Work Text:
He is there again.
Pat glances over at the other man sitting on the other side of the metro cart. His focus was strictly on the sketchbook he had in his lap and the pencil moving swiftly over the page. The early morning sun dances over his features. While it isn’t showing now, Pat knows for a fact that the stranger has dimples.
As always he is dressed neat and proper, not even a strain of hair out of place. It’s almost like he isn’t affected by the fact that’s way too early to look that well put together.
Then again, Pat has seen the man tired too. Deep bags under his eyes as he struggles to keep awake. His clothes would still always be in perfect shape, ironed and without creases. The bags would get worse for a few days until he all of a sudden stopped showing up to the train for a while.
Not that Pat saw him every morning anyways. Though he clearly seemed to start work around the same time as Pat and therefore took the same train, there were always at least 4 carts on it so it was a gamble. His stop where Pat jumped on the train was later than the stranger’s so sometimes he would manage to spot him through the windows as the train slowly came to a halt by the platform and purposely jump on the same cart.
Pat also tended to run late once in a while. So that was another reason he didn’t see him all of the time. He had become better with time, he really had. But sometimes even he had a bad start of the day and pressed the snooze button a few too many times.
Pat liked to watch people in general. There was something so wonderful about getting the smallest peak into a person’s story. Human’s were… beautiful. He’d spot someone walking down the street with a smile on their lips. He would never know what exactly made the person smile, but he would still feel joy seeing it. Hours later he would be reminded of the person and wonder what would happen if he approached them and told them how beautiful they were when they smiled.
Or he’d see someone unable to stop bobbing their head while listening to music in their headphones. He’d know nothing about what they were listening to. No clue, and it didn’t really matter. He knew that feeling as well and it filled him with joy, second handedly, seeing someone else experience the same thing.
It was also watching the young boy in the park trying to teach his equally young puppy tricks. The group of girls that practiced dancing together there as well. It was the old couple playing makruk where Pat got his morning coffee. It was the jokes he overheard people sharing. No longer could he recall their faces, but he could their laughter and the joke itself.
He falls in love a little bit with all these strangers he meets. Most he only sees once, but they linger in his memory, brightening his day. That is all fine.
Most also probably don’t even take note of Pat’s existence, and that is fine too. That is not important. Though for the people that do, he wonders if seeing him smile and laugh fills them with the same passive joy as it does him. He hopes so. He hopes that some strangers that he passes by falls in love with him a little bit too. Not him as a person, but him existing and living.
He had mentioned it to his sister Paa a long time ago, but she had just called him weird then, so he didn’t bring it up again.
It does bring him back to the man still drawing.
Pat can’t recall when he had first seen him. Just as with any other stranger he couldn’t have possibly known whether it would be a one of or not. It had, at the very least, been a couple of months now.
Pat does remember the first time he really noticed him. It was before he had begun drawing on his commute. He had been speaking lowly on his phone, trying his best not to disturb the other people on the train.
“I know mae…. I- Yes.” Pat could see the smile the stranger was fighting to hold back. Among the crowd of tired office workers traveling like in trance he had stood out like a small star. And Pat’s attention had been pulled to that light like a starving moth. “I’m very excited. I’ll call you later okay. Yeah… Thank you. Love you.”
Pat, among the people fighting his morning drowsiness, had felt his chest grow warm at the sight. The joy was so clear on the man’s face even as he tried to hold it back. He looked giddy, excited. Just as with any other stranger Pat had no idea what he was excited about. At that moment, he had fallen a little bit in love.
Then he had seen him again… and again. He always took the same train each morning. Or at least that’s what Pat figured he must since he had yet to see him on the train that left 15 minutes before or 15 minutes after this one. He got off one station before Pat. And, it was always just in the mornings. He had never spotted the man on his way back home.
Roughly two weeks after that phone call Pat could recall seeing him draw for the first time. It had been a different sketchbook from the one he was using now. Pat believed he was already on his third one since then.
He always seemed so engrossed and focused when he drew, barely noticing anything in his surroundings. Of course that made Pat curious. What was this stranger creating in the wee hours of the day?
The next chance he had gotten he made sure to stand close enough to where the man was sitting so he could see what he was creating.
A person, a lady, sitting with a briefcase on her lap. It seemed familiar somehow, and with a brief glance around he had figured out why. The stranger was making a sketch of another person on the train, catching a snapshot of her frozen in time. It happened the next day too, this time a sketch of an elderly man with a child on his lap mouth wide open as she slept peacefully. The third time it was a drawing of the service dog staying right by its owner's side.
