First off, I am really sorry for not updating like I promised. I realized after writing about ten different chapter fours and failing to drag this story anywhere close to where it should be, that the first two hours are terrible. They lead the characters in a ridiculous direction with no room for plot or development. Even the writing was annoying. Basically, I hated them. So I scrapped them both.

The following chapters hold similar elements to the originals, just presented differently. Honestly, I don't know if they're better, but they let me write which is what I will take. You probably didn't wait this long just to have me start over and for that I'm sorry. But I plan on dedicating myself to this story from now on, and I sure hope this will be something worth following to the end. Thank you for reading.

*a/n: Don't read if you're new. The following are the deleted chapters which I will store only here for self-motivation purposes.

Moving on a train was different from moving on a plane. It was less stale, less restricting. The air wasn’t canned, the movement wasn’t dizzying, and that ominous feeling that you were going to implode at any moment was much less prominent. And although Ryeowook had only been on the train for a few minutes, he decided that he liked the train better.

On a train, you could listen to the soothing chug of the engine. You could watch the forever changing scenery all without moving an inch. And best of all, if you pressed up real close against the walls, you could actually feel the thrum of turning wheels like a steady heartbeat bringing life to your journey. So Kim Ryeowook did all of the above with his left ear pressed against the wall and his right hand pressed against the cool glass of the window. Ticklish vibrations buzzed through him making him giggle in delight.

Yes, this was right. This was perfect.

The man who had been sitting across from him just shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. Brushing off the petite man as some naïve foreigner with too much energy, he polished off the rest of his noodles unburdened. After tossing away his empty wrappers, he stood to go to find the lavatory.

The swish of the door however, jolted the smaller man out of his thoughts.

“Where are you going?” he asked without thinking.

The tall man, who was already halfway out the door, froze and turned around. “I’m going…?” Why was he even asking? “…to the bathroom…?” he replied hesitantly.

“Oh, okay.” That was a satisfactory answer. Ryeowook pressed his face back against the wall, feeling silly for taking that man’s time. After all, they were on a moving locomotive; where else could he go?

Shaking his head, the other man walked away.

Gazing back out at the window, Ryeowook sighed at the panoramic view. They had just moved past the city, leaving behind a sea of skyscrapers and highways. Now they were flying through the slums: small puddles of illegal housing.

Ryeowook settled his fingers over where they ran past. He’d never been so close to an area so poor. Their rusty tin roofs and crumbling brick walls cast a shadow over the landscape as if they weren’t worthy of the same sunlight as everyone else. It was a sad sort of scene. So busy wondering if one of those homes would fit into his living room (it could, with extra space on the sides), Ryeowook didn’t notice when the man returned.

The other man was thankful for this and dropped down on his bed, journal in hand.

Soon the last remnants of the urban life disappeared from the window. Taking its place were various shades of green carpeting the plains. It was a pretty green, rich and vivid, but that was basically all there was to it. Still, it took over fifteen minutes for Ryeowook to grow tired of the view and even then he felt so guilty about being bored that he kept watching for another five.

Finally, when he could no longer tell if he was looking at mountains or waves, Ryeowook turned away from the window. Blinking in the dim lighting, he shook his head. It felt fuzzy, like the feeling after getting off a massage chair. On top of that, the initial euphoria had begun to wear off leaving him emptier than before.

The other man sat across from him, back leaned against the wall and scribbling in a blue journal paying no mind to the smaller.

Ryeowook frowned. A part of him itched to continue talking, maybe introduce himself or learn the other’s name, but the other looked so absorbed in his writing that it didn’t seem right to interrupt. 

It seemed he'd lost his only chance to make friends.

Ryeowook pouted, cursing his short attention span. His child-like tendencies were such a drain on his existence. How could he make friends when he got so easily distracted by the tiniest of shifts? The simplest of thoughts? The most inane occurrences of everyday – Wait! He had a journal too.

Suddenly, the widest grin now covered the petite man’s face as he scrambled to get his suitcase.

It was amazing how he could forget something so important. After all, he had specifically brought one journal along so he could record every second of his new adventure. So, opening to a blank page, that was exactly what Ryeowook did. The next thirty minutes were spent recounting whatever he could remember of the last two days. Everything from the cab ride to the airport to the man sitting across from him, Ryeowook made sure to capture every detail.

Unfortunately, to his great annoyance, the fringe of his hair kept drifting in his eyes while he wrote. Writing took a lot of effort, and he could not be distracted. Eventually, he settled for holding his bangs up with his right hand while he wrote with the other.

Suddenly, Ryeowook heard a loud guffaw from across the table. Jumping from the sudden noise, he looked up. The other man was still writing in his own journal, as immersed as ever. Ryeowook frowned.

