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Seunghan’s life is, for lack of a better word, simple. The first thing he does when he wakes up is look at his phone and check his notifications from Instagram or Whatsapp. He brushes his teeth with his barely opened eyes, spits out the toothpaste and grabs a bagel on his way out of his cheap, one bedroom apartment. Then, he goes to work, and the rest of his day is interesting enough to be merely described as the rest of his day.
Every morning, he waits at the same bus stop. Every morning, there’s a beautiful boy waiting too.
He’s easy to notice the first time he makes an appearance because, well. This is somewhat of a small neighborhood, and there’s only a few people who are already outside at 6:30 in the morning.
He only started to show up at this bus stop about a month ago. Seunghan couldn’t help but be curious as to why. He first guessed that he was either a new resident around here or that he obtained a new job. It’s not really Seunghan’s business, anyway.
Just like Seunghan, he’s here every morning, Monday to Friday. Nothing too exceptional. It’s just a guy, around Seunghan’s age, tired and a bit grumpy from getting up so early. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But really, Seunghan’s just a boy himself, and he most often ends up ogling the stranger. By accident. He’s a gentleman, of course.
The boy is nothing short of gorgeous. Or maybe, Seunghan’s not used to seeing such beauty in real life. Either way, he can’t help but stare. In the most respectful manner.
He has long, silky black hair that’s usually just messy enough to enhance his features. It falls over his eyes gracefully like curtains, longer at his nape. His nose has a beautiful heightened bridge, rounded at the tip. He has big, cat-like eyes probably dark enough to be compared to boba pearls. Perfect face standing on broad shoulders, he’s reminiscent of one of those greek statues you’d find in a museum, with a big DO NOT TOUCH sign right in front of it.
Those are the details he caught by looking so intently. Most often, the boy has his face down, looking at his phone. Seunghan catches the small moments where his face is exposed and draws a sketch out of it in his mind, safely locked up there until he finds more material.
The last time Seunghan had a crush that felt as childish as this — not counting the only relationship he had — was in ninth grade, on the class president. Yu Jimin was her name. She had long, dark hair that reached the small of her back, and she’d brush through it carefully during lessons. That’s about all that Seunghan remembers of her.
He isn’t used to this kind of thing. To this silly feeling that tickles under his skin whenever he’s walking to the bus stop. It’s unfamiliar, it’s light. It reminds him of when he was a teenager and wore his nicest shirt to school in hopes of grabbing Yu Jimin’s attention.
In fear of coming across as a creep, he never makes a move. He only watches, never touches. Somehow, that’s enough.
The mornings are always the same. They stand a few feets apart, like any strangers would, and look down at their phones until the bus arrives to escape the possibility of talking to one another. Humans are interesting little things, indeed.
Seunghan can’t tell what the boy thinks of him. If he thinks of him at all. In Seunghan’s delusionally crafted scenarios, the reason behind his lack of acknowledgment concerning Seunghan's existence is perhaps shyness or one other thing.
They’ve never even made eye contact. Not once, not even half a second when they rush towards the bus at the same time. Which is quite impressive, considering how many times Seunghan shamelessly stares at him. Either the boy is extremely timid, or Seunghan is simply not interesting enough to grab his attention.
That’s how insignificant those mornings are, but Seunghan thinks of them too much to be considered insignificant. He admits it.
It gets worse when the dreams start.
Seunghan doesn’t dream. Like, at all. He used to, when he was much younger, but he grew up and found himself void of any capacity to craft images in his sleep. Maybe that’s what growing up is all about. On a Monday morning, on your way to your 7 to 5 job, you realize that all these dreams you had as a child were really just illusions created by your hopeful and naive mind.
These days, he dreams in flickers of images. Plush lips, round eyes and pretty collarbones, there’s no other thing Seunghan can dream of but the boy at the bus stop.
They’re not coherent, he doesn’t talk nor acts like Seunghan is there. Because Seunghan isn’t there, he’s only watching. Like he’s at a museum, appreciating the exhibition. Do not touch.
What he remembers, though, stays in his mind while he brushes his teeth, gets ready and sees the beautiful boy again.
It’s a never ending loop of watching, thinking, wanting . Seunghan is used to not having what he wants. At the end of the day, it’s a loop he doesn’t mind being stuck in, as long as his eyes keep being blessed by the beautiful boy.
And as long as he dreams, he’ll keep seeing him.
𓇢𓆸
The beautiful boy also has a beautiful voice, Seunghan learns.
“Your shoelace.”
