❈❈❈

It was crowded like usual. There were presses of bodies everywhere—in front, on the sides, and from behind. Five o’clock evening rush hour was always the worst—well, maybe on par with the rush at eight in the morning. All the seats on the train were taken, leaving the walkways crowded with people hanging onto the handles to keep from toppling over.

Minseok was among those many people standing. Dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, the businessman stared mindlessly out the window in front of him, watching the scenery pass as he tried to ignore the gossiping teenage girls sitting in front of him.

It was routine. Everyday at exactly 7:29 A.M., he boarded train line number 7 for work, and everyday at exactly 5:05 P.M., he boarded train line number 4 to go home. He stood and waited, rocked in time with the train’s constant stop-and-start motions, and watched as the cars slowly emptied of bodies, little by little.

At the last stop of the line, the rest of the passengers exited, leaving the train completely empty. Minseok, however, took a seat. He settled his briefcase over his lap and glanced left and right down the empty walkway as an announcement played over the intercom asking for everyone to exit the train.

Minseok stayed. The lights flickered off and the doors closed. He glanced at his watch, counting down the seconds.

He always stayed, because this train was special.

Three minutes after closing down, the train jolted forward, starting slow before gaining speed. The lights flickered back on as it left the station, and Minseok turned his head to look out the window. The sun was beginning to set, dying the horizon a brilliant orange. The train passed farmer fields, the vegetation dead and yellow due to the cold winter weather, and many rundown buildings. It sped on and on with Minseok as its sole passenger.

The vehicle shook as it entered a narrow tunnel dug in the side of a hill. The lights in the train were bright, contrasting the now dark environment.

And Minseok waited.

He watched the windows intently.

A place beyond the end of the line—it sounded like something out of a fairytale, but it existed. Minseok has visited it many times.

Except, it was never the same place.

The train emerged from the tunnel, and Minseok had to squint his eyes as the sun shone blindingly bright, shining across a vast landscape that was frosted over with ice. He could see buildings in the distance, and ice capped mountains even further off. It wasn’t any place like his home, that was for sure—but Minseok already knew it wouldn’t be.

Line 4 was special, and no one but Minseok knew. It took him to beautiful places that he could only think of in his dreams, like it had been pulled right out of a fantasy novel. He let out a sigh, stunned at the scenery, the window fogging with his breath.

The train carried on, the distinct and rhythmic clacking of the train wheels hitting the gaps in the rails sounding almost like a lullaby. It was getting chilly, and Minseok hugged his briefcase closer to his chest to contain the heat, all the while keeping his eyes outside the window, taking in every little detail.

Soon, it began to slow, and Minseok turned his head to the doors, expectant. The female automated voice over the intercom announced the stop as “Saengmyeong”, as it always did, and moments later the vehicle came to a complete stop.

There was a stranger waiting outside the doors. Minseok watched as they slid open with a hiss, and a young man boarded the car. He sat across from minseok, nervous hands wiping on the knees of dirty jeans, and dark hair disheveled and falling across creased brows. Their eyes met, and Minseok smiled. The stranger quickly looked away. The doors closed and the train began to move again.

“Are you a traveler passing through town?” The stranger finally asked after a long moment.

“I’m just a simple passenger heading home.” Minseok clarified with a fond expression. “But I’m willing to listen if you need someone to talk to.”

The stranger rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, his posture slouched forward with his elbows resting on his thighs.

It took many minutes of silence before the stranger let out a shaky sigh, the rim of his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I recently got a job away from home. A really well-paying job.” He began.

“Congratulations.” Minseok responded.

The man looked down. “My mother recently died, and now my father is sick as well.”

Minseok frowned. The warning toll of bells at a railroad crossing rushed past them, the flashing red lights illuminating the side of the stranger’s cheek for a brief moment.

“It’s always been my dream to become successful—I’ve been preparing all my life to work up the ranks and someday build my own fame. But—with my mother’s recent passing and my father falling ill, I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” The stranger buried his face in his hands. “I can’t just leave him—I know I shouldn’t but I don’t want to give up my dreams and I feel horrible for even having to choose between them!”

The man ended his sentence in a near shout, clearly distressed. Minseok tilted his head in sympathy, unable to help his own expression twisted in sorrow.

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” Was all he could think to say.

The stranger took a shuddering breath. He ran his fingers over his forehead and through his hair, pushing the strands back. He looked up at Minseok with large eyes, pleading.

“If you were in my position… what would you do?”

Minseok pondered the question, his eyes drifting down to his shoes. Minseok had chosen his job over family—but this man was not Minseok.

