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When Brian had spent the better part of his last semester in Vancouver preparing for his study abroad in Korea, he had dedicated hours and hours to practicing the language, researching the culture and filling out form after form to make sure his student visa and all related documentation were in order to try to make his transition from Canadian to Korean life as seamless as possible.
But even with all his research, pouring over dozens of articles written in English, Korean and Mandarin, YouTube travel blogs, and even interviewing a few Korean students studying abroad at his university, Brian had not at all been prepared for the confusing complexity that was the Seoul Metropolitan Subway.
His first day in Seoul, Brian had attempted to travel by subway from his goshiwon to Itaewon Market to pick up a couple of essentials he hadn’t been able to pack in his luggage from Canada and instead of ending up at Noksapyeong station like he had planned, literally just one stop down from the station he had gotten on at, Brian somehow managed to find himself in Dolgoji, over half an hour in the opposite direction, and it ended up taking him nearly three hours to figure out how to get back to the goshiwon he was renting with three other international students.
Seoul Metropolitan Subway: 1 - Brian Ho: 0.
He wasn’t sure if it was the conflicting signs in a language he was still only halfway fluent in, or the garbled, nearly incomprehensible voice announcing each stop, or maybe Brian was just straight up an idiot, but either way, Brian now had a permanent grudge against the Seoul subway system, and like hell was he going to let it best him again.
So now, here he was, first day of classes, first day at his new school for the next year, ready to show the subway it was no match for Brian Ho.
Monday morning his first class starts at 9:00, and Brian has spent the past 12 hours since the unfortunate subway incident the day before memorizing his commute. Walk to the bus stop down the street from his goshiwon and take the 405 or the 421 bus, whichever comes first, up to Itaewon station, and then from there hop on the 6 Line subway and ride it for 10 stops until he reaches the Korea University campus, and then he’s golden.
Piece of cake.
He may have an only barely passable grasp of the language and absolutely no friends to speak of in this massive city, if he didn’t count his three new roommates, who he had just met for the first time yesterday, but Brian was totally going to crush this next year in Seoul, even if it killed him.
Brian was focusing so hard on mentally recounting the subway stops he needs to take in his head Hangangjin - Beotigogae - Yaksu - Cheonggu - Sindang - Dongmyo - Changsin - Bomun - Anam, that he completely misses the large puddle of water shining in front of him on the sidewalk until he's already slipping in it.
He tumbles to the ground knees first, ripping open the knees of one of his best pairs of pants, and tries to catch himself on one hand, the hand he conveniently forgot was currently holding his phone until he was slamming it screen first down into the pavement with a loud crunch, while his other hand, clutching an iced americano - a Korean staple Brian had been determined to learn to enjoy despite its bitterness - dumps his coffee all over the front of his pale purple sweater, one of his favorites.
Brian has to force himself not to cry.
He didn’t cry when he left Vancouver. He didn’t cry when he hugged his parents and all his siblings goodbye, or when the homesickness hit him so hard the night before that it hurt like a physical ache.
But Brian was bleeding and covered in dirty water and mud and coffee and who knows what else, gripping a dripping plastic coffee cup in one hand and a phone with a screen shattered beyond repair in another. He hadn’t properly slept since he left Canada somewhere around 72 hours before due to the jetlag, and he didn’t have a single friend in this entire godforsaken country and Brian’s eyes burn from the pressure building behind his eyelids.
For half a second Brian considers just turning around and going back to his goshiwon, the first day of school be damned, and just curling up under the covers of his rickety mattress and wasting the day away until he could try again tomorrow.
But Brian didn’t move across an entire ocean just to let a skinned knee and a broken phone and coffee-soaked sweater knock him down. So, he forces back the lump in his throat, shoves his busted phone in his back pocket, tosses his now empty coffee cup in the nearest trash can and adjusts his backpack on his shoulder, setting off towards the Itaewon station at a brisk pace.
Because he sure as hell isn’t going to miss his train.
Brian’s lucky, he manages to speed walk into the station right as the 6 Line subway is pulling into the platform, and Brian speeds up to a lopping jog to slip onto the train right as the doors are closing, thankfully finding himself in an only halfway full car, a couple of seats still available.
Brian slumps into the first seat he comes across, trying to force himself to relax. He made the train, now all he has to do is sit here and ride the subway until he gets to his stop.
Easy-peasy.
For some reason Brian’s eyes start burning again, the adrenaline from his rush to the station fading from his system, leaving him exhausted and shaky. Brian blinks furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay because he would not cry on the subway.
He would not embarrass himself like that in front of all these strangers he would probably never see again.
Brian’s eyes flutter shut as he allows himself one deep breath, and then another, trying to calm his frazzled nerves and failing miserably.
A shadow moves in front of him and blocks the light overhead, Brian’s eyes spring open reflexively, fully prepared to chew out whatever nosy Korean ahjumma who was suddenly all up in his business.
But when he opened his eyes and looked up, instead of being met with some middle-aged Korean woman, he instead found himself staring up at… a boy.
The boy that looked somewhere around Brian’s age, maybe a couple years younger, with prominent apple cheeks and lightly tanned skin a shade or two lighter than Brian’s own. His thick, black hair was slightly wavy and a bit shaggy, his bangs framing his wide, dark eyes perfectly, and he’s shooting Brian a small upside-down sort of smile. He’s got on a white button-up shirt and a dark tie that could be green or could be black, and a dark denim jacket slung over his shoulders.
And if he wasn’t the most gorgeous man Brian had ever seen.
“Damn.” The guy said, nodding his chin in the direction of Brian’s ruined purple sweater, soaked through with coffee and other various fluids he very much didn’t want to think about right now.
Brian promptly wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Because the hottest boy he had ever seen had just taken one look at him and said ‘Damn’. And not in a good way either.