Seunghan perks up at the sound. Light. Incredibly soft. He can’t tell if it’s only a one time thing, or if he always sounds like that.
He tries not to stutter when he says, “What?”
The boy nods down, towards his shoes. Still not looking at him. “It’s unlaced.”
“Oh.” There’s nothing else Seunghan can find in himself to say. “Thanks.”
When he gets up after tying his shoelace properly, they make eye contact. The boy nods the slightest and stretches the lines of his mouth to give Seunghan the shyest smile, before his gaze takes an escape to the side. That’s pretty, too.
Before Seunghan can find a way to keep the conversation going, to keep the beautiful boy’s attention on him, the bus makes its stop, the door right in front of him. When it opens, he walks in first, mind full of pretty smiles and light voice. Life goes on.
𓇢𓆸
It’s raining today.
Seunghan was conscientious enough to grab an old umbrella that’s been collecting dust in his closet for the past years. His grandma gave it to him once she bought a newer, more useful one, and Seunghan never cared enough to actually buy one that doesn’t look like it could topple over with only a gust of wind, so that’s all he has.
To be tragically honest, it’s ugly. It’s pink, first of all, and not the soft, lemonade kind of pink. A fuschia pink that can’t get past the regular eye, practically begging for attention. And, as if this isn’t bad enough, it’s covered with bright yellow ducks.
Seunghan doesn’t remember the pattern being so embarrassing when he used it to walk to school in sixth grade.
If he was mature enough, he’d say that it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he won’t be completely soaked by the rain pouring outside once he’s at his workplace. But really, it isn’t.
He can’t say he isn’t at least a little embarrassed when he arrives at the bus stop and makes direct eye contact with the beautiful boy.
Of course, the one day Seunghan goes outside with this, he decides to look at him. His gaze travels up until it sets on what undeniably is Seunghan’s umbrella before he looks away as quickly as it all happened. Seunghan feels his face burn with embarrassment but tries to not let it show.
Beautiful boy is wearing a brown jacket, his hands hidden in its pockets. It’s zipped all the way up, reaching his chin. But, most importantly, he has nothing to protect himself from the rain.
His hair is flattened and drippy with water, probably full of messy knots. He’s hiding the lower part of his face in his collar and, only because Seunghan is observant, he notices that the boy is slightly shaking. Most-likely, it’s because he’s cold. He looks pitiful.
Seunghan stays unwavering, but his mind is going at sixty miles per hour. He can’t let the boy like this, assaulted by the deluge with nothing else than a poor excuse of a jacket to keep what’s left of his warmth. By the looks of it, it seems far from thick enough to be sufficient.
Seunghan’s gaze lingers, uncertain. This is your chance.
He can’t lose this opportunity and, primarily, he can’t let the beautiful boy in pain. He’s only half conscious of his actions when he takes two long steps to cover the boy with his umbrella, making sure that he’s also protecting himself. (Like his mom says, he’s a cat, and cats hate water.)
The umbrella isn’t that big. They make a tight fit under it.
At this moment, Seunghan realizes that the beautiful boy is shorter than he had initially thought. He can only guess that his eyes are at the same level as his mouth, because when he looks down, he’s faced with a mop of black hair.
Until the boy looks up with big, startled eyes at the suddenness of their proximity. Seunghan can’t blame him, he’s also destabilized (destabilized is an understatement — he’s extremely freaked out) by the tiny space left between them. If he were to pucker up his lips, they’d reach one of the boy’s strands of hair.
Suddenly, he’s afraid that his attempt at gallantry came off as an assault on the boy’s private space. “I— Sorry, you looked cold.” He stammers out.
Seunghan can’t look into his eyes, he’s too nervous. Instead, he decides to observe every feature on his face that isn’t his pretty pair of eyes.
There’s this thing called the Monet effect; most people look better from afar, which makes sense. When you’re close enough, you can see every pore, every detail, every imperfection. Likewise, Claude Monet’s paintings seem well-made at a certain distance, but once you take a closer look, it’s really just a flick of the brush here and there.
This boy is quite the opposite. Against all odds, he’s even more gorgeous from up close.
“It’s okay.” He hears the boy say. His voice is always soft, Seunghan notes as he ignores his eyes by looking at his cheeks and — is that a faint blush on his cheekbones?
It’s okay. It’s not okay. Seunghan’s heart is about to explode and gush out of his rib cage.
He must still have some raindrops trickling down on him, because the boy takes that one step that completely erases any kind of space they had left between them. They end up chest against chest, and the boy– he fucking giggles.
