He sniffed, orbs dulling at the constricting pain in his chest.

Checking the box of tissue from his bag he realized it was already empty, and so used his sleeve as an alternative while contemplating to buy a bigger box next time. But as he did so, more tears escaped and he was getting frustrated when a microphone comes out of nowhere. He looked up from his seat, and saw a guy holding it to him.

“Sing.” The monotone voice he heard, said.

As the male started protesting, other passengers ushered him to sing as well.

“You look like you really needed it.” The old lady muttered while giving him a soft gaze.

“I.. I really don’t sing..”

But then an idea struck him.

Shuffling in his seat he hastily got up, before walking in the aisle and staring at his surroundings: some unoccupied seats, closed curtains, luggage atop the seats and the TV in front with some sort of lyrics flashing the screen. He stopped the music with the remote from the guy earlier.

All passengers were staring at him, save for the driver who made the speed slow so he won’t trip or fall. They met eyes, and he muttered a soft ‘thank you’ and the driver replied him with a warm smile.

He took a deep breath and faced everyone.

“H-hi, I’m Lee Hyukjae. I’m not here to sing, so I apologize beforehand for that. I’m.. actually here to confess something.”

Tears spilled from his single-lidded eyes.

But he willed himself to smile above all.

“Let me tell you a story..”