[FIC] Supposition
Title: Supposition
Author: aislinoriel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jaejoong-centric. What if? A chance meeting might not be so chance. AU. Pure hazy, fluffy, WarmAndFuzzyFeelings. Yunjae
Genre: Romance
Characters: Jaejoong/Yunho
Author Notes: And strangeness. Random inkling. I felt like it. XD
Mornings spent watching the dust motes float through the light that spilled in through the window in his apartment were fond memories. Tea swirling spells in a well-loved cup, the soft buzz of the smoke detector that would need the battery changed soon; all these little details painted a vivid picture of his own personalserenity.
Lately when he headed out he could catch a whiff of some cloying perfume that reminded him of his previous neighbor, a pleasant lady, who would always greet him with soft, smiling eyes when they passed in the hall or the lobby, but he'd never taken the chance to speak with or get to know her. His life seemed like a mottled collection of missed half-regrets, but regret would imply those untaken opportunities bothered him. Just the nostalgia. That was all that could really get to him. A flickering bulb near the doorway to the stairs.
The streets were always alive in the morning, commuters bumping shoulders thoughtlessly on their way, a dull roar of mixed chatter, and mornings like these made him miss that quiet solitude of lazy mornings most.
Reaching the crowded bus terminal, he contemplated skipping out on work. Visualized walking right past the bench he waited at, and heading home to catch the last few motes before the sun wasn't coming through the window just-right, and then going out for a cup of tea (he'd long since run out, and hadn't been bothered to buy groceries what with rarely being at home when he ate), and maybe grab some batteries for when he'd inevitably have to change that smoke detector; it had been buzzing for months now.
But instead, he sat. Bag turned into his lap, legs out, ankles crossed, leaning back on his hands as he got a good stretch that he hadn't when he'd woken up. An altogether too-casual picture considering his professional attire, but no amount of office-appropriate dress would ingrain into his laid-back demeanor. A cough to the left of him drew his attention to the elderly lady seated next to him on the bench, clearly disapproving of his comfortable display. He sighed and shrugged visably, before righting his posture. He didn't try to hide his wide-yawn, and he heard another scoff amongst the cumulative noise around him. This time he didn't bother looking to see, instead he just slipped on his headphones and turned on his music to drown out the bustle. Pretended he was back to before. Back in his street clothes, a nameless melody humming through his lips, reverberating his chest. A light in his heart.
Maybe if he didn't tune the outside out, maybe if he hadn't reclined comfortably once more to wait the last 12 minutes, maybe he wouldn't have fallen for him. Or rather, less cliche and more accurately, maybe he wouldn't have tripped him.
“Ah, shit, sorry-”
“It's alright, I should watch where I'm going,” the stranger picked himself up, congenially shrugging off his hands as he crouched to assist him.
“Are you okay? Hurt?” he gave him a good look over as he tucked some hair behind his ear, noting the details, that was what he did, always did. Nice shoes. Designer.
“I'm fine. Just my pride is a bit scuffed up,” he chuckled good naturedly, patted away the bit of dirt off the leg of his trousers, and picked up his bag that had toppled to the ground as he'd stood to help him.
Taking his bag from him, he smiled. An opportunity presented himself. “Do you like tea?”
They both had places to be, and he didn't know why or how, but they found themselves at the cafe ten minutes later.
He smiled over his cup at him. He gave him two smiles already, so freely.
“So Jaejoong-sshi, what is it you do? When you're not tripping unsuspecting passers by, that is?”
Setting his cup down with a amicable clatter, he smirked. “How do you know that isn't what I do full-time?”
“Because you're a bit overdressed, for one, and not eccentrically so. That, and you get on the bus, so unless you're going to somewhere more suited for the job, it would make sense to stay here downtown, where there's more people in a hurry.”
His eyes narrowed, meticulously sizing him up, “You've been watching me, Yunho-sshi?” his palm met the cool table soundlessly.
Yunho's eyes lowered to his hand, but he didn't shift in his chair.
(What if he'd gone home that day? What if he hadn't tripped him? Would they ever have met?)
“I've always noticed you. You're there every day, Monday to Friday, for the past few months. I wanted to talk to you...” he chuckled, clearly embarrassed that he was admitting this, “But I could never bring myself to...”
And he was always in his own zen world that he never noticed this handsome man who passed him day after day.
“I'm on my way to an ad agency, where are you going every day?” he decided to be merciful and let his confession go.
“Boutique.”
His eyebrows raised, “Boutique?”
“I own a small shop just the next street over.” (From the looks of him, he was probably being modest with the description.)
“Ah,” he poured them both some more tea, watching the swirl with restrained delight, “My job somehow seems less glamourous now,” he mused.
“It's less glamourous than you think, mostly paperwork,” Yunho took a slow drink, and Jaejoong could almost see the heat of the liquid travelling down his throat, adam's apple bobbing enticingly. It was a problem.
“Won't they miss you?” he asked off-handedly, throat feeling dry despite the tea.
“They do without me, I'm just usually in the back. What about you?”
“I'm sure the emptiness of my cubilcle won't be noticed until one of the higher-ups wants coffee,” he smiled sardonically.
A small silence stretched out over the table, and the teapot emptied.
“So you live nearby then,” was posed casually to him.
He gave a noncommital shrug, but gave him a prying eye, “I do, and you?”
“Twenty minutes away. I just like the walk.”
“You're an intriguing man, Yunho-sshi,” he smiled coyly, knowing just how to hide his big eyes in his flirty bangs. This man, who liked to walk across town in designer shoes.
He found the pleasures of the window in the afternoon as well, safe in the knowledge that even if they couldn't be seen, the motes were still there. His eyes didn't linger there, however. And he didn't pay any mind to the comforting white buzz of the smoke detector; instead, his attention was rapt with shallow breathing, the taste of tea stale on his tongue, and the warm smell of cologne, oh-so much nicer than the cloying perfume by the flickering bulb near the doorway by the stairs.
He decided he might not mourn the loss of spending all his mornings at home, he could find comfortable familiarity in the unknown. He started to see flecks of something else altogether.
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