“I’m sorry, I hate being wet.” He explains himself giddily, as if he isn’t almost stepping on Seunghan’s feet. As if their legs aren’t tangled. As if Seunghan can’t feel his breath on his cheek. As if their position is normal for strangers. As if Seunghan won’t think of this exact instant before he drifts off to sleep tonight. And all the nights that’ll follow.
As if Seunghan doesn’t dream of him. This is — this is far beyond his dreams. This is reality, and yet, Seunghan wonders how he has found himself here.
Say something before he takes you for an idiot. “It’s— It’s okay.”
This is so utterly not okay. Seunghan can feel his own heartbeat drumming against his eardrums. He briefly wonders if he can feel it too.
Seunghan looks away to put some space between their faces, but he can feel the boy’s gaze on his side profile. It burns. “You’re cold, too.”
Seunghan freezes. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
Oh, this beautiful boy is so oblivious.
Thankfully for Seunghan, that gives him an easy way out. “Yeah. I hate being wet too.”
He’s out of breath. He’s standing straight, why is he out of breath?
He looks down at their feet. Seunghan’s head is almost resting on his shoulder. The boy’s voice is gentle when he speaks up, “You know, being close like this will make us warmer.”
Seunghan does know. He also knows that this trick works better when the people involved are stark naked, hot skin against hot skin. He deems it wiser to keep this fact to himself.
He can’t help but think that the boy is way too normal about all of this. Can’t he feel how irregulated Seunghan’s breath is? Can’t he feel their legs grazing? Or is Seunghan the one who isn’t normal for being so flustered by such simple things?
Seunghan scoffs a little, still dumbfounded. “Yeah.” He says lamely. Cut him some slack, he has the literal boy of his dreams all up on him.
The rain still pours on the umbrella and falls all around them. Seunghan makes sure to keep it upright for the sake of staying dry, but the boy is already all drenched. He thinks of how uncomfortable it’d be to sport a jacked so heavily soaked. He almost wants to offer his coat, but he’s scared that it might be too much.
A car passes by. “Thank you, by the way.”
Seunghan perks up at the boy’s words. Heat splatters all across his neck. “Of course. You should probably buy an umbrella.”
“Probably. Yours is cute.”
“Don’t lie.”
The boy splutters. “I— No! It really is.”
Seunghan’s chest shakes as he chuckles quietly. “Okay. Thank you.”
He feels like he might combust, but he wants to stay here forever. Even if it’s cold. Even if he can feel the torrent on his back. As long as he has this beautiful boy so close to him, that’s all he wants.
He hears the bus approaching before he sees it, appearing out of the fog far away. When it stops by, the spell breaks.
The boy doesn’t say anything, but he takes a step back. Seunghan follows him close as they walk towards the open door, and when they’re inside, the distance grows. Something hurts between Seunghan’s bones. They both take their respective seats, the boy at the back and Seunghan at the front.
That night, he dreams of soft skin and pretty brown eyes.
𓇢𓆸
It's still raining the next day.
Seunghan walks with small steps. He still has his pink umbrella, perched over his head. As much as he despises the design, he’s happy to have something that protects him from the drizzle. It’s lighter than it was yesterday, fine drops hitting the concrete with small ploucs.
He’s surprised to find the beautiful boy with no umbrella, once again.
This time, Seunghan approaches with no shame. “Didn’t buy an umbrella?”
It’s funny how, after one single occurrence, something so unfamiliar can turn into something so habitual. The boy takes a step towards him, chest touches chest. Like it’s something they have gotten used to. Seunghan could get used to this.
A small smile blooms on his face when he looks up to Seunghan. “Forgot.”
Oh, how unfortunate. They’ll have to share warmth again.
Seunghan wills his heartbeat to slow down. Familiarity is bullshit, he could never get used to this. When the silence drags on, he holds his breath. There’s something he really wants to do.
He clears his throat. “I never caught your name.”
“That’s because I never told you.”
He’ll be the death of him.
Be a man, is what he tells himself. He wants to hear you say it. “What’s your name?”
“Wonbin.” The boy — Wonbin — mutters so softly that Seunghan almost doesn’t catch it. “What is your name?”
The question being redirected right back at him is not something he was expecting. He struggles to find his voice. “Eh— Seunghan.”
He can’t see him, for they’re so close, but he can hear the hint of a smile in his voice when he says, “Well, Seunghan, I guess we’ll see each other tomorrow.”
