Synopsis: y/n takes the 9.05 bus, harry loves a lime bike
a/n: you know the bit at the end of coming up roses where heās like āLa la la la la laā thatās kind of the vibe I was going for with this. Also sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this originally in my notes app on a bus no less!
Y/N caught the bus at exactly 9:05 every morning to get to her job at the art museum in the city centre.
Of course, there were other ways she could get to work.
A car ā except she couldnāt drive.
A bike ā except she still hadnāt quite mastered riding one without the overwhelming fear of immediately falling off.
A tram ā except she was convinced she would miss her stop and have to leap off while it was still moving like some dramatic action scene straight out of Divergent.
So, really, the bus seemed like the most sensible option. It required no jumping, no balancing, and absolutely no activities that might end in injury.
Not many people enjoyed taking the bus. They were cramped and slow and often extremely late ā or sometimes didnāt appear at all.
There was something soā¦ comforting about buses.
You saw little acts of kindness on them. People shuffling over so strangers could sit down, someone helping an elderly passenger with their bags, the driver waiting a few extra seconds for someone running down the street.
And from the window you could see everything ā cute houses tucked down narrow streets, corner shops just opening for the day, big open fields basking in the morning light.
If she were being honest, Y/N was also a little bit nosey.
She loved people-watching.
Everyone seemed to get the same bus every morning. After a while you started to recognise faces. The woman who always sat near the front with a travel mug. The student who slept against the window. The man who listened to music so loudly you could hear it through his headphones.
Or at least, she knew where they usually sat.
Someone new was on the bus.
He looked maybe a little older than her, brown curls peeking out from beneath a woolly hat and a coat that seemed far too smart to ever touch the questionable fabric of the bus seats. He smiled warmly at the driver ā a dimple appearing in his cheek ā and then gave small polite smiles to the passengers he passed while searching for somewhere to sit.
Eventually his gaze landed on the empty seat beside Y/N.
Wellā¦ empty except for her bag.
āIs it okay if I sit there?ā
Y/N looked up at him, momentarily frozen. His voice sounded warm, like honey and milk and cinnamon and the feeling of pulling on a thick wool jumper in winter.
āO-oh! Of course,ā she fumbled quickly, grabbing her bag and clutching it against her chest.
He sat down carefully beside her.
Thatās when she noticed the cast on his arm.
āWhat happened to your arm?ā she asked, unable to stop herself, immediately realising she might sound a bit too forward.
He frowned, glancing down like heād almost forgotten about it.
āOh ā I fell off a Lime bike.ā
āHm,ā Y/N hummed. āThat is exactly why I donāt ride Lime bikes. Or any bikes, actually.ā
āIāve been riding them for ages,ā he said. āFirst time Iāve ever managed to injure myself.ā
She gave him a doubtful look.
āYou should try it sometime,ā he added. āTheyāre actually pretty fun.ā
āI donāt knowā¦ā Y/N murmured. āThey seem rather dangerous.ā
He tilted his head, smiling.
āMaybe another day then?ā
The bus lurched forward, the engine grumbling and the two of them swaying in their seats.
Y/N clutched the metal bar in front of her while he steadied himself easily with his good hand.
āI promise Iām usually better at staying upright,ā he said, nodding toward his cast.
āThatās reassuring,ā she replied, trying not to laugh.
They sat in comfortable silence, the bus turning through familiar streets. Y/N watched the houses slide past the window the same way they always did, but somehow everything feltā¦ brighter.Ā
She had become very aware of the stranger beside her and how he smelled faintly of fresh laundry and winter air.
āYou take this bus often?ā he asked after a moment.
āEvery day,ā she said quickly. āNine-oh-five. Itās very reliable.ā
āWellā¦ reliably late,ā she corrected.
That made him laugh again, his shoulders moving and his eyes crinkling at the corners.
āI just moved here,ā he explained. āStill figuring out the routes.ā
āOh.ā Y/N straightened, suddenly feeling oddly important. āWhere are you headed?ā
āThe city centre,ā he said. āThereās a building there Iām supposed to start working in today.ā
He glanced out the window like he might somehow see it from several miles away.
