Archive of Our Own ^beta

Weather forecast had promised a nice day out, and sure enough that’s exactly how it is—warm; sunny, but not intense, clouds lazily floating along the bright blue sky, with a slight hint of breeze cutting through the humidity of the late morning.

Seungmin wishes he could spend his day enjoying this perfect spring offering, but work had other things planned for him. He supposes he has the rest of the day off, and nothing is stopping him from being spontaneous and spending it outside. Maybe he could go hiking; he could even bring his camera along—it’s been gathering dust for the last few months. But he’s also tired, having just spent an entire night at the office; his neck feels stiff from having fallen asleep at his desk. Just as nothing is stopping him from enjoying the nice weather, nothing is propelling him to go out of his way either. Newton’s first law states that an object in uniform motion will remain in motion at constant speed, while an object at rest will remain at rest; right now that very much feels like Seungmin’s life.

He lets out a huff of air as the train he’s riding slows to a stop at the next station. At almost the same time, another train on the parallel track also pulls to a stop. The doors slide open and Seungmin tightens his grip on one of the handles as a rush of people go by him to exit; it’s the final stop for some of them, while others have to transfer to another line. Seungmin is simply counting down the stations until he has to get off—there are four left for him.

He leans his head against the window, and stares outside the glass only for his breath to catch at the sight he sees through the other train. There’s a familiar man—a bit stocky in build, with dark eyes that have a droopy slant, yet also a sharp glint to them that is especially disarming when Seungmin’s gaze meets his. The man is a complete stranger, but interestingly, Seungmin has seen a lot of him over the last year, at least during weeknights. He rides the line parallel to the one Seungmin gets on, and it's always at this particular station that Seungmin spots him, because it's the only station where their respective lines meet for around a minute or two every night, allowing passengers to transfer if needed. And then the other train chugs along, followed by Seungmin's, only for the two trains to separate completely where the tracks next diverge. 

Every time Seungmin notices the man on the other train, it gives him a bit of comfort, some peace of mind, because it means he managed to leave work on time—something that unfortunately hasn’t happened much recently. 

He can’t recall when the last time was that he noticed Stocky Guy on the other train, and he doesn’t know how to feel, seeing him now, on a weekend, with the sun bright and high up in the sky. Stocky Guy was always dressed in business casual whenever Seungmin chanced upon him; in long sleeved dress shirts with pressed slacks, but he always appeared far more relaxed than Seungmin regularly feels in basically the same work attire. Maybe it was the way the stranger usually wore his tie was loose around his neck, and the way his sleeves were often rolled halfway up his arms, with his work blazer casually slung over one shoulder—all a stark contrast to the way Seungmin properly wears his suit even during his train rides home, never even loosening his tie until he’s in the comfortable confines of his own apartment. Even now, as rumpled as his attire is from a whole night of work, Seungmin refuses to unbutton his collar.

Today, Stocky Guy appears even more comfortable, in a short sleeved polo paired with more casual jeans. Seungmin doubts he spent a restless night at the office like he did, but he wonders if the man came in that morning instead; if his work place allows more casual work outfits during weekends—or maybe he’s simply on the train because he’s out and about, enjoying the nice weather like a normal person with an appropriate work-life balance. Seungmin wishes he could relate.

In the background, the disembodied voice announcing that the train is leaving the platform soon reverberates, and that’s when Seungmin notices that the stocky stranger from the other train is motioning at him. His hands are making confusing gestures, and it takes Seungmin half a second to realize that he’s saying to get off the train; to get off at this stop—at least Seungmin thinks that’s what the man is trying to say. He doesn’t speak sign language, and frankly, he doubts the man is gesturing with actual sign language.

Newton’s first law of motion states that an object at rest remains at rest—until an external force acts on it. Maybe the stranger on the other train is just that external force; maybe it’s the stranger combined with the impeccably clement weather. He has already disappeared from Seungmin's line of sight, and it could be from the way the sun directly hits the glass window as the other train lurches forward in movement, and in that moment, Seungmin makes his decision in a quick second, barely conscious, not at all thought out—very much unlike him in his normal, everyday life. 

He rushes out of the doors of his own train car right before they slide close.

The platform is bustling, a horde of people unloaded by both trains rushing to the exits. Usually, he allows himself to go with flow, allows himself to be carried to the exit by the singular movement of the masses—but this isn’t his stop. Seungmin inhales deeply, unable to believe he just did what he did, but he stays still and waits for the crowd to disperse.

When the platform empties, just a few straggling passengers left, he looks around nervously—what if he had completely misinterpreted what the stranger was gesturing to him? Moreover, even if he got it correctly, what person in his right mind would get off a train, four stations before his stop, because a complete stranger motioned for him to?

Seungmin feels dizzy.

He turns a little to his right, and there, standing a couple of meters away from him, is the stranger from the other train. Their eyes once again meet, and the man’s lips curve into a smirk—it’s somewhat smug, and normally Seungmin would be annoyed by such an expression, but this time all it does is make him curious; nervous; excited.

“Hi,” the stranger greets, waving as he approaches. “I wasn't sure that you'd…”

Seungmin chuckles nervously; tightens his grip on the strap of his messenger bag. “Yeah I don't—I don't know.” He's usually very well spoken, but for once, he's rendered speechless.

“My name is Changbin,” the stranger introduces himself. “Seo Changbin.”

“Kim—” he hesitates; is he really about to do this? What could he lose? Technically a lot; worst case scenario, he loses his life because this person turns out to be a psycho killer. At best he makes a new friend, though. He reminds himself that once upon a time, before the internet and the advent of social media and dating apps, people met like this, in real life, only armed with confidence, feigned bravado and a collection of small talk topics. “Kim Seungmin,” he finally finishes.

“Nice to meet you Kim Seungmin,” Changbin says, his grin growing wider. “Do you want to go and have lunch with me?” 