Seunghan frowns in confusion before he catches the sound of wheels rolling on asphalt. The bus.
Just like this, it’s taken away from him. Once again, they part and Seunghan stares at black hair that almost reaches shoulders with a heavy heart. Wonbin enters the bus and disappears, like Cinderella running off when the clock hits midnight.
Seunghan feels more at loss than the prince in the tale. They didn’t even get to share a dance.
𓇢𓆸
The next day, enthusiasm runs in Seunghan’s veins. Grey clouds have dissipated to leave their place to a bright, warm sun, and the faint breeze is just enough to balance the temperature. This is a perfect day.
Oh, and he can finally put a name on the beautiful boy’s face. Details, details.
Wonbin. It’s simple, it’s pretty. It sounds like a windy day of spring, when birds flap their wings in the sky and cherry blossom petals fall to decorate the ground and cover the grass. It perfectly fits its owner.
They know each other’s name, which means they aren’t exactly strangers anymore. Seunghan couldn’t be more ecstatic.
So, when he walks to the bus stop like every morning, there’s a smile on his face he can’t subdue. He might look stupid, but at least, he doesn’t have chicks looming over his head this time.
When he gets there, he sees Wonbin, standing straight in his usual place. But, this time, he has a hand wiping his face, under his eyes.
It takes a couple of steps forward for Seunghan to figure out that he’s crying.
Wonbin isn’t subtle in the way he hides his face when he notices Seunghan’s presence. Seunghan doesn’t know why he’s surprised at the act.
His heart pangs at the sight. “Are you okay?”
When a gust of wind uncovers his face from his hair, Seunghan can see his side profile. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s still so beautiful.
Wonbin sniffs. “I hate when people ask me if I’m okay, when I’m clearly not.”
Stupefaction falls over Seunghan’s head like an icy, cold shower. It trickles down his back and leaves goosebumps on its way. The bad kind.
He’s not sure of what to say. He curls into himself, feeling bad all over. It seems like he said what he shouldn’t have.
His muscles tense up when Wonbin turns his head to look at him. He’s having a hard time decoding the meaning behind his facial expression.
“Sorry, I just—“ Wonbin takes one step towards him, and then one step away. He suddenly looks nervous. “Can I— Can I have a hug?”
Seunghan raises his eyebrows in surprise, but relaxes. Wonbin is sad, maybe regretful, but also in dire need of comfort. If there’s one thing Seunghan can give a generous amount of, it’s that.
Wordlessly, he opens his arms wide and smiles in what he hopes is a clear invitation.
Wonbin takes it. In no time, he crumbles into Seunghan’s arms and hides his wet face in the juncture between Seunghan’s neck and shoulder. Seunghan holds him steadily, hand rubbing small circles on his back. If he breathes into Wonbin’s hair, it’s by accident.
“Oh no.” What comes out of Wonbin’s mouth when he draws away is between a sob and a laugh. “I’m getting snot on your coat.”
Wonbin still has his arms around his shoulders. Naturally, Seunghan’s hands settle closer to the small of his back. The last thing Seunghan could care about is snot on his coat.
“It’s okay.”
Wonbin steps back, and their hands go back to their respective spots. Wonbin wipes at his face one last time and shrugs, like he’s trying to get ahold of himself with a faux smile.
“Your shoulders are comfortable.”
Outside, Seunghan’s smile expands until it reaches his ears. Inside, his heart explodes. “Well. I’m glad.”
The way they keep staring into each other’s eyes as the world keeps turning around them has Seunghan weak on his legs. “Thank you, Seunghan.”
Seunghan could tell him, of course, I’ll always be there when you need me, but really, he needs to shut up before he confesses his everlasting love with one knee on the ground. Even he has the decency to have a limit to his misery.
So, he only nods in response to that. Wonbin’s eyes are still puffy. Seunghan hates it. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Wonbin looks away and straightens his mouth in a line. “Not really.”
That’s all he says before the bus parks in front of them. Routine settles in, Wonbin walks in first, Seunghan second. One at the back, one at the front.
Seunghan isn’t sure how to feel as he looks through the window. It’s a sunny day, but pain spreads in the middle of his chest. He doesn’t know why.
𓇢𓆸
The weekend passes by surprisingly quickly. Seunghan takes it easy, binge watches some of his favorite TV shows and eats as much bad food as he likes. For some reason, he’s uneasy about seeing Wonbin Monday. Something between excitement and fear. Something that leaves him with a churning stomach at night.