As he flounders for something, anything , to say to try to not make himself sound like a complete and utter loser who had just been seconds away from crying in the middle of a crowded subway car, the boy grabs his backpack down off one shoulder and starts rifling through it, tugging out a pair of headphones so old that they had those weird foam coverings over the ears, a couple of random candies and a battered leather bound notebook before finally pulling out a well-worn scarf in a beautiful shade of indigo.
“Here, you can take this.” Subway Boy says, passing Brian the scarf, which felt just as soft in his fingers as it looked, “You look like you probably need this more than me right now, so you can keep it.”
Brian just blinks up at the other boy dumbly, wondering if maybe the subway had magically transported him to an alternate dimension where it was normal for boys that look like they had just walked out of his latest wet dream to give random foreigners crying on the train pieces of their clothing to wear.
“I can’t just take your scarf!” Brian tries to shove the lovely purple fabric back into the dark-haired boy’s hands, but the beautiful stranger just casually takes a step back out of Brian’s reach.
Subway Boy shrugs, looking unconcerned, “You don’t have to worry about it. I can always just buy another one.”
“But it’s cold outside.” Brian argues, although he wasn’t entirely sure why, because he desperately wants to keep the scarf. It was warm, and soft, and better than walking around on his first day of classes looking like he had gotten into a fight with a cup of coffee and lost.
The stranger grins then, his smile tugging at the corner of his lips like he was letting Brian in on some inside joke, “I don’t get out much.”
Brian just gapes up at the dark-haired boy, his brain nothing but mindless fuzz in the face of the other boy’s smile.
“Look,” Subway Boy starts, a wry smile on his face, “You can either take the scarf, or just leave it here when you leave, and it’ll be lost to the mysteries of the Seoul subway system forever. Either one is a totally valid option. Take your pick.”
And well, Brian couldn’t exactly argue with that logic. Because Subway Boy was bright and shining and warm, and Brian doesn’t know how he could ever deny him anything really.
The stranger reaches forward to push the scarf further into Brian’s grasp, and when their fingers touch over the soft purple knit, Brian feels a sharp jolt of static electricity tingle up his arm, startling a loud huffy laugh from the boy standing above him.
“You know, has anyone ever told you your Korean accent is kind of cute?”
Before Brian had a chance to respond, a fierce rosy blush rising to his cheeks, the train shudders on the tracks in a way that makes Brian’s heart squeeze but considering that none of the other passengers even bother to look up from their smartphones, was probably a relatively normal part of riding the train, and all the lights go dark.
From somewhere in front of him, the cute Subway Boy breathes out a quiet ‘Ah’, and when the lights flicker back to life, only a second or two later, the boy is gone.
💜🚝💜
Surprisingly, after that day, Brian starts seeing the subway in a whole new light.
Gone was his undisguised hatred for the cramped quarters and the lack of seats, or the incomprehensible Korean blasted through the speakers at every stop.
Instead, he begins to see the beauty behind all the ugliness.
His roommates think he's crazy for wanting to ride the subway as much as he does. Brian often forgoing rideshares from restaurants when going out drinking with his friends or turning down classmates who offered to give him a ride after a study session just so that he could enjoy the loud click-clacking of the subway racing along the tracks during his commute home.
And his newfound change of heart surely had absolutely nothing to do with a certain dark-haired, denim-clad stranger.
A stranger with a beautiful smile that was here one second and then gone the next. Just another face amongst the thousands that traveled the subway every single day.
Odds are, Brian would never see him again.
But still, Brian carries that vibrant purple scarf in his bag every single day. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could find the man who lent it to him and return the favor.
He knew it was a lost cause.
But he couldn’t help but tuck the soft, well-loved scarf into the front pocket of his backpack every morning before school and every night taking it back out and hanging it up on the hook with his jacket, mesmerized by its beautiful color.
A few weeks pass just like that. Brian’s life settling into a sort of routine, riding the subway to school every morning, busying himself in lectures and homework and classes in a language that was sometimes as clear to him as mud before eventually, once Brian’s eyes were bleary from trying to decipher hangul in the library for hours after his last class ends, he packs up his things and rides the subway back home, sometimes having dinner with his roommates and other times just immediately passing out on his bed, still in his clothes, until the next morning.
But a few weeks into his newfound routine, Brian sees him again.
He's three stops into his commute to school, munching on a day-old onigiri because he had been too lazy to make himself breakfast this morning when he happens to glance up and see him.
Subway Boy.
He has headphones on, a vintage-y pair with orange foam around the ears, his head tilted back to lean up against the window, a small, barely there smile on his face. His denim jacket was off this time, draped across the back of the seat next to him, lounging in a white button-up shirt with the sleeves cuffed, exposing the lean expanse of his forearms.
And Brian cannot believe what he’s seeing. He actually goes so far as to scrub his eyes with the back of his fists, certain that when he opens his eyes again the gorgeous stranger will be gone, nothing but a figment of his imagination.
But when he blinks the dark spots from his vision, he’s surprised to see that Subway Boy is still right where he left him.
Brian had just been about to open his mouth to call out to the dark-haired stranger when, almost like he could sense him staring, the boy’s eyes snap open, drawn to Brian’s like a magnet.
His mouth drops open into a little rounded ‘O’ of surprise, his brows nearly touching his hairline.
“Coffee Boy!” He calls, his lips twitching downward into the most heart wrenching upside-down smile, like his mouth couldn’t decide whether or not to twist up or down, and Brian felt every intelligent thought he had ever had leak from his ears at the sight.
“Subway Boy.” He stutters out, his face feeling like it was approximately a thousand degrees as butterflies swarm in his stomach.
