It's finally after 5pm and Seunghyun is on his way home from work. His white button-up sticks to his skin in weird places, the collective body heat of the other passengers only making it worse. The train is nearly bursting. Easily a few dozen over capacity. No one wants to wait for the next one, eager to get to their respective destinations and out of the sweltering subway. He stares out the window, seeing and not seeing, thinking of the assignments he's falling behind on at the advertising firm. A shock of reddish-orange hair floats into his periphery, moving steadily closer to the back of the train car. There's hardly room to breathe and Seunghyun is impressed as he watches them worm through the sea of people like the most slippery fish. The skilled individual squeezes in to stand next to him and he can see now that it's a young boy. Clear brown eyes, pouty lips, soft tanned skin. The boy pushes his sweat-dampened hair away from his face and he gets caught staring. Small silver earrings dangle from his lobes, tinkling faintly like little bells.

            “Is it always this awful?” The redhead asks, slight accent coloring his speech.

            “Every day.” Seunghyun's mouth slopes in a half-smile. “You've never been on a train during rush hour?”

            The boy shakes his head, not once looking away. It's unnerving and fills his stomach with energetic butterflies.

            “Not quite like this. I just moved here a few days ago.”

            “Where from?”

            “South Korea.”

            He grins. That would explain the accent. “You're a long way from home.”

            “I know.” The boy returns his smile. It suits him. “And I love it.”

            Seunghyun chuckles and they fall silent, the loud rumbling of the train as it passes through a tunnel drowning out the jumble of questions building in his head. The boy looks down and he studies the generous curve of his eyelashes, the elegant bow shape of his upper lip. He feels a bit rude, a bit creepy, for staring so obviously but he can't help himself. He's mesmerized. The train lurches and Seunghyun loses his balance, knocking into the boy and further invading his personal space. He catches himself with a palm pressed to the wall, but not before his nose grazes a supple cheek and everything slows down. Frozen, he fixates on the sheen of perspiration coating the boy's skin, watches his adams-apple bob up and down. For a brief moment the boy drifts closer. Or was that his imagination? Clearing his throat, he rights himself and steps back.

            “My apologies.”

            “Don't worry about it.”

            Silence again. Seunghyun teeters on the precipice of crossing that imaginary line between strangers. He knows what it's like to have an opportunity slip through his fingers. But he also knows that indulging one's curiosity can be dangerous. More people pile in at the next stop and the boy is forced to press against him. He in a short breath, looks hopelessly up at the ceiling, and prays that his body behaves. The train lurches to life once more. Arms shoot out, long fingers gripping his hips firmly. The heat from those hands burn through his suit pants and sear his skin. It's only for a second, but Seunghyun can still feel the tingle of the boy's touch.

            “Sorry.” The boy murmurs, cheekbones tinted red.

            “It's okay.” He smiles because he doesn't know what else to do.

            They chase each other with their eyes. With side-glances and bashful stares. Seunghyun always ends up staring. Always gets caught. Eventually curiosity wins the war, uncharacteristic boldness encouraged by the gleam in the redhead's gaze.

            “Why did you leave Korea? If you don't mind me asking.”

            “I needed a change of scenery.” The boy shrugs, his shoulders graceful even in the cramped space.

            “I hear that.”

            “Why did you leave Korea?”

            Seunghyun laughs. Gorgeous and perceptive. Must be his lucky day.

            “I was born in Seattle. My parents are from Busan.”

            He lifts an arm to grab hold of the metal bar overhead, watches the boy track his movement.

            “Nice sweat stain,” the boy giggles a bit and Seunghyun's heart leaps into his throat.

            “Thank you, I worked very hard on them today.”

            The giggles melt into genuine laughter and he loses himself a little. It's been so long since he made anyone laugh like this, so long since he grinned so much his face hurt. He's utterly charmed.

            “So, you must work in an office.” The boy tugs his black tie gently.

            “I'm a designer at an advertising agency.”

            “Impressive.”

