Work Text:
Every adult hates three things in their lives: taxes, traffic, and taking the trains during rush hour.
The first is technically avoidable if you’re slick enough to game the system and have the right connections. How else do you think the uber-rich stay rich and enjoy their cake too?
The second one is somewhat unpredictable in nature. You have your good days when mostly every person behind the wheel drives with common sense. And then you have your bad days when one idiot driver wakes up and chooses violence, swerving into different lanes without any heads up, and bam—traffic jam.
But the trains during rush hour? It’s unavoidable and predictable. You suffer through it every day, waiting on the grimy platform for an eternity before fighting your way into the cramped train car similar to a sardine can. This daily torture makes Dante’s journey through the nine circles of Hell look like a nice walk in the park.
You sigh in relief once the doors close and the train moves. The hard part is over. You grab the pole, mindlessly staring at the bland ads on the walls. Ironically, they blend into the background with their depressing color scheme, an awful execution to sell their products, but a perfect backdrop for a certain someone’s messy purple hair.
His hair is the first thing you know about him. The second is his commute—he’s on the same morning train as you when going to work and on the same evening train heading back home. And the last thing is his name: Shinsou Hitoshi. It was printed across his employee badge that hung on his belt pocket the other day. That’s all you know about him, yet he doesn’t feel like a total stranger to you.
Shinsou is more like a familiar acquaintance. A handsome acquaintance if you say so yourself. He leans against the door with his broad shoulders stretching out his white collar shirt. The top buttons are undone, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck after suffocating him the entire day at work. But it’s his rolled-up sleeves that catch your attention as they show off those muscled forearms that you know are strong. You know they will feel so good wrapped around you all day and all night long. You know they will keep you safe and protective and comforted and—
The train rattles hard. You snap out of your daydream and catch yourself with the pole. There’s nothing more humiliating than crashing into a stranger on a packed train. Playing something embarrassing on your phone without headphones on is a close second.
You sigh in relief and feel someone’s gaze on you. Shinsou looks at you, the boredom fading away in his eyes, and he sends a small smile. You return the gesture, digging your nails into your palms to calm down. Internally, mini-versions of yourselves are running around your blank mind like headless chickens. Did Shinsou see you slip? Did he smile out of kindness or pity? Oh gosh, did he catch you looking at him? Did he—
“Excuse me,” a man gruffs, making you jump. The tired passenger, sporting baggy eyes and a hunched back, cocks his head to the left. You realize he wants to leave and awkwardly shuffle out of the way.
“Oh, sorry.”
However, one or two steps aren’t enough. A wave of people burst through the doors, pushing you further back. Everything happens so quickly that you don’t hear the train pulling away from the station. It makes a sharp turn, and you crash forward into someone’s muscular chest, a soft oof escaping your lips. As the train rattles on, the stranger’s hand holds you steady and close to him for support.
“Oh, man, I’m so sorry—”
Holy shit.
You freeze as a familiar pair of purple eyes stare back at you. Out of every passenger on this train, it had to be him, your commuter crush; the universe certainly has a great sense of humor. No point in hiding now, so you decide to bite the bullet (train).
“I, uh, hi.”
“Hi,” Shinsou says, laced with amusement. “You alright?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine!” Damn, his voice is smooth. You fight the urge to gulp. “Super fine, really, but are you okay? I crashed against you pretty hard there.”
In your defense, Shinsou feels hard. Very hard like a rock. You are flushed against him that you can make out his firm muscles hiding underneath his white office shirt. Even if you wanted to move, you can’t—Shinsou’s arm remains wrapped around you with such a gentle grip. On the outside, you are as cool as a cucumber. But inside, your screams are louder than the train wheels screeching on the tracks as it comes to a stop.
Shinsou tilts his head. “I think I’ll be fine. Would you rather slam against the door?”
“Are you crazy?! That’s social suicide!” You wince at how loud that was. In a hushed tone, you say, “If that happened, I probably would never step foot on this train again.”
“Huh, good thing I stand here every day then,” Shinsou muses, and you raise an eyebrow. “Seeing you makes this awful rush hour commute worth it for me.”
You stay quiet, too shocked to even respond. It takes a moment to fully process his words, but your heart flutters at the realization: Shinsou likes you. All those brief, curious glances you felt from him; all those kind yet soft smiles you shared with him every time your eyes met; all those times you nearly hit the pole after getting distracted by his white smile before you left the train.
It’s a miracle that Shinsou does not bring up those moments.
You shake your head, laughing softly. “That makes two of us.”
A grin stretches across Shinsou’s face, making your legs weak. However, you bump into Shinsou again as the train abruptly stops and announces your station. You mumble a pathetic “sorry,” the heat rising along your face. Does the conductor not know how to use their brakes correctly?
Shinsou snickers. “I can kind of get used to this.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not slamming into any doors.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckles, letting you go. Shinsou gives you a curt nod. “See you tomorrow?”
You flash a knowing smile. “Like always.”
The chilly air greets you the minute you step off the train. You look back, your eyes meeting each other through the glass window one last time. Shinsou gives a small wave, and you return the gesture. As the train pulls away, you remain still until it disappears into the distance. You chuckle to yourself and make your way home.
Supposedly, every adult hates three things in their lives: taxes, traffic, and taking the train during rush hour. But you don’t mind the last one anymore. Seeing Shinsou every day makes it all worth it—he’ll keep you safe from the doors with those strong arms of his and make you laugh. Who can complain about that?