It's 2:00am by the time Wonsik is ready to call it a night. He spent the last three hours at the rest stop. First grabbing dinner, the meatloaf special, from the diner so creatively named Diner, then checking on the product, truck upkeep, etc. Normally, Wonsik likes driving throughout the night, but he's found that clients aren't happy when you show up five hours earlier than the delivery time. Most of them have other deliveries they've scheduled, or other things spoken for in that time slot.

Driving through the night has way more pros than cons. Pros: less traffic, faster driving, less noise on the two-way radio. Cons: less noise on the two-way radio.

The two-way radio is the only source of social interaction for Wonsik these days. Which isn't a bad thing, but sometimes even a recluse like Wonsik craves interaction with someone besides himself. Sometimes he'll turn on the radio and just listen to the other truck drivers shoot the . He might join in on a conversation every now and then, and to Woonsik's delight, he's found himself comfort on channel 6.

When Wonsik first started driving he would switch stations until he caught sound of an interesting conversation. Mostly about current events, drivers from all over the area voicing their opinions behind their two-way radios, knowing that their identity will most likely never be revealed. Every truck driver in the area has some sort of nickname they call themselves in the trucking world. You could be arguing with Mr. Hops about childcare laws one minute, then sitting right next to him at your next stop for food and never know it.

There's a guarded closeness of these relationships that Wonsik likes. Although since keeping his radio dialed in on channel 6 he's started thinking otherwise. One day Wonsik had had enough arguing and caught the end of a 'rap battle' between two drivers on channel 6. After, he heard claps and cheers from two more drivers and then an invitation for anyone listening. The offer was too good to refuse, and that's how channel 6 has become a permanently fixed station for Wonsik's two-way radio.

That was two years ago.

Since then he's become the closest he's ever been to anyone besides his family. Sure he doesn't know what his channel 6 companions look like let alone their real names, but the connection is there.

It's not like he hasn't wondered about his 5 companions of Channel 6. He thinks by now he'd be able to pick out their voice should they end up at the same rest stop Diner, or same gas station line, but the radio could always garble their voices.

There's one voice that Wonsik knows he would have no trouble picking out in a crowd. It's the one Wonsik talks to the most on air and every time he hears the voice say his [nick]name he can't help but smile.

The voice belongs to a driver called N.

Wonsik, stuck in traffic one night, was on the brink of sleep when he thought he'd call out to the channel. He heard the majority of the group bid their departure hours earlier, already parked at a rest stop for the night and ready for sleep. N promptly responded. He, too was stuck in traffic. Whether it was the same traffic Wonsik was in, Wonsik will never know. The two talked for hours until N had finally made it to a rest stop. Wonsik was tempted to stop at the first rest stop he saw, secretly hoping to find the man behind the voice, but actively seeking out another trucker is like breaking an unspoken rule.

Another pro of driving late at night: talks with N. Most truckers turn off their radios when they sleep, but some keep them on in case another trucker might call out in distress. Ever since that night of traffic Wonsik has never turned his radio off. There are times that he's afraid he comes on a little too strong, answering N's calls a little too quickly over the radio. He never calls out to Wonsik personally, but a simple invitation for conversation that causes Wonsik's mouth to act before his brain realizes what it's doing.

“Is anyone awake?” Wonsik hears through his radio.

Just like that, Wonsik is up and reaching past his middle console for the radio.

“Yep, still here.” Wonsik says, although his voice gives away his sleepy demeanor.

“Ravi-ah, is that you? You sound like you were sleeping. I woke you, didn't I?” N's voice sounds just as tired, but Wonsik can still hear his truck running so he knows he's still on the road.

Wonsik clears his throat, “No, no, I was just about to call it a night, but I'm awake.” Wonsik cringes at how attentive he sounds. “What's up?”

“Traffic,” N groans through the radio, “be glad you're parked, construction is killing me!”

When Wonsik hears the groan from N he's immediately grateful N can't see him through the radio. Hearing N groan, hearing N giggle, even hearing N swear whets Wonsik's appetite for a glance at the man behind the voice. For the longest time Wonsik was in denial of his desires until he hopped in his truck after a lunch and heard N sing.

His tone was light and soft. A little shy at first, but as the song neared the bridge Wonsik's heart matched N's growing confidence. That was when he knew.

He'd fallen for him.

“How far away is the nearest stop?”

“Only 5 miles, but the traffic is going to make it another twenty minutes.”

“Well... you could tell me about your day?”

Wonsik can almost see the smile on N's face.

“You would not believe what I saw this morning!...”

As N talks Wonsik imagines what the conversation would be like if the two men lived normal lives. Instead of sitting in the passenger seat of his truck, surrounded by empty Styrofoam cups that once help coffee, he were in an apartment building sitting at a kitchen table he owned with N. Instead of N being stuck in traffic and telling about him about his day he might have just come home from a long day at work. It's still late at night, but the two boys might share late night noodles rather than the same radio frequency.

Wonsik hums in response when he knows it's needed. He closes his eyes and imagines the lips the voice is coming from. The shape (small, but still plump), the color (not quite rose, but maybe a blush), the movement of each word coming out.

In turn, Wonsik thinks about the cheeks that might frame those lips, the eyes that might squint as he recalls honking his horn for a cute little girl that morning. By the end of the rehash Wonsik has envisioned N down to his shoe size.

“Ah I finally made it! This one is busy tonight. Oh, there's a meatloaf special.”

Wonsik's ears prick at the mention of the meatloaf special. He's thankful he makes a point to park away from lampposts for fear of anyone catching his movement in his truck. Still, to be safe, Wonsik slides himself over to his driver's side window and slowly peeks behind his drawn curtain.