            “Not really,” he sighs. “I'm an underling at best.”

            “I'm sure you're very talented.”

            He snorts and rests his head against his raised arm. Still smiling, still smitten. “What about you? What made you choose Chicago?”

            “I dunno, it's not people's first choice? And I have friends here.”

            The redhead's brows furrow as he speaks and it's so adorable he has to grip the metal bar tighter to prevent himself from doing something stupid.

            “Haven't found a job yet, but I've got all the time in the world now. Well, until my visa expires at least.”

            Seunghyun admires that kind of freedom, to go anywhere and simply see what unfolds. It takes courage. He doesn't remember how that feels, being courageous.

            “Aren't you worried that things might not pan out?”

            “No.” The boy is grinning again. “You can only plan so much before life interferes. I'd rather enjoy the ride.”

            “You're really brave.'

            “I wouldn't say that. Young and dumb, maybe.”

            “Still, my jealousy is acute.”

            “Why? What's stopping you from making a change? Everyone always has so many excuses but they're all bull.” The boy runs his fingers through his hair. “What's your excuse?”

            “My job, mostly.”

            “But it doesn't make you happy.”

            “I'm not gonna argue with that, but what makes you so sure?”

            “It was the way you sighed.”

            Seunghyun is amused by where their conversation has gone.

            “Do you always psychoanalyze strangers on public transit?”

            “Only the pretty ones.” The boy smirks, gaze playful and bold.

            He has the decency to blush, flattered and bit surprised. Seunghyun isn't used to flirting, it's been years since he even gave a about the mating dance, let alone participated. It makes him feel giddy. Light. Like he's made of air. He looks into those lovely brown eyes and his lips. He's not sure how to respond, but he doesn't have to. The train jerks to a stop and Seunghyun leans indulgently into the boy's warmth. He breathes deep, inhales musk and something unrecognizable, but sweet.

            “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were touching me on purpose now.”

            “And what if I am?” The words float from his mouth before he can stop them.

            A delicate chuckle, almost too quiet to hear, meets his ears over the bustle of boarding passengers. It isn't nearly as crowded anymore, though neither of them have stepped outside of the strangely intimate bubble they've built, swaying in and out of brief contact with each slow rock of the subway car. Seunghyun looks out the window as they emerge from the underground onto the elevated tracks. The sky is darker and thick rivulets of water snake trails over the glass.

            “Then I'd have to ask you to join me for coffee.” The redhead's long fingers return to toy with his tie.

            He can't believe this is really happening but he isn't about to stop it.

            “Are you?”

            “Yes.”

            He struggles to swallow, mouth suddenly rather dry.

            “It's raining.”

            “I have an umbrella.”

            There's a challenge in those words and for some reason the idea of leaving the train with this boy, this beautiful nameless stranger, feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. He doesn't do this. Doesn't take chances. Doesn't do spontaneous. But he finds that he wants to jump, to free-fall and surrender to the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. Seunghyun's eyelids close and he breathes through his nose. He smiles, perhaps too brightly, and looks down.

            “Okay.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.” He nods, some new, foreign version of excitement swirling in his chest.

            “We should get off at the next stop. I know a nice place, but we have to walk for a bit.”

            “I don't mind.”

            “Good.” The boy's full lips part, revealing pink gums and white teeth, eyes crinkling at the corners.

            Together they maneuver through the crowd, feet tapping in time as they hop down the stairs and exit the train station. Digging his umbrella out of his bag, the redhead hands it to him. Seunghyun raises an eyebrow.

            “What? You're taller.”

            Warm rain pours from a gray sky in sheets and they huddle close under the boy's blue umbrella. It should be weird, or awkward, but it isn't. They journey is quiet, save for the constant stream of water colliding with the earth. Seunghyun is thankful for this because it masks the rapid pounding of his heart. In case he never gets to experience the sensation again, he tries to memorize the soft press of the boy's shoulder against his.

            “Just a little bit further.”

