Work Text:
Minghao is, for once, exactly on time. He’s going to walk into work at exactly 9:30 am, he’s getting on the first car of the subway at exactly 9 am, and he’s proud of himself. He’s normally chronically and anxiously early. Maybe this is a sign that drinking coffee in the morning really was bad for him. Maybe it’s just a Tuesday.
He miraculously finds a seat, only slightly squeezing in to fit. He does his normal scan of the car to make sure he isn’t going to have to move and his eyes catch on a man standing by the doors, on his phone and not holding onto a railing like he can actually balance that way. He apparently can, because the train takes a curve and the man just shifts his weight to accommodate.
Impressive.
The man is beautiful too, as if the ability to balance on the subway wasn’t enough of God’s blessings. He’s dressed in oversized jeans and a loose button down, red and blue paint smeared on the collar of the shirt, and his Converse are in surprisingly good shape. He’s cute. He’s very cute.
Minghao looks away. It’s strange to stare too long on the subway.
He looks back at the man when he feels the man looking at him and they make brief eye contact before they both look away.
The man gets off at West 4th. Minghao gets off at 34th Street. He walks into work at exactly 9:30.
Minghao is frighteningly early the next two days, but he manages to calm himself down by Friday and he gets on the first car of the subway at 9. He doesn’t find a seat today, so he hangs onto the pole and waits to be able to sit. He does his glance around the car and he nearly does a double-take when he sees the man from Tuesday, still balancing by the doors.
He’s wearing overalls. He’s precious. Minghao looks away.
If this were another city, if Minghao was another person entirely, he would walk up to the man and say hello. He would tell him that he likes his overalls and could Minghao have his number?
He’s not a different person and this isn’t another city. Minghao keeps his eyes on the floor.
He looks up when he feels someone looking at him and he’s surprised to see that it’s the man, staring. They make eye contact for a beat too long before Minghao looks away, feeling a blush heat up his cheeks.
The man doesn’t look at him for the rest of the ride.
See, there’s a thing people do with hot people on the subway. They create scenarios in their head. Minghao is creating scenarios in his head.
It’s the third time he’s seen the man on the subway and the man is wearing beat up Vans and Minghao is creating scenarios.
Scenario #1: He walks up to the man and compliments him on his paint-splattered shirt. The man says a polite “thank you” and tells Minghao that he likes his whole corporate goth vibe. They fall in love. End of scenario.
Scenario #2: Minghao sits next to the man and catches him when he loses his balance. The man thanks Minghao profusely and holds his hand as he does it. They fall in love. End of scenario.
Minghao is sensing a theme here.
Scenario #3: The man stares at him and Minghao looks up again and this time, the man smiles. They fall in love. End of scenario.
Well, that one’s real, up to a point. The man just smiled at him, small and shy. Minghao smiles back, small and shy, before he looks away.
Minghao is having the worst morning of his life. He woke up late, he tripped on his untied shoes on the way to the subway, and now, he’s about to miss the train. Life sucks and then you die.
He’s nearly to the doors when they start to close and he’s given up hope until an arm sticks its way out of the door, holding it open. Minghao takes the chance and darts through the door, nearly snagging his backpack, but he makes it through. He looks up to see who held the door for him and it’s The Man. The One.
The man smiles. “Couldn’t let you be late.”
“Thanks,” Minghao says, letting out a clear sigh of relief. “I was having a morning.”
“You look like it,” the man laughs. “Your shoe is untied.”
Minghao sighs. “Of course it is.”
He doesn’t move to tie his shoe. He’s not going to accidentally touch the floor of the subway. He’d rather die.
Minghao has been known to be smooth every now and then, so he braces himself and goes for it. “Can I ask your name? It would be good to know who I keep running into.”
The man smiles brightly. It’s shaped like a rectangle. “Junhui. And you are?”
“Minghao.”
“Well, Minghao, it’s nice to meet you,” Junhui says. “I’m afraid this next stop is mine, but maybe we’ll run into each other again.”
“I think we will, if I can be on time,” Minghao laughs. “Have a good day, Junhui.”
“You too,” Junhui says. The train stops and the doors open and he’s gone.
Minghao tries to keep the smile off his face. It doesn’t quite work.
The next day, Junhui is sitting down. He looks up when Minghao steps onto the train and, by some miracle, the seat next to Junhui is open. Minghao is bold and he takes it.
“Good morning, Junhui,” Minghao says. “Where are you off to?”
“Good morning,” Junhui says with a smile. He gives them out so easily. “I’m going to school. I’m a preschool teacher.”
Oh, that’s just sickeningly sweet. Minghao has a toothache.
“That fits,” Minghao laughs.
Junhui nudges their shoulders together. “What does that mean?”
“It fits your vibe, I don’t know,” Minghao says. “It’s a good thing.”
“I’ll take it, in that case. And where are you going?”
“Work,” Minghao sighs. “I work a desk job.”
“I can tell by how slumped your shoulders are,” Junhui laughs. “If you have to go to an office job, at least you look cute.”
“Do I?” Minghao asks, his voice a little high-pitched. “Oh!”
“You’re not going to be easy to hit on, are you?” Junhui asks, still laughing.
“I don’t really make anything easy, no.”
“I think I can still work with that,” Junhui says, and then he winks. Minghao can’t even do that. “Ah, we’re at my stop. See you later, Minghao.”
“Have a good day at work,” Minghao says as if he’s going to see Junhui at home.
Now that’s a scenario.
It takes four mornings for Junhui to ask for Minghao’s number. Minghao thought his suffering was going to be eternal.
“God, yes, you can have my number,” Minghao says on accident. Junhui laughs hard enough to startle the woman next to him. They both give her an apologetic look before turning back to each other.
“You’re cute,” Junhui says. He accepts Minghao’s phone and types a message to himself so they have each other’s numbers and Minghao knows he’s blushing. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll text you?”
Minghao nods. “Looking forward to it. Have a good day, Jun.”
“You too, Hao.”
It takes a year for Minghao to admit The Scenarios.
“And then we fell in love,” Minghao says. He’s curled into Junhui in bed and he can’t even look at him. “In all of them. I made up 13 scenarios and we fell in love in all of them.”
“You only made up 13?” Junhui laughs. He strokes a hand down Minghao’s spine, tucking it at his waist. “I made up at least 20. We fell in love in all of mine too.”
“Good thing it worked out,” Minghao says. He props himself up on Junhui’s chest so he can brush their lips together. “Love you. Thanks for holding the door for me.”
Junhui laughs. “Always, Hao.”