At some point it had dawned on Pat. Where he kept the memories of all these strangers in his heart, this man was saving his in his sketches.
There were other things he noticed after he started to pay attention more to him. While he didn't seem to pay much attention to the things happening in his surroundings, with the exception of whoever became the subject of his morning sketch each day, he always perfectly started packing up so he was ready to get up right as the mechanical voice called out his stop.
More often than not the stranger would start patting down his pants the second he sat down, nervously looking around for his small headphone case before pulling them out triumphantly. Or in very rare cases sigh in defeat and click his tongue in frustration. As bad as he felt in those rare occasions Pat couldn’t deny that he found the way he furrowed his eyebrows as he resigned himself to a day without the headphones to be rather cute. He really should just get a bag to hang around his neck or something if he lost them that easily.
Then, of course Pat noticed when the stranger looked at him. Not just a passing glance everyone else did but really looked . The first time it had happened Pat had smiled at him back. The man had seemed a bit taken aback and embarrassed for having been caught, but did give a small awkward smile in return.
Pat hadn’t looked at him again for the rest of that morning. But he had felt giddy and warm, the knowledge that for this particular morning he had become the subject, the knowledge that the stranger would have physical proof of Pat’s existence in his life no matter how insignificant.
Then it kept happening.
Pat felt those beautiful dark eyes linger on him more and more frequently. He couldn’t quite confirm whether or not the stranger was actually drawing him at all those points, because he at least never drew him when Pat was close enough to see what he was sketching.
They did exchange looks more often. Pat would smile when he spotted the stranger and he would smile back. He would look hesitant in the beginning, but as time passed the smiles became more relaxed and genuine. More beautiful.
At some point Pat had noticed the stranger actively looking up from his sketchbook when Pat entered the train, curiously looking around until their eyes met. And then he smiled. It was only briefly. Very briefly. However the sight made something flutter in Pat’s chest.
While Pat could count the amount of words they had exchanged on his hands he did find some comfort in the other’s presence. A constant. Sometimes they would exchange looks with one another, communicating silently, before going back to total strangers again. Clearly, he had become the same kind of constant in this man’s life.
As Pat now glanced at the screen showing the stops he knew that it would soon be time for the stranger to leave. Looking over to the man Pat saw that he was indeed packing everything down into his bag again. Though he saw the hesitation as he was looking at the sketchbook, uncertainty dancing over his face.
“Lat phrao,” the mechanical voice said over the speakers.
That was the stranger’s stop. Pat watched him get up from his seat, unusually uncertain and unusually late. He still held the sketchbook in his hands which was odd too.
Not unusually, he does look at Pat and smiles. Normally it’s accompanied with a small nod before the man walks off the cart. This time though he walks towards Pat with a surprising determination, a forced momentum so he wouldn’t halt too early.
“Hi-” Pat tries to start a proper greeting but quickly stops when he watches the stranger rip out the top most page in his sketchbook.
“For you.” Pat knows that he was staring at the page like he had never seen a paper before- but what fucking else was he supposed to do. He had never seen the stranger hand out any of his creations before and now he was trying to give one to Pat.
Pat is completely stunned. Sadly time is running out for the both of them as the cart doors open behind them. The page is pushed against his chest, and the next second the stranger is gone and out.
Pat almost misses his own stop as he tries to process the situation, barely does me make it through the doors before they close.
He ends up late for work anyways though, because the second he is off the train he can’t stop looking at the paper in his hand. For the small amount of time they were riding the train together it was incredibly intricate. An image of Pat smiling softly towards the viewer. It was odd for two reasons. Firstly Pat hadn’t really been looking much at the stranger as usual, not wanting to make him feel awkward in case Pat was his chosen subject. Yet he had changed the pose to make him look at the stranger. Secondly, he had perfectly managed to catch the way the corners of Pat’s eyes would crinkle up. Something he surely wouldn’t have been able to see.
Regardless, it was a beautiful piece, catching Pat perfectly.
Pat was going to make sure to thank the stranger tomorrow.
Or at least that was the plan. Sometimes he was just unlucky after all. The stranger wasn’t there the next day. And not the next one either. A whole week passed without Pat seeing him even once. He had taken to walking through all the carts of the train just to make sure, but no, he wasn’t there.