His family actually meant something to him.

“If I were you… I would stay with my father.” Minseok answered truthfully. Whether it was the right answer or not though, the stranger’s expression fell, his lips turning downward. It was almost as if Minseok could see the years of hard work and dedication being thrown away as this man resigned his dreams.

“But that doesn’t mean you should give up.” Minseok continued. “You have a long time ahead of you still, but your father will only be around for so long. Some jobs only come once in a lifetime yes, but family is the same.”

“But if I turn this opportunity down, I don’t think I’ll be able to find another chance like this again.” The stranger lamented.

“You will. Hard work may not always be gratified instantly, but the reward always comes eventually.” Minseok assured. He smiled supportively. “You can always compromise too. Work from home, so that way you can take care of your father.”

“... You think so?”

“I think so. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Sometimes all you need to do is ask. I’m sure the people who offered you the job would understand.”

The stranger smiled.

“I’ll give it a try. I won’t know anything unless I try.”

“That’s the spirit.” Minseok commended with a wide smile. The other man’s lips curled upward more in turn, his expression shy as he ducked his head down in thanks. The intercom sounded again, announcing the stop as simply “Line 4” this time. The train halted and the stranger stood. He stopped at the doors.

“I’m Lu Han. What’s your name?”

“Minseok. Kim Minseok.”

Lu Han smiled, youthful and boyish features melting through the grunge of his appearance and tired posture.

“Thanks for your advice Minseok.”

And with that, the stranger was off. The doors closed and the train started forward again. Minseok watched out the window as Lu Han waved him off until he was out of sight, until the station was out of sight, until the train was speeding through the wintery and cloudy landscape once more. Minseok watched until the train entered a familiar tunnel, the lights flickering, and soon enough, he was back in his country. The sun had set, the skies dark and dotted with lights from tall buildings and satellites far off.

The business man glanced at his watch. It read 7:09. It had all felt so short—maybe thirty minutes or so—and Minseok still couldn’t understand how the time seemed to fly by so quickly.

At exactly 7:10, Minseok stepped off the train onto the empty platform of the train station, the air around him quiet and still and yet strangely full of life. He glanced back at the train once before heading home, looking forward to when he would take another trip on line 4.

❈❈❈

It was routine—just something he did every day of the week, of the month, of the years. The first time he had learned about the special mystery of line 4 was about two months ago. Minseok had stayed up late multiple nights in a row to complete a project that many of his superiors had been panicking about. He had pulled through in the end with success, but not without consequences.

Weary from his lack of sleep, he had boarded line 4 instead of the usual 7. He hadn’t realized it until he was halfway through the route, but it was no matter. He would exit off at the last stop and board another connecting train that would get him to the right stop near his home.

Except Minseok didn’t. There had been no usual sweep of the train at the end of the line, no cleaning, no refilling of the tanks—nothing; Just the sound of the train starting up again that jolted Minseok awake from his slumber. The doors were already closed by the time the office worker had gotten himself together and up from his seat, the vehicle speeding off to somewhere unknown.

Train lines weren’t cycled after all—the last stop had been the end of the line. The train shouldn’t have been chugging onward like it was doing.

Minseok had stood awkwardly in the middle of the walkway, clutching his briefcase to his chest as he looked around the empty car with wide eyes. He was unsure of what to do. The emergency brake was right in front of him, but what good would it do him to pull it? Should he travel to the front and try to find the conductor? Minseok didn’t know.

The lights had flickered and the train shook as it entered a tunnel, and the businessman spent a few more minutes thinking about his decision before he nodded to himself, beginning to make his way to the front.

He halted, however, when the sunlight outside the windows flashed blindingly bright as they emerged from the dark tunnel. He stared, stunned, as the white sun glinted and reflected off a perfectly still ocean, only the slightest of waves distorting the light rays.

Minseok crawled frantically onto the train seats and lifted up one of the windows, sticking his head out as a blast of sea air and ocean spray hit him in the face. He held his hand up, shielding his eyes from the light as he stared out at the endless body of water, the train riding over the waves. He peered down at the water, spotting the vague shadows of a train rail just underneath the surface.

Incredible.

Nothing else could come to his mind to surmise what he had been feeling other than incredible and impossible.

When the train had finally stopped in front of a stone platform in the middle of nowhere, he was surprised when a small child boarded the same car Minseok was on. The adult had slowly slid down from where he had been staring out the window and composed himself, briefcase over his lap and eyes stuck to the sights outside.

The child had sat next to him, all large eyes and wide smile.

