#i also was gonna write a scene where sunwoo reveals that he made a song inspired by her

[pleom]

There would be no other day like today. Where time is precious, when moments come to be lost forever, you cannot allow yourself to pass up any more. You will not. You will pull on your tattered coat, dust off your saddle shoes and hush your stationed horses—ssh, not today; when a day rears close on its anxiety-driven metal wheels, then the appreciation of serenity is in order.

Today, the doors will glide instead of creak. The floor will come hardened instead of splintered. You will climb upon a new form of transportation, and ride it from the wilderness-shrouded cabin you call your home. Your heart will beat fast, your mind will think of nothing but everything. But you will learn to enjoy it.

Except...there is a man sat in front of you. The train rode in from Nowhere to the East, and inside, when you climbed aboard, there was no one except you and this man. He hummed to himself, wrapped his lips around wordless lyrics. His gaze flickered from the trees whizzing behind you to the fabric of your clothes, the split soles on your shoes. You tried to keep your face stoic, like you weren’t also comparing the quality difference between you and what a respectable human should look like. Your chest squeezed, heart beating fast in a way you did not enjoy.

This...this was a mistake. A backwoods-born vagrant like you had no business crawling where the affluent passed. You had half a mind to leap from your seat then and there, to exit the train by any means necessary. It had already dragged you miles from the point of your home, but you knew with your lack of expertise, you could make it anywhere.

The thought of leaping—of standing to attention—however, seemed to bring shame in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You were constantly wracked with all layers of guilt and humility, but they wrapped themselves around you in the comfort of your own home. You were alone to quell them. You were alone to indulge in them.

Now, all you could do was keep your head down and pray that your presence didn't bother more oncoming passengers. Soon, you were barricaded on all sides by strangers, those who jumped on to jump off. You didn't dare to bring your gaze on any of them, mentally blocked out their conversations in case any of them were directed towards you, involved you.

This was fine, you supposed. You could handle this.

You could handle keeping your eyes locked to your shoes, minding others as they walked passed. You'd feel the train shutter to a stop every so often, and patterns would disappear from your sight. Sounds grew quieter. You could breath again.

Until, a pair of shoes seemed to step directly in front of you. They didn't move until you forced yourself to look back up and—no.

The same man from before stood before you. You wanted to flee right then and there, but he held up a palm as though he read your thoughts. From his pocket, he pulled out a couple of crisp bills.

You stared at him, and he nudge them forward as the train's robotic intercom announced its next destination. Silent and slow, you grabbed the money from his hand.

He nodded with a smile, and that expression sent shivers down you. You watched as he bounded off the train, the train doors closing immediately after.

The train jerked and rumbled and left the station and man behind.

--

The next time you got on the train, you went for medicine.

You had scrounged up some antiques you had no more use for, and planned to visit any ol’ pawn shop you might come across. You had trouble gauging the worth of your properties. You might come out with more than enough or come out too short. You had already made peace with the possibility of both. Though in your heart, you desperately hoped for the former. But you couldn’t waste your time mulling over such minute details like that. You’d since learn to count your blessings as they came, to face the present and only the present.

And presently, a familiar face stared at you from across the train cart.

Dressed as prim and proper as ever, the same man from before whistled a pleasant melody from his seat. You grew uncomfortable, though you were surrounded and—not so—hidden by others. You couldn’t be sure he was staring at you, right?

You glanced down at your attire. Luckily, you didn’t look so dingy as you usually did. A new longcoat, bright yet blending well within the crowd, and you felt really proud about it. It was a treat. You’d figured holding onto currency that meant nothing to you would be a waste. He had given it to you for a reason, certainly.

Though you knew, begrudgingly, that any such sort of generosity came at the price of your image, your non-existent reputation. You would’ve—should’ve!—felt shame then. But…

You brought your gaze up to meet his. He seemed to trace his eyes over other parts of your body. He looked...contemplative. Again, you should have averted your eyes in shame. But your heart fluttered.

