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Jimin tells himself often that he doesn't mind commuting, being a resident of a major city and all that.
New York City is built for public transportation, decorated with a plethora of bus stops and underground stations on every corner. He lives in Manhattan—he snatched an apartment tucked within a cozier part of West Village, close to his workplace in SoHo and small enough to avoid overwhelming him. Life has been kind to him, so he's kind to life. He speaks with people who look like they're eager enough for a conversation and trades small talk with anyone who nudges him first.
Jimin is a natural-born extrovert: the company of others keeps him going. Typically, when conversation can't be found on public transport, his wired headphones and scrap journal take him pretty far.
If not those two things, then his boyfriend, who acts much like an overgrown dog despite being entirely grown, gives him plenty of entertainment.
Jeongguk never gives him a minute of peace when they're commuting together. (Granted, Jeongguk is often the source of his peace.) His boyfriend is unfairly hot—justifiable since he majored in econ at NYU—not to mention dressed in several body modifications, and he possesses forty different hobbies he can execute perfectly. He's a hard worker, volunteers at the children's hospital by teaching the patients how to play the guitar in his free time, and landed an internship at a global investment bank as a sophomore, which secured his post-grad job.
Jeongguk doesn't give him a moment of peace because he's, well, kind of the most attractive person to exist inside and out. Because he cooks every meal for the two of them whenever he stays over at Jimin's apartment during his breaks. Because he's currently crowding Jimin up against the train door with a steady hand on his waist, looking at him like he absolutely cannot wait to stay over at Jimin's apartment tonight. Jimin can think of a few reasons why this would be.
Rather, Jimin would be able to think of a few, if he weren't so occupied with the puppy in front of him.
He can't tell if he's about to be devoured.
"You smell good," Jeongguk says. He's just saying things, probably, considering they just came from a night market in Brooklyn full of delicious-smelling skewers and different varieties of good food. To anyone else, Jimin smells like very faint citrus and mainly a mix of savory meat and wet grass. To Jeongguk, Jimin assumes he smells like dessert.
Jimin wrinkles his nose. "You're lying."
"I don't lie to you."
"You sure?"
"Mm," affirmatively hums Jeongguk, in lieu of a proper reply. A hand on the silver handrail to his side, he presses closer to his boyfriend, sandwiching him in between his larger silhouette and the train wall. Jimin shuts his eyes tightly, feeling Jeongguk's hand brace the wall instead, his face nuzzling against Jimin's exposed neck. The hood of his sweater is pulled tight over his head. His black bangs brush along the softness of Jimin's cheek and makes him shiver.
Not here, Jimin wants to tell him, but Jeongguk pulls away too soon, and suddenly he's wishing he hadn't even considered telling him no in the first place.
He has quite some height on him, really. They've got the ideal height gap: around one to two inches is enough for forehead kisses that don't require crouching down or tippy toes and just right for hugs around the waist (which, evidently, Jeongguk is fond of.) More than anything, it's a good height for Jeongguk, since he has the ability to look at Jimin in a manner that isn't awkward.
Just like that, Jeongguk's eyes go half-lidded and sultry; his well-maintained lips part just so, and. The train suddenly feels very stuffy. When Jeongguk pushes his tongue to the inside of his cheek, simply gazing down at his boyfriend with a gaze that reads… something, Jimin has to force himself to look away.
"Not here," Jimin tells him. Out loud, since someone can't control himself and needs to be reminded of the time and the place.
Lips curling into a smile much too aware for his own good, Jeongguk sits back on his heels, hand returning to its rightful place on Jimin's waist. He has his black backpack as well as Jimin's messenger bag slung over his shoulder—clearly, he's playing the part of boyfriend correctly. He always does, to the point where Jimin openly wonders how someone could be so young and be so perfect. Jeongguk has friends and coworkers and people he looks up to, and he has Jimin, and somehow manages to distribute his time fairly amongst all sectors like a pro.
Into the silence of the A-train and in the dimly-lit subway, knowing well that people can hear him and, above all, can see two men in a public embrace, Jeongguk murmurs, "You're so pretty, Jimin."
Heavens, he's perfect.
Instead of caving like he usually does, Jimin reaches up and takes Jeongguk's Beats headphones away from where they're sitting around the younger man's neck. He playfully places them atop his own head with a bright smile. Jeongguk watches without a word; Jimin can't gauge if his boyfriend wants to eat him or if he wants to coo. "Not the first time you've stolen my stuff," he murmurs.
