Automatic doors slide open and fold neatly to the side and a wave of people relentlessly push their way up to the front of the line, scrambling for tickets and dropping coins.

Damnit.

Curses fly in his mind as he is mercilessy shoved to the side by a bad-tempered passenger.

There was a rush like this every morning, a slight thrill for Kyungsoo, really, a slash of sound in his silent life.

He’s glad he arrived slightly earlier today, so that no matter how he’s pushed, he still stays somewhat near the front of the queue.

After he gets past the pot-bellied driver up front, Kyungsoo shuffles as far as he can to the back, making space for the people after him and to avoid the anxious, middle-aged businessmen who keep urging the driver to speed up.

Life in Seoul is a blur, it’s where you have to work hard to shine, like the brightest light on the tallest tower at night, but some people just want to stay as a dim streetlamp in a sea of colours, those are the people who can read between the lines and survive, even if they don’t conquer.

Kyungsoo is one of the people who stay in the background.

Sometimes, the air is thick with fog and smells of traffic accidents and smoke coming from more places than one, but other times in other places the air is sweet and fresh, faint smells of food being cooked wafting out from small shacks on the street.

It’s curious how much one can pay attention to the scent of a place.

Soon enough, the train screeches to a stop and the automated doors from each side opens, a small trickle of people leak down the stairs and flood and spread out of the vehicle, making their way above ground to reach desired destinations.

Kyungsoo exhales and quickly walks along a familiar route, along the path and the stores, almost – but not quite – reaching the end of Seoul’s main harbour, where stands a precious sweet shop.

A rusting bell jangles as the door swings open, enveloping Kyungsoo in a sudden slam of warm air, quite satisfying. It’s around 9:00am and some sweets have already been prepared, Kyungsoo goes behind the counter and puts his bag in one of the concealed cubby holes, smiling politely at the employee behind the cashier – Minseok – and waddles to the back room where he’s to help his boss make some more sweets.

He greets his employer and starts on a roll of honey-flavoured candy assortments.

The long sheet of sorted flavours has set into a desirable state overnight, just enough for Kyungsoo to use it properly.

He washes his hands and takes the small rectangle of sugar, placing a thin straw of lime candy on one side of the sheet. Using his fingers, he deftly rolls up the golden delicacy, creating small cracks here and there, making him wince.

With a knife, Kyungsoo cuts the newly formed tube into pieces, about the size of his thumbnail, quick bulky, but bite-sized. He leaves the tray to harden and set, so that he can package them neatly soon.

And this is how his day melts away, tying red and pink ribbons around plastic wrap, getting his fingers sticky (and occasionally his thumb while his boss isn’t looking), smiling at complete strangers and then repeat.

It’s near eleven am when Kyungsoo is asked to switch with Minseok. The doe-eyed boy had been manning the counter for a good twenty minutes when the familiar sound of the bell resounded. A bright smile on his face, Kyungsoo looks up to greet the customer, but before he can meet his eye, the guy had started peering at a selection of truffles that his co-worker Sunyoung made earlier.

The customer brings over a small box of the chocolate truffles and a particularly large rainbow lollypop with colours swirled together and kneaded into a tube, then artfully rolled up into a large circle. Kyungsoo thinks he made the certain one he’s holding right now, seeing the slightly uneven ribbon and the unique colour choice he favours.

“That’s 8900 won, thanks.” Kyungsoo puts the items in a bag and hands it to the guest, looking up to receive the payment, what he doesn’t expect is that the customer is staring right at him.

“Kyungsoo?”

This shocks him even more.

“How do you know my name?” he asks, a look of bewilderment settling onto his delicate features.

There’s an awkward silence and tension hangs thickly in the air, and the only answer Kyungsoo receives is the printing of a receipt.

“Name, nametag.” He murmurs.

“Ah.”

A crinkle in the paper of Kyungsoo’s heart smoothened out again.

The familiar noise of a jingling bell is sounded, and Kyungsoo watches the back of the man’s figure bobbing away.

In due time, a pair of high-school girls wander in and take 200grams of lemon drops.

At around twelve at noon, Kyungsoo is dismissed to leave. He waves goodbye to Minseok and takes a handful of kiwi-flavoured lollies wrapped in plastic-wrap.

Soon after, a piano sonata plays in his pocket, the notes muffled by the fabric of his pants. Kyungsoo retrieves his cellphone and squints at the screen; the sunlight is making it hard to see.

Contact 003 is calling…

He presses the green button.

“Hello?”

'Ah, Kyungsooyah!'

“Yes?”

'Uhm, I’m free right now, are you?'

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

'Great! I’ll be there in ten~'

The male stays on the line until he hears the beeping of his phone that confirms that the person on the other end has hung up.

With a loud sigh that hits the back of his throat, Kyungsoo slots his phone in his pocket and pulls his backpack up higher, jogging – once again – to the subway.