The picture he had put up on his fridge, accompanying a few photos his sister had taken of the both of them together and probably an unreasonable amount of fridge magnets. Though anytime Paa pointed that out Pat would insist that he still needed more, just to be annoying.
After week two an uncomfortable feeling settled into Pat’s gut that he couldn't manage to shake. It was silly really, because it was just a stranger who happened to draw him. Just as any other stranger he met Pat was supposed to enjoy the few seconds he shared with him before their paths separated again. Normally he was fine with that, he never felt any urge to see someone again.
This time it was different. Looking at the piece of art on his fridge he started to feel something akin to jealousy. He had nothing else to recall the stranger by, nothing that could help him remember those cute dimples, gentle smile, or handsome features. Yet the stranger had his sketches. Pat was almost certain there were multiple versions of him in those sketchbooks, ready whenever the stranger wanted to recall Pat’s face.
So what could he do when weeks turned into a whole month?
He couldn’t exactly retroactively take a photo of the stranger.
Pat had never been one to draw a lot before, he had never had the patience to put into the practice necessary to actually get good at it, but it was the only thing he could think of. Perhaps it wasn’t just the thought of being able to have a physical version of the stranger that motivated him, but also the fact that he was partaking in a hobby the stranger also clearly enjoyed. It made him feel closer to him.
He still did suck. Or at least in his opinion he did. He knew it was a matter of practice, he wasn’t a fool. But he just wanted to be able to capture the features of the man accurately. And the longer it took the harder it would be for him to recall those smaller details, get his smile just right, the shape of his eyes and the sparkle in them.
As he grew better with that practice the less of those finer details he could recall. The peak of the overlap was about a month after he had last seen the stranger. It still didn’t quite feel right, and he knew if they met again it would be apparent all the details he got wrong. But that was the whole thing, he had no idea if they ever would.
He started to keep that piece of art in his bag, carrying it around with him. He never did stop looking for the man on the train each morning, he never stopped carrying that piece he had drawn of him in his bag. He hoped that if they ever met he would be able to give it to him.
A month turned to two, to three, and soon half a year had passed by since they had last met.
Such was fate.
Pat continued to meet new people. He’d fall in love a little bit with those people just the same. They’d appear in his life and be gone the next second. Strangers passing along as the days went by.
He continued to draw even still. He had found some joy in it even if it was just a hobby. It was a good way to relax as his job became more troublesome due to huge delays in a project he was in charge of that was completely out of his hands.
Perhaps he should try and take a class?
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Pran really was on his last leg. He had been forced to move to a different office temporarily due to some big renovations at their main one. The key phrase was temporarily . The original estimate had been at most 3 months. Delay after delay had pushed up the date further. They were getting close to half a year now…
If another delay was announced he would personally call the engineer in charge of the project. Some guy named Jindapat apparently.
Honestly Pran doubted a phone call like that would do anything. More than soothing his growing frustration at the very least.
He longed to go back to the old building. Not only would it be nice and fresh after the renovations but this temporary one was just… bad. He didn’t have his own office room here, and the area they did have to their disposal was way too cramped for the amount of people they were. There were numerous technical issues he had never encountered in the previous one, and honestly ever even heard off. Even the toilets seemed to be out of service more often than they worked and Pran was frankly fucking tired of having to play guess who with floor would have working ones everytime he needed to do his business.
The commute was also worse. Way longer and in the complete opposite direction with less trains leaving. Sure he had rarely ever missed a train but the thought that he could stressed him out even more now.
Then perhaps there was a small part of him that missed those early morning commutes for a different rather silly reason.
Silly, because he had barely spoken with the man, but somehow he felt an attraction to him. The way he had smiled the first time their eyes met had sent Pran’s heart racing. He had expected it to be a one off, a polite greeting after accidental eye contact but no… no it continued to happen.
That smile, greeting him like the morning sun itself. Even if the stranger looked slightly in a daze due to the early hours he still looked stunning.
He’d sketched him once, far from the first sketch on his morning commute, but it had immediately become his favorite. He was just… a good model. It was easier to draw someone he was already familiar with, that was the excuse he told himself as he drew him over and over.
At some point he had started to look for the man. Any day where he wasn’t greeted with that smile on his way to work just didn’t feel right.
He missed that smile even now, months later. The sketches could only show so much. Especially when the reason the man was so attractive was due to how expressive and full of life he was even in the smallest of gestures. Pran just had no idea how to capture that. The stranger was just someone who couldn’t be contained in such a medium in his full glory.