You didn’t feel judged.

--

Logically, you knew exactly what you were feeling. You knew exactly how childish your emotions were.

You left the train before he did, at the first sign of urbanization. Didn’t matter where you were, as long as you found the shops you were looking for. You walked into a pawn shop, bartered, betted, auctioned, and came out with what you hoped was adequate.

Rationally, you knew where you should have stopped at first. You knew exactly how foolish you were when you walked into an entertainment shop instead. One where they sold books and DVDs and music. You walked past the humming shoppers, strained an ear to see if you could catch an accustomed tune. You didn’t linger for long. Indulging in these feelings were dangerous. You set your eyes on the first book cover that caught your attention.

A man and a woman, coiled around each other in an embrace you’d never seen before. It had a title, perhaps an author, but it didn’t matter. You rung it through the cashier and stuffed it in your coat pocket before you could mentally process the cost. You’ll deal with the guilt at home.

--

It helped. A bit.

What didn't help—and you were quick to realize—was that your literacy was entirely not up to par. You struggled through words, lost the plot on many occasions.

You looked to your bookshelf filled with thick and vibrant spines, some bent, some peeling and revealing the aged yellow pages underneath. But none of them were yours, well, had been yours.

Your mother had spent years fretting over instructing you to read, count, and learn many skills that could get you by in life. And petulant you had refused her attempts to fool around instead. The horses won't know how to read, why should you?

You swallowed a lump in your throat. She was gone and you had no one but you to force yourself through these pages.

--

The next time you hopped on the train, you were shocked to see that the same man wasn't there. It was you and a cart full of empty seats and a handful of passengers.

In a way, this was the best possible outcome for you.

Taking a seat, you got to reading. It had gotten slightly easier for you, you were now able to get the gist of the passages every few paragraphs or so. The main couple seemed to be enthralled by each other, proclaiming their love for one another through stubborn and rebellious actions.

You yourself fell lost to their world, didn't even notice when someone found a place to sit right next to you. The jingle of jewelry caught your attention.

You will never not be awestruck by his presence.

The man's gaze fell to the book in your hands and you were too late to hide the cover once you realized what he was looking at. You grew warm when a smirk wormed its way onto his face.

No words were passed between you. Time went on in silence as the train rode closer and closer to your destination.

It felt a bit too comfortable to you. To be sat next to a man who seemed to exude such confidence and stability. It seemed uncanny that someone of his ilk would be fine to be near you, even more so when that someone also deems it alright to offer you a snack.

You blinked up at him as he extended his treat, his eyes focused on yours. It slowly came to you that this was the first time you had ever heard him speak.

You were struck by the warm chords of his voice! It sounded even more beautiful than the choruses he chanted under his breath. You didn’t know what to say, and in the wake of his own, you felt compelled to keep the sound of your voice a secret. Here, you had no idea what sounded normal and whether you did or did not. You never paid attention to the chatter around you, never spoke when spoken to. It hadn’t occurred to you that you might sound cacophonic to others.

So all you could do was nod. A tight smile on your lips while his grew. He broke off a piece and handed it to you, and you took great care to avoid the tips of his fingers—out of respect for him, of course. He watched as it met your lips; you almost squealed at the taste of it! A sweetness that couldn’t be found in the straw-or-blueberries of your gardens. It was dark, yet tasted light.

You felt silly for having such a strong reaction to something so small, especially under that strong gaze of his. But the edges of his eyes crinkled as he observed you. He broke off more pieces, gave them to you, and didn’t stop until all that was left was a shiny wrapper that he crumpled and shoved into his pocket.

The exchange ended there. He stood up, hung on tightly to the railing as the train jerked into its station. You thought that was it, and was ready to dive back into the book that was currently sliding off the edge of your lap. Then, he tapped you on your shoulder.

He pulled his hood over his head with a smile and said, “I’m Sunwoo.”

--

Sunwoo. Sunwoo.