Subway Boy’s smile only grows, creating lovely little smile lines across his cheeks as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees and exposing the elegant line of his collarbones peeking out under the collar of his shirt as he speaks, “Good morning.”
Brian tries to come up with some sort of suitable response, a good morning back, a hi, a hello, anything at all, but suddenly it was like all Korean had fled his mind entirely because all he could think about was how much he’d love to lick down the thin jut of the other man’s clavicle and he wound up reverting back to caveman English and blurting out,
“Delicious.”
The stranger just blinks at him once, stunned, before he starts to laugh, a huffy, loud thing that is startlingly imperfect, and it only makes Subway Boy seem even more perfect because of it.
“Did you just call me ‘delicious’?”
And then it was Brian’s turn to be surprised, both by the dark-haired stranger’s lightly accented English, and the other man’s gently teasing tone.
Not wanting to embarrass himself further, and figuring he was less likely to spit out the first thing he thought of if he actually had to take the time to translate his thoughts into the language he wanted to speak, Brian answered back in Korean,
“Ah, sorry about that, morning brain. Haven’t gotten enough caffeine in me yet today.”
The beautiful stranger just cocks an eyebrow, looking unconvinced. “Oh, so is that the problem? Nothing else then?”
The boy’s sly smirk was enough to leave Brian breathless and delirious, barely able to comprehend which direction was up as he got lost in the deep pools of Subway Boy's eyes.
“I, uh-, I-” Brian stammers dumbly for a few seconds before ultimately giving up and just starting a whole new train of thought.
“I have your scarf!”
Brian dives into his bag, scrounging around in between his notebooks and laptop charger until he finds his prize, holding the fabric delicately in his palm as he proffers it up to Subway Boy, completely forgetting the fact that they were currently sitting half a subway car apart from each other.
“You still have it?” Subway Boy murmurs softly, looking pleased, “Guess you didn’t leave it to become one with the subway car after all.”
Brian scoffs, “I would never. It was a gift.”
The stranger’s smile widens, his eyes crinkling upwards like he was the cat that got the cream.
“If it was a gift, then why are you trying to give it back then?”
And well, Brian didn’t exactly have an answer to that one.
“But, it’s your scarf.” He whines plaintively, holding the fabric out in front of him yet again, his thumb dragging along the soft fringe on the ends.
Subway Boy’s grin fades into something softer, his eyes shining, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyways. Purple is your color.”
“But- how can I repay you? You shouldn’t just let me have this for free.” Brian protests, even as he tucks the scarf closer to his side, not really wanting to give it up.
“Well then, how about next time you bring me something in return.”
Brian’s brow furrows, “Next time? What do you mean next time?”
Instead of immediately responding, Subway Boy just points up to the digital display above the door that reads Korea University Station . “This is your stop, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want you to be late for classes because of me.”
The subway car started to slow, signaling that they truly were approaching his stop and Brian clambered to his feet, both to get closer to the beautiful boy sitting across the aisle and to get ready to disembark the train.
“How do I know if I’ll even see you again?”
At that, Subway Boy just shoots him a relaxed sort of smirk, waving his hand above his head to gesture to the subway car around him, “If the subway wills it, then so it will be.”
The train car quickly jolts to a halt, and Brian stumbles forward at the abrupt stop before he manages to catch himself. Already passengers are beginning to disembark, and Brian knew he only had seconds before the doors started to close, the train racing off for the next stop whether or not Brian was still on it, but still he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from Subway Boy’s, not wanting this nebulous moment between them to end.
“Can I at least get your name?” Brian breathes, only barely comprehending the loud beep signaling that the doors were about to shut… with him still on the train, but he still wouldn’t move, wouldn’t break eye contact, not until he got his answer.
“I’m Jiho.” Subway Boy - Jiho - replies, “Now go, quickly!”
“Brian.” Brian gasps before bolting for the subway doors, barely managing to jump onto the platform before the door shuts behind him with a soft whoosh, and then before he could even blink, the subway, and the beautiful boy inside it were gone, off to the next destination.
Brian stands smiling dumbly on the platform while people come and go around him for long enough that two different trains arrive and depart from his platform, and he would surely be late for class, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to move, too overcome with a feeling of unrestrained giddiness blossoming in his chest.
Because now he knew Subway Boy’s name.
Jiho.
💜🚝💜
One entire long, homework-filled weekend later, Brian sequestered into his bedroom as he tries to cram as much knowledge into his brain as humanly possible, Monday finally rolls back around.
And with it comes another trip on the subway.
Except this time, by some sort of insane coincidence, when the subway doors slide open, Jiho is there.
“Coffee Boy.” Jiho grins his gummy, upside-down smile, and Brian’s day improves by approximately 1000%.
“Subway Boy.” Brian smiles back, and Jiho throws his head back and laughs, his loud, braying, obnoxious laugh, that was so utterly perfect in every single way.
As Brian comes and settles down into the seat next to Jiho, bumping the other boy’s shoulder with his own, he begins to wonder if there is such a thing as fate.
After that fateful morning, Brian actually ends up running into Jiho again that afternoon on the way home from school. Jiho shoots him an over exaggerated wink as he clears the seat next to him to allow Brian to sit, and Brian begins to think that he could get used to something like this.
Early morning train rides to school with Jiho, the pair munching on their separate breakfasts. Commutes home on the train with Subway Boy at his side, the pair discussing their respective days.
It was a bit of a naive dream. Especially considering he barely knew Jiho. But surprisingly, Jiho slots himself near seamlessly into Brian's new life in Seoul.
And so, in Brian’s first month in a new city, a new country, and speaking a new language, he learns the subway is a beautiful place. A perfect little bubble where he could just relax and be himself.
A 20-minute train ride twice a day, with a lovely boy who Brian was falling harder and harder for with every passing day.
