun.
“I’m Taeyong,” he says with a blinding smile, crossing the space between them and sits next to him.
“I’m Kun.”