You thought of carving that name into the plaque fixed over your room’s bed, somewhere private and personal. If only you knew how to spell it…

You could sound it out—S-U-H-N-W-U—but...something about that felt a bit...off. You were running out of things to sell. Pretty soon you might become one of those rowdy vendors that sold… aged vegetables to the people. That wasn’t to say you had no more belongings worth a coin. But even a woodlands-frolicker like yourself held sentimentality for some things.

Your horses for that matter. Betty and Jackson were pretty much useless at this point, replaced by a machine that raced faster than the trees around you when you rode on their backs. But you promised to yourself that you would die with them, if it ever came down to it.

Your hut was filled to the ceiling with tiny, wooden trinkets and clothing that would require a dream to fit you. Some of them were old children’s pajamas and riding gear. The others belonged to your mother. They were stitched over in cobwebs at this point—the dresses and shawls of your mother. Some part of you itched to bury them next to her, but… you weren’t sure if you were ready to say goodbye to your past just yet.

You hesitated on saying goodbye at all.

You don’t have to say anything, do anything. You were taught to face the present and expect the future.

The train should be arriving any time now. For a while, you had gauged where the train tracks went. From your cabin, growing up you had wondered what could bring such a violent ruckus. The trees did well to muffle the sounds of animalistic pain and anger, sorrowful songs, and cheerful bleating. You would only ever hear such noise when it came near to you. Young you would sprout through your front door to investigate. You had made many natural acquaintances this way.

The first time you had heard the raucous sound of a steam whistle you were struck by a terrifying sense of grief and unsettlement. It was unlike any sound you’d ever heard—too savage, the sound of pent up hunger or fear. You remembered rushing to your mother, heart beating so loud you could barely hear your own speech. Confusion filled you when she grinned; that cheeky grin she had whenever it was prime time for a joke, or a white lie about what lurked beyond the forest.

“That’s a train,” she had said, “it picks up lost travelers and takes them places that never spell out anything good. Best to avoid them.”

Dear mother... you prayed that she wouldn’t find out what went on in your head. You knew your surroundings so well you could navigate with your eyes closed. But, still, you couldn't deny just how utterly lost you were without her guidance.

You closed your eyes and clutched your head.

The train tracks were only west from here.

--

It came too early. It whizzed by. The vibrations gripped you by the bones and you nearly fell onto your back. Your legs were trembling for a whole other reason. The tears in your eyes swelled but didn’t spill for someone else. You kept them locked on the windows, hoping for that one other face you knew. Maybe he’d see you, and he’d mime words and pleas that you might change your mind and back out.

The train was gone and all you caught was your own face, and the deflation in which you realized.

--

The next time you hopped on the train you were carrying boxes upon boxes. Your cabin was effectively empty.

You prayed that you wouldn’t happen across Sunwoo this time. In fact, you had made the conscious decision of picking a different cart to ride in this time. You didn’t want him to see you like this, face blotchy as a homeless man in winter. You hugged the boxes closer to you, breathed in their woody scent. If all went according to plan, you would meet Sunwoo as a new person, for just a moment, like all the moments before. You would leave an impression on him as strong as his to you. All those fleeting memories from before would vanish and be replaced by something magnificent.

If you had Sunwoo’s musical talent, you would present to him your swan song and it would be half as beautiful as him.

You had even written him a letter to make up for all the silent conversations you had until now. Reading over it you could scarcely make out your own handwriting, and it was filled with eraser marks and misspellings (though you had double checked using your book as reference). But despite it all, it was enough.

And yet, when it came down to it, you found yourself more choked up than usual. You said nothing when Sunwoo found his spot beside you, said nothing when he asked how you were.

“I saw you...by the train tracks,” He looked more than concerned. “You were looking unwell.”

Rather than looking poor or unkempt, a small victory.

“I probably won’t be able to relate to anything you might’ve experienced." A truth that hurt more than you thought it would. “But...you could still talk about it, if you want…?”