Friday’s interaction was weird. Actually, all of their interactions that week had been weird. Some left him with butterflies, some with an over conscious mind. Then, Seunghan only knew the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his jawline and the roundness of his eyes. Now, he knows the sound of his voice, the syllables of his name. The sound of his voice when he says Seunghan’s name. Everything that leaves Seunghan giggly if he thinks about it too much.
He figures he should wait for Monday and see how everything settles down from there.
When Monday comes by, Seunghan wears his nicest shirt and brushes his teeth harder. When he arrives at the bus stop, he doesn’t expect for Wonbin to be fully looking at him and ready to speak as soon as Seunghan’s close enough.
“I wanted to thank you for being so nice yesterday. Even if I was an asshole, kind of.” Wonbin is playing with his fingers, turning and picking at them. Seunghan wants to take his hands in his own to stop him.
He’s a bit speechless, but he’s starting to get used to that feeling. “No, no, it’s okay.” He shakes his head, to assure himself or Wonbin, he isn’t sure. He doesn’t want Wonbin to blame himself. “We all have bad days.”
Wonbin’s eyes do this thing that clearly hints at him thinking about what Seunghan just said. It’s very cute. Then, he shrugs and looks into the distance. “It was because of my job, by the way.”
“Oh.” Seunghan scratches the back of his head. “Is it your boss?”
Wonbin rolls his eyes. Touché. “Everything. But yeah, mostly my boss. I take online classes during the weekend, and he knows that, but he keeps overcharging me with work. Constantly. I’m so drained, I– Sorry, I’m rambling.”
Seunghan takes a moment to think about it. He knows it’s easier said than done, but, “If it’s that bad, I think you should quit.”
“Wow, no one has told me that before.”
Seunghan can’t really read the tone of Wonbin’s voice, but he stammers, thinking that he’s being sarcastic. “Huh, I’m sorry–”
“No, actually. The only person I’ve told is my mom, and she keeps telling me, this is what life as an adult is, Park Wonbin.” He finishes with a high pitched voice, clearly imitating his mother.
Seunghan scoffs lightly. “Sounds like my dad.”
Wonbin looks into the distance. Seunghan stares, kind of getting distracted. “What if I can’t find a new job? What if no one else wants me?”
Seunghan doesn’t know much about Wonbin, but he knows that this is bullshit. “You’ll never know if you don’t try. And I doubt no one else would want you.”
Finally, a shy smile blooms. “Thank you, Seunghan.”
“You’ve said that, already.” Seunghan tries to tease, like he isn’t red in the face himself. He is such a hypocrite.
For the first time, Wonbin smiles fully, teeth showing and all. He has bunny teeth. Seunghan sketches that and locks it up in his mind. “Oh, should I thank you another way?”
Seunghan has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Wonbin looks unsure himself of what he’s about to do until he takes a step closer, gets on his tippy toes and leaves a dry peck on Seunghan’s cheek.
He draws away faster than it takes for Seunghan’s brain to process what just happened.
He freezes on the spot, arms tensed up by each side of his frame. When he looks at Wonbin, he’s blushing violently, cheekbones bruised with such a deep red Seunghan has never seen on his skin before.
Considering how hot he feels under his collar, he must not be looking any different himself.
He doesn’t even hear the bus approaching, doesn’t even move when it makes a stop. He can still feel the ghost of Wonbin’s lips on his left cheek. It tingles.
If he were alone, he’d reach for it with his hand to trap it onto his skin forever.
“Seunghan, are you coming?”
Seunghan jolts out of his daydream and goes to join Wonbin in the bus before the door closes. “Oh– Yes, yes.”
He sees Wonbin’s shoulders shake and realizes he’s being laughed at. He doesn’t really mind. He’s still giddy.
This time, when Seunghan sits in his usual seat, Wonbin takes the one next to him. He ignores Seunghan’s gaze, still red in the face, and Seunghan kind of wants to kiss all over his face aggressively like he’d do to a cat.
The bus sets off and their knees graze. This time, when Seunghan looks through the window, his heart is filled with something all too overwhelming.
𓇢𓆸
“I quit my job.”
Seunghan’s step stutters when he gets to the bus stop. Despite this information, Wonbin looks like he’s in a good mood.
“Congratulations?” Seunghan doesn’t know how he should react. Mostly, he’s a bit confused. “But, what are you–”
“I thought we could spend the day together. But I didn’t really think. I don’t know if you could call in sick, or something…” Wonbin rambles on, embarrassed. Seunghan loves when he gets like this.