He only sees headlights moving, but that's all he needs to see. Even if he could see what the truck looks like it wouldn't help him any. Talking about what your truck looks like in specific detail is another no-no in the trucking world.

“Ah, thank you, Ravi, for staying up with me.” Wonsik watches the truck stop as he hears N turn off his truck.

“Now, I'm off to get some meatloaf, I hope the special is still being served!”

Wonsik wants to tell N that the meatloaf will most likely be burnt and sitting under a food warmer for at least three hours. Hell, his own meatloaf looked two hours too old.

His hands are frozen on his curtain. Hiding, as if N knows Wonsik is there, watching in the truck parked 7 over from his own. He pulls his beanie down close to his eyes and lifts the curtain a little higher to mask his nose, only exposing his eyes. Even that exposure makes him nervous, he reaches for his sunglasses and shoves them on, almost hurting the bridge of his nose in the process.

“Ravi? Did you fall asleep on me?”

Wonsik's eyes are torn between the view of N's truck and the radio. He knows he should pick up the radio and keep the act of ignorance going, perhaps slip in the coincidence that he, too had a meatloaf special. Perhaps they are at the same stop? Perhaps they could have a cup of coffee?

“Ah, you must have fallen asleep. Ravi, my late night friend, thank you for keeping me company when I need it most. Sleep well, I'll see you in my dreams~”

The radio wins. Wonsik, still with his beanie, sunglasses, and curtain mask on, is left staring at his radio. Did those words just come out? Is his radio playing tricks on him. Did N say he'd see him... in his dreams?

Wonsik listens to static for another two minutes before his mind connects the two together. He takes another glance towards the now dark truck and bangs his head on his arm rest for missing his opportunity to see N in the flesh.

That was his only chance! He blew it! It's been two years since he's verbally met N and it's taken this long to have the chance to physically meet him. Why did he take his eyes away from the truck? Why didn't he wait until he at least got a glimpse from of the man? Why didn't he take his chance to watch N walk into the Diner where he'd have a better view of him?

Wait... Why doesn't he just look in the Diner?

Wonsik has to take off his sunglasses to even pick out occupied seats in the Diner. There are a few bodies in booth seats and a few at the bar area. If Wonsik were thinking properly he would have been able to follow N into the Diner and known exactly where he seated himself.

He glances from N's truck to the Diner, hoping that somehow he can rewind time and have another chance at being a grade A creeper.

Instead his truck is filled with snores. Someone must have rolled over on their radio hand held receiver in their sleep. Most likely Ken.

It's now or never for Wonsik. For the first time in probably a year, Wonsik takes a minute to survey himself in the mirror. Sure, he's taken a glance here and there, and of course he needs to when he shaves, but there's no effort for improvement. More like he simply accepts his image and heads out. There hasn't been a need for visual impression in so long, Wonsik has almost forgotten what color his hair is.

There's a point where Wonsik is trying to smooth over the same patch of hair over and over again. When he's finally made it out of his truck he subconsciously pulls on his beanie and he has to stop himself from turning around and slamming his head against the grill of his truck.

He thanks the Diner for such large windows. He takes a quick glance at each customer inside. There's a couple in a booth, another older man in the other booth, a worker sitting in the bar area, and another young man on one of the stools at the bar.

That's him.

The only other option is the old man sitting in the booth, but considering he's half asleep with nothing on his plate except a napkin he keeps trying to fit into this mouth, Wonsik brilliantly deduces the young man at the bar is N.

Wonsik slows his walk as he gets closer. N is seated far enough to the side that Wonsik has a good look at his profile. Smiling, he thinks N's voice suits his frame. It's slender, but not what Wonsik would consider scrawny. He looks as tall as Wonsik, from this angle. Hair a little darker, and he's most definitely skinnier.

Watching N smile falters Wonsik's steps slightly, but he pushes through. The small bell above the Diner's door gives himself away.

As soon as he walks in he hears N's laugh. Seeing and hearing the laugh halts Wonsik in his steps. It's a surreal feeling for Wonsik to see N laugh. It matches how he imagined perfectly.

He realizes he's staring when everyone in the Diner is now staring back.

“Sir, you can sit wherever you'd like.” The waitress (a different one from earlier, thank goodness) grunts in his direction.

The couple loses interest in Wonsik quickly as does the older man.

N's eyes are glued on Wonsik and Wonsik knows he should just walk over and start talking, but it's been a while since Wonsik has had to approach someone.

“Ravi?”

Wonsik nods and suddenly, he feels like he's just walked into a party he wasn't invited to. That awkward moment when it's too late to back out now and not look stupid, but any other movement leads to more stupidity.

There's no mushy moment when N stands and runs to his long distance, voice-only, lover. Wonsik doesn't walk over suavely and spin the smaller boy around, mashing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. Instead, N pats the stool next to him and gives Wonsik a smile.

Wonsik's legs move without being told. N keeps a steady eye on Wonsik until he makes it safely to the stool. He orders Wonsik a cup of coffee and waits for the waitress to leave before turning to face Wonsik completely.

“Hakyeon.” He says as he holds out his hand.

“Wonsik.” Wonsik feels weird saying his real name out loud. Only his mother calls him Wonsik. He takes Hakyeon's hand in his. He might have held on a little too tightly and a little longer than needed, but it doesn't look like Hakyeon minds.

“Wonsik... what an enchanting name.” Hakyeon says, almost to himself. He's smiling, now and Wonsik feels his own lips lift.

“It's nice to meet you, Wonsik.”

“Likewise, Hakyeon.”

AN: Thanks for reading! Who's up next...