It was a last moment of desperation he had offered the last piece he had drawn of him on that last day he had seen him. He knew it would be his last time seeing him for at least some time, if ever.
He had no idea if he was more than a familiar face to him. Someone that would be forgotten after they hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks. But Pran… he didn’t want to be forgotten. He so desperately didn’t want to fade into obscurity. So… before he could second guess himself he had moved with pure momentum, afraid that if he faltered that he wouldn’t be able to commit.
Then that was it. Even when Pran returned to the normal commute he had no idea if he would see the stranger again. Even if he did he had no idea if he would remember Pran. A piece of paper wasn’t exactly much for insurance.
He hadn’t drawn the man since the piece he offered to him either, hoping that moving on from him would allow Pran to find some other muse. It had worked about as bad as he had expected and completely opposite to what he had hoped.
He had continued to draw still of course. His morning sketches were still a thing, and he would make more advanced art pieces at home with all his equipment. He had even signed up for an art class now when he had a bit of a slow spell for work. It wasn’t even that far away from his apartment so he had taken a nice walk to get to the building.
Of course he had been early too, making sure to be allowed to select any spot that he wanted. The room was spacious with large glass windows covering three out of four walls. The afternoon sun made the light trickle in from the west, the dust particles dancing like little fairies in the air.
Barely had Pran a chance to relax into the chair he had picked for himself when the door opened.
The new arrival looked around the room until their eyes met and Pran felt his world come to a halt.
It was him. The handsome commuter stranger. He seemed just as stunned at seeing Pran here as he did him. Which was a little unfair given that at least the stranger knew that Pran liked to draw. He had no idea it was something the other did too.
Fuck. What he was really good and Pran had given him his simple messy morning sketch to him? Wonderful impression that must have made…
“You-”
Pran felt frozen in spot as the other approached him with large and quick steps. He seemed to reach for something in his bag and for a split second Pran wondered if he should be afraid. Though the answer didn’t really matter seeing as he was rooted in place either way.
“This is for you.”
Suddenly there was a paper held out towards him. The edges seemed a bit worn like it had been carried around for a while. The way it had been torn at the top was not even either. But that was not what was important.
“Is this… me?” Pran gently took the paper, looking down at the page in wonder at it.
“Yes. I wanted to thank you for the one you gave to me. But I haven’t been able to…. until now.”
Pran in all honesty felt a little bit guilty hearing that. Though more importantly there was some frustration hearing the other speak because of course he wouldn’t just look handsome he obviously also had the voice to go with it.
It was a bit much to look at the stranger just yet so he let his eyes wander over the image he had drawn. He had certainly caught a lot of Pran’s features. The dimples were very prominent. Probably more so than Pran thought they were supposed to be. Though the pen strokes seemed hesitant and scratchy, uncertain.
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would be gone for this long. Thank you. This is nice.”
“Hm… You are sorry huh?” The stranger grinned. The sun Pran had praised earlier paled in comparison to the view in front of him. The stranger simply took his breath away. “How about you make it up to me?”
“What?” Pran choked out a laugh. He wasn’t sure where this was going but he was fine playing along. Anything to have those eyes linger on him for a little bit more. A look he had been starved for for half a year.
“Let me take you out for a coffee. I think I could make you a better picture if I actually had you in front of me. I don’t think I managed to catch how handsome you are.”
The blush was immediate, and a warmth spread through his chest with it.
As smooth as the stranger was, Pran could easily see the nerves and eagerness in his eyes. It made it all the less daunting. He could also allow himself to wallow and feel regret for all the time he had lost. For the risk he had taken by not just… giving the stranger his number or something when he knew they would stop sharing a commute. But…, with that look he was given. The look so full of hope, it was easy to at least push those feelings to be dealt with at a later date.
“Oh. I guess I have to give you a fair shot.”
“Yeah?” Pran hadn’t thought the man’s smile was able to get any brighter and bigger but apparently he was wrong. “It’s a date then.”
Before Pran had a chance to answer that statement a phone with a qr code was held out towards him. With some clumsy moves he pulled out his own phone, scanning it, adding a new contact with it.
“Pat…” It felt odd having a name to the face he had been studying so intensively.
“That’s me.” The stranger…, Pat, spun his phone around and read something on his screen before once again, showing Pran yet another kind of beautiful smile. “Pran huh. I won’t let you run away this time.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”