There’s a train that arrives at 8:15 every morning at Itaewon station, and ever since he learned that it was Jiho’s train too, Brian has never once missed it.
Monday through Friday Brian gets to watch firsthand as Jiho makes friends with nearly every person who passes through their train, he’s seen him offer bandaids to young school kids with scraped knees, he watched as Jiho chatted amicably with a cache of Japanese tourists, seen him smile and laugh and joke with other college kids commuting to school.
But still, even after all the friends he seems to make, Jiho always gravitates back to Brian.
Usually, a stop or two before Brian had to get off, Jiho would find a way to extract himself from whatever person he had struck up a conversation with and come and settle himself back down at Brian’s side, slumping down till until his head rests against Brian’s shoulder, wrapping his denim jacket even tighter around his shoulders.
It was always that damn denim jacket. Every time Brian sees him, he has never once spotted Jiho without his iconic jacket, with its frayed collar and embroidered designs on the sleeve cuffs. If it wasn’t draped over his shoulders, then it was thrown over the back of his seat or folded on top of his backpack. On anyone else, wearing a denim jacket all of the time would’ve been completely lame. But Jiho, with his long limbs and slender figure and permanent smile affixed to his face, somehow made it work.
One morning, when Brian steps onto the train, spotting Jiho in the middle of helping some random auntie carry her groceries, he actually was treated to the sight of watching Jiho fumble and nearly drop the bag of produce he was carrying, only barely managing to get a grip on it before it tumbled to the floor.
“You-” Jiho stutters, his eyes wide as he looks Brian up and down, his mouth doing a weird, complicated movement that wasn’t quite a smile and wasn’t quite a frown.
“Me what?” Brian asks, glancing down at his outfit curiously, just a plain V-necked shirt, but sans jacket for once now that the weather was finally warming up, wondering if he had accidentally gotten toothpaste on his shirt or something.
“Nothing you just- you look nice.” Jiho rushes out before quickly turning away, returning to help the older woman with her groceries while Brian just blinks at the dark-haired boy’s back in confusion, a strange fluttering feeling growing in his chest.
“Thanks.” Brian whispers, too quietly to be heard over the noise of the subway jolting into motion.
Despite all the time they spend together, their joint commutes every morning and night, Brian knows next to nothing about Jiho. So, sometimes, when Jiho is off charming the other passengers, flitting between conversations like a hyperactive butterfly, he likes to imagine what Jiho’s life might be like whenever he’s not on the train.
He imagines Jiho with a set of noisy roommates, like his own, a set of worn slippers waiting by the front door, perfectly molded to Jiho’s feet. He pictures Jiho with an apron tied around his waist, flipping pancakes at the stove.
He likes to imagine a story behind all the little vintage pins on Jiho’s backpack, the little black cat keychain that’s hanging off one of the straps, maybe Jiho got it from a younger sibling or a cousin, and something about the thought makes Jiho seem warmer, even more real in Brian’s eyes.
But still, there’s something about Jiho that’s mysterious, completely unknowable, and secretly, Brian finds a bit of a thrill in the mystery, enjoying the fact that behind Jiho’s lovely smile is a multitude of secrets that maybe one day, he can get close enough to find out.
💜🚝💜
A few weeks of their twice daily train meetups continue, neither Brian nor Jiho ever once missing their trains, their schedules always somehow miraculously coinciding.
Even when the train is running 5 minutes ahead of schedule when Brian hops on after classes, Jiho is there.
When a technical error stops all trains on the 6 Line for an entire hour, causing Brian to be late to his morning lecture, when the subway finally starts running again, Jiho’s is the first face he sees when he steps inside the sliding doors, the dark-haired boy shrugging and rolling his eyes the second he sees him, looking equally as exacerbated by the train delay as Brian himself.
Once was a coincidence. But twice was a pattern.
So Brian decided to take advantage.
One random Friday towards the beginning of June, Brian decides to cut out of his last lecture of the day early and heads to the bakery across from the train station to pick up half a dozen hotteok before booking it for the subway.
Because today Brian has a bit of a different idea in mind when it comes to his commute home.
He ends up arriving at the Korea University station a few minutes earlier than normal and settles down on a bench to wait for his train.
His and Jiho’s train .
Thankfully, the time goes by quickly as Brian busies himself with trying to come up with what to say to Jiho when he sees him.
At first he thinks he’ll try for a suave, ‘The bakery gave me extra, so you can have some.’ line, but he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to pull it off, too certain he’ll be staring far too hard at Jiho’s face as he bites into the Korean pancakes to even pretend that he didn’t have an ulterior motive for bringing the treats.
His next alternative was to just be honest with the other boy and tell him he thought of Jiho when he saw the pancakes, so he bought them. But even just the thought of telling Jiho that directly to his face was enough to send Brian’s cheeks into flames, so of course, that idea was out.
Brian’s third idea, and frankly his best option, was to just plop the bag down onto Jiho’s lap, not even saying anything and just hope for the best. Admittedly it wasn’t his best idea, but it was the only one that didn’t make Brian want to throw himself onto the train tracks, and since his normal subway was already pulling into the station, he had run out of time to brainstorm, so it seemed like he was going with lucky idea number 3.
When he steps onto the train, like always, Brian’s eyes are immediately drawn to Jiho, the dark-haired boy was jacketless today, his denim jacket thrown haphazardly across his backpack, and his dark tie was loose around his neck, his white button-up rolled up to his elbows, his hair slightly mussed in a way that only came from Jiho running his hands through it repeatedly.
He was, in a word, beautiful .
Brian was so busy ogling Jiho that he nearly crashed directly into a pole, just barely managing to swerve out of the way at the last second, floundering wildly as he tried to keep his balance when the train started to move, probably looking like a complete idiot, given the way Jiho started giggling the moment he caught sight of him.