āI think so?ā he said. āThe one with the big glass entrance and the statue outside that kind of looks like itās melting.ā
āThatās my museum,ā she exclaimed.
His head turned so fast his woolly hat nearly slipped off.
āYeah,ā she nodded. āWellā not run it or anything. I work in the archive department. Mostly paperwork and trying not to accidentally touch anything worth millions.ā
āThat sounds terrifying.ā
āWell then Iām glad I sat here.ā
āBecause you can stop me from accidentally touching anything worth millions.ā
Y/N laughed softly, pressing her lips together.
The bus slowed at a stoplight, sunlight spilling through the window across his curls.
āIām Harry, by the way,ā he said.
He repeated her name, testing how it sounded.
āNice to meet you, Y/N-who-rides-the-very-reliable-bus.ā
āNice to meet you too, Harry-who-falls-off-bikes.ā
He smiled again, that same dimple appearing.
And for the first time in all the mornings sheād taken the 9:05 bus, Y/N found herself hopingāreally hopingāthat he would take it again tomorrow.
āSo if you donāt ride bikes,ā he said, āand you wonāt take the tramā¦ what do you do if the bus doesnāt show up?ā
He laughed again, her cheeks warming.Ā
āNo emergency backup plan?ā
āWell,ā she said thoughtfully, āonce I considered walking. But then I realised it would take almost an hour and Iād probably get distracted by a bakery and never make it to work.ā
āThatās a fair risk.ā
The bus bumped over a pothole, and they both shifted in their seats.
Y/N glanced sideways at him. Now that she was looking properly, she noticed small details she hadnāt before. A tiny paint stain near the cuff of his coat. A faint scar across one knuckle. The way he tapped his shoe lightly against the floor.
āYouāre very observant,ā he stated.
āYou noticed my arm immediately.ā
āOh,ā she said quickly. āSorry if that was rude.ā
āNo, not rude,ā he said. āJust observant.ā
āWellā¦ I people-watch.ā
He looked delighted by that.
āYes. Everyone on this bus has a routine.ā
āYouāre new,ā she said. āYou havenāt developed one yet.ā
āWell, I guess Iāll have to keep taking this bus so you can study my habits.ā
Her stomach did a small, confusing flip.
āPurely for research purposes,ā he added innocently.
It turned out Harry did keep taking the bus.
The next morning he appeared again at 9:05, sliding into the seat beside her as if it had quietly become his.
And then the morning after that.
Sometimes they talked the entire ride. Sometimes they just sat comfortably beside each other, pointing out odd houses or laughing when the bus driver braked too suddenly.
Y/N learned that Harry worked in exhibition design at the museum. He helped build the displays and install artwork.
Harry learned that Y/N could talk passionately for ten straight minutes about archival paper.
āIt's important paper,ā she defended.
āAnd humidity control.ā
āYouāre mocking me.ā
The bus slowed to a stop outside the museum, and they both stood at the same time. Somehow this had also become routine.
Working on opposite sides of the building all day.
Meeting again for the 5:20 bus home.
Except that afternoon, when they stepped outside toward the bus stop, something was wrong.
The electronic sign above the shelter flashed a message.
She checked the bus app on her phone. The little bus icon that normally crawled along the route was gone entirely.
āNoā¦ā she muttered.
āThe bus isnāt running.ā
He leaned closer to look at her phone.
āRoadworks,ā he read. āRoute suspended until tomorrow.ā
Y/N stared at the empty street, a pout forming on her lips that made him bite back a grin.
āButā¦ the bus runs every day.ā
āWell,ā Harry said gently, āapparently not today.ā
āI knew this day would come.ā
āYes. This is exactly the kind of situation Iāve been mentally preparing for.ā
āAnd whatās the plan?ā
āā¦I donāt have one.ā
Y/N glanced down the street, as if a bus might suddenly appear out of guilt.
āSo,ā Harry said slowly, āwe have options.ā
āOption one: we walk.ā
āThatās like an hour.ā
āYou know my tram stance.ā
āRight. No action-movie exits.ā
He gestured across the street.
Y/N didnāt even have to look to know what he meant.
The bright green bikes were lined up along the pavement where they were waiting for her.
She folded her arms immediately.
āYou didnāt even consider it.ā
āI considered it and rejected it.ā
āYou said maybe another day.ā
āWell Iāll say it again today if that means anything.ā
Harry stepped closer to the bikes anyway, unlocking one.
āYou donāt have to ride the whole way,ā he said. āJust try it.ā
āIām not sure how I can trust you when you literally broke your arm.ā
Harry scoffs, āUnrelated incident.āĀ
She looked between him and the bike.
Then back at the empty road where her bus should have been.
āDonāt make a big deal about it.ā
āOkay, donāt worry, Iāll make a teeny, tiny deal about it.ā
He held the bike steady while she climbed on, gripping the handlebars.
āI hate this already,ā she muttered.
āOkay,ā he said patiently, standing beside her. āFeet on the ground. Good.ā
āI feel like a baby deer.ā
āNow just push the pedal slowly.ā
āYouāre holding the bike?ā
āYou promise, Harry?ā
The bike rolled forward an inch.
She laughed nervously as the bike wobbled down the pavement, Harry jogging beside her with one hand on the seat.
āSeriously donātāā
āYouāre balancing!ā
After a few seconds, she glanced behind her.
Harry was a few steps back.
āYou didnāt notice!ā
āIāM RIDING A BIKE!ā
āYouāre riding a bike!ā
Harry was jumping up and down, the bottom of his jumper rising where she could see a tattoo of a two fern leaves.Ā
She rolled to a shaky stop, jumping off and staring at him.
āI donāt want to do it anymore.ā
Harry stopped, āWhat? How are we meant to get home?ā
āI can sit on the back.ā She motioned to the little seat on the back.Ā
Harry huffed, āFine.āĀ
Harry cycled them both back to Y/Nās block of flats. By the time they arrived, the sun had set and it was dark. They stood under the light of the lamppost. The lime bike parked up next to them.
āIām glad I rode a bike, but I donāt think Iāll do it again,ā she said.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
āYouāre very good at reframing things.ā
āItās one of my talents.ā
A small breeze lifted a strand of hair across Y/Nās face.
Harry noticed. He almost reached out to move it, then seemed to stop himself.
And suddenly the air between them feltā¦ different.
He was still smiling, but softer now. Less joking.
The woolly hat was a little crooked from when heād run beside the bike. His curls stuck out messily underneath it. His coat sleeve hung loosely around the cast on his arm.
And that stupid dimple appeared again when he caught her staring.
āYouāre observing again.ā
āI never said you werenāt.ā
She shifted, rocking back on her heels.
āYou know,ā she said, āyouāre very patient.ā
āI like teaching people things.ā
āYou teach people how to ride bikes often?ā
She laughed under her breath.
Harry looked like he might say something.
Y/N tilted her head, studying him the way she studied people on the bus.
And then, very casually, she askedā
āDo you want to kiss me?ā
āSorry,ā he said, half-laughing. āDid you justāā
āYou asked that very calmly.ā
āI like direct communication.ā
He looked at her trying to figure out if she was joking.
āYouāre very bold.ā
āI only ask because I would very much so like to kiss you.ā
Then he smiled, a little softer this time.
āYeah,ā he said quietly. āI do.ā
He stepped closer. Enough that she could see the tiny freckles across the bridge of his nose.
āJust so weāre clear,ā he murmured, āthis is happening because you successfully rode a bike.ā
And then he leaned down and kissed her.
It was warm and gentle and slightly clumsy in the way first kisses sometimes are.
When they pulled apart, Y/N looked up at him.
She pretended to think about it.
āActually,ā she corrected, āthat was very nice.ā
His dimple appeared again.
She glanced at the bike beside them.
āYou know,ā she said thoughtfully, ālearning to ride a bike might be the best decision Iāve made this year.ā
āDo you want to ride home together again?ā
āAbsolutely not.ā Y/N huffed.
āCan I come inside your flat then?ā
Y/N didnāt hesitate, āAbsolutely.āĀ
