Part One
Draco looked at his watch: 6:47. He'd be late - he was sure of it. He'd woken up five minutes later than usual, and his entire routine had gone to shit. The coffee was too cold, the shower was too hot, and he'd almost gotten run over by Mr. Walker from five buildings down who was speeding - again. So, in short, Draco was cranky, under-caffeinated, and slightly traumatized. The last thing he'd needed was for the metro to be running late.
When the car finally arrived, he - along with what was probably half of the population of fucking London - crowded in with minimal injuries and only two watch it, are you fucking blind's. Draco was squished against the corner of the car - an angry businessman on his right, and what he presumed was some sort of fashion student to his left (he'd never understood how one person could wear so many patterns and make it work but that was why he was a simple librarian and they were the ones making the slightly-scary clothes).
He leaned his head back against the wall, preparing himself for a slightly unpleasant ten minutes before someone caught his eye. It was a man standing towards the middle of the car, hanging onto one of the handles near the ceiling. The man had hair that looked like it hadn't seen a brush since the 90s, and round glasses that should not have reminded Draco of Ozzy Osborne but they did, and the dullest brown coat he had ever seen in his life. But the thing that attracted Draco was his eyes - they were deep green and so painfully alive that Draco is certain his heart skipped a beat.
He was standing awkwardly, sandwiched between two old women who were apparently talking to him. By the forced, barely-there smiles he was giving them, Draco assumed either Green Eyes didn't know the women, or, if he did, he wasn't particularly fond of the conversation. Draco almost smiled - he could guess what they were saying just by how uncomfortable the man seemed, and how the women kept (helpfully) pointing to his wedding ring-less finger.
A good-looking man like you should have a wife. Maybe you should meet my daughter/granddaughter/neighbor/second cousin twice removed on my mother's side who I haven't seen in three years.
He'd been the one giving those awkward smiles many times over - it never got any easier. It had gotten better when he'd come out as gay, yes, but only marginally. Now, instead of trying to set him up with the Marjories and the Megans of the world, he gets people trying to get him to meet the Stephans and the Simons.
Green Eyes was fiddling with his briefcase now, and the two women had decided to stop discussing whatever they were discussing with him and instead turned to talk to each other (so, he didn't know them, then). He checked his watch and then looked out the doors as they opened for the first stop. People got out, and people got in, and now he was awkwardly (because, apparently, this man is just awkward on the metro at all times, on principle) standing beside a man with a very large backpack.
His hands looked rough, and Draco subconsciously clenched and unclenched his own soft hands. For a moment, he let himself wonder what those hands would feel like. If Draco shook his hand, or held it, would he feel callouses? Would his hands be dry? Would his grip be firm and confident, or would he gently wrap his fingers around Draco's?
Draco tightened his grip on his own bag as someone pushed passed the people in front of him, a string of apologies in their wake as they tried to get closer to the doors, causing the other people in the car to jostle about a little before returning to their previous places. Green Eyes was momentarily pressed into Backpack for Two's backpack and he grimaced.
Draco smiled to himself sadly. In another life, they would've ended up side by side in the car instead of on different ends of it. Draco might've struck up a conversation about the weather, or maybe Green Eyes would complain about how cramped the car was. They'd smile at each other awkwardly, and Draco would ask where he was headed. He would answer one street or the other, and maybe, if he was lucky, they'd get off together. Or one of them would ask for a phone number. Or coffee or lunch or something, anything just to see the other again.
Maybe in another life, Draco would know Green Eyes' favorite color, and if he has a pet, and what his mother's name is, and who his favorite teacher was in primary school. He'd know which movie was his favorite, and if he likes mushrooms or pepperoni on his pizza, and if he's allergic to peanuts.
And he'd know about Draco's love for books, or how he hates sugar in his coffee, or what he looks like when he cries. He'd know that Draco always wears socks in the house, even in summer, and how he sleeps on the right side of the bed.
In another life, maybe they'd be happy together.
And at that thought, Draco fell just a little bit in love with the green-eyed stranger on the metro, and he smiled to himself, knowing that this - this ridiculous, fleeting feeling of love - was his alone, and it was beautiful.
So when Green Eyes got off on the next stop, the smile on Draco's face didn't fall. On the contrary, he felt happier than he had in a while. Because in another life, he would've loved that stranger.
And maybe, just maybe, the stranger would've loved him, too.