Chapter Text
The car is quiet, save for the low hum of an old love song playing through the speakers and the faint sound of traffic outside.
Jun has one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely in his lap.
Dylan’s in the passenger seat—his usual place, legs crossed, backpack at his feet, sipping from Jun’s tumbler, because his own coffee was “too bitter,” apparently.
Sunlight filters through the windshield, casting golden streaks across Dylan’s face. He hums along to the music, then turns the volume down a notch.
“You always play this on Tuesdays.”
“Yeah? Maybe it’s a Tuesday kind of song.”
“Or maybe you’re soft and you think I don’t notice.”
Jun huffs a laugh, a tiny shake of his head, trying to hide the way his ears pink.
“Shut up. Drink your coffee.”
Dylan does, smug smile and all. He shifts slightly, leaning his head back against the seat, watching Jun from the corner of his eye.
“You always look really focused when you drive.”
“Kind of the point, Dylan.”
“No, I mean... you get this little crease between your eyebrows.”
He reaches out and smooths it with a finger.
Jun flinches just slightly—not from discomfort, but from how much he likes it.
“You’re distracting me.”
“You like it.”
Jun doesn’t reply—just keeps his eyes on the road, but his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile.
A quiet moment settles over them, comfortable and warm. Dylan sets his (Jun's) coffee down in the cup holder and reaches out, palm up between them.
An invitation.
Jun glances at it, then—without a word—slides his hand into Dylan’s. Their fingers lace together easily, like muscle memory.
The car keeps moving, slow and steady, just cruising down the familiar road to campus.
Dylan’s thumb rubs slow circles over the back of Jun’s hand. He doesn’t say anything about it, and neither does Jun.
They don’t have to.
They pull up at their usual parking spot on campus, the one near the psych building that always miraculously has space. The radio hums low as students stream past with coffees and backpacks.
Jun (glancing at the clock): “We made it five minutes early. That’s a record.”
Dylan (grinning): “It’s almost like someone didn’t change outfits three times this morning.”
Jun rolls his eyes, then fixes Dylan’s slightly crooked collar before unbuckling.
Right on cue, three of Jun’s friends walk by and spot them.
“Hey, Jun! Got your princess to class safe again?”
“You gonna carry his books next?”
“You let him drive your car? Scandalous.”
Jun just sighs, deeply and dramatically.
“Can’t believe I came to higher education for this.”
Dylan leans across the console like it’s nothing, presses a quick kiss to Jun’s cheek—warm and practiced—then hops out and slings his bag over his shoulder.
“He likes it. See you later, baby.”
He vanishes into the crowd, leaving Jun trying very hard not to smile too wide as his friends lose their minds.
“He called you baby. Oh, you’re done for.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, watching Dylan walk away.
“Happily.”