            He's lived in Chicago for almost seven years and never known this place existed. But he supposes it's a challenge to really know a city even if you've lived there your entire life. It's always changing. Always reinventing itself. The cafe is small, cozy, made of large couches and puffy chairs and smooth hardwood floors. As he closes the umbrella, he imagines the aroma of freshly brewed coffee curling its fingers around him and drawing him closer.

            “Together or separate?” Asks the short, blonde girl working the register.

            “Together,” the boy says, retrieving his wallet.

            Seunghyun grips his arm to stop him.

            “Let me.”

            “No way.” Smirking, the boy gives the blonde a crumpled twenty. “You can pay next time.'

            He laughs. “Is that so?”

            “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

            “I don't even know your name and you're already talking about 'next time'.”

            Drinks paid for, they migrate towards the empty loveseat near the front windows. Seunghyun divests himself of his messenger bag and sinks into the couch. The redhead flops down next to hm, sitting sideways, one leg tucked between them. He leans a little to the left without realizing it.

            “Jiyong.”

            “Seunghyun.”

            Their hands fold around one another and he has a hard time letting go, fingers sliding reluctantly from Jiyong's grasp to rest in his lap.

            “Your parents must be pretty traditional.”

            He huffs. “You could say that. I think they just couldn't bring themselves to give me a more American name.”

            “I'm glad they didn't.”

            Seunghyun grins. “You can take the boy out of Korea...”

            Rolling his eyes, Jiyong thwacks him on the arm. “Cute.”

            “I know.”

            The boy is just about to hit him again when the blonde arrives with their coffees and sets them on the small table. He nurses the steaming cappuccino and sinks further into the couch cushions, forever baffled by the situation he's found himself in. Jiyong nudges at Seunghyun's hip with his knee.

            “What did you want to be when you were little?”

            “A magician.” He smirks into his cup.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, I was always trying to make our dog levitate,” Seunghyun laughs to himself. “My parents were not amused.”

            “That's...” the boy covers his mouth with the back of his hands as his shoulders shake with laughter. “Wow, that's so precious.”

            “I was a very special child.”

            “Clearly.”

            He digs his elbow into the boy's thigh, which only makes him laugh harder.

            “You?”

            “I wanted to be a musician.”

            “Is that what you went to school for?”

            Seunghyun watches him, watches his eyes illuminate when he starts to talk about his experiences at university. About writing songs and performing on stage. About his dreams of getting noticed here, of maybe being lucky and getting signed by an independent record label. Jiyong's enthusiasm rolls off of his body in waves. Every part of him is animated and he can't sit still. He finds himself envying Jiyong even more now, for pursuing something he loves instead of settling just to get by like everyone else. They talk for hours, nearly empty mugs long forgotten. Seunghyun could sit there and listen to the boy ramble on about music and music theory until the universe implodes. He wants to drown in his positive energy and his passion. Wants to find more reasons to stay instead of worry about how late it is. The sun has all but set and the rain continues to fall. He needs to go but he doesn't know if he can. His mind and his heart are just as tangled as their legs have become, nestled in the warmth of the coffee shop, isolated on their loveseat-shaped island. Seunghyun allows himself to keep discussing art and film and politics and culture, allows the bizarre tangents and personal histories to keep unraveling. He can't recall the last time he had a conversation last this long. But then it's eleven o'clock and the cafe is closing and they have to leave their haven behind.

            “You're really fortunate, you know. To have found the one thing that excites you, that makes you tick.” Seunghyun says, opening the umbrella beneath the awning of the coffee shop. “Especially so young.”

            “And we've been talking for ages but I still don't know what it is you want out of life.” Jiyong leans close and looks at him directly.

            “To be honest, I don't know either.” He shies away from the boy's intense stare, fiddles with his tie instead.

            Reaching out, Jiyong wraps a hand around Seunghyun's, pulls it down between them and threads long fingers with his. The boy's thumb rubs soothing over his skin.

            “You will.”