That much is true. Pleased, Jimin trails his fingers up Jeongguk's arms, feeling up and down the plush of his oversized hoodie. It's impossible to ignore the hard muscle underneath, built up from the hours Jeongguk spends in the gym every week. Of course he actively goes to the gym alongside the many other commitments he possesses. Of course he does.
"Some of your clothes look better on me than they do on you," Jimin remarks airily with the sole intention of riling him up.
To his embarrassment, Jeongguk only reaches out and lifts a corner of his white shirt, revealing the Calvin Klein branded boxers he's wearing underneath. Jeongguk's boxers, specifically. There's a brief moment of admiration where his boyfriend goes completely still, then he slips his hand to cup the area just above the boxer band, calloused fingertips encircling Jimin's bare skin.
"You would be right," Jeongguk quietly agrees.
Jimin wants to say something, anything, but the A-train suddenly slows down in preparation for its next stop. The recoil has Jimin almost hitting his head against the silver handrail—he shuts his eyes and braces for impact, yet all he feels is softness behind his head and warmth all around. With a hand shielding his head, Jeongguk is bringing them deeper into the train car to allow other passengers to filter in and out of the carriage.
Jimin blinks, and Jeongguk has one arm securely wrapped around his waist while the other is holding the silver handrail above them. He brings his own arm up to hang on to Jeongguk's, grinning when his boyfriend looks away bashfully. Jeongguk likes being reminded of their differences—he's not too different than a typical man in that way. Jimin doesn't mind indulging him, because in any and every other way, Jeon Jeongguk has the male gender beat by light years.
Once the doors close, the train starts up again, breaking past the boundary between Brooklyn and Manhattan. He leans into his boyfriend's chest and closes his eyes.
A pinch to his exposed side, and Jimin quietly hisses, immediately looking towards the culprit of the gesture with a wounded gaze. Jeongguk is looking down at him expectantly with those puppy eyes of his. Jimin would win every single argument they've ever had if Jeongguk wasn't able to use those damned eyes.
It always happens the same way: he'll wait for Jeongguk's commitment of the hour to finish, tapping his fingers against his steering wheel with a lecture planned for his boyfriend. As soon as Jeongguk gets into the passenger seat, insisting that he can drive them home while looking awfully puppy-like Jimin has ever seen on a guy, it's over. It's been over.
He holds the eye contact just so he can see Jeongguk look somewhat akin to a sopping wet dog for a little longer. Then, Jimin squeezes his bicep and asks, "What, baby?"
"I asked what you wanted to eat for dinner, hyung."
"Mm… d'you want to cook?" Jimin tilts his head to the side.
The arm around his waist tightens, shifting him slightly so their chests are nearly pressed together. It seems as if the entire population of New York City is taking their specific A-train today; to avoid bumping into the passengers around them, Jeongguk slots their legs in between one another. A gesture that's very small and intimate yet speaks volumes. Things like these are surprising because Jimin is, in fact, Jeongguk's first serious relationship as an adult.
He was doubtful of their arrangement for a few months at the beginning. What if Jeongguk wasn't as secure in his bisexuality as he assured Jimin he was? What if he realized he didn't want to commit to someone in his early twenties? A relationship in high school—as much as Jeongguk joked about it—is incomparable to leaving yourself wholly for another to consume. Despite it all, Jeongguk showed up in ways Jimin didn't perceive possible until he did them. Every day, he ensured the first and last person he saw was Jimin. Now that it's summer and Jeongguk is free from the confinement of university responsibilities, their relationship really has space to mature.
It's grown slowly, but surely.
"Do you want me to cook?"
"That's not what I asked."
"I answered your question with my own question," Jeongguk cheekily fires back, "now answer mine."
"You know that your other hyungs would shame you for speaking so disrespectfully to an elder, right?"
Jeongguk is smiling as hard as physically possible under his hood, bunny teeth biting down into soft bottom lip. "You're the… you're my only hyung who matters right now. I don't care about the other ones."
Jimin's voice takes on a fake stern tone when he threatens, "I'm going to tell on you."
Cheekily, Jeongguk's hand around his waist slides under his shirt, mischevious fingertips drifting up and down his spine; a shiver runs throughout his body when Jeongguk leans in close to his ear and whispers, "Not after I'm done with you, you won't."
He feels exposed. Jimin's eyes quickly dart to the people around them—thankfully, everyone else seems occupied with minding their own business or ignoring them. As his eyes return to his boyfriend, Jeongguk is pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek once more and grinning.
Jimin glares at him. Continues to glare at him while the train slows down in preparation for its next stop. "Can't keep it in your pants, huh?"