“You’re the worst.” Brian mutters as he slips into the open seat beside his friend, but his words are betrayed by the silly smile on his face.
“You love me.” Jiho titters, hiding his smile behind his palm, but Brian couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at the other boy’s teasing, not really, too busy reveling in the adorable way the apples of Jiho’s cheeks squish as he grins. And really, Jiho had no idea how close his words really were to the truth. Brian didn’t know if he could say he loved Jiho, considering their every interaction has taken place in a musty, old train car, but Brian thinks it could be love, someday.
“What’s that?” Jiho asks, pointing at the paper bag in Brian’s lap, jarring him from his romantically inclined thoughts.
“Hotteok.” Brian fumbles, completely forgetting every plan he had come up with while waiting for the train now that he was faced with Jiho’s curious eyes, “I -er- I… for you.” Brian babbles, all but shoving the paper bag into Jiho’s slack fingers, certain that his cheeks were flushing a ruddy shade of pink as he averts his gaze, not wanting to see whatever expression Jiho has on his face.
“Oh, Brian.” Jiho murmurs, his voice going soft, “How did you know it was my birthday?”
“It’s your birthday!” Brian yelps, his eyes going wide as he whips around to face Jiho, surprise painted across his face. He happens to turn just in time to see Jiho taking a large bite of one of the hotteok, his eyes scrunching into thin crescents as he lets out a pleased hum of contentment.
It takes everything in Brian not to bury his face in his palms and squeal over how cute Jiho looks right then and there.
Luckily, Jiho is too busy enjoying his dessert to realize that Brian was halfway to having a cuteness-induced aneurysm, and by the time he finishes chewing and opens his eyes, Brian has schooled his face back into what he hoped was a semi-normal expression.
Jiho shoots him a small smile, his eyes brimming with an emotion he can’t name and Brian’s mouth goes dry at the sight.
He has to cough lightly in order to get his next words out, “Well then, happy birthday to my favorite subway buddy.” Brian cheers, punching Jiho lightly on the shoulder for lack of any other idea of what to do with his hands.
Jiho pulls out one of the hotteok from the bag in his lap and presses it into Brian’s hand, tapping his own half-eaten pancake against it like a facsimile of clinking two cups together.
“To Subway Buddies!”
💜🚝💜
Like slowly dripping honey, spring slides into summer and summer into fall, the seasons flickering past faster than he could blink, and Brian abruptly finds that half his year of study abroad is already gone.
Despite the pressure of his ever-looming end to his stay in Korea, when he was with Jiho, he finds that all his worries seem to just slip away, like they had never even existed in the first place.
Brian finds that Jiho looks best painted in shades of red and brown and gold. His delicate features bathed in warm sunlight, lighting his skin up from the inside out.
It was times like this that Brian almost wishes he had chosen to become a traditional artist instead of an architect, because the perfect precise lines he was so practiced at would never do Jiho’s breathtaking smile or expressive eyes any sort of justice.
So, instead, he forces himself to drink in Jiho’s presence until his face is burned into his memory. He spends every trip to school memorizing the exact shape of Jiho’s laugh and every commute home diligently studying the graceful curve of Jiho’s cheeks when he smiles.
Because Brian has less than six months left in Korea, and he is going to make sure he makes the most of them.
It is an unexpectedly cold day towards the end of September as Brian hops onto a startlingly empty train on his commute home from school, Jiho’s well-worn purple scarf pulled up around his nose.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays Brian’s classes get out a little before rush hour truly hit, but even then there was always at least a few passengers in the car with him, but this time, Brian seems to have the train car all to himself besides a figure in a denim jacket with their head leaning back against one of the windows, a pair of old-fashioned headphones with bright orange foam padding perched on their ears.
Despite the numerous available seats on the train, Brian couldn’t help but pour himself into the seat directly next to the subway car’s one other passenger, unable to suppress his smile as the dark-haired boy cracks open one eye to take a peek at who dared to sit next to him on the entirely open train car.
Upon noticing that he wasn’t rubbing shoulders with a stranger, the cute boy’s eyes snap open and he sits up with a broad grin.
“Coffee Boy!”
“Jiho, it’s been like six months since then, can’t you let my embarrassment die in peace?” Brian laughs, knocking his shoulder against Jiho’s playfully as he pulls his backpack into his lap, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a plastic bag.
“Here, my mom sent me a ton of dried plums in the care package this month. You should definitely have some. I had my roommates try a couple, but they all acted like I tried to poison them or something.” Brian rolls his eyes exaggeratedly before opening the bag and pulling out two small, dried plums that admittedly looked much worse than they tasted, popping one into his mouth before extending the other out to Jiho.
The dark-haired boy looked at the small fruit dubiously for a glacially long moment before hesitantly picking it up, pinching it between two fingers and holding it as far away from his face as physically possible.
“You know, that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.” Jiho grimaces, glancing back down at the dried plum in his grasp like it was diseased, “I hope you know that this looks like a shriveled-up ball sack.”
“Just try it!” Brian goads, “I promise they’re way better than they look.”
Jiho sighs loudly through his nose, sparing Brian one last pained look, like he was hoping that maybe Brian would stop him before quickly shoving the entire plum into his mouth, chewing furiously.
Brian watches the entire thing unfold in front of his eyes, enraptured. Unable to tear his gaze away from Jiho’s twitching lips, his eyes tracing along the sharp line of his jaw as he chews, chews, chews and then finally swallows, the smooth column of his throat bobbing tantalizingly.
Brian’s mouth waters at the sight.
“Gah!” Jiho groans, breaking Brian from his trance, his beautiful features scrunched with displeasure, “You’re a dirty, filthy liar. That was absolutely disgusting.”
