Last Train to Eternity (Almost A Love Story)

 

 

 

 

 

He's always there at the same time every day.

 

Hakyeon noticed because there's something about this man...

 

Hakyeon works at a 24h shopping mall. It's tiring, but it pays rather well so he can't complain about it. What though, is that his internal schedule is pretty messed up from all the shifts changes during the last months. He's tired and he believes he's just starting to imagine things when he says that man is there every day at the same hour.

 

But he's not.

 

The man is as real as Hakyeon can be. He is so real that Hakyeon has a hard time taking his eyes off him when they ride the same city train back home.

 

It started on a rainy night.

 

These nights always made Hakyeon want to hide. When he was young, his older sister told him that ghosts and demons went out to play when the moon was high and the skies were crying. Growing up, he kept his bad habit of walking fast and looking around like a madman on rainy nights.

 

He was waiting at the train station after his evening shift. His umbrella kept trying to fly inside-out, which made his defensive lookout rather ineffective. Hakyeon knew the train was about to come and he prayed for it to arrive soon because his shoes were starting to let some water in and he was not in the mood to deal with this at the moment. Just as he was looking around nervously, he nearly let out a loud shriek of fear.

 

There, a few feet behind him was a man. He seemed younger than him of a few years. Yet, he had a strong jaw, sharp and manly features that could mean otherwise.

 

Though, it's his eyes that crept Hakyeon out. Dark and deep, but so large. Like the eyes of a curious child, widening up to lay an eye on everything surrounding him and more. But something in the portrait seemed off.

 

The man was not carrying anything to protect himself from the rain. His dark sweater hugging his well built frame, the hood so low it almost hid the dark, lifeless pit of his eyes.

 

Hakyeon shivered. This man was obviously going to ride the same train as he was. But he looked dead inside and scary. Hakyeon is a scaredy cat, but this time he has reasons to be.

 

From this day on, Hakyeon noticed that the man was always at the same train stop at the same hour. He could tell because he too was always at the same time at the same place.

 

Things take a drastic turn when Hakyeon has a few days off during autumn.

 

He was out with some friends in a rather high class restaurant. Since he doesn't go often, he decided that he would enjoy it as much as he could.

 

He dresses up in his most classy shirt and dress pants. The restaurant is a lounge-like one, western style, with waiters walking around in their nice uniforms and bow ties.

 

Hakyeon chats with Hongbin, Taekwoon, Wonsik and Jaewhan and he is having a good time. He drinks a glass or two and obviously has to use the toilet eventually. He excuses himself from his friends and makes his way to the bathroom situated near the kitchen door. The passageway is a busy area and he can't help but knock over someone coming out said door.

 

The hair on his nape rises in horror. He knows he has already seen those eyes somewhere.

 

"Excuse me, sir." The waiter says and it catches Hakyeon off guards because young men are not supposed to have such a deep, suave voice. Hakyeon could almost feel the velvety feeling of that voice on his skin and for a moment, he wanted to hear more of it.

 

"No problem." Hakyeon replied. But it's the only words they exchange that evening.

 

Back to his seat, Hakyeon can't quite shake the feeling that something important just happened. The deep sound still echoes in his ears, like a constant numb buzzing and he can't understand why.

 

Through the rest of the evening, Hakyeon look out that waiter he bumped earlier. He does truly seem young, but there is something to him that let out more maturity than it should. Maybe it's the way his dress pants fit so perfectly on his waist. Or maybe it's because his hair is so well done even Hakyeon's hairdresser would be jealous.

 

Or maybe it's because the man has such a perfect attitude, talking politely to his clients, restlessly bringing their order.

 

Too used to his routine, Hakyeon starts feeling tired when the last train is about to come around. He salutes his friends, promises to contact them soon.

 

At the bus stop, somebody's already waiting. It is the man, timed as a Swiss watch. And like they're destined to be at the same place at the same time, Haekyon meets the man's eyes and a velvety voice comes to his mind. His hood is still hanging low on his face and the old hoodie is so stained Hakyeok wouldn't even give it to his dog.

 

"Hi! I'm Hakyeon." He holds his hand out for the man to shake.

 

"Sanghyunk." The other replies dryly.

 

He talks without moving his mouth, unlike a couple minutes earlier where he would politely articulate his sentences while talking to his clients.

 

The contrast hits Hakyeon. Never did he see someone as different when at work. Hakyeon wondered if he should be worried. His sister would throw a fit if she knew he'd been around talking to strangers. Overprotective girl.

 

The man, Sanghyuk, doesn't shake Hakyeon's hand back. He seemed to push his hands even further in his oversized hoodie. Hakyeon doesn't make any case of it. He knows many people are not at ease with shaking hands with strangers.

 

Truly intrigued, Hakyeon sits nearby him on the train. Close enough to talk without screaming over the ruckus of the railways; far enough to give the man some personal space.

 

If he didn't know better, he'd say he was bewitched. Like some kind of naive magnetic field pulling him towards the hooded figure of the waiter.

 

Through minutes and kilometres, Hakyeon talks and tells. His work, his domestic fish, his ridiculous rent. His interlocutor doesn't reply much, impassible, but Hakyeon knows that he's listening, just like he knows, deep down inside, that he will meet the server again. There are just some instincts that you can't ignore and on that, Hakyeon couldn't shake the feeling that some important aspect of his life would soon revolve solely around that man.

 

At his stop, Hakyeon says goodbye and leaves the train, zipping up his thick vest. As he takes a few steps, he hears someone following him. In panic, he turns around. Sanghyuk is following him, a few steps behind. Hakyeon never heard him coming.

 

"Sanghyuk? What are you doing? This isn't your stop." Hakyeon inquires. Suddenly, something feels off. A shiver passes through Hakyeon's body.

 

"Walking you home," He answers. Still so short; still so evasive.

 

And so neither of them add anything. Hakyeon walks a few steps ahead, still unsure about where this is going.

 

On front of his building Hakyeon is positive that there's something wrong. He can't even hear Sanghyuk breathe. He feels like a prey and the shiver at the back of his neck refuses to let his hair down for a second.

 

"So, ahem. That's me. Thanks for the safety walk." Even Hakyeon can hear how fake his tone sounds.

 

"Don't thank me." Sanghyuk says as he takes a step towards Hakyeon. Their eyes meet and don't let go. His hood still darken most of his face and the light bulb near the door sends shadows that his skin seem to swallow hungrily. He is still marching forwards. Hakyeon has to take many steps back to keep a reasonable distance between them. Though Sanghyuk is still looking straight into the white of his eyes and Hakyeon's mouth feels like a desert during a sandstorm.

 

Hakyeon's back hits the brick wall of the building. Sanghyuk finally pulls off his hood. Lights hit his pupils and his iris shine a dark shade of maroon. His eyes, usually so dark are now mixing, twirling, swirling with some unnatural colour. It's red. Deep crimson : the colour of slowly drying blood.

 

Sanghyuk is now so close that Hakyeon can confirm that he wasn't dreaming when the thought Sanghyuk wasn't breathing. He is not. He is not breathing and he is pale, so pale. Like he never saw the sun.

 

Slowly, as if he wanted to extend the suspense, Sanghyuk lifts his hand, brushes his fingertips on Hakyeon's jawbone, caresses the skin, tracing the jaw millimetre by millimetre. The touch leaves Hakyeon's skin frozen. His hands are cold. Ice-cold. It explained