Of Trains And Bentos
Genre: general, attempted fluff+crack
Word count: 700
Pairing: SoulMate aka JaeChun
Rating: G
A/N: Inspired by my many train rides in Japan. If you've been to Hakone and took the Odakyu Romance Car VSE series and bought the lunch, you might be able to visualise the look of this bento box and its content ^^
Of Trains And Bentos
The first time you’ve seen him, it was across the train window. That is, you were in a train that happened to stop temporarily across his train.
You saw his reflection across the window. He was eating out of a bento that was shaped like a train. It’s not that you were hungry or anything, but the way he ate was just so…fascinating. You couldn’t help but stare at his bulging cheeks and the end of a noodle that hung at the corner of his mouth.
When his eyes snapped to yours, time stopped.
He stopped chewing, chopsticks hanging an inch away from his mouth. You stopped breathing, captured in those bright black eyes of his.
The next thing you knew, the train started moving. And the super-hot-but-super-not-elegant-eater guy disappeared just like that.
The next time you saw him, it was still across a train window. That is, you were sitting on the benches on a station platform, and he was inside the train that was stopping by, sucking on one of those energy jelly drinks people like to substitute their meals with.
You recognised him by his shortly cropped black hair. Or those broad shoulders of his. Or perhaps those black eyes that were staring right at you. You didn’t really know.
And you definitely didn’t know how he recognised you. Or why the corner of his mouth curled and a twinkle entered his eyes.
Or why he was staring at your bento.
…Oh.
You chomped your food quickly, withholding a retort that, no, this bento had nothing to do with him, and that it was an absolute coincidence that you had the very same train-shaped bento box that he was eating from, and that you so absolutely had not been eating from it for the past 2 weeks in the station now.
Before you could finish chewing, the train door closed, and it started moving.
His eyes locked with yours until the very last window beam separated your view.
The third time you saw him, both of you were standing across the platforms. The surprised look on his face was quickly replaced by a smirk. It was untrue that the handsome smirk made your spine tingle. Absolutely not true.
To your utter shock, he threw something across the platform towards you. It was a miracle that you managed to catch it. Usually your motor sensors wouldn’t start working until mid-morning.
The thing that you caught was soft and warm. You looked down at it. It was sandwich, messily wrapped in a sheet of cling wrap and looking terribly sad.
When you looked up, his train had come. He walked to the windowed door to stare at you and looked pointedly at the sandwich.
You knew exactly what he was saying. Eat it.
You raised an eyebrow and smirked back. Thanks.
The next morning it was no longer a coincidence that you were standing in front of each other, across the train platform.
And it was definitely not a coincidence that you had a box of bento in your hand, nicely wrapped in soft cotton handkerchief.
Without so much as a warning, you hurled the box at him.
His reflexes were, obviously, much better than yours, for he caught the box easily, albeit with a crinkled forehead and a raised eyebrow.
And his attention to details was definitely not to be messed with, for he found the tiny roll of paper that you’ve slipped into the fold of the handkerchief knot.
You stared at his long fingers as he unrolled the note.
The last thing that you saw, before your train slid across the platform and obscured your view, was his amused smirk.
You quickly entered your train, face flushing. You stayed away from the door, and the window, and only opened your eyes well after the train had moved away from the station.
Your handphone beeped, signalling the arrival of a new message.
You opened it.
“Tastes so much better than the original train-shaped bento.”
You smiled.
“Just call me Chef Jaejoong,” you typed.
“I’m Yoochun. Can we please stand on the same bloody platform the next time we meet, Chef?”
“You bet, Yoochun.”
- FIN -
Word count: 700
Pairing: SoulMate aka JaeChun
Rating: G
A/N: Inspired by my many train rides in Japan. If you've been to Hakone and took the Odakyu Romance Car VSE series and bought the lunch, you might be able to visualise the look of this bento box and its content ^^
Of Trains And Bentos
The first time you’ve seen him, it was across the train window. That is, you were in a train that happened to stop temporarily across his train.
You saw his reflection across the window. He was eating out of a bento that was shaped like a train. It’s not that you were hungry or anything, but the way he ate was just so…fascinating. You couldn’t help but stare at his bulging cheeks and the end of a noodle that hung at the corner of his mouth.
When his eyes snapped to yours, time stopped.
He stopped chewing, chopsticks hanging an inch away from his mouth. You stopped breathing, captured in those bright black eyes of his.
The next thing you knew, the train started moving. And the super-hot-but-super-not-elegant-eater guy disappeared just like that.
The next time you saw him, it was still across a train window. That is, you were sitting on the benches on a station platform, and he was inside the train that was stopping by, sucking on one of those energy jelly drinks people like to substitute their meals with.
You recognised him by his shortly cropped black hair. Or those broad shoulders of his. Or perhaps those black eyes that were staring right at you. You didn’t really know.
And you definitely didn’t know how he recognised you. Or why the corner of his mouth curled and a twinkle entered his eyes.
Or why he was staring at your bento.
…Oh.
You chomped your food quickly, withholding a retort that, no, this bento had nothing to do with him, and that it was an absolute coincidence that you had the very same train-shaped bento box that he was eating from, and that you so absolutely had not been eating from it for the past 2 weeks in the station now.
Before you could finish chewing, the train door closed, and it started moving.
His eyes locked with yours until the very last window beam separated your view.
The third time you saw him, both of you were standing across the platforms. The surprised look on his face was quickly replaced by a smirk. It was untrue that the handsome smirk made your spine tingle. Absolutely not true.
To your utter shock, he threw something across the platform towards you. It was a miracle that you managed to catch it. Usually your motor sensors wouldn’t start working until mid-morning.
The thing that you caught was soft and warm. You looked down at it. It was sandwich, messily wrapped in a sheet of cling wrap and looking terribly sad.
When you looked up, his train had come. He walked to the windowed door to stare at you and looked pointedly at the sandwich.
You knew exactly what he was saying. Eat it.
You raised an eyebrow and smirked back. Thanks.
The next morning it was no longer a coincidence that you were standing in front of each other, across the train platform.
And it was definitely not a coincidence that you had a box of bento in your hand, nicely wrapped in soft cotton handkerchief.
Without so much as a warning, you hurled the box at him.
His reflexes were, obviously, much better than yours, for he caught the box easily, albeit with a crinkled forehead and a raised eyebrow.
And his attention to details was definitely not to be messed with, for he found the tiny roll of paper that you’ve slipped into the fold of the handkerchief knot.
You stared at his long fingers as he unrolled the note.
The last thing that you saw, before your train slid across the platform and obscured your view, was his amused smirk.
You quickly entered your train, face flushing. You stayed away from the door, and the window, and only opened your eyes well after the train had moved away from the station.
Your handphone beeped, signalling the arrival of a new message.
You opened it.
“Tastes so much better than the original train-shaped bento.”
You smiled.
“Just call me Chef Jaejoong,” you typed.
“I’m Yoochun. Can we please stand on the same bloody platform the next time we meet, Chef?”
“You bet, Yoochun.”
- FIN -