Seungmin laughs somberly. Right, lunch, because he does have to eat. He hasn't even had breakfast save for the two tall cups of coffee he chugged down that morning. “Okay, where do you have in mind?”

Changbin grins. “I know just the place.”

Seungmin is a little awkward once they pass through the station exit, and implications of his rash decision start to settle. He feels rigid, but next to him, Changbin is as relaxed as ever as he informs him that he knows a small, family-run eatery just a couple of blocks away from where they are.

“Do you do this a lot?” Seungmin interrupts him mid-sentence; they’re walking on the sidewalk, Seungmin half a step behind as he follows Changbin’s lead. The latter is going on about the food selection at the place where they’re headed to, talking about how good their kimchi jjigae is—which should interest Seungmin seeing as that’s his favorite comfort dish, but he can't really focus at the moment.

“Huh?” Changbin shrugs. “Sure, I eat there a fair amount. My best friend, who is also my roommate, used to work in this area so we’d go and eat there frequently. He had a fat crush on one of the guys who work there—although said guy is the manager now, and also my best friend’s boyfriend. Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and that holds true for them.”

“No.” Seungmin shakes his head. “I mean…” He wills away the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks. “Do you pick up random strangers on the train a lot?”

Changbin laughs; it’s loud, a little sharp and boisterous. “No. You’re the first.” He tilts his head and gives Seungmin a curious, playful look. “How about you? Do you let yourself get picked up by random strangers on the train a lot?”

“No.” Seungmin huffs. “You’re the first as well,” he adds, under his breath, a poor attempt at mirroring Changbin’s teasing words.

“You know, I was surprised to see you today.” Changbin smiles.

Seungmin stares at him. He understands what he’s saying, because he had the same thought earlier. Still, he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Just—I see you a lot on the way home from work,” Changbin says. “It’s been a while, though, and I was beginning to think that maybe you moved or something, and you take a different route home now.”

“Oh. No, I’m up for a promotion at work so I’ve been doing later nights than usual,” Seungmin explains. He feels like a loser for his explanation, even though objectively, he shouldn’t. Excelling in one’s career should be a good thing.

“Ah.” Changbin nods slowly. “Gotcha. So—where do you work?” He chuckles. “Is that fine to ask?”

“Division One Insurance.”

Changbin appears surprised. “Like—do you sell insurance, or are you an adjuster, or—?” He looks confused, like he doesn’t know exactly what it means to work at an insurance company.

“Yeah, uh. I’m a Loss Control Specialist, and we recently got hired by this big conglomerate, so my team is doing a lot of risk and policy assessment and… this isn't very interesting honestly, so I’m going to stop right here.” Seungmin winces. Working in insurance isn’t very glamorous or appealing, and he doubts it helps Changbin’s impression of him—although why he even cares is lost on him.

“No, it’s cool,” Changbin insists.

Seungmin laughs. “You aren’t being very convincing. And it’s really not cool, or exciting, and sometimes it makes me feel like I’m dying inside but—” he shrugs. “I’m surprisingly adept at what I do, and it pays the bills pretty well.”

“And that is what’s cool about it.” Changbin grins, this time looking far more genuine. “Being able to pay bills is very relatable motivation.” He pauses, and then he shrugs. “I work at Jung & Chang Law for the same reason.”

“Big law. Wow.” It’s Seungmin’s turn to be surprised. “You know, I almost became a lawyer myself,” he finds himself sharing.

“Except I’m no lawyer.” Changbin laughs. “I have a bachelor in paralegal studies—my parents wanted me to go study law, and it was a bit of a compromise. I chose it so I can get work right after graduation—I need to be earning money so I can support myself and my real dreams, yeah? Not that being a paralegal pays big bucks, especially compared to what some of the partners at work make—and now I’m the one being boring about work.”

Seungmin hums. “It’s okay. I get it. My business degree was supposed to be my pre-law,” he admits.

“Yeah? What happened there?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Got job offers right after graduating, and with today’s economy… I figured it would be stupid to turn down good, paying work. I thought I’d work for a few years, save up a bit before going back to school.” Truthfully, it’s been two years since Seungmin graduated university and he still hasn’t made any concrete plans to try for law school. His passion and interests don’t really lie in the legal industry, if he’s going to be honest; neither does it lie in loss control management, but it’s also hard to give something up when you’ve worked so hard at it, and you’re excelling in it. 

“That’s what my parents assumed I was going to do, I think.” Changbin looks wistful. “But it’s been three years, I think they’re finally starting to get the hint.”

“Why not, though? Is being a paralegal far too enjoyable for you to take the next step?” Seungmin asks; there’s a hint of teasing, but also veritable curiosity.

“Nah.” Changbin ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck; the first time in the ten or fifteen minutes they’ve known each other that he has displayed anything less than glaring confidence. “I make music with a friend—my best friend, the one dating the restaurant manager—and uh—well. That’s the dream, y’know? To eventually be able to make a career out of that but…” he wrinkles his nose. “Gotta put food on the table, and all that.” 

“Oh.” Yet again, Changbin has surprised Seungmin. “What kind of music?”

“Uh. Some rap. Hip Hop and R&B. A bit of alternative—” Changbin chuckles. “Maybe I’ll let you hear some of it, if all goes well today,” he adds with a wink.

“Cool.” Seungmin smiles faintly; he’s genuinely curious, but also, Changbin is flirting and it makes the usual dormant butterflies in his stomach flutter with excitement.

“We’re here,” Changbin announces, stopping in front of a small, not quite rundown but clearly has seen its fair share of years, diner. The overhang sign says ‘God’s Menu’ in big, block letters, with the Hanja equivalent written in smaller, red characters underneath.

“Welcome to God’s Menu!” One of the servers, a youthful looking man with fox-like features,  greets them as they enter the restaurant, only to visibly relax when he gets a good look at them. “Oh, it's just you.”