“Hi, I’m Lu Han and I’m Chinese. What is your name mister?”

That had been two months ago. Now, Minseok was no longer a stranger to the otherworldly happenings on line 4, nor the stranger that always boarded on the first stop. If anything, he looked forward to his time on the train.

Today, he would board the train—tomorrow, he would do the same.

It was Minseok’s treasure, and he hoped he would be able to keep it now and, hopefully, forever.

❈❈❈

The one who boarded the car Minseok was riding on today was a young man. He was dressed in loose pants and a patterned sweatshirt—the epitome of youth. It was bright and flashy compared to Minseok’s obligatory office wear, and the snapback and sunglasses really finished the look. Minseok glanced outside the window. It was sunset here too. He inwardly smiled at the fact the man was wearing sunglasses at this time of the day.

He was a stranger—but familiar. Minseok had seen his face yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. Sometimes varying in age, but more often than not, he looked to be about the same as Minseok. The young man took one look at Minseok sitting neat and complacent before he smiled, his teeth poking out to bite at his bottom lip in an attempt to quell the upwards curl of his lips. He bounded onto the train, doors closing behind him, before taking a seat on the same side of the train that Minseok was on, just one seat over.

“I didn’t know anyone besides me rode the train at this time.” The stranger commented, taking off his hat to tousle with his hair before putting it right back on. The attempt at conversation made Minseok smile.

“I always ride the train at this time.” The office worker replied. The response had the other man humming.

“Huh, this is my first time seeing you though. Weird.” The stranger took off his sunglasses and grinned—teeth and all—small wrinkles appearing at the edges of his eyes. “I’m Lu Han. And you?”

“Kim Minseok.”

“Minseok…” Lu Han tested the name. “That’s a pretty name.”

The way the young man said it, accompanied by his soft smile, left the unsaid words of “almost as pretty as you” apparent to the businessman, and Minseok felt his ears warm at the stranger’s attempt at flirting.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he had flirted with Minseok, but this Lu Han wouldn’t have any way of knowing that.

“It’s an average name, but thank you.” Minseok tried to downplay it. Lu Han on the other hand just shrugged, leaning back in his train seat as he glanced behind him and out the window before turning to look at the older man again.

“Where are you headed?”

Though simple, Minseok always found the question difficult to answer.

“Home.” Was the most simplistic and truthful response he could think of.

“Home? All the way out here?” Lu Han asked, intrigued.

“I live pretty far from here.” Also not a lie. “What about you?”

“I had some plans. Gonna meet up with friends, maybe find a date for the night,” Lu Han began. His mischievous smile was back. “I wouldn’t mind taking you around instead though.”

Minseok laughed.

“As tempting the offer is, I’ll have to decline.”

“So you think I’m tempting?” Minseok bit his tongue as the younger male suddenly leaned in. When he had scooted closer, Minseok was unsure, but Lu Han had an arm resting on the backs of the seats behind the businessman, his knee touching Minseok’s thigh. He could feel his cheeks flushing as he leaned away automatically.

“I mean, I’m not going to deny that but—”

The train arrived at the final stop, the voice overhead announcing the same old ‘Line 4’ even though the location was always different. Lu Han stood and extended his hand out to the other.

“I know it’s our first time meeting and all, but at least let me take you out to dinner.” The young man said, almost pleaded. Minseok hesitated, tempted to take the offer, but in the end shook his head, his gaze falling.

“I have to go home.” He nearly whispered.

“Next time then—” Lu Han said hurriedly, stepping off the train as the alarm rang, signaling the doors would close soon. He kept his head inside, hands against the doorway. “Next time, I’ll take you. Same time, this car, tomorrow?”

Minseok didn’t get a chance to answer. The stranger ducked away just as the doors slid closed, his eyes meeting Minseok’s between the barrier of the windows. The train jolted forward, Minseok’s body swaying along as he got further and further away from the stranger. He watched until the station was swallowed up by the sight of towering steel buildings, their sides as reflective as a mirror and completely foreign to the Minseok.

He wished he could have at least told Lu Han he wouldn’t be there tomorrow. Or the day after—and possibly never again.

Minseok only went where the train took him, and he has never gone to the same place twice.

❈❈❈

There have been times where Minseok would be riding the train, and the stranger that boarded didn’t talk to him at all. Minseok recognized him though—it was always the same stranger. Sometimes younger, sometimes older, sometimes beaten down by life, sometimes flirty and haughty, sometimes jaded by money—but it was always the same man with the same name.

Minseok wasn’t sure why this man was always at every stop, or why he always boarded the train, but he was. He made for good company as Minseok journeyed through lands and oceans on an empty, magical train.

