Chapter Text
Jisung meets minho on the tube.
It’s a Monday, and its New York City, and everything is so hectic that Jisung just wants a fucking break. He won't get it, of course. There’s no time, not in New York.
The tube is uncomfortably crowded and reeks of broken dreams and sweat. There is an obese lady sat opposite him, holding a wine bottle and crying into her hands. Everyone ignores her, although Jisung catches people giving her troubled glances every now and then.
He can’t tell whether it’s disgust, sympathy or relation that he reads in their eyes.
He’s busy watching the woman, morbidly fascinated by the way that she’s sobbing as if her world is ending, when a boy speaks up next to him.
The boy smells like coffee and vanilla bean, and it’s overwhelmingly natural and so fresh amongst the reek of the tube that Jisung just wants to lean in and sniff him for hours. His features are sharp but soft at the same time, so beautiful that Jisung can only call it godly. His catlike eyes are wide and the colour of honey, and when he speaks his voice is just as smooth. Looking back, Jisung had fallen in love before he had even opened his mouth.
“I’m really sorry, but uh. Can you please-” and the rest of it fades into shy mumbling that Jisung can’t work out.
“I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Do you mind repeating yourself?” Jisung asks, tone much gentler than it would usually be if a stranger had approached him and asked him a favour. He has to fight a smile when he notices the furious blush dusting the other boy’s cheeks.
“I don’t...have my earphones. As in, I forgot my earphones. Um. Do you mind if I take one of yours? I can’t really function without listening to music. It- yeah. Sorry, I know it’s a really odd request, feel free to refuse, sorry. Sorry.”
Jisung blinks, once, twice, and then a third time in furious succession.
Wordlessly, he offers the boy the airpod that he took out to speak to him, and offers him a smile.
The guy smiles back, and his eyes crinkle at the corners in such an endearing manner that Jisung could cry over this man’s beauty.
They sit in silence, hip-hop tracks blasting through Jisung’s airpods, until they reach Minho’s stop.