Not even upset that he could no longer unabashedly stare at Jiho, too busy enjoying the way Jiho was actually trying to scrub the taste of plum from his mouth with his finger like some sort of picky 12-year-old, Brian just smirks, “Oh, did I forget to tell you that they’re a bit of an acquired taste?” He teases before popping yet another plum into his mouth, leaning in close to Jiho’s ear and smacking his teeth loudly while he chews.
“Oh, gross, get that away from me!” Jiho cries, shoving at Brian’s head and shoulders roughly, trying to put as much distance between himself and Brian’s obnoxiously loud chewing as possible.
If anything, this only made Brian chew even louder, opening his mouth wide so the pulpy remnants of his plum were visible. “Don’t lie,” Brian crows through his stuffed cheeks, tossing aside any and all manners in favor of watching Jiho squirm, “You know you like it.”
Jiho redoubles his efforts to push Brian away, cursing furiously under his breath as Brian manages to shove another plum into his mouth, starting his loud smacking all over again. “The only thing I’d like is to put my foot up your ass!”
Jiho was halfway standing now, shoving his knee in between Brian’s on the seat as he tries to leverage himself above the taller boy, nearly straddling Brian’s lap. If he hadn’t been so busy trying to annoy Jiho, Brian might have found their new position kind of hot.
“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Brian teases, his hands coming up to grip at the front of Jiho’s jacket, fully intending to drag the dark-haired boy back down onto the seat when the subway suddenly shudders to a halt, the lights flickering out all at once.
Jiho, off-balance from his awkward half-standing, half-sitting position, tumbles directly down onto Brian’s lap, startling a soft ‘oof’ sound from the both of them at the sudden collision.
When Brian glances up, Jiho’s face is right there. The dark-haired boy’s hands bracketing Brian’s head against the window to keep them from colliding face first.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Jiho whispers, the edge of a laugh in his voice.
“Are you flirting with me?” Brian meant for it to come out teasing, but instead he sounded nearly breathless, unable to tear his gaze away from Jiho’s dark, magnetic eyes.
JIho huffs, “Have been for the past 6 months, are you just now noticing?”
Unconsciously, Brian’s hand tightens where it had settled against Jiho’s waist. His heart rabbiting in his throat as he stared up at the beautiful man on top of him. “Can I kiss you?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Jiho murmurs, and then his lips were on his.
The moment their lips collide, Brian feels something like a static shock course through his body, radiating outward from the place their mouths were connected, and he couldn’t help but moan at the unexpected sensation.
Because Brian had kissed people before, girls, boys and even a few people that were somewhere in between, but it had never, ever felt anything like this. Jiho’s lips sparking along his skin, melding against his in a perfectly choreographed dance that set Brian’s nerves alight.
Jiho’s lips drop open as the other boy lets out a breathy sigh, and Brian can’t help but press his tongue inside. He finds that the Jiho tastes faintly of dried plums, and Brian longs to lick the taste from his mouth, needing Jiho closer, needing more, more, more , as he delves deeper into Jiho’s warmth. It seems that Jiho is on the same page, squirming in his lap as his hands come up to fist through Brian’s hair, dragging a whine from Brian’s lips.
Brian’s hands wrap tighter around Jiho’s thin waist, dragging the other boy impossibly closer, until they were chest to chest, Jiho’s knees digging almost painfully into the side of Brian’s hips, but Brian couldn’t bring himself to care, too drawn into Jiho’s gravitational pull to think of anything outside the feeling of Jiho’s lips on his.
He wants to crack his ribs open and allow Jiho to make himself a home there, completely entranced by the way Jiho’s fingers play songs across his rib cage, and the way the other boy hums against his lips. Jiho’s mouth twists into a smile even as he kisses the breath from Brian’s lungs, and Brian can’t help but let himself be dragged along for the ride, a giddy feeling building in his chest.
He knows it isn’t love… not yet, but he desperately thinks he could be.
Brian thinks he could spend all day like this, letting himself get kissed senselessly by the beautiful boy in his lap, but unfortunately the universe has other plans, the subway around them jolting back to life at the same moment Brian’s teeth nip down onto Jiho’s bottom lip, the bright lights suddenly flickering on startling the pair out of the tiny bubble they had built around themselves and thrusting them full force back into the real world.
With an exasperated sigh, Jiho presses one last chaste kiss to Brian’s lips before sliding off his lap, smoothing his hair down and straightening his shirt so their public indiscretions don’t look quite so obvious, not that any amount of hair fixing can hide his swollen lips or ruddy cheeks.
Right before the train reaches the next stop, signaling the end to their quiet little moment of peaceful solitude, Brian can’t help but reach across the seat and interweave his fingers with Jiho’s, squeezing lightly.
Jiho looks over at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away, not even when other passengers begin filing onto the train and crowding into the seats around them. Instead he just holds onto Brian’s hand even tighter, their fingers twisted together until Brian regretfully has to extract his hand so that he can get off at his stop.
The entire walk home Brian swears he can still feel the lingering heat of Jiho’s palm against his own.
💜🚝💜
The more time he spends around Jiho, the more things he notices about the other boy that were decidedly odd.
The first, and most obvious thing was Jiho’s old-fashioned headphones, which were always connected to a beat-up cassette player covered in stickers so worn out and faded Brian couldn’t even begin to make out what they used to say.
Once, when he had asked Jiho what he was listening to, the other boy just smirks and said, “About Romance.”
And Brian, while decently well-versed in current Korean and Western music, had absolutely no idea what song he could be talking about and just ogled the other boy oddly.
Jiho tries again, “Choi Baekho?”
Brian still just stares at him blankly, until Jiho eventually sighs and tugs his headphones off before leaning forward and places the bright orange headphones down over his ears.