Sunwoo paused, expecting a response from you. But what could you do? Your throat was clogged up by an invisible force. It hurt to talk almost as much as much as it hurt to breath. You would have nothing of substance to say even if it didn't. Nothing worth hearing.

Sunwoo inhaled deeply, thoughtfully. He looked at you again.

“I’ll listen,” and he folded his headphones in his lap.

--

Your days were filled with music now. Not only the sounds that would drip from Sunwoo’s lips, but from the speakers lodged just overhead. You bobbed your head to the tune as shoppers weaved in and out of the store.

The sun was going down, and it was a sight you could finally admire without lines of trees blocking your view. You tallied your stocks and were getting ready to head home. Your boss tipped his hat as he came out of the storage room, Sunwoo following close by. He was distracted by a small box in his hands. Despite that, the store keys jingled in his other hand as he tapped his finger along to the song playing. You smiled.

“Still unpacking the supplies?”

Sunwoo looked up at your voice, then a small smile graced his lips.

“Nah, just grabbing something special before I forget.”

“Special?” Your eyebrows shot up at that. A terribly restrained snicker came from your boss at the corner of the room. “Did you order a new sound board?”

To be truthful, you had no idea what a sound board was, and the box Sunwoo was holding seemed much too small to carry a board of any kind. But your knowledge of technology was expectedly limited, and you shared the same eagerness to learn such intricacies with your new boyfriend.

Your heart stuttered at the thought. A boyfriend. B-o-y f-r-i-e-n-d—and yours, at that! You had no idea such a thing existed when you were a kid. Sharing conversations with your new coworkers revealed that such themes—dating and lovers, and with that, flirting and protecting—were dreams and goals set since childhood.

The book from months ago was your first introduction to this . You thought it fiction at first, much like the fables and cautionary tales your mother imbued in you since birth. You knew what love was, of course, you knew what marriage was, too, despite its absence in your life. But all that led up to it might have been some impromptu decision, for all little-you was aware.

Yet here you were, dancing in the little steps it took to get to that point. It still didn’t feel real. You had already gone through the custom of dates more than several times, had already felt his lips on yours, had already felt what it was like to grasp his body in a hug. And yet, it still did not feel real.

You felt like you were floating when Sunwoo looked into your eyes. When Sunwoo pulled your hand into his and led you out the front store doors, you felt fifteen times lighter.

“This is for you,” He said, presenting the same box in his hand to you. You took it. It was incredibly light. Whatever was inside must be fragile. “Open it when you get home.”

“I can’t open it right now?” You grinned mischievously and reached for the slits of the box as though you were planning on tearing it open before him. He didn’t react, just looked at you with fond eyes and shrugged.

“I think you’d appreciate it more if you opened at your house,” He waved at your boss as he passed through, then locked the store doors behind him. He took your hand in his again and led you towards the train station. “S’not just any ol’ gift. I spent a lot of money on commissioning it.”

As he’d always done, even when you began dating and were no longer the same financially as you were before. Not since he had convinced his boss to bring on a new employee. No longer did you have to dig behind your cupboards to find something to sell for a pretty coin. No, actually your home had slowly became replenished. This gift won’t be the only one lining your shelves.

You expressed your gratitude once your stop arrived. You kissed him, savored the feel and taste of his lips, and hugged him goodbye.

You were more than excited to unravel the gift. Your horses greeted you by the stables. The silence of the forest was disturbed by your thrashing. You gave yourself no time to relax in the comfort of your own home. You cut through the tape and retrieved Sunwoo’s present with an anxious heart.

This was it:

A figurine. One with an idle person, kneeled on verdant grass, encircled by a small family of deer. A doe and her fawn. The person reaches out to the infant deer, pets it with the edges of their fingers while the larger mother looks on.

The sight of it made you cry.

-

Everything sounds louder when you’re alone in the wilderness.

Sunwoo’s screams were no exception.

“It’s okay,” you said, holding a bundle of radishes by the stem. Your horse Jackson nibbled on them in peace, but your Sunwoo thought anything but. He cowered behind you, keeping an eye on the horse while he waved away buzzing mosquitoes and other insects. “He’s not gonna hurt you.”