The fact that Wonbin quit his job but still showed up at 6:30 when it’s cold and the weather sucks just to know if he could spend his day with Seunghan has him going in a spiral of things he should not be getting into right now.
“I can’t.” He says honestly, causing Wonbin to look discouraged. “But you can still spend the day with me.”
He perks up at that. His cute eyes dart from left to right and he gnaws on his bottom lip. The sight makes Seunghan realize that he might actually spend the day with Wonbin and he’s not sure how he’ll survive that.
“Are you sure? Won’t I be in the way?”
Never. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can help me.”
Bunny teeth show and Seunghan smiles back brightly. When the bus gets there, too excited, he grabs Wonbin’s wrist to guide him in.
Seunghan works at the local library. It’s cozy, there’s enough clients to get their sales going, and Seunghan has always been familiar with the place. As boring as it can get sometimes, he loves working there.
It’s only him and another woman. Since she has her Tuesdays off, he’s the only one working today. And, well, Wonbin. If that counts.
Wonbin’s a fast learner, and he’s genuinely interested in what Seunghan does. He helps him with the stocking, the cleaning and even the clients. Seunghan was scared that it might be awkward, but it’s not. Wonbin loves to talk, and Seunghan loves listening to him.
When they are arranging the books in the kid’s section, Wonbin grabs a book that should be three rows higher than his head. When he can’t reach it, a few centimetres too short, Seunghan giggles and does it for him. They both ignore each other’s gaze and continue the job, Seunghan’s face burning.
“Have you worked here for long?” Wonbin asks, giving him a curious glance.
Seunghan tilts his head in thought. “I helped when I was a kid, and did some volunteering as a teenager. The lady who works here, my boss, is very familiar with me and my dad. When I was looking for a new job, she took me in, and I’ve been doing full time for almost a year now.”
“That’s so cool. Are you studying?”
“Not for now.” Seunghan shakes his head. “I like it here, so it’s not really in my plans.”
Wonbin hums as an acknowledgement. “How old are you, by the way?”
“I’m 20. You?”
“I thought you’d be older.” Wonbin muses. “I’m 22. You should call me hyung.” He finishes teasingly.
“Is that so, hyung? Why’d you think I was older?” He asks smugly. For some reason, this gives him pride.
Wonbin shrugs. “I don’t know, you look mature. And you’re tall.”
Seunghan pulls an act of puffing out his chest in such an obvious way that it’s ridiculous, getting on his tippy toes to make himself taller and keeping his chin up as he makes an overly serious face. “Really?”
Wonbin bursts out laughing and slaps at his arm gently. “Stop that!”
At the end of the day, the sun is still shining outside. When the last client leaves, Wonbin helps closing, and Seunghan can’t help but get the feeling that it went by too fast. Tonight, he’ll still be left with only his dreams, and that doesn’t seem to be enough. Now that he’s experienced the real thing, talking to Wonbin, being something close to friends with Wonbin, he doesn’t want to let it go so easily.
When it’s time to go, none of them move. Wonbin’s the first to say it, “I don’t wanna go home.”
Seunghan couldn’t agree more. “I don’t want you to go home either.”
“I just quit my job, so I probably shouldn’t eat out…” Wonbin looks away, playing with his finger. He’s shy, Seunghan realizes.
There’s an implication there, which doesn’t go over Seunghan’s head. He himself can’t stay still, but decided to throw his own timidity out the window. “I’ve got some pasta at home. Do you like pasta?”
Wonbin smiles. “I love pasta.”
And maybe, it’s that simple.
It’s that simple when they take the bus back to Seunghan’s home. It’s that simple when Wonbin’s fingers slide between his when they hold hands until they reach the porch. It’s that simple when they cook and talk and laugh in Seunghan’s kitchen.
Maybe not all dreams are illusions. Some become true, some stay as a mere fairytale. As long as the most important ones are the ones becoming true.
Seunghan doesn’t mind working 7 to 5. He doesn’t mind the simple life that he lives, because he loves what it’s made of. Rainy days, sunny ones, four alarms to make sure that he wakes up, working at the library, eating pasta for dinner, and Wonbin. He’ll take all of it as long as he can reach it with an eager hand.
And when they fall into Seunghan’s bed that night, biting and kissing every spot of skin available, he thinks that he doesn’t have to dream anymore. He has it all for himself.
He can watch as he slides a finger down Wonbin’s abdomen, can watch as it leaves goosebumps on its trail, can watch as Wonbin’s body does those little twitches at a particular touch.
Finally, he can touch.