He hadn’t known what to expect to be playing from Jiho’s headphones, but he hadn’t anticipated a jaunty tune and a man’s crooning voice to start echoing in his ears. It sounds like something Brian’s mom might play while cooking dinner, not something he’d expect a 20-something to be listening to recreationally. But Jiho wasn’t exactly typical in any sense of the word, so Brian had just brushes the entire thing off as a one off.
Later, when he got home that night, he ends up looking up the song, which had apparently come out in 1994, almost a decade before Brian had even been born, but he couldn’t help but sit in his room late at night and listen to the song on repeat, lyrics about lost love and wasted youth spinning through his head as he fell into a dreamless slumber.
Needless to say, the song ends up being added to his playlist.
The next time Jiho was being strange was when Brian tries to ask for the other boy’s number, finally deciding to shoot his shot to try to bring their weird friendship defined only to the four walls of the subway into something that he could look forward to outside of his daily commutes.
“Hey Jiho, can I get your KakaoTalk ID?
“What?” Jiho, who had been in the middle of stacking up Brian’s college notebooks on the seat beside him like a massive house of cards, and failing quite badly at it, startles, the abysmal stack of notebooks he had been creating crashing down onto the seat with a sad little thump.
Brian holds his phone out invitingly, his KakaoID already pulled up on the screen, “KakaoID?”
Jiho’s purses his lips, his brows pulling together like he was conflicted about something, his eyes skittering away from Brian’s, refusing to meet the other boy’s gaze. “Oh, I don’t have a phone.”
And Brian wasn’t an idiot. He knew an excuse when he heard one, because seriously, who didn’t have a phone?
If Jiho didn’t want to give him his number, that was fine. Brian could be an adult about it.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t acutely feel the sting of rejection like a physical ache as he shoots Jiho a brittle smile and tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“Forget I even asked.”
The next time Brian realized that something about Jiho was off was when Brian hops on the 6 Line coming back from getting drinks with a few friends, barely making it on time for the last train of the night, fully expecting nothing but half-asleep commuters and drunk college students in the subway car, but surprisingly he is met with a tall, lanky man in a denim jacket and orange headphones laying curled up on the bench seat with his backpack shoved up underneath his head like a pillow.
“Jiho?!” Brian shouts incredulously, loud enough that a few dead-eyed passengers turn to glare at him and Jiho begins to stir at the sound of his name, blinking blearily at the bright light.
“Brian?” Jiho asks muzzily, before bolting upright with alarm, his eyebrows nearly hitting his hairline as he realizes where he is. The other boy nervously smoothing down the front of his shirt, which Brian belatedly notes is the same plain white button-up he usually saw him in.
“What are you doing here?” Brian asks, settling down into the space previously occupied by Jiho’s head. The seat was still warm with the remnants of Jiho’s body heat. “Why are you sleeping on the train?”
Jiho rubs at the back of his head awkwardly, “Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jiho laughs a touch too loud, the note ringing decidedly false, and piquing both Brian’s concern and curiosity.
“Jiho, is something wrong?” Brian asks, his voice gentle and non-judgemental. “You can talk to me if you want.”
“Can you just pretend you didn’t see that earlier? It’s kind of embarrassing when the guy you-” Jiho abruptly cuts himself off, his ears glowing pink, “It's embarrassing when someone you know sees you sleeping on the train.”
And Jiho looks so viscerally uncomfortable, shifting anxiously in his seat as he glances over at Brian with uneasy eyes that ultimately Brian just decides it was best to drop it.
But that didn't mean he wasn't still curious.
Things with Jiho had a funny way of never adding up.
The way that he never talks about his family, never mentions any friends or what his job was that had him dressing up in the same white button-down and black tie day after day, hell Brian didn't know what stop the other boy got off at, or even his last name.
Jiho was a mysterious black hole, who constantly left Brian with more questions than answers, but still that didn't stop Brian from being halfway in love with him anyways.
After what Brian had mentally started dubbing the kissing incident , he thought things between him and Jiho would start to change.
And while in some ways, they did. The dark-haired boy more inclined to reach for his hand across the seat, or to lay his head on Brian's shoulder, or press a gentle kiss against his cheek as Brian stands waiting for the subway doors to open at his stop.
But in other ways, things stayed exactly the same.
Brian still barely knew anything about his mysterious Subway Boy, Jiho just as tight-lipped about himself as ever, and anytime Brian asked if Jiho wanted to get dinner, or lunch or coffee together, Jiho always seemed to find some sort of reason to say no.
“Ah, I can't, I'm busy today.”
“Sorry, I'm short on cash this month, just paid rent so I can't afford it.”
“Maybe next time. I’m really tired today.”
All Jiho's excuses seemed reasonable at first glance… but as one excuse became two, and two became three, Brian couldn't help but think that maybe he was the problem.
After a particularly grueling week of midterms, Brian collapses into his designated train seat beside Jiho without a bone weary sigh, melting into the other boy's side as Jiho's hand instinctively comes up to card through Brian's hair.
And Brian’s tired, stretched-thin brain just couldn't comprehend Jiho's wildly oscillating hot and cold attitude, the other boy affectionate one minute and stoic and reserved the next.
So, finally at his wits end, Brian snaps.
“What's your problem?”
Beside him, Jiho stiffens, his hand freezing against his scalp. “What do you mean?”
Brian pulls his head off Jiho's shoulder, shooting the other boy with his iciest glare.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Brian grumbles, arms crossed, “Half the time you treat me like I'm your boyfriend, and the other half of the time you hold me at arm's length. Hell, Jiho, I don't even know your last name .”
Jiho's expression looks pained, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip, his eyes shockingly shiny like he was suspiciously close to tears.
“It's Choi.”
Brian blinks, “What?”
“My last name. It's Choi.” Jiho repeats, his shoulders hunching inward like he was trying to make himself smaller, his next words coming out barely above a whisper as he rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, his expression tense.
