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Jisung thinks there’s something surreal about empty freeways, like a whole new world blinks into existence when the sun sinks below the horizon. He thinks it’d be much nicer if there wasn’t so much light pollution, but he doesn’t dwell on that for long.
He presses his knees to his chest, and tries not to think about Changbin sitting next to him. Above them, rows of reflective signs naming exits pass by in a blur, and Jisung’s so lost in the sight that he doesn’t hear Changbin calling his name.
“Jisung?” Changbin calls.
Jisung shakes his head, trying to snap out of it.
“Yeah?” His voice is thick and scratchy from a lack of sleep, but he tries not to pay too much attention to it.
“Just wondering if you fell asleep,” Changbin responds. The silver bracelet on his wrist glints from the reflection of streetlights lining the freeway, and Jisung finds himself focused on that—anything to avoid meeting Changbin’s eyes. He feels so out of place right now, even though he has no reason to.
It’s not easy; Changbin is right there, fully awake and brimming with boundless energy that Jisung wholly understands.
Maybe it’s the time. 3:24 am is not a good time to be awake, but Jisung finds it hard to say no to Changbin and there’s something about the emptiness outside that comforts him.
The signal light clicks monotonously as Changbin switches lanes, and Jisung finds himself staring at him again. It’s not fair that Changbin gets to look presentable this time of night, with only a trace sign of eye bags and the occasional yawn that slips past.
Jisung scowls. He’s doing it again.
“Jisung?” Changbin sounds uneasy. “Did you not want to come, or...”
“No! No, I did,” Jisung blurts out. He tries to smile, tries to stop thinking so much for once in his life. Changbin is his friend. (Lately, it’s been something more, and he isn’t sure what to make of it). Either way, Jisung has his coffee order memorized and they spend time at each other’s dorms, lounging on the bed or, rarely, trying to finish assignments.
(It’s hard when they’re both so restless, itching for something more than four walls and the stifling burden of their assignments).
Which brings them here. Changbin’s changing lanes until he hits the far most right lane, sparing a glance at Jisung all the meanwhile.
“Maybe we should go back,” Changbin suggests. His hair is getting a little long, Jisung notices. Enough so that Changbin has to brush it out of his eyes every so often.
“I can drive,” Jisung offers, “If you’re tired.”
Nothing about them really clicks together, not their conversations or their personalities. They don’t fit together perfectly; there’s no flow or ease because they’re more different than anyone else realizes.
(Jisung memorizes his orders before they even enter a restaurant, but Changbin is undecided up until the moment their server comes, carefree and floating). It’s stuff like this that makes Jisung feel jagged at the edges, wondering how they even came together in the first place.
But Jisung tends to think a lot.
Changbin’s response is soft. “No, I dragged you into this. I’ll drive us.”
“I feel bad,” Jisung responds. “You already don’t sleep enough as it is, and here you are driving me around town.”
Jisung feels slightly less jagged now, like they’re learning how to fit together.
Changbin shrugs. “You don’t sleep a lot either.”
Touché, Jisung thinks grimly.
“Where’s your phone?” Jisung asks, and there’s a scary moment where Changbin has to dig through his pocket to reach for it and Jisung finds himself regretting even asking.
But he takes the phone and asks Changbin what he wants to listen to as he connects it to bluetooth. Maybe they fit together more nicely now, and Jisung is being stupid over nothing.
“See?” Changbin says over the sound of music quietly playing, “This is nice.”
Jisung looks over at him, noticing how the lights outside reflect off of him in strange angles. His hair has fallen into his eyes again and Jisung subconsciously brushes at his own forehead, even though he’d rather be doing it to Changbin.
He bites his lip, and forces himself to look away.
Outside, the sun is starting to come up. He can’t see it from the buildings and houses, but the sky is tinged pink and red and he realizes they’re probably going to see the sun rise.
“Is there,” Jisung stops, hating the roughness of his voice. “Is there somewhere we can watch the sun rise?”
Jisung doesn’t normally wake up early enough to see it, nor does he stay up that late.
“The train tracks,” Changbin offers, and Jisung didn’t even know they had train tracks. He wonders how come Changbin knows, if he goes for drives often and sleeps even less than Jisung previously thought.
