DINO / LEE CHAN ONESHOTS [✓]

70.

Dino and Seungcheol, who have never spoken always ride the same train and notice each other. One day, a note is left on Dino's seat with an invitation to meet.

The screech of the train's brakes echoed through the underground station as the evening rush hour began.

The platform was packed with weary commuters, all eager to get home after a long day at work.

Among them was Dino, a young man in his mid-twenties, with tousled dark hair and a leather jacket that had seen better days.

He stood in his usual spot on the platform, a corner that allowed him to avoid the crush of people as much as possible.

As the train doors slid open, he slipped inside, taking his customary seat by the window.

This was the same train he took every evening, the same seat he occupied every time.

The familiarity was comforting, a rare constant in a world that seemed to change faster than he could keep up.

But what made this routine bearable wasn't just the comfort of the familiar.

It was a pair of eyes he had noticed across the carriage, eyes that seemed to be looking for him as much as he was looking for them.

Dino had first noticed the other man, a tall figure with broad shoulders and a sharp jawline, months ago.

His presence was hard to ignore, partly because he was undeniably handsome, and partly because Dino always seemed to notice him no matter where he was in the train.

The man usually sat near the doors, his attention divided between the book he always carried and the world outside the window.

Dino had never mustered the courage to speak to him, and he wasn't even sure why the thought lingered so persistently in his mind.

Maybe it was the way the man occasionally glanced in his direction, or perhaps it was just the subtle thrill of feeling noticed by someone he found so intriguing.

Over time, the man became part of Dino's daily routine, a silent companion on his evening ride.

They had never exchanged words, nor had they acknowledged each other's presence in any overt way.

It was as though they were both playing a game where neither wanted to make the first move.

But the silent acknowledgment, the shared space, was enough to make the train ride feel less lonely.

As the train pulled out of the station, Dino settled into his seat, letting the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the tracks lull him into a semi-meditative state.

He glanced up, as he always did, to see if the man was there.

He was sitting in his usual spot near the door, eyes trained on the pages of his book.