“Yah!” Changbin laughs and lightly hits the server on the shoulder. “I’ll tell your boss on you if that's how you greet regulars!”

The server—Yang Jeongin, according to his name tag—laughs. “Too bad for you, he isn’t even here today.”

“I know.” Changbin shrugs. “He’s on a date with Jisung, and if you think I’m good enough a friend that I won't interrupt them to tattle on you, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

Jeongin laughs some more. “Fine, fine. Welcome to God’s Menu!” he repeats in a clearly trained sugary tone. He even turns to Seungmin, smiling as he bows politely to him, before focusing back on Changbin. “This way to your usual table sir,” he says, gesturing for the two of them to follow, overly polite in an almost taunting way.

“Yah, you little shit.” Changbin shakes his head, but he’s also laughing, clearly taking the server’s behavior in stride. Seungmin figures he really is a regular, and this is just the normal rapport between them. “This is Kim Seungmin, by the way,” Changbin introduces him. “And this very polite server is Yang Jeongin.”

“Nice to meet you, Kim Seungmin-ssi,” Jeongin says to him as he stops in front of a table that Seungmin can only assume is Changbin’s so-called ‘regular.’ “I don’t know how he managed to convince you to go with him, but I advise you to run as fast as you can after this one pays for your meal.” Jeongin smiles cheekily. “It would be best.”

“Yah.” Changbin playfully glowers at Jeongin, who laughs even more. 

“Here is your God’s Menu menu,” Jeongin says, handing Seungmin a list of food items printed on a board, while snickering and pointedly ignoring Changbin. “Just call me over when you decide on your order!”

“He’s… something,” Seungmin comments, amused as he watches the server walk away to greet another pair of diners, this time more genuinely and professionally polite.

“He’s a good kid. I’m here a lot so we know each other well,” Changbin assures Seungmin.

“Right. Figured as much,” Seungmin says. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah.” Changbin grins. “Cute. Like you.”

Seungmin almost chokes on his own spit. A giddiness turns in his stomach, but on the outside, he only lifts an eyebrow at Changbin.

“Anyway,” Changbin chuckles, “you know what you want yet?”

“I thought you said the kimchi jjigae is their specialty?”

“And I thought you weren't listening when I was talking about that.”

“And you aren’t entirely wrong.” Seungmin laughs; he realizes that he’s feeling a lot less awkward now than he did just fifteen or so minutes ago. Changbin is very good at setting a comfortable atmosphere and he’s thankful for that. “But yeah, the jjigae sounds nice.”

Changbin promptly calls Jeongin back, and Seungmin watches as he orders, adding some grilled tofu and egg rolls to the jjigae Seungmin had already made clear he wanted.

“Their free service side dishes are pretty varied and delicious here,” he explains after Jeongin leaves to let the kitchen know what they want. “I promise, you wont regret getting off the train if only for the meal we’re about to have.”

“Alright. I’ll be the judge of that,” Seungmin retorts. “I’ll have you know, I can be pretty discerning.”

Changbin smirks. “I have a feeling I can trust your judgment.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I just think you have good judgment!” Changbin laughs. “You chose to be here with me, didn’t you?”

“And I just might regret that choice if you don’t deflate your ego, Changbin-ssi.”

Changbin laughs. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret anything.” His words are filled with bravado, but his smile is nothing but sincere. “And thank you, by the way.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For taking a chance and getting off that train.”

Seungmin laughs softly. He’s a little taken aback by how earnest Changbin is suddenly being. “Yeah. I don't actually know what came over me. Must’ve been the weather.”

“Must’ve.” Changbin laughs in agreement. “It really is nice out today, isn’t it? Was annoyed when I had to run a work errand this morning. It was a last minute thing, too—there’s a big corporate case that my firm is litigating and they wanted all hands on deck. At least it didn’t take long—but that’s what was so annoying about it too. I could have slept in! But I couldn’t.”

Seungmin hums, finding all too well that he both relates and doesn’t. “Hey, at least you didn’t spend the entire night at work,” he points out, gesturing at the stuffy—now completely rumpled—work suit he’s still wearing.

“I was wondering if it was something like that,” Changbin admits. “All the more reason I’m grateful you chose to get off the train—thank you for your time.”

Seungmin shrugs. He doesn’t know if he should admit that his exhaustion from 24 hours of working is probably a part of the reason why he stepped off that train; his life has been so one-note recently, and this is his own small way of rebelling from the monotony of it all.

“Do you ever watch people, and think about what their lives are probably like?” Changbin asks suddenly, pulling Seungmin out of his thoughts. 

“Hm?” Of course the answer is yes; even Changbin himself has been the subject of many of Seungmin's imagined stories—not all of them flattering, though, so for now Seungimn feigns confusion.

“Like—” Changbin continues as he glances around the small restaurant. Finally, he locks on to a target, and then he leans across the small table so he can whisper to Seungmin. “You see that old couple in the corner? My nine o’clock.” Seungmin carefully turns to glance at the direction Changbin is talking about, and the latter immediately hisses at him. “Don’t be too obvious!” he mumbles, clearly holding back laughter. “Anyway. That grandma and grandpa are clearly childhood sweethearts. They knew each other as children, and grandpa used to pull at grandma’s pigtails whenever they were at the playground. It was a slow burn love story that culminated in their third year of high school, and fell apart after graduation. They lived separate lives, built families of their own—but grandpa lost his wife years ago, and grandma was widowed just last year. This year, they ran across each other again—one of their childhood playmates passed, and they both attended the funeral. It was a sad affair, but the sparks they once felt between them once again ignited—and now here they are, on their tenth date, after reuniting.”

Seungmin stares at him incredulously. “How do you know all that?”

“I don’t.” Changbin laughs. “That’s the game I play in my head. I make up stories about strangers when I’m bored. It's a habit I picked up from my best friend.”