‘Maybe he just wrote something funny,’ the petite man thought, completely missing the grin on the other man’s face. Tapping his cheek with the end of his pen, Ryeowook considered changing the nickname for the other man. “Other” just seemed so harsh, you know?

Taking in the man’s pale complexion, round eyes, and very full lips, Ryeowook decided that the term “handsome” fit him better than anything else. So, handsome it was. Ryeowook returned to writing using the new name for the other handsome man.

Eventually, he started to describe the room he was in. It didn’t take too much effort.

Small. White. Beds, window, curtains. Ryeowook soon realized there wasn’t as much to this wondrous room as he’d first thought. Gazing around, he tried to find something worth writing about. Then suddenly, his eyes did a double-take.

There, perched by the window in a glass vase, was something Ryeowook had not seen before. A large orange flower, boasting five lustrous petals, stood glowing under the afternoon sun. Ryeowook’s mouth parted in awe. How could he have missed such a beauty?

Quickly, his eyes darted around. The door was closed, and the handsome man was reading. This was an open chance. With the care of a highly paranoid freak, Ryeowook stretched out his hand, daring to touch the vibrant colors. When his fingertips brushed against the petals he nearly screamed. The flower was real.

Euphoria came rushing back as Ryeowook stared, hand clamped over his mouth. They never had real flowers at home. Never. Yet here was one now: precious and unguarded.

Reaching out again, Ryeowook gently one of the slender petals, reveling in its silky feel. Unable to help himself, the thrilled, innocent man sent out more fingers to experience the transcendent texture until he was practically petting the blossom with his entire hand. He was nearly squealing with excitement. This flower was real and it was living and it was oh so pretty! Ryeowook then pinched one petal between his thumb and forefinger to gently rub the blade. It felt smooth and creamy no matter which way he rubbed it which was absolutely thrilling to Ryeowook because he was ever touching a real flower and it was exactly like he’d always imagined it. Plus the flower itself was so pretty and lovely and – Oh, it broke.

Ryeowook squeaked, dropping the petal. It fluttered, detached, to the table

 Oh no. Panic began to rise in Ryeowook as he stared wide-eyed at the scene. So this is why they had fake flowers at home.

Frantically, Ryeowook pinched up the piece of flower and attempted to stick it back among the other petals. It worked for about two seconds before falling again. That didn’t stop him from trying again and again as he repeatedly tried to jam it into the flower. Just why wouldn't they stay!? A desperate sort of whine escaped him when for the twelfth time the petal fell to the table. At this time, the handsome man looked over to see Ryeowook frantically poking the flower.

“Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

Ryeowook startled, his hand knocking down his petal and two more along with it. They glided down from their post, tumbling, twisting, twirling in a flurry of a downwards spiral until finally, they graced the table. There was a moment of silence.

Eyes glistening, Ryeowook looked up. “I broke the flower,” he whispered in the most pitiful voice you’d ever heard. Then his lips began to tremble and his eyes began to water, and it looked like he was about to start crying. The other man gaped at him.

Now, you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, he was looking at a fully grown, albeit fragile looking man who looked like he was about two seconds away from having a full out breakdown and he was just sitting there wondering what the heck had just happened.

"Um...you, uh..."

"I broke the flower!"

The dark-haired man flinched back on instinct. “Y-You know," he stammered, "they replace these flowers every day or so. It really doesn’t matter if you pulled a few petals.”

Ryeowook sniffled. “But - but it was so pretty. And I broke it. So now it’s not pretty anymore!”

The handsome man looked as if he really regretted saying anything at all. “It – It’s still p-pretty,” he glanced at the two-petaled flower. “In fact, it’s very pretty. Just look how pretty it is!”

Ryeowook took one look at the ruined flower and started to cry.

“No, no! Don’t be like that. Please don’t be like that!”

Why did he have to touch the flower? You never touch the flower; real or fake! Why was he like this?

“I think the flower’s pretty! It’s still pretty! And… and… has colors…”

It seemed the more he looked at the fallen petals the guiltier he felt. And of course when he felt guilty he just had to cry because what else could he do?

“You know what? I think that the flower was already broken when you came here. See? It’s not your fault! Please stop crying!”

The other man’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Ryeowook’s guilt pushed fresh tears forward. He was honestly considering jumping off the train when without warning the other man swiftly yanked off the remaining two petals. 

“What are you doing!?” Ryeowook screeched.

The other man grinned (mostly from relief that the smaller had momentarily stopped crying) and held up the petals. “Aren’t they pretty?”

Ryeowook stammered, “Y-You – you…”

“They’re better this way,” he explained. Placing the two petals on the table, he dragged the other three over next to them. Gently, he rearranged them so all five into a star pattern. The result was a flower without its center.

The handsome man smiled cautiously at Ryeowook who was watching with an expression of awe. “See?” he said, nudging the “flower” towards the smaller. “It’s pretty isn’t it?”

