Jongin eyes the crying boy (judging from his height and fluffy black hair, Jongin decides that he is a minor) warily and breathes heavily.
There are a million questions swimming in his head, like which bus is he supposed to take, is he even here to take the bus, does he speak Korean, is he lost or waiting for someone...
Jongin's been standing beside him for the past five minutes, and honestly he has no idea how, if he should at all, approach the boy.
He's never made the initiative to approach people before.
Heck, when people approach him, he doesn't react half the time.
But in the end, there's a little voice out of nowhere telling him what to do.
Just go for it.

"You alright?" When Jongin manages to pluck up enough courage and ask the boy, but he doesn't answer and instead continues to send out those heartbreaking cries.
He must have not heard me, Jongin thinks anxiously and bites his lip.
He cautiously slips into a seat, purposely leaving a gap between them and trying not to make as little noise as possible.
It's only then he notices how soaked the sleeves of the poor boy's plaid shirt are.
Just how long has he been crying for?, Jongin wonders, and he feels a pang of sadness and sympathy to his heart.
He slowly takes his backpack off and pulls out a grey and white handkerchief from the side pocket.
He doesn't hand it immediately to the boy though; instead he grips it tightly in his palm, reevaluating his actions.
He's a stranger, and stranger means danger, Jongin tells himself, he could knock you out when you're not watching or get his partners in crime to take you when your attention is on him.
Or maybe he's just a sad boy in need of some comforting.

"Please don't cry."
Before Jongin knows it, he is holding out his handkerchief to the boy.
The boy's head shoots up abruptly, and he gives Jongin a look of pure shock with the widest eyes he's ever seen, thick lips slightly apart.
Jongin blinks back blankly, wild confusion clouding his mind.
He was expecting a middle school boy; the person before him is clearly a young adult.
The small man hiccups, and continues to lock his gaze on Jongin with his bloodshot and still teary eyes.
Jongin isn't really sure what he is supposed to do now that he has the man's attention.
Told you this was a bad idea.
But he's stopped crying.

"This is uh... for you." Jongin gestures slightly at his handkerchief with his free hand.
He hopes desperately that the small man will look at it, or at least away from his face.
Because he knows he's blushing really bad.
The small man indeed looks down at Jongin's hand, his black bangs bouncing a little as he dips his entire head.
He hesitantly pulls the fabric out of Jongin's hand, then curls in tighter on himself and rests his chin on his knees as he cleans his face with firm dabbing motions.
Jongin doesn't say a word; he doesn't know what to say, or if he's even supposed to speak.
He simply sits and watches the small man press his wrinkled handkerchief against his face while the occasional fresh tear escapes the brim of his eyes.
He's still hiccuping, and when he isn't he purses his lips and hugs his knees.
He doesn't want to speak to you, he doesn't appreciate your nosiness.
He's just scared.

"You feeling any better?" Jongin asks softly, two fingers scratching the side of his face awkwardly as his eyes flicker back and forth between the small man and the ground in front of him.
The man's hand freezes from wiping his face, and he turns slightly to face Jongin.

"Y-Yes... Thanks."
Jongin wasn't expecting the small man's voice to be so... deep.
His voice is smooth and silky, the kind that turns necks once he speaks and makes people want to hear more.
Jongin wants to hear more.

"No problem." Jongin offers a small smile, feeling less anxious and genuinely relieved that the small man is better.

"I'm... sorry about this." The man folds Jongin's handkerchief with quick fingers and places it in the gap between them, nudging it towards Jongin shyly.
Jongin finds the way he tried to fold the handkerchief back to the way it was handed to him pretty funny, because it's now completely drenched.
Jongin figures he's just flustering and a little lost, a little confused.

"Don't worry about it, I'll uhm... I'll wash it when I get home." Jongin chuckles lightly and takes his handkerchief back, shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans.
Home.
The word flashes across Jongin's mind again, and he glances at the small man again.
You need to stop nosing your way into other people's business. You don't even know him, you'll get hurt.
But he's hurt.

"Can I take you home?"
The man hitches his breath and stares at Jongin with wild terrified eyes.
Jongin immediately regrets his choice of words as the man struggles to clamber to his feet after sitting for so long.

"No no, I don't mean it that way! I mean like, it's not really safe for you to be out here alone, and you're clearly not feeling okay so I just thought best place for you to be right now is home... I meant yours, I'm not trying to hook up with you or anything... I just want to see you get home safe, don't run away, please?" Jongin jumps up and tries to explain himself, waving his hands around frantically.
His backpack's dropped onto the ground, but he stands frozen in place, staring at the man with pleading eyes.
All he cares is that he doesn't run away.

"O-Oh..." The man's face reddens, his gaze falling to his feet.
Then surely but slowly, he nods his head.
Jongin feels a smile slipping onto his face, and he starts to think that maybe listening to his heart for once isn't a bad thing.
Even though his brain still says otherwise.

Author's Note:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

If Himchan can Bang Yongguk

Jongin can Do Kyungsoo