"Have you seen yourself?" His boyfriend slides the Beats headphones off of Jimin's head and hangs them around his neck. Then, Jeongguk reaches down with his free hand and pokes Jimin's nose. "You're so pretty." It would be a very tender, very cute moment if Jeongguk didn't immediately follow up with, "I'm surprised I can keep it in my pants most of the time."
"Most of the time," Jimin deadpans.
"I said what I said."
"Oh. You should say less, then, Jeon Jeongguk."
"Park Jeongguk." After correcting him, Jeongguk is flashing another proud, bunny-toothed smile while readjusting the bags hanging off of his body. He makes that joke a lot: he'll toss the concept around when they're walking up and down the aisles of the grocery store, or when they're chit-chatting over glasses of wine, or when he's on top of Jimin, giving him exactly what he wants. Jeongguk's enthusiasm over taking Jimin's last name is more than apparent. The concept itself is a lot, both mentally and physically, but of course Jimin wouldn't mind taking that leap for him. Jeez, that's a lot to think about.
He fondly runs his fingers up and down Jeongguk's thigh trapped between both of his. "Park Jeongguk should make dinner tonight, then."
"Done and done. What do you want?"
"Mmh…" His gaze shifts to the ceiling of the train. Apparently, he looks so cute that Jeongguk can't hold back from running his thumb along the plane of his soft cheek. "Let's go with… ah, carbonara, maybe?"
Jeongguk nods emphatically. "I think we need to get cheese."
"Then we should get off soon, hm?"
"Oh, we will, alright—" Before Jeongguk can finish his horribly executed joke, Jimin is reaching out and hitting him in the stomach. "Ouchies, hyung."
By the strings of Jeongguk's hoodie, Jimin tugs him down and flips his entire body so his back is flush against Jeongguk's front with Jeongguk's head nestled over his shoulder. He pulls out his phone once they've reached the next stop, attempting to find the nearest grocery store with what limited service he's got. Jeongguk's arm has effectively encircled his entire waist by now, hugging him close, with his boyfriend's face nuzzled in the nape of his neck.
They must look über annoying to everyone else on the train. Sorry, New York City.
"There's a grocery a few blocks from the next stop." A polished fingernail points to Jimin's phone screen where Google Maps is reflecting their current whereabouts. "So, it's best if we hop off, and head that way."
"Mmm."
"And… oh, I guess we can either walk back or take the bus."
"Mhm."
"I don't mind walking. It's nice today, isn't it?"
"Mmh."
"Jeon Jeongguk," hisses Jimin, same polished fingers grabbing his boyfriend's cheeks and squishing them together with a heavy sigh, "please give me more to work with than that."
He tilts Jeongguk's head down and tilts his own head up to meet his gaze—Jeongguk genuinely looks shocked, big eyes blinking rapidly and mouth shaped into an innocent pout. "I'm agreeing with you."
"You're just humming things."
"Because I want what you want," Jeongguk says without missing a beat.
Jimin sighs. "We need to figure out what to eat and how to eat it, baby."
"Gonna eat you," mumbles Jeongguk, and bends down to attempt to bite at Jimin's cheek. Flustered, Jimin ducks his head and hopes everyone is really occupied with their own things. God, this is embarrassing. He won't tell Jeongguk to stop, though, because he likes the attention and Jeongguk likes giving him attention.
The train coasts to a halt; the passengers in front of Jimin filter out quickly. Somehow, Jeongguk manages to slip in front of him and links their pinkies together, his other arm protectively hovering over Jimin's torso while they depart. It's another gesture he'll do without thinking—would it be so brash as to say Jeongguk loves being relied on as much as Jimin relies on him?
"Okay?" Jeongguk turns to him once they've reached the platform with his thick eyebrows furrowed in concern. He's always concerned for Jimin, even when absolutely nothing bad has happened.
It makes Jimin crack a smile, reaching up to brush Jeongguk's bangs away from his forehead. "Okay."
"Good. Then…"
Delicately, Jimin's bag is slipped onto his shoulder once more. Jeongguk gives their surroundings a once-over—everyone else on the platform seems to be busy on their phones or watching for their train—before planting a chaste kiss to Jimin's cheek, then his jaw, and then his neck.
Their pinkies are still linked. This is just so, so normal for them. In his head, Jimin wonders when he became so lucky to have a boyfriend like Jeongguk.
"Love you," Jimin tells him honestly.
His resounding smile is more than worth it. "I love you more, ."
"Let's go?" Jimin takes a step towards the stairs leading upwards to the streets of New York, rays of sun shining through the exit and warming his cheeks. Jeongguk's eyes crinkle in the way they always do when he's happy, and he follows obediently. Of course he does.
"Yeah, let's."