They keep driving. Changbin seems to know exactly where they’re going when he exits the freeway and drives through long, winding streets that don’t look like they lead to train tracks.
Changbin presses on the gas. “We’ll make it.”
Jisung isn’t too worried about missing the sunrise, but Changbin doesn’t seem to notice.
“It’s okay if the sun is already up when we get there,” Jisung says, reaching out to turn down the volume of the music. He hates having music playing when he’s talking, but Changbin’s tired and Jisung wanted to make him feel comfortable.
Maybe Jisung would feel less jagged if he adapted, if he sacrificed pieces of himself.
No, Jisung thinks. That’s not right. Not at all.
A look outside of the dashboard tells him they’re almost there. Abandoned trains sit on the tracks, dusty and forgotten.
“We made it,” Changbin says. He sounds giddy, maybe even a little breathless as he looks over at Jisung. “Follow me. I’ll show you the best view. Forgot dorm windows. This is what we should be seeing.”
Jisung believes him wholeheartedly. He’s never looked outside of his dorm window—it faces campus—and he’s itching for something like this.
Changbin shuts off the engine, pushing open his door. It takes Jisung a few moments to do the same, and he realizes that there isn’t much of anything surrounding the train tracks.
“It’s empty,” Jisung realizes, feeling a little bit of awe. He twists in a semicircle, realizing the city is long behind them and that the train tracks are abandoned. The cold morning air stings at his face, reminding him that he is alive.
Changbin looks over at him curiously, but doesn’t ask what he means by it.
“This way.” He gestures for Jisung to follow after him, and they climb over rusty train tracks where Jisung almost busts his nose because of a wooden plank, but Changbin’s there to steady him and hold him upright, with that stupid smile on his face.
They fit together pretty well, don’t they? Maybe Jisung can look past the anxiety-inducing uncertainty when they go out to eat together.
“I’ve been here before,” Changbin confesses. Jisung wobbles from where he stands on the rail of the train tracks, his hands outstretched. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it’s getting close.
“I figured,” Jisung responds, trying to keep his voice steady. “You knew the way here.”
Changbin nods. He holds out a hand to Jisung. He doesn’t need it, not really, but Jisung grabs on anyways. He feels more balanced with Changbin holding on to him like this.
“You have sleepless nights often, don’t you?” Jisung asks. He loses his footing, stumbling down next to Changbin, who blinks in surprise.
“How can you be clumsy when I’m literally holding you?” He’s smiling. Changbin is smiling, and Jisung finds himself thinking he doesn’t care about the cookie-cutter crap he hears about. Fitting together is for the kind of people who think they have a perfect relationship but end up getting divorced at 22. That’s not them.
Jisung doesn’t let go of Changbin, even though he has no reason to be holding on. “It’s my hidden talent.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it is.” Changbin doesn’t let go of him either, and Jisung is suddenly a lot warmer than he felt a few seconds ago. They wander away from that particular set of train tracks, walking towards the abandoned trains instead.
“Is any of this legal?” Jisung suddenly questions, and that gnawing feeling is back yet again, followed by the looming presence of uncertainty. He swallows.
“Jisung, I swear to you no one’s gonna call the cops on us for watching the sunrise,” Changbin promises. He squeezes Jisung closer, arm around his waist still.
Jisung nods nervously, trying to convince himself of the fact.
Changbin gestures to one of the empty train carts. “We’re here. Try not to break any bones getting up there. Insurance is expensive.”
Jisung looks up at the train as they come to a stop. The despair must be written all over his face, because Changbin says, “I’ll help you. You trust me, right?”
It’s suddenly cold again, because Jisung finds himself shivering. Trust, he thinks. That’s scary.
Changbin is still holding him. “We can sit, if you want.”
Jisung shakes his head. So maybe this isn’t his ideal outing. Maybe anxiety is eating at him and he’s scared of wasting away because of it, but this is Changbin. There’s nothing to be scared of.
“I can do it,” Jisung says. In a smaller voice, he adds, “Maybe.”
And Changbin’s smiling, stepping away from him. He reaches for a handle on the inside of the train that Jisung never noticed, using it to propel himself up.
A few seconds later, Changbin cocks his head and says, “See? It’s not so bad.”