This time, Minseok’s ride took him to the skies. He gripped the edges of his seat in fear, yet was unable to take his eyes off the scenery. The railroad was twisting and winding through orange and cream colored clouds, narrowly dodging mountain peaks that reached up into the atmosphere and ducking under floating islands of rocks that defied gravity itself. It was strange—it was exhilarating—it was incomprehensible.

They ascended and ascended, higher and higher, until Minseok was brought to the top of the world, the train sailing across the clouds like it was tangible.

It stopped in the middle of nowhere, the nice voice of the automated lady announcing the first stop like always.

“Saengmyeong. Saengmyeong.” It repeated.

The doors opened.

Minseok leaned forward in his seat, waiting, expecting.

When no one boarded, he stood up, briefcase forgotten, and stood at the entrance of the car.

The clouds stretched before him like the ocean he had seen on his first ride on line 4. They were dyed a creamy orange, the sun dipping below the expanse like it was the horizon. The wind ruffled Minseok’s hair and clothes, his tie flapping wildly.

It was cold and it smelled crisp.

It was empty.

The silence was deafening, the small window of minutes the train doors remained opened stretching out and feeling like an eternity.

No one was there. There was no stranger—there was no Lu Han.

Somewhere in the far distance, the familiar ring of the alarm signaling the doors would close sounded. It was so quiet, so far away, Minseok almost missed it.

The businessman stared out over the sea of clouds, his eyes squinting in the light, as the doors slowly hissed shut and the train started up again. He stayed as he was, staring out the windows as the rails took the train smoothly over the orange ocean.

He had reached the top of the world, but it was the first time he had no one to share his journey with. It was strange, not having another body in the car with him, not having someone to witness what he was seeing.

Many long minutes later, when the train stopped at the final station ‘Line 4’, Minseok was still standing. The wind blasted across his body, cold and berating, as the sun sank lower in the clouds.

He finally sat back down after staring at the sun in longing, the train descending back down through the maze of fog. He leaned against the windows, sighing, as he carried out the rest of his trip alone.

Somewhere under the sound of the train wheels clacking over the rails, Minseok could hear the faint bell toll of a railroad crossing. He closed his eyes, imaging the flashing red lights, and how they had lit up the features of the man who often rode this train with him.

❈❈❈

It was dark out this time. Minseok wasn’t quite able to make out where he was—not that he would know anyway—but he watched what looked like city lights out in the far distance blink in and out. It had been a couple days since his trip to the sky, and the many trips after that had been unnervingly normal. The train stopped at its usual two stations, and the stranger Lu Han still boarded the first and left at the second.

Just yesterday, he had met an older Lu Han who told a story about the times he used to be singer. Minseok listened as the man told his story; how he trained for a long time to make it big, how he felt every time he heard his hundreds and thousands of fans scream his name—the man told it all.

“I was in love,” That Lu Han had said. “But you know how society can be—and I was scared. I didn’t want to break what I already had—and I didn’t want to ruin his career either.”

Minseok had nodded, his cheek resting against his upright briefcase, invested in the tale.

“I always went back to visit him of course,” Lu Han had continued. “But we were never quite the same as we once were after all that. Now it’s been years…”

The train had come to a stop, and Lu Han was standing, stiff pinstripe suit lining his athletic body and somehow befitting of the forming wrinkles on his middle-aged face.

“Why don’t you try again?” Minseok had asked quickly. There was no way this was how the story ended.

The older man had smiled sadly and glanced at his ridiculous and clearly overpriced watch.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out quite the way you wish they would. And you can’t help that.” He said sadly. “Thanks for listening to my story Minseok.”

And with that, the man had gone.

This time, Minseok wasn’t sure what to expect. He watched as the train pulled into the station, only for his eyes to widen as he saw hordes and hordes of people standing on the boarding platform. Their faces were blank, lifeless eyes staring straight ahead.

“Saengmyeong. Saengmyeong.”

The doors opened.

No one moved.

“Minseok!”

The office worker jolted, his head nearly hitting the window at the sound of his name being shouted. He stood, his body hesitating for a moment before he moved towards the door, looking over the sea of people.

“Minseok!” That familiar voice called again, and Minseok lifted his eyes to see the stranger, Lu Han, standing at the very back of the platform. He was weaving between the tightly packed bodies, trying to push his way forward. “Minseok!”

How did this Lu Han know his name? Had they met once before? Minseok couldn’t be sure—he couldn’t recognize his surroundings, but this definitely had never happened before.