The vibrant red petals stood contrast against the white of the table, and without its center the flower took on a whole new abstract feeling. Ryeowook nodded, abruptly forgetting all about his mistake.

“No more crying, okay?”

Ryeowook nodded absentmindedly, carefully leaning in to the look at the petals. The flower was so pretty! Maybe prettier than before. “Wow,” he breathed. “The handsome man is so smart.”

The man across from him blinked. “What?”

“…Huh?”

“What’d you say?”

“...The handsome man is smart?”

“The-” He opened his mouth and then closed it again. "The handsome man?You mean me?"

Still highly focused on the abstract flower, the smaller lightly nodded. "Smart and handsome."

At this, the other man straightened up a little. After all, who didn’t feel good after being called handsome and smart? The now slightly-overconfident man beamed while watching the smaller observe his creation.

“You know,” he piped in, “My real name is Kyuhyun.”

He saw the smaller’s forehead crease. “That sounds Korean.” He looked up. “Are you Korean?”

Kyuhyun took quick note of his accent. “Yes. You are too, right?”

“How did you know!?” the smaller man was awed, completely forgetting about the flower “You’re so smart; you’re like a detective. Who’s Korean. And speaks Chinese. You speak Chinese so well I thought you were Chinese!”

Kyuhyun smirked. For whatever reason, he just decided that this roommate wasn’t so bad. Assuring him that even though he was very intelligent, Ryeowook could continue calling him handsome man. This made Ryeowook very happy as he continued to praise him in Korean with excited hand gestures and all the energy of a five year old child. Kyuhyun was feeling pretty good about this stranger. That was until Ryeowook’s hand scattered the flower into pieces, and Kyuhyun had to scramble to put it back together before the former burst into tears.  It was still worth being called handsome.

The two continued talking for another hour or so, completely forgetting about their empty journals. Ryeowook learned that Kyuhyun had come from America to attend his brother’s wedding. Despite also living in the U.S. (a topic they spent a good twenty minutes on), he was marrying a woman from China. Apparently that had been enough reason to force Kyuhyun into polishing up his Chinese which fortunately for this book nerd of math, science, and physics wasn’t too much of a challenge. (Actually, it was, but he would never admit that.) Ryeowook also learned that Kyuhyun’s favorite color was dark blue, that he didn’t like his coffee with cream, and that crying people made him uncomfortable.

Kyuhyun learned that Ryeowook’s name was Ryeowook and that he liked asking lots of questions.

And it was funny, because well, he didn’t need much more than that.

Watching Ryeowook laugh at his stupid jokes, or making the smaller one smile, it was enough. Because whenever he spoke, Ryeowook would listen. The interest as genuine and pure. The way he nodded, laughed, or smiled; it made Kyuhyun feel like his words were diamonds falling from his mouth, and Ryeowook was there to catch every one.

But it certainly wasn’t one sided.

Ryeowook loved listening to the handsome man talk. Adding on to the fact that he had the richest, most delectable voice he’d ever heard, the man told amazing stories. There was the one about how he saw a bird or the one where he walked to the store. It was fascinating. Ryeowook found joy in anything and everything even if it was completely inane. The handsome man made it interesting.

Letting out a clear, bell-like laugh, Ryeowook fell back in his seat. The man was funny too.

And although Kyuhyun didn’t see what was so funny about him getting locked out of the car and having to walk home carrying three bags of groceries, he smiled anyways. The other man’s body trembled with giggles, and Kyuhyun took note of how petite he was. “You don’t get out much, do you?” he said when he finished.

Ryeowook shook his head. “I get out a lot. Just never without my parents.”

“Parents?” Kyuhyun raised an eyebrow. “You still live with your parents?”

“Well, yeah. Who else would I live with?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the man’s naiveté. “I don’t know. Some friends? Alone? A lot of people move into their own homes after college. You know, become independent and whatnot.”

“Oh.” Ryeowook frowned. “Well, I didn’t do that.”

“That’s understandable.”

He wasn’t sure what the other understood but that just proved how smart he was. “That’s okay though!” he said perkily. “That’s part of why this trip is so great: because I’m doing it all by myself!”

“Wow, the whole thing? You’re not visiting relatives or anything?”

Ryeowook beamed. “Nope!”

 He wasn’t sure why, but the thought made Kyuhyun a little uneasy. “No friends, family, nothing?” The other kept nodding. “That seems like a big jump from never going anywhere without your parents.”

“I know! Isn’t it great?”

Not really. “Sure, sure. I just hope you aren’t like, scared or anything-”

“I’m not!” he chirped. “I felt a little mortally terrified when riding the plane, but when I got off I realized how silly I was! Look at how safe I am!” He patted his chest and body to prove how in-one-piece he was.