He holds out his hand. “Place your foot right there. Yeah, now grab the handle. I won’t let go of you. Promise. Now your other foot. Be careful, though.”
Jisung hoists himself up with a thundering heart and a roaring sound in his ears, but he doesn’t let go of Changbin’s hand.
“Okay, maybe that wasn’t so bad,” Jisung admits. They settle down on the floor together, Jisung quietly leaning into Changbin. The sun is nearing the horizon, sending patches of warmth into the morning air.
“Are you cold?” Changbin asks, pressing closer to him. “You’re shaking.”
“A little,” Jisung lies. Who gets scared from jumping onto a train?
Changbin shifts so that he’s holding both of Jisung’s hands, cupped gently in his own.
“It’s okay, you know,” Changbin says quietly. “You can be scared.”
Maybe Changbin is more observant than Jisung thought, less untethered and more concrete, solid.
“I feel stupid,” Jisung admits, and this isn’t about the train, not anymore. He doesn’t know if that’s what Changbin’s referring to.
“You get quiet when you’re thinking, you know that?” Changbin asks, like he already knows what Jisung is thinking. “I noticed it on the way here. You’re scared.”
Jisung doesn’t mean to, but he stiffens. If Changbin catches on to it, he doesn’t say anything.
“You want this—us—right?” Jisung can’t look away from his eyes, no matter how much he wants to. “I think you do.”
Jisung nods, “Of course. It’s like you said though—I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be,” Changbin reassures. It’s sweet, the way they’re holding hands and how the sun is slowly shining on them. Jisung almost forgets what he’s so worried about. “I mean, I know we’re different and we fight over stupid things, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jisung thinks he might’ve accidentally burst open a dam, because Changbin doesn’t stop. “It’s better than the whole we’re-perfect-together facade. Because none of those are ever true. You and me? We’re the real deal. 100%.”
“I’d be more concerned if we were perfect.” Changbin looks up at him with unwavering confidence. “At least this way we’ll never get bored of each other. Not too soon, anyways.”
“It’s okay, though.” Changbin gets a little quieter. “I’ll listen to your worries and anxieties. I know it’s not easy.”
Jisung leans his head against Changbin’s shoulder, feeling like he hasn’t slept in days. “I’ll listen to yours too.”
“See?” Changbin’s lips brush against the crown of Jisung’s head, a gesture of affection that makes Jisung’s heart race. “We can do it.”
Each word smoothes out the jagged edges of Jisung’s worries, dulling them down and pushing them farther and farther out of his mind.
Outside, Jisung can see the sun washing the sky in color. Streetlights wink out of existence, and the steady hum of vehicles can be heard, even from here. Everything's coming alive, slowly but surely.
“Thank you.” Jisung’s voice is thick, and he barely coaxes the words out. “For bringing me here.”
Changbin hums softly. “I’m glad you wanted to come. Not everyone wants to go on 3 am drives, you know.”
“Chan didn’t want to go?” Jisung asks, trying to hold back his laughter. “That’s not really surprising considering he sleeps like the dead once he’s in bed.”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I guess he does. Maybe him saying no was a blessing in disguise.”
Jisung tucks his knees to his chest, and leans his head against Changbin’s shoulder. “Yeah? You really think so? Because 5 minutes ago I was shaking at the idea of coming up here.”
Changbin leans against him, that way they’re supporting each other now. Hands laced and tips of their sneakers overlapping. The city feels distant, washed away by the kaleidoscope of colors pouring from the sun and filtering through the sky.
“It could’ve been worse,” Changbin muses. “For starters, you could’ve said no.”
“To you? Never,” Jisung teases.
Forget fitting together. Jisung doesn’t want that anymore. He thinks they’re fine the way they are: disconnected in one way, but connected in others. There’s more to relationships than puzzle pieces and two halves of one whole.
They’ll figure it out, step by step, little by little. They don’t need perfect. They never have. It’s like Changbin said. Those people almost never end up happy anyways, but them? He wants to believe they’re the exception, the miracle and unlikely happy ending. Changbin does too.
They’re both quiet after that, and Jisung finds himself content to sitting in an empty train box with Changbin’s fingers laced through his own, watching the world start spinning and slowly come back to life as the sun slowly rises up into the sky.
They’re okay, after all; Jisung’s okay.