“Are you saying you’re bored with me? Right now?” Seungmin lifts an eyebrow.

“Wow it’s like I said ‘tree,’ and you heard ‘flying spaceship’ instead!”

Seungmin laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But it's a sweet story, isn't it?” Changbin grins. “Bittersweet, at the worst—but I like to focus on the positive side of things. So. You wanna hear what your story was when I first saw you?”

“Okay, sure. Do me.” Seungmin blushes when the words come out of his mouth, realizing what that must have sounded like.

“Well that's incredibly forward of you, Seungmin-ssi. We just met! I don't put out ‘til the third date—but lucky for you this can count as one. Just two more left.”

Seungmin huffs. He pointedly ignores Changbin's insinuation that they're on a date right now. “You know what I mean. Tell me.”

“So you do agree this counts as a date?” Changbin is being willfully obtuse and Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“I got off the train for you when I didn't even know your name. Sure, this is a date,” he shoots back boldly.

Changbin laughs, but he seems pleased with Seungmin’s answer. “Okay, well—the first thing I noticed about you—you have kind eyes, Seungmin-ssi. Tired, but very kind looking eyes. I imagined you taught kids—you as a teacher seemed oddly fitting. I assumed you would be patient with them but that doesn't mean they don't tire you out after a long day. I also figured you to be the type to come home to your girlfriend of three years and your dog—a retriever, maybe. Has anyone ever told you that you kind of resemble one? I mean that in the best way possible.” He chuckles. 

Seungmin snorts; nothing about Changbin's assumptions is correct. He can be patient, maybe, but barely. “I don't have a girlfriend,” he says flat out. “I—don't even like women,” he adds, insistent despite mumbling the words. It doesn't escape him, the way Changbin looks relieved at the clarification. “I don't have a dog either, and teaching is a far more altruistic profession than loss control management will ever be.”

“Well, I never said I’m clairvoyant. Changbin laughs. “Just imaginative when bored. And I'm never afraid to admit when I'm wrong. In fact, there are times when I'm glad to be wrong—now being one of them.”

As much as Seungmin would love to deny it, the food at God's Menu really does end up being heavenly—he completely understands why it’s called God's Menu, and he has to admit as much to Changbin after they're done paying for their meal. 

“Okay, maybe that meal was enough to make getting off a random train stop completely worth it,” is how he phrases it.

It’s almost one in the afternoon when they exit the eatery, and the sky is bright and clear, with the sun peaking and washing the street with warm overtones. It really is a good weather day, and despite basically being awake for 30 hours, give or take, Seungmin miraculously feels energized.

“I told you—” Changbin grins. “I'm not afraid to be wrong, because when I'm right, I'm right.” They pause by the sidewalk just by the restaurant's exit, and Changbin looks like he has more to say, so Seungmin waits for him to get his words out. “Do you…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you need to be home yet?”

Yes, is probably the correct answer. “Not really,” is what Seungmin finds himself saying out loud. Mind over matter, is what he's allowing to drive him today.

“There’s a park that’s not too far away from here—a ten minute walk at most. Want to spend a bit more of today with me?”

Maybe it's because of the food, or maybe the weather. Whichever it is, Seungmin is in a very good mood. Newton’s second law describes how a body that's already in motion will accelerate when an unbalanced force is applied to it—this time Seungmin doesn't hesitate even a little. He puts his foot on the metaphorical pedal, and applies force on it.

“Okay,” he answers confidently, and it's worth it when Changbins smile grows even wider. 

Something about this man has always drawn his attention, and as the hours, minutes and seconds of the day tick by, his appeal only grows stronger. And maybe that’s it—everything about Changbin is so new, especially since he keeps shattering every single one of Seungmin’s baseless assumptions about him. Something about him feels like adventure, and yet he also exudes a calming familiarity. 

It confuses Seungmin, but it also excites him.

“Hey—” He blinks, and his line of sight inadvertently refocuses on Changbin’s arms. Frankly, the man is short, but he's built. It was never very obvious from the distance he used to observe Changbin at, through train glass windows, and his stuffy, layered work suits never did his physique any favors either. Today, however, up close and with a more casual attire, well. Seungmin was quite distracted a few times over their meal, especially when Changbin would reach around the table for food, and his arms would naturally flex.

More than that, the shortness of his sleeves had allowed Seungmin to keep catching brief glances of the ink on his arm, although he couldn't quite make out exactly what the design of the tattoo is. He figures, if Changbin is bold enough to ask him to spend more of the afternoon together, then he should also be brave enough to speak up on his own curiosity.

“Yeah?” Changbin asks; once again, as he adjusts the strap of his body bag around his—also very broad—chest, his arms distractingly flex. 

“You've—uh. The tattoo,” Seungmin manages to get out, gesturing at Changbin’s right arm. What is it?”

“Oh.” Changbin laughs, reaching up to touch his hidden bicep. “How curious are you?”

“Would I be asking if I wasn’t curious enough?”  Seungmin playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Well—okay, fair.” Changbin laughs; he starts walking down the sidewalk and Seungmin immediately falls into step with him. “It’s—” he starts rolling his sleeve up and Seungmin, who isn’t very clumsy on a normal day, almost trips on his own two feet. “It’s Spongebob,” Changbin says with a laugh as the cartoon character becomes completely visible.

“Squarepants?” Seungmin blinks, and then he bursts into full blown, belly laughter. “Why?!”

“Well, why not?” Changbin huffs and quickly rolls his sleeve back down, as if affronted by Seungmin’s reaction.

“No—I mean it’s just a surprise!” Seungmin chuckles. “It’s… cute?”

“Of course it's cute. It's on my body.” Changbin smirks, whatever indignation he had briefly felt gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. “I got it when I first landed the job at Jung & Chang. Going corporate made me feel kinda dirty, and I wanted something to remind me that I’m always going to be something more than my job. My best friend, the one I make music with—we decided to get inked together.”

