Chapter Text
“Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
The bus hits a pothole, jostling Jisoo forward in his seat. Sighing, he fixes his posture and adjusts the book propped up on his bag. Public transportation is always such a delight. An elderly person sitting next to him is muttering something, but Jisoo resolutely tunes him out to concentrate on his book. It’s not like it’s a new one, but Call Me By Your Name has always drawn him by its beautiful melancholy. His best friend would probably call him out for reading the book for the umpteenth time since their teenage days, but luckily he’s not here, so Jisoo just turns another page, letting Elio and Oliver lead him to the scorching summer of the Italian Riviera.
Faster than Jisoo would like, the bus reaches his stop, and he reluctantly places the tattered paperback back into his shoulder bag. Standing up, he bows politely to the elderly man before carefully moving past him. Stepping out, he immediately takes a deep breath after the stuffy air in the bus. It’s the perfect autumn weather, not too warm or cold, and the trees are full of colourful leaves swaying slightly in the gentle wind.
A perfect day for two main characters to meet, Jisoo muses. Maybe he does read too much romantic literature; he shakes his head in amusement.
Dispersing thoughts about meet cutes and faithful gazes between future lovers, Jisoo checks his clothes. The multicoloured seats on the bus’ don’t fool anybody. Jisoo shudders at the thought of the grime and the amount of germs they must host. Unfortunately, the bus is still the easiest way to reach his workplace. He could, of course, wear something else than the white slacks and light pullover that he has on today, but he doesn’t like to upstage what he is trying to sell.
After confirming that his outfit is in pristine condition, Jisoo sets out for the last part of his commute, humming quietly under his breath. He only has to cross the sidewalk a bit further ahead, get on top of the steep road, and take a sharp left. Luckily, there isn’t enough fine dust in the air today to require a face mask. It’s tedious but necessary even in the suburban area of Seoul from time to time.
He stops at the pedestrian light to wait for the green light. Tapping his feet rhythmically, he checks his watch. There’s still plenty of time, which is good considering he’s opening the shop today.
Call it a sixth sense, but suddenly Jisoo gets a strange feeling as if he’s been watched. Raising his head carefully, he scans both sides, but everything seems deceptively normal. The majority of people next to him are concentrated on their phones or staring ahead with a dead look in their eyes — the usual early morning special. There’s an old auntie filling sudoku, to which Jisoo narrows his eyes. However, the woman’s attention stays glued to her booklet even when a dog starts barking next to her. Huffing, he drops his gaze again.
His imagination must be running wild today. Fixing the bag strap to lay more comfortably against the shoulder, his eyes wander to the opposite side of the street. Like a moth to a flame, his gaze fixates on the man on the far right.
The only word fit to describe him is breathtaking. He has the physique of a model, which is accentuated by the tailored-made dove grey suit. Moreover, he has an attractive face with slightly overgrown dark hair that frames his refined features perfectly. Piercing eyes that stare straight at him. Wait, what? He blushes. Why is a man of his calibre paying attention to the very ordinary and bland Hong Jisoo?
The stranger seems to notice his bewilderment and tries to suppress a smile, his gaze lowering momentarily. When he looks up again, his hair falls perfectly over his eyes, making Jisoo’s heart do a gymnastic routine worth an Olympic gold medal. Trying to keep his very improper thoughts in check, Jisoo fails to notice at first that the other man is actually trying to signal him something.
Tilting his chin, the man looks pointedly somewhere below Jisoo’s chest. Following the line of his sight, Jisoo stares shocked at the Cinnamoroll boxers (judge him all you want, but you never know when you need a change of clothes) peaking from his slightly open shoulder bag.
Just kill him already.
Blushing furiously, Jisoo tries to stuff the baby blue underwear with childish print back into the bag, but the clasp won’t close. To add to his panic, the pedestrian traffic light changes to green, and the handsome stranger heads straight his way. Jisoo tries to press the clasp manically, all the while glancing back at the other man. He is only a few feet away when someone hits the brakes violently. Jisoo’s head snaps up, and his eyes widen in terror. The bus that is supposed to be stopped by the red light is rolling forward with a terrified-looking driver trying to stop it. Jisoo’s and the stranger’s eyes meet fleetingly before the bus hits the man with full force.
The sound is nauseating. Helplessly, Jisoo looks as the man flies forward and slumps on the road like a lifeless ragdoll with limps all tangled up. For a moment, it feels like everything stands still, and all Jisoo can hear is his shallow, erratic breathing.
Someone’s scream pierces through the air and snaps Jisoo back from his shock. He takes a few hesitant steps forward before rushing to the man’s side. Dropping to his knees, Jisoo carefully turns the man to have a better look and immediately feels ill. Blood. So much blood. Trying to push down the uncomfortable feeling the best he can, Jisoo can see that most of the blood seems to be seeping where the man hit his head on the ground. With shaking hands, Jisoo extracts the cursed Cinnamoroll underwear from his bag and presses it tightly against the wound, hoping to alleviate some of the bleeding.
“Can anyone call an ambulance, please?” Jisoo turns to look at the growing crowd of spectators pleadingly. He sees several people with their phones whipped out and hopes that not all are just filming the scene.
The bus has managed to stop sideways on the road, efficiently blocking the ongoing and coming traffic. The shell-shocked passengers drain out of the bus, followed by a harried-looking driver who immediately makes his way towards them.
“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… Is he… Is he d-” The man’s shoe hits the puddle of blood, hands hovering in the air.
“Sir.” Jisoo interrupts the driver firmly. “I need you to back off. Now.”
As much as he would like to give the careless driver a piece of his mind, he’s not the priority at the moment. Jisoo needs to keep the stranger safe until the help arrives, and that includes keeping him from getting overcrowded. Jisoo stares at the driver until he practically scurries away from under his heavy gaze.
Returning his attention to the stranger, Jisoo frowns worriedly. The still-unconscious man is paling at an alarming rate. Jisoo doesn’t know if he is doing it more for his own sake or the man’s, but he keeps talking to him all the while maintaining the pressure on the wound, oblivious to the chaos around him and the siren blaring in the distance.
“Just please, be okay,” Jisoo whispers to the man and brushes some of the blood-soaked hair away from his face. Even in his most vulnerable state, the man manages to look like an angel fallen to Earth. Jisoo is not the religious type, at least not anymore, but he hopes if God is listening that they won’t take this particular angel back just yet.