“God Brian, I don't think you realize how much I like you. From the first time I met you, when you were covered in coffee and looked like you were seconds away from crying, you were like a shining light in the darkness.” And then Jiho really was crying, silent tears slipping down his cheeks as he spoke, “I've spent years going through the motions like I was in some sort of haze. But the day I met you, it was like I suddenly… woke up.”
“Go out with me.” Brian blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain, just wanting to do something, anything to stop Jiho from making that horrible, pained face.
Instead of looking happy or relieved, Jiho's face crumples, his tears flowing even harder now, in little hiccuping sobs, and Brian couldn't resist the urge to gather the smaller boy in his arms, hugging his quivering body tightly against his chest.
“I-I can't.” Jiho wails, loud enough that a few nearby passengers look over at the commotion but Brian can't bring himself to care about anything outside of Jiho.
“Why not?” Brian whispers into Jiho's scalp, the silky strands tickling his nostrils, “I like you, and you like me, I really don't see what the problem is.”
Brian tries to keep his tone light, but he's pretty sure he fails miserably, too keyed up by Jiho's unexpected emotional outburst to keep the anxious note from his voice.
“You don't understand.” Jiho hiccups before extracting himself from Brian's grip, looking him dead in the eye with a surprising amount of seriousness given the tears still drying on his cheeks.
“I'm cursed.”
Brian's hands come up to cup Jiho's cheeks reflexively, his fingers wiping the dampness from his skin, “Don't say that. That's absolutely not true. Anyone would be happy to date you. Myself included.”
“You're not getting it.” Jiho huffs, his hands reaching up to tug Brian's fingers away from his face, a note of annoyance present in his voice, “I'm literally cursed. I can't leave the train.”
Brian blinks, a dark laugh bubbling up from his throat, because seriously, that was how Jiho was going to reject him. With some over the top lie about curses and magic trains. Did Jiho really think he was an idiot?
Almost like he could sense Brian’s jaded doubts, Jiho’s voice cuts through his thoughts like a knife. “Brian, what year is it?”
“What does that have to do-”
“Just answer the question.” Jiho bites out, oddly fervent, so Brian decides to humor the other boy.
“It's 2024.”
Jiho lets out a shaky breath, his eyes blowing wide like he hadn't expected his answer, “Brian, I've been trapped on this train since 1994. I've been stuck here for 30 years.”
It takes a moment for Jiho's words to sink in, Brian's brain not willing to comprehend the frankly ludicrous statement Jiho had just made, but Jiho's expression is grim, his mouth set in a firm line, and Brian doesn't think he's ever seen him look so serious.
And really, it kind of all made sense when Brian put the pieces together.
Jiho always being on the train whenever Brian was. The other boy's weird taste in music and his cassette player and vintage headphones. It explained Jiho not having a phone, or always rejecting his date plans or not talking about his past or his family.
It was because Jiho couldn't leave to go buy a phone or to get new music to play on his train rides. He couldn't go on dates with Brian because he literally couldn't leave. And any family who he might've had probably thought he was dead.
Hell, was Jiho even alive , or was he some sort of ghost haunting the 6 Line subway?
“You're telling the truth? You're really trapped here?” Brian’s voice wavers, an unnamed emotion pressing in on him from all sides.
Jiho nods once, a tiny, rigid gesture, his body impossibly stiff beneath Brian's fingers.
And with that one small movement, every carefully crafted idea Brian had of taking Jiho out on coffee dates or to the movies, or, inviting Jiho to meet his roommates, and making him a home cooked meal on his tiny goshiwon stove went up in smoke, dashed in an instant.
“Oh.”
And then Brian starts to cry. Mourning a future he never got to see play out. Crying over a boy he never really got to know, stuck out of time on a moldy, disgusting subway for literal decades. Alone.
He can't imagine how lonely Jiho has been all these years. With no one but the passing faces of the daily subway commuters to keep him company, here one day and gone the next.
He was sure how long he sat there, sobbing, Jiho's arms encircling his back, the other boy's head pressing against his shoulder, a faint buzzing underneath his skin radiating out from every place that Jiho touched, positively electric, but eventually, long after Brian had missed his stop, his tears peter out, leaving him feeling completely worn out and wrung dry, with no more tears left to give.
When he finally unglues himself from Jiho’s chest, he finds that the other boy looks in much the same state as he feels, his eyes red-rimmed and his face puffy from crying, his hair mussed and tangled, but still, despite it all, Jiho shoots him a small, reassuring smile.
And he realizes, belatedly, that if this revelation is hard for him, he can’t even begin to imagine how Jiho must be feeling right about now. How Jiho had been feeling for years , without anyone to turn to, totally and utterly alone.
He thinks that if he had been in Jiho’s place, he would’ve lost his smile years ago.
While Brian was still thoroughly confused about everything going on, he knew, more than anything else, he never wants Jiho to lose his smile.
He refuses to let Jiho bear this weight alone any longer.
Abruptly, without warning, Brian leans forward and clasps Jiho’s cheeks between his palms, forcing the other boy to meet his eye.
“We’ll figure this out. I promise. I'll get you out of here.” Brian promised, meaning every word, more than he had ever meant anything in his entire life.
He leans in then, bridging the gap between their faces, until their lips meet in a heated kiss, uncaring of any potential onlookers as he pushes all his desperation and longing and an emotion that might be love into this one kiss, hoping that Jiho can understand all the words that Brian was unable to say. Jiho’s lips moved against his just as feverishly, telling tales of all the loneliness and anger and grief that Jiho had carried all alone for all those years. But also, Jiho’s kiss carried a hint of hope, a softness, a desire for a different ending.
And Brian would do anything to give it to him.
No matter what it took.