“A yellow talking sponge, though?”

Changbin shrugs. “Spongebob reminds me of my childhood. You know—when dreams were still free real estate.” He smiles, shy, almost. “I nearly got him here—” he pats the spot above his chest. “Close to my heart, yeah? But I changed my mind at the last minute, because if I was going to get something permanently etched on my body, close to my heart, well… it's not gonna be Spongebob Squarepants.”

Seungmin laughs again. “Wise decision,” he comments. He has to admit, though, that the reasoning for the tattoo design is surprisingly sweet and meaningful—especially considering the design. “So… since you've bared Spongebob, maybe you'll talk with me about your music now?”

They had had a decent conversation over lunch, but it was all surface level, mostly Changbin talking about the individual items on the menu, ranking them for Seungmin's benefit. (“So you know what to order next time,” he had said, and Seungmin had momentarily short-circuited, wondering if the next time he was implying involved the two of them eating together again, or he was just confident that Seungmin would want to eat at God’s Menu again, even if only by himself). 

On his part, Seungmin went on about assessing loss and risk, and what goes into the process of financing insurance claims—honestly, thinking back, he kind of hates himself for not talking about anything else. It’s a miracle that Changbin still wants to spend time with him.

To the point—nothing more had been said about Changbin's music, and the more they spent time together, the more Seungmin realized that his impression of the man now was so different from how he actually is. He can’t help but get curiouser and curiouser about Changbin’s self-professed real dream, his music.

Once again, Changbin ducks his head shyly; maybe that's also why Seungmin wanted to bring it up again, because Changbin’s nervous shyness cutting through his comfortable cheekiness is absolutely adorable.

“It's—” Changbin chuckles softly. “Well, what do you wanna know?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Earlier, you said you'd let me listen.”

“I said maybe.” Changbin points out. “If all goes well.”

Seungmin gives him a pointed look. “Are you saying things aren’t going well?”

Changbin pauses, tilts his head. He snorts and shakes his head, an amused smile stretching across his cheeks. “Fair enough,” he acquiesces. “Okay, so—we have a gig later this week, actually. We're playing at the Domino next Wednesday, around 9? 10? Wanna come watch us?”

The Domino is a live club popular among young twenty-somethings, and Seungmin knows as much because he has heard about it once or twice from college friends. He has never been, though, always too busy back then, between his studies and all the extracurriculars he had. He bites the inside of his cheek; today has been all about making decisions he usually wouldn’t make, so… why not? “Wednesday?”

“I know it's a school night but—” Changbin shrugs. “We're all adults here, yeah?” The corner of his mouth twitches like he's holding back a smile.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No.” Changbin shakes his head. “Just hoping to see you there,” he admits directly, without any hint of coyness. “But for now, you did say yes to spending more of the afternoon with me.”

Seungmin can’t help the smile that forms on his lips. “Right,” he murmurs. His clothes feel a little stuffy, but so far Changbin’s company has proven worth it. “I have time.”

“Good.” Changbin grins. “Let’s not waste the nice weather, yeah?” He gestures around them, and it’s only then that Seungmin notices they have arrived at the park that Changbin had mentioned earlier. It’s very green and spacious; on one side, Seungmin immediately spies a group of men and women having what he thinks is a group yoga session; or maybe it’s tai chi, he isn’t really sure. On the other end of the square, children are playing around a small collection of playground equipment.

It dawns on Seungmin—it has been so long since he’s been outside during the day, like this. He’s either stuck in the office, or sleeping his weekends off at his apartment, curtains always drawn. It makes him sad, because as much as he always has been Type A, always chasing after excellence and achievement, there was a time when he still knew how to pause and enjoy a little bit of life; knew when to breathe in fresh air and soak in the sun.

“Want some dessert?” Changbin asks, interrupting Seungmin’s mental soliloquy. When Seungmin follows Changbin’s line of sight, his gaze lands on a kiosk by the side of the road that is selling rolled ice cream. “My treat,” Changbin adds, “since you insisted on splitting the bill at the restaurant.”

“Fine.” Seungmin smiles faintly; having someone else pay for him—it’s another thing he’s gonna have to file under things he’ll allow, for today. “I'll have the coffee flavored one.”

“Yikes.” Changbin makes a face. “Poor taste, but—” he gestures to the employee at the kiosk and relays Seungmin’s order, while adding another order of strawberry ice cream for himself. “I guess you can’t be perfect.”

Seungmin half scoffs, half laughs. “Well I didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of guy.”

“What did you peg me as, then?”

Seungmin shrugs. “The coffee type,” he retorts.

Changbin laughs and makes a face. “My best friend loves coffee. I find it gross."

“Are you in love with your best friend or something—?” Seungmin narrows his eyes at Changbin. He’s trying to sound glib about it, but he’s surprised at the way his stomach tightens at his own question. “You’ve been talking non-stop about him.”

The expression that Changbin makes is so horrified that it borders on comical. “Gross, no! He’s like a little brother to me. We grew up together, and—” he cringes as he vehemently shakes his head. “Jisung’s just… he’s in my life. Sick of him, honestly. I need new friends. Thank God you gave me a chance and got off the train.”

Seungmin laughs; he assumes Changbin is being overdramatic, but he feels the weight of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. Even he can’t explain why he feels so relieved; he also wants to thank whatever Gods exist that he managed the confidence to make unusual decisions today.

“I didn’t always like coffee either,” is what he says out loud; he can’t bring himself to be as straightforward as Changbin—at least, not yet, so he segues back to the original topic. “But in my last year of high school, it helped with a lot of late nights studying. By university, I was regularly having 2 to 3 cups a day.” 

They watch as the vendor prepares their orders, and after they’re handed their dessert, Seungmin takes it upon himself to lead this time, heading directly to a nearby bench that was just vacated by a woman and her dog.

“My feet are tired from walking,” he explains, just as Changbin asks,

“Are you a biter or a licker?”