            There's so much finality in Jiyong's voice, so much confidence that he has never been able to find in himself. He wonders, maybe, if this boy is meant to be the one thing he wants out of life, the one thing that lights him up from the inside. Together they walk back to the train station, huddled close under the boy's blue umbrella.

            “I actually have to get on at the other side.”

            “Wait, you mean you missed your stop to stay with me on the train?”

            Jiyong laughs, gently taking his umbrella back and pinning Seunghyun to the spot with his brilliant smile.

            “Yeah, I did.” The boy nods. “But it was worth it.”

            The amusement and affection b over from those brown eyes stir up something in the pit of his stomach and before he knows it, he's cradling soft cheeks in the curves of his palms and molding his mouth to the boy's lips. Jiyong gasps and drops the umbrella, winds his arms around Seunghyun's waist and pulls him closer. The rain pelts down upon them, soaking through their clothes and gliding over their skin. He can taste it on the boy's tongue when he deepens the kiss. Can feel the way the fabric of their shirts cling wetly to each other when he pulls back slightly. Jiyong's eyes are closed, tiny drops of water hanging from the thickness of his lashes and plastering his brightly colored hair to his forehead. Seunghyun slicks the reddish-orange tendrils away from his face.

            “You're really good at that,” the boy breathes, fingers clenching tightly at his sopping button-up.

            “Maybe I've finally found my calling in life.”

            Dissolving into lazy giggles, Jiyong presses his nose against his collarbone.

            “As long as you don't go around kissing anyone else, I think I can support that.”

            “Isn't it a little early to be staking your claim?”

            “Isn't it a little early to be shoving your tongue down my throat?”

            Seunghyun chuckles and sighs. His pulse flickers wildly and he marvels at his own boldness, wonders how Jiyong managed to get so far under his skin. A chance encounter that had already irrevocably changed his life.

            “Sorry.”

            “Don't be.” The boy pulls away, bright face beaming. “It was nice.”

            “Just “nice”?” He teases.

            “Don't push your luck,” Jiyong laughs and shoves him gently.

            They stand there, all smiles and fidgeting fingers, soaked to the bone but finding it hard to care. Seunghyun wants to kiss him again but he refrains. Doesn't want to make it more difficult to leave than it already is. He always hated these moments. Needing to leave, desperately wanting to stay. Jiyong is biting his lip and it's so inherently y that he has to remind himself they only just met earlier this afternoon. Since when did he become such a teenage boy? Readjusting his bag, Seunghyun shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

            “I should get going.”

            “Okay.”

            “I'm glad today happened, though.”

            “Me too.” Jiyong grins. “I really like you, Seunghyun.”

            Did he really have to say that? He groans internally and struggles not to bury his hands under the boy's rain-drenched t-shirt, struggles not to kiss him senseless. . Was he dreaming? Why hadn't he floated away yet? Because he's pretty sure his body is just an over-sized cage for raucous butterflies.

            “I like you as well. In fact, I'm afraid I like you a bit too much.”

            Jiyong steps forward and steals a chaste kiss, both hands circling one of his wrists. The boy squeezes, gazing at him intently, like he's trying to convince himself that leaving should not be this much of an issue.

            “Don't be a stranger.”

            “I promise.”

            And then the boy's fingers are slipping away and Seunghyun watches him jog across the street to the other station entrance without looking back. He waits until he hears the train arrive, until he hears the doors close and the fading clamor of wheels over metal tracks. He waits until he's all but a shivering mess before climbing the stairs to wait for his own ride home. When Seunghyun reaches the platform he can see the tiny red lights of the south-bound train right before they disappear around the bend. He hopes, oh he hopes so damn hard, that those lights are not the last memory he'll have of the flirtatious boy who made his heart beat so fast it physically pained him. He hopes because he's not sure he'll wake up the next day with the courage to call the number newly saved to his phone. But he needs Jiyong. Needs his spark and the fireworks in his smile. He feels like he's been stumbling through life with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. He needs to know if Jiyong is the answer.

            He just has to be brave enough to ask himself the question.