“Lu Han?” He couldn’t help but call back.

“Minseok! Come with me!” Lu Han called, his hand outstretched over the many heads of immobile people. It was like a beacon, the light on a lighthouse that guided ships home, his request like the push of the ocean urging him forward.

Minseok took a step. Lu Han was coming closer.

“Minseok, come on!” The man pleaded. He shoved between two other people, fighting his way through. “Come with me!”

The worker could only stare, disbelief rendering him still. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating—and considering all that he has seen over the past few months, it was hard to argue those possibilities. But Lu Han was there, calling him, hand out like he was reaching for a thin thread of salvation.

“You won’t be alone anymore!” Lu Han called once more. “I’m here! Minseok!”

Minseok inched his way forward again, his toe on the edge of the doorway.

The bells rang.

“No! Minseok, don’t leave! Don’t leave me again! Minseok, please!”

Lu Han was so close—less than three meters away. Minseok stared with wide eyes, baffled by the other’s words.

Two meters.

One meter.

Minseok stepped back as the doors hissed closed, Lu Han reaching it one second too late. He pounded on the windows, shouting Minseok’s name with tears in his eyes. His palms dragged over the glass as the train started forward, the man trying to follow after only to be blocked by the people standing there, lifeless and without meaning.

Minseok sank to his knees, his heart racing as he tried to process what had just happened.

Not once had he ever stepped a foot off this train during these stops—and his fear rendered him unable to do so even when Lu Han—a stranger who was possibly more than just a stranger—was calling for him, urging him forward.

The businessman hugged his legs. His chest hurt, but he didn’t cry. He tucked his face between his knees and shut his eyes as he replayed the frantic scene in his mind over and over again.

He thought about the what ifs—the possibilities of what could’ve been if he had just stepped off the train despite his fears.

When Minseok stepped off line 4 at his usual stop at exactly 7:10 P.M. in a daze, he almost didn’t realize the other presence on the platform until the clicking of solid heels signaled their approach. He looked up sharply, surprised, as there usually wasn’t anyone here when he arrived.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” The man said. He was dressed in a conductor’s uniform, his hat pulled low over his head and covering his eyes.

“Uhm—I’m sorry, who are you?” Minseok couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah, excuse me. I’m just a mere conductor.” The man explained. He took of his hat and ruffled his gloved fingers through his hair. Minseok’s eyes grew wide.

“You—”

“I’m glad to see you made it back safely, Minseok.” The stranger said with a gentle smile, his voice soft and his eyes crinkling as they always did. “Are you hungry? I know it’s late, but I’d like to take you out to eat.”

Minseok could only stare. Taken aback by the whole situation, he felt like he could laugh. But instead he only smiled, shy but affectionate.

“I’d like that very much.”

❈❈❈

❈❈❈

It was empty as usual, a stark contrast to how crowded trains were usually supposed to be.

But it was routine by now.

Everyday, Lu Han rode line 4 at the desolate train station after work. He always boarded at the exact same time, and he always greeted the only other passenger that always sat in the same place in the same car every day.

It was routine.

Lu Han knew this stranger, but the stranger never knew him. They’ve met many times before, sometimes the stranger was younger, sometimes older—sometimes cold and distant, and other times warm and kind.

The stranger this time was timid, but welcoming. He wore an insipid suit and carried a leather briefcase over his lap, his hair black and kempt with a combed fringe falling over his brows. He greeted Lu Han with a smile and a nod.

Lu Han knew the stranger wasn’t from here—they never were—and it hurt him every time he remembered that one stop from now, he would have to leave his heart behind again to the stranger who made him fall in love again and again, little by little, every day.

“Headed home?” Lu Han asked. The man nodded. “Me too. I’m Lu Han by the way. It’s nice to see another face on this lonely train.”

The stranger smiled.

“Minseok. I’m Kim Minseok.”

Ah, Lu Han hated it so much. He loathed how attached he had become to this stranger.

It was a game of patience—Lu Han knew this. Someday, he would find his own Minseok, but that day wasn’t today.

Today, he would sit on the other side of the train and smile at the Kim Minseok in front of him, thinking about the what ifs and possibilities—dreaming of the day he could take Minseok’s hand in his own and leave line 4 behind.

But not today.

❈❈❈

The End

❈❈❈

“Saengmyeong” means Life

The number '4' is homophonous to Death

Just some things I had in mind while writing this fic. What it all means in this story is up for interpretation. I hope you enjoyed this little fic of mine, and hope you guys will enjoy the to follow that I'll have up in a bit. Thank you very much for reading.