“Horses are predators disguised as prey,” He shrieked, “And I don’t fall for their act one bit! He seems gentle now but I heard those teeth can crush all the bones in your hand.”

“Yeah, if you stuck your hand in his mouth,” you took his hand as you said this. Forcibly passing the vegetables to Sunwoo, you slowly wrapped your hands around his. Carefully, you maneuvered him in front of you and in front of Jackson, who only sniffed his knuckles in response. Gently, “Do this.”

You felt Sunwoo’s breathing on your skin, hurried. Yet, he complied, bringing his hand up to the horse's mouth. He gasped when he felt his lips brush against him, but seemed more awestruck when Jackson daintily worked his teeth over the leaves.

When you felt it was right, you let him go and sat nearby on the stone steps to your house. What should have been a moment to relax, instead your heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of your chest. You were home and you were with Sunwoo. The place that held your fondest memories and the place that spurned you in your darkest times.

There was more than confliction when you thought of this place.

This was your home, the one and only place you could truly call safe. For the majority of your life, this was all you knew. And yet, you grew to be ashamed of your living space, once mother vanished and you were left to discover that you were the anomaly, not the “travellers.” (In the end, you became one yourself.)

You learned to move past that oddly rooted self-pity. But some of it still lurked. Especially now, with Sunwoo steps away from welcoming himself into your personal space.

You still only had a vague idea of what ‘looking presentable’ meant. Your coworkers would dust off knicks-and-knacks and giggle about how ‘dated’ some looked. Such words meant nothing to you. That is, until you brought home a city-raised boy. Then, suddenly they meant everything.

But there were times Sunwoo never passed judgement on you, though he was well within his right to.

You looked back at Sunwoo to see that he’d warmed up to Jackson. The horse gobbled down the last of the radishes, and neighed happily in his direction. Sunwoo’s cheeks bunched up in a giddy smile. You noted, as he ran his hand up and down Jackson’s side, that he shared the same gentleness with him as he did with you.

You got up from your seat and reached your boys. Sunwoo looked at you when you pulled his hand into yours, a smile on your face.

“Ready to go inside?”

--

Tea was drained. Snacks were set and wolfed down and Sunwoo’s lips were on yours.

There were many things you were feeling, many thoughts crossed your mind as he pulled you close to his body while you savored his heat. He smelt good, felt better, but above all, he was sweet. Sweeter than chocolate, sweeter than any berry you could ever hope to pluck.

It had been two years since you had met on the train. Two years since you thought you had made your final decision. Now you could look back at the past with pitiful fondness.

“You know, when I first saw you I thought you were a prince of some kind,” you huffed when you pulled back. You made note of the color of his cheeks and lips, how glossy they were up close. “In fact I thought everyone around me were nobles.”

“You…” He began, but paused to smile. “I won’t lie, I was intrigued by you. The train that runs past here is pretty remote, so I knew pretty much every face that boarded and departed that thing. Then you came, and you certainly weren’t from town.”

His hand began combing through your hair, gently untangling the knots and twirling at the ends. “Didn’t know where you came from or were planning to go, and apparently neither did you. You were lost and I was curious and hoped that maybe we’d get off at the same stop. Then mine came and you were still sitting there and I thought, man, if this is the only time we cross then I’d like to at least do this person one thing, do this one favor, and hope for the best.”

You hummed. Hearing that felt nice. Feeling him on you was nice. Sunwoo then pressed a warm kiss onto your forehead.

“Karma certainly worked itself out for me.”

---

A/N: damn editing this rlly made this story seem all over the place ANYWAY i finished this fic within days then was stumped on the ending for w e e k s bc i wanted the last interaction to be abt first impressions and well….it was either sunwoo having a savior complex or being like “yeah so i thot u were a homeless bum” but i got tired of putting it off so fuck it. cheesy corny dialogue bc i wrote myself into a corner and I GIVE UP!!