“What—?” Seungmin laughs, although he supposes it isn’t completely out of left field, all things considered. 

“When it comes to ice cream!” Changbin argues defensively; Seungmin can tell the innuendo was deliberate, though.

Seungmin shrugs. “Both? Especially when it’s a cone—or a popsicle. You start by licking, and once your mouth is used to the cold, you move on to little bites.”

“Hmmm.” Changbin clicks his tongue in exaggerated disapproval. 

“What? How do you do it?”

“I bite.”

“Don’t they say that biters are impatient people?”

“Don’t they say, indeed.” Changbin smirks; it should be annoying but every time he does it, Seungmin feels flutters in his stomach. It’s annoyingly attractive. 

He scoffs, but once again his cheeks feel warm. “Stop it!”

Changbin chuckles; he settles and leans back in his seat. Silence takes over, but only very briefly—Seungmin is realizing that Changbin is the type who can’t handle the quiet for too long, and he’s realizing that he’s fine with that. 

“You see that kid over there?” Changbin asks. “With his dog?” He nods across the park, towards the direction of a kid with glasses, probably around 8 or 9 years old, playing with a breed of dog that Seungmin can’t quite identify. “His family moved from the countryside earlier this year,” Changbin begins; clearly it’s one of his made-up stories again, and Seungmin finds that he’s all ears. “The kid’s mother remarried someone from the city so they had to. Unfortunately, they accidentally left the dog behind, and the kid was sad—depressed, even. His mother called everyone they knew from back home, wanting to know if any of them knew what happened to the dog—unfortunately no one knew what happened to him.” 

“This is depressing, where’s the sweet part?” Seungmin interjects in between small bites of his ice cream.

“It’s coming.” Changbin laughs. “And I was supposed to be the impatient one!” He clicks his tongue. “Anyway, one day, the dog just showed up in front of their doorstep! He traveled all the way to the city—had a little fun adventure all on his own. A little miracle, really. The dog wishes he could tell the kid about it, but alas! The language barrier is real.”

Seungmin laughs. “You know, this sounds like a movie I might’ve seen as a kid.”

“Maybe I should make it a movie,” Changbin retorts. “Should quit chasing after an impossible career in the music industry, and try an impossible career in the film industry instead.”

Seungmin shakes his head. Changbin, for the most part, is effortlessly confident, yet his humor is somewhat self-deprecating. “Do you want to know what I thought your story was, when I first saw you?” he asks.

“Tell me.”

Seungmin hums. “Honestly, my original impression of you was… I thought you were an average salaryman,” he admits. “Clocks in at 9-5, no extra effort given. No dreams, or aspirations—just living a happy go lucky life, and collecting your checks steadily.”

“I don’t know whether I should take offense or not.” Changbin lifts an eyebrow, but he doesn’t really look or sound offended.

“Not?” Seungmin chuckles. “Or maybe you should. Frankly, I hated that type of co-worker.” He chuckles in embarrassment, knowing he had been projecting on Changbin rather negatively. “I think because ultimately… that's me—no dreams or aspirations, so I overcompensate by chasing the career ladder.” He’s trying to sound flippant, but frankly, this is him being as honest as he could be. It’s easier with Changbin, because even though they’ve been clearly getting to know each other through the course of the day, he’s still virtually a stranger. He doesn’t know Seungmin, and despite having preconceived notions about who he is, and what his story is, it’s not too late for Seungmin to actually remodel his impression of him—except for once, he doesn’t want to put his best foot forward; he just wants to be.

“Is that really how you are, though?” Changbin observes him carefully.

Seungmin shrugs. What’s interesting is that Changbin had assumed only the best things about Seungmin, while Seungmin had assumed the opposite of him. And yet—he was still the one who chose to get off the train station, just because Changbin asked him to.

“To be fair, even if that was how I viewed you, I also kind of… wanted to be you,” Seungmin admits softly. “Well, not you, but the person I assumed you to be. I wanted to be that person who just didn’t care. I wanted to be able to coast by work without being driven to succeed in a field that I don’t even really like.”

Changbin, now done with his ice cream, gives Seungmin an appraising look. “And you can’t do that?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Not wired that way, I guess. I think I might be allergic to not succeeding.”

Changbin snorts. “That sounds a bit like a humble brag.”

Seungmin laughs. “Maybe it is. A little. But it’s also the truth.”

“Ah, yes. Success. What a curse,” Changbin teases. He pauses; puts aside his empty ice cream cup, and rubs his palm on his knee. “Honestly—” he looks at Seungmin and lets out a quiet exhale, “I understand what you’re saying. I have this very good opportunity at work—they offered me a job—sort of a lateral move, but it’s a position that has more perks, and more upward opportunities. They’re willing to sponsor me so I can take the certificate courses I need to be accredited, but that means a long-term commitment. It means putting in more hours, and more energy into this job that…”

“That?”

Changbin shrugs. “It has its perks. And I do enjoy the law—the position they’re offering me is that of a legal investigator, and I’ve come to know that I’m pretty good at it, surprisingly. And this opportunity, it's something that’s… great. But I’ve wanted to become a musician since I was, like… thirteen. I moved to the city with my best friend because that’s what we were chasing—a career, no, even just a chance at a career in the music industry. But now I’m 25, and I don’t know.” He winces. “Music is still something that I’m passionate about, but passion doesn’t feed anyone. Life isn’t a Journey song—you don’t just take the midnight train to anywhere and expect success to meet you as long as you don’t stop believing.”

Seungmin stares at him; lets everything that Changbin just said settle. “Wow.”

“I know.”

“What’s the name of your band?

Changbin laughs. “That’s all you have to say after my little speech?”

Seungmin smiles sheepishly; shrugs.

“It’s Ninja.”

“What—?”