Kyuhyun let out a little chuckle. “Well, you do look very ‘safe.’”

Ryeowook nodded. “I know! And look, I’m totally prepared! I packed everything I needed of all lists of information for my travelling and stuff…” As he said this he scrambled to his suitcase, zipping it open for his papers. “My parents aren’t really happy about me doing this; they think it’s too dangerous. But they couldn’t stop me this time. I’m an adult now!” he confirmed.

Hopping back into seat, Ryeowook started proudly flipping through the packet. “This is all of my travel information. See this was my plane information and this is my train informa-” His words were cut off by a thunderous pounding. Suddenly the packet fell from his hands and there was a roaring in his ears. Ryeowook shrieked. The world outside went pitch black in an instant, and the room dropped immediately in temperature. The roaring only grew louder. What was this? What was happening? Ryeowook clamped his hands around his ears; fear striking his every nerve.

“Please make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…” he sobbed into his knees.

Kyuhyun sat, bewildered. The sweet, rather cheerful man in front of him had dissolved into an image of sheer terror, and he seeing as he had no idea what to do, he just watched as Ryeowook shook in the corner.

After perhaps a minute (easily the longest in Ryeowook’s life), the roaring stopped. Taking shaky breaths, he removed the hands from his ears. The sounds were normal again. He slowly looked up, meeting the shocked gaze of the handsome man. There was a moment of silence in the sunlit room.

“That was scary,” Ryeowook whispered meekly.

The other man nodded, though for different reasons than the smaller.

Hesitantly, Ryeowook unfurled himself from the corner of the bed. The sunlight was back and so was the view outside. It was as if the window was nothing but a television screen and somebody had turned it off then back on. It made him almost not want to look anymore; who knew when it would turn off again?

He turned back to Kyuhyun, who watched him with a cautious gaze.

“Are you okay?” the taller whispered.

The worst of it seemed to have passed, but Ryeowook still looked shaken up. The smaller nodded weakly. “That was really scary.”

“I take it you’ve never been on a train before?”

“No,” Ryeowook frowned. “Why does that happen often?” Panic shot through his voice only to be amplified by a confirming nod from the other. Fear gripped his heart. How could this be? He thought trains were nice.

“Look, Ryeowook-ssi, that was a tunnel we just went through-”

“But this is a train! A train is above ground!”

“There are a lot of mountains in this path so they build tunnels for the train to go through them,” Kyuhyun explained, trying to be patient.

“Tunnels?” Ryeowook frowned, recalling the last experience he’d had in a tunnel which involved him having a public panic attack, and then having to be carried out by his father. That was last time they ever took the subway.

“You’re going to have a lot of them during this journey,” Kyuhyun continued, “and you shouldn’t, well, freak out every time we go through one.”

Ryeowook wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just…you know, there’s nothing scary about going through a tunnel, right?”

Ryeowook stared helplessly at the other. “Of course there is. It was so loud. Like thunder in my ears. And the sky disappeared!” He gestured wildly at the window. “Black! All of it! And there was all this clacking and everything got cold and roaring! You were here! I was scared.”

“God, Ryeowook-ssi, you talk about it like you think the tunnel’s going to collapse on us.”

“The tunnel’s going to collapse on us!?”

Kyuhyun sighed, obviously realizing he was not going to get through to the smaller. At least not with grown-up adult logic.

“The tunnel is not collapsing on us,” he assured, “Our conductor wouldn’t let it.” This seemed to mildly comfort Ryeowook as the taller leaned in closer to him. “And the next time we go through a tunnel,” he explained, “just close your eyes real tight and do what you did before with your hands to block out the roaring, and that will make it all better. Okay?” Gently, he lifted Ryeowook’s hands (which he noted were ridiculously soft) and placed them against his ears.

Ryeowook watched him with widened eyes. Kyuhyun’s hands were wrapped around his, radiating heat. The residual fear in his chest seeped away to be replaced with something much warmer. If the handsome man said this would make things better, then this would make things better. He nodded enthusiastically.

Kyuhyun smiled broadly, another crisis averted. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad with kids as he thought. Pulling the smaller’s hands back down (his own had never left), Kyuhyun gave him an approving grin.

“Okay, then. So do you want to finish showing me you schedule thing or-?”

“Oh, my papers!” Suddenly reminded of his fallen packet, Ryeowook forgot all about tunnels, and skies, and warm hands and scrambled to collect to collect his schedule.

Kyuhyun laughed and helped him out. Once they got the papers back in order, Ryeowook began again, avidly describing all the sights he planned to see as well as the all the details of the hotels he had booked. It was a strange dialogue, but Ryeowook radiated so much excitement it was hard not to feel happy for him. Besides, listening was the least Kyuhyun could do in return for before.