Somewhere in Brooklyn | A Charlie Barber x Reader One-shot

Subway

bel here! i wrote this short charlie barber fic to pull myself from the temporary road bump i got on writing the latest chapter of "all fun and games until...", hopefully i'll be able to finish it soon.

for now enjoy this story i made with the same title of a Bruno Mars's song from his early album Doo-Woops & Hooligans. ive been wanting to write a story based on his song for a long as i can remember but i can't find the perfect "leading man" to do it. Enter, Charlie Barber.

tiktok trailer link: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJDyTaQh/

song link: https://youtu.be/T_VcDbPon4s

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This is the second week Charlie has seen you riding the same train as him.

Not that he's counting. He wanted to make that clear to himself. He's just very meticulously observant like that— a trait compulsory as a theater director. Both a gift and a curse.

He bit back a frustrated groan, gripping the overhead handle instead. Speaking of being neurotically observant, he really needs to let go of Frank's delayed pick-up cues and relent on letting him do his own variations that are irrelevant to his scene or else he's gonna go insane. 

He dismissed his cast tonight distractedly as he kept on checking his Rolex the entire time he was advising them to sleep it off and enjoy their weekend. It was one of those days where nothing is in sync. Their pacings were all off, lines got forgotten in the middle of the scene making it hard for them to show even a sliver of genuine emotion. It didn't help that one of the actors he recently just hired was sick. And the alternate for that said sick actor was made an alternative for a reason.

Charlie never wanted to go home as bad until now.

It wasn't the idea of his still semi-unfurnished, half-empty apartment that kept him buzzed. It was the act of it, the part where he rides the train even though he has to stand at the sticky floor the City of New York has no intention of cleaning. 

So yeah, he's really not counting.

There's always a safe distance between him and you. It's not deliberate on your side, he concluded on the third time he noticed you while you were intently staring into space with your earbuds in. Too focused to be listening into music , he mused before. She must be listening to one of those audiobooks or podcasts. You were swaying your head in sync in the movement of the train. Sometimes you were mouthing the lyrics. Charlie may have spent too much time guessing what you were listening to.

There's just no reason for him to get close. Everytime he catches the train, you are already settled in with a book in your hands. He must have looked like a complete freak when he tried to tilt his head sidewards to catch the title. But Charlie thought it was harmless— him watching you read with your brows furrowed in concentration. Enraptured with how your eyes would fastly skim the words with your fingers tracing the pages. He keeps his smile to himself when you pause for a while to absorb what you just read. He thinks it's adorable when you keep going back to the same sentence again and again until you are satisfied. 

But what sealed the deal of him not really coming close to you is what happened on Wednesday. How he got shamelessly hard that he had to put his messenger bag right across his crotch when he caught a glimpse of your bare thighs with the hem of your pencil skirt dangerously riding up as you fixed your seat, and just because you bit your lip when you amusedly smiled at something you were reading. Embarrassed and afraid of being called out as a pervert, Charlie almost dashed into the doors before it hissed open and almost left a perfect shape of him like a cartoon character.