Changbin titters, amusement and embarrassment mixing. “That’s our current name. It’s also—I don’t even know. It’s at least the fifth name we’ve had since we moved here.” He winces. “It’s supposed to be temporary until we come up with something more fitting.”

Seungmin stares; holds back laughter.

“Look, we were almost called Naruto’s Spiral at one point, okay? Jisung’s an anime nerd, and all his suggestions were…” Changbin laughs and gestures dismissively with his hand. “Anyway, he got me to agree to Ninja, because that was the only one I could live with, but I’m gonna push for a change soon.”

Seungmin laughs along. “You really need to let me listen to your music. The music of a duo that calls themselves Ninja.”

“Yeah?”

Seungmin grins. “Yeah, so I can tell you honestly if it’s a passion worth chasing after.”

Changbin huffs; gives Seungmin a resigned smile. “Fine.” He takes his phone out and navigates through his apps. “Here.” He pulls out a pair of earbuds from his bag, and sticks one into Seungmin’s ear. “Give it to me honestly, yeah?”

Seungmin looks at him; gives Changbin an uncharacteristically earnest look, and nods as he adjusts the bud in his ear.

“This one’s called Streetlights,” Changbin says.

A song starts playing, the intro calm and melodic, and then Changbin’s raspy voice starts rapping, rhythmically, emotionally—singsonglike, almost, and the color immediately draws Seungmin in, but as the track plays, it’s the lyrics that truly resonate with him.

After the song ends, Seungmin sits there, silent, soaking in the song he just listened to.

“Well?” Changbin asks, and once again, his confidence has dimmed; there’s an uncertain tremor in his voice, and it touches Seungmin’s heart even more.

“That was something,” he says quietly.

Changbin groans. “Something good? Something bad? Something?”

Seungmin smiles. “Good.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

He wants to say—Changbin has been something of a streetlight to him that day; someone who has helped him feel more at ease just by being there, shining his own light on Seungmin, but it feels too much, too soon. 

Seungmin shakes his head instead, and tries to put together what he wants to get across without crossing lines.  “I lied—I don’t really know enough to tell you if this is a passion that’s worth chasing after—I don’t even have something like that. But that song—I heard you. It reached something inside me, and I think that means you should keep doing what you’re doing.” 

Changbin smiles faintly. “Thanks.” He visibly relaxes. “That’s not a song many people have heard. The music I make with Jisung, they tend to be harsher, more dissonant. Frenetic, even. But this—” he taps his phone, “what I made you listen to—that’s me. I think, whether or not we make it big, music is always going to be a part of me. I’m always going to keep doing it. Still, does that mean I should throw away other opportunities that come my way?”

Seungmin nods, quiet understanding settling between the two of them.

“I like photography,” he suddenly says.

“Huh?” Changbin looks confused.

Seungmin shrugs. “Just… well, since we’re sharing. That… that’s something I really enjoy—enjoyed doing that isn’t related to my work,” he explains. Once upon a time, when he was younger, he had briefly wondered if it was something he could pursue professionally, but that dream had been quickly dashed. His parents hadn’t approved, and Seungmin never really thought to go against their wishes. “I have a camera,” he continues, growing more wistful, “an entry-level Canon, that I saved up for when I was in high school—it was really expensive, and for the longest time it was my baby. These days, though, it’s just sitting in a bag at home, untouched.” He hums, thinking about how he’s been all work, no play. He chose the shinier opportunities life gave him, and he threw away something he used to hold close to his heart. Now he has no outlet for any kind of creativity, and maybe that’s why he’s been feeling so dull recently.

“Oh.”

According to Newton, force is equal to the mass of a body multiplied by its acceleration, and is equal to the time rate of change of an object’s momentum. Seungmin supposes that means if he wants to have a change of momentum in his life, he’s going to have to apply a little bit of force in the right direction. He’s going to have to do something proactively.

“I think…. I think I’m going to take it out and put it to use again,” he declares. 

“Good for you,” Changbin praises him. “I bet you take great pictures."

“Not professional level good but,” he shrugs. “Maybe that’s okay.”

Changbin hums. “Is that your way of saying that it’s alright if I never become a professional musician?”

Seungmin chuckles. “It’s like I said ‘flying spaceship’ and you heard ‘tree!’”

Changbin snorts. 

“No, but—I think you should do what feels right,” Seungmin says. “Which is whatever you can live with—and not what sounds good, or what looks good on paper.”

Changbin goes quiet, but a smile spreads across his features, like the gears in his head are turning even as he stares across the distance, towards the group of people doing choreographed tai chi.

“Seungmin,” he suddenly says.

“Yeah?”

“Can I hold your hand?"

Whatever Seungmin thought Changbin was going to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Nevertheless, it’s such an innocent request, yet Seungmin’s heart feels like it’s thundering in his chest.

“Oh… kay.”

Changbin smiles and doesn’t wait for Seungmin to say anything more before he slips their hands together. His palm is calloused, but his touch is gentle—these are the first things that Seungmin notes; he gathers enough courage to squeeze Changbin’s hand; to tighten the hold from his end.

“This is going to sound very presumptuous but…” Changbin trails off.

Seungmin turns to look at him, curious but also somewhat nervous. “What?”

“My apartment is just a twenty minute walk from here,” Changbin shares. “Do you want to…?”

“Oh.”

“My roommate’s not home,” Changbin explains, only to let out a nervous laugh. “It’s—it’s too presumptuous isn’t it? It’s not an invitation to anything you don’t want to do, I promise, just—It's been nice spending the day, so far, with you—” he half groans, half chortles in obvious embarrassment. “You know what, never mind, I’m bold but never this bold, usually—” His confidence is clearly slipping again as he stumbles over his own words. Flustered Changbin is something Seungmin decides he definitely wants to see more of. 

“Let’s go,” Seungmin interrupts, and Changbin actually looks shocked. It makes Seungmin giggle. He knows exactly what hidden insinuations had come with the invitation, and it surprises even him that he isn’t completely averse to the idea. He should want nothing more than to crawl into his own bed, in his own apartment because of fatigue. And he should be nervous—he hasn’t even known Changbin an entire day, and yet.

This is just another decision that Seungmin would definitely not make any other day, but it’s not any other day, that much has been made obvious by everything that has happened so far.

Newton’s third law states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If Changbin has been bold enough to push this day towards one direction, then Seungmin is right there with him, pulling. 

“Lead the way,” Seungmin says, and in his mind he thinks—it’s been a long day so far, but it’s also a long day ahead, and he can’t wait for everything else left in store for him. 

🚄

“This is Jisung,” Changbin explains. “And his boyfriend, Minho.”

The walk to his apartment had been several minutes longer than he had told Seungmin it would be, mostly because he had deliberately taken his time leading the way.

The first time Changbin had seen Seungmin was months ago; he wouldn't say that he had immediately caught his eye. It was more a gradual thing, noticing the man with the kind yet wistful gaze riding the train that ran parallel to his own. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't—and one day, Changbin simply found himself wondering why, whenever he wasn't.

The last few weeks had been an especially long stretch of not seeing him, and maybe that's why he acted without thinking—he asked the stranger to get off the train with him, and no one was more surprised than him when it worked.

Maybe that's why he didn't put much thought into it either before he asked Seungmin if he would like to come over—spend a bit more time with him until the day is over, and they really have to separate.

It surprised him too when that worked.

And it surprises him too when they arrive at the apartment, and it's not empty like he expected—although Jisung and Minho lounging in the common area of their apartment shouldn't really be much of a surprise.

“Hi,” the two men intertwined on the couch echo, one after another, both of them regarding Seungmin curiously. 

“Hello,” Seungmin greets back politely.

“This is Kim Seungmin,” Changbin pipes in with an introduction, before tilting his head and giving the two a questioning look. “And you guys are supposed to be on a date,” he says, a statement; not a question.

“And you’re supposed to be at work,” Jisung shoots back.

“Got off early.”

“Yeah, well, same.” Jisung grins.

“You don’t get off dates early,” Changbin points out.

“Yes but sometimes Minho gets off early,” Jisung retorts, sniggering like a thirteen year old over the immature insinuation.

Beside Jisung, Minho rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself,” he tells his boyfriend, before addressing Changbin. “What? You want us to be honest and say we came home early for a little afternoon delight?”

Changbin cringes. “I already know too much about your sex life—you don’t have to let Seungmin in on any of it too.”

Jisung laughs and waves at Seungmin, who is starting to look a little flushed. “Sorry, man,” he says. He doesn’t really look or sound too sorry.

Changbin groans, and fixes a scathing glare at his roommate and his roommate's equally exasperating boyfriend. Please go, he telepathically communicates—which of course doesn't work because he possesses no such ability.

“Can you guys go?”

“I live here,” Jisung points out.

“Yes, and that's why you have a bedroom that you're free to defile with your boyfriend anytime you feel like it.”

Jisung pouts, and normally his puppy dog eyes would work on Changbin but today is not a normal day. 

“But we want to get to know your new friend,” Minho interrupts, clearly being difficult on purpose. 

Changbin gives him a deadpan look, and Minho laughs and raises his hands in defeat. “Come on, Jisungie,” Minho says, pulling his boyfriend with him as he gets up to his feet.

“Have fun!” Changbin tells them, putting on a clearly fake smile as he watches them head to Jisung's room.

“Oh we will!” Jisung calls back, tone dripping with innuendo.

Changbin can only flip the bird in response.

“I am so sorry for them,” he tells Seungmin as soon as the door clicks shut behind them. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? Anything?”

Seungmin looks nervous, but when Changbin holds his hand out to him, he visibly relaxes; in turn, it makes Changbin feel good.

“Those two are annoying, but—” he smiles and shrugs. “They’re really not that bad once you get to know them.” He thinks that would actually be nice, having Seungmin eventually get to know them—the thought makes him feel strangely giddy. Something about Seungmin keeps pulling him in, an inexplicable attraction that has him wanting to figure out if there's space for the other man in his life even after this very strange day.

It's funny, almost. Just several hours ago, all they were, were two strangers who rode parallel trains; now Changbin knows that they were leading lives that were completely parallel to each other's—and today, they reached a surprise intersection.

“Yeah.” Seungmin nods. “I don't doubt that.”

They smile at each other, and they move to sit on the couch that Jisung and Minho had just vacated, enough space between them for a whole other person to occupy. Changbin feels nervous—very uncharacteristically so. The only time he gets like this is right before a stage performance; maybe right before he lets Jisung listen to a new composition. Times when something that matters is at stake.

“So,” Seungmin suddenly spears through his thoughts.

“So,” Changbin echoes.

“So—” they repeat at the same time, causing them both to burst into soft giggles.

Changbin feels his body move, subtly, almost on its own accord; he inches closer towards Seungmin—and it surprises him that Seungmin has apparently done the same. He only notices when their knees graze against each other's, and when he looks up their eyes meet.

It's something like a gravitational pull, he realizes; intangible but existing; perfectly natural. Maybe it’s always been there, between the two of them—that’s the hopeless romantic buried deep inside him talking, probably. Still—Seungmin is right here, with him; within arm’s reach, not separated by train windows and parallel train tracks. It’s not a person with a story he made up to match a face, it’s someone real.

“So,” Seungmin repeats, nervous yet bold as he twists his body to face Changbin. “Are you going to kiss me yet?”

Changbin can't help but laugh; can't help the metaphorical explosion that he feels in his chest. 

“I thought you'd never ask,” he returns, and in that moment, he knows there's nothing else left to do—he succumbs to the pull that has been calling to him all day and he leans in to close the distance between the two of them.

And it happens again—the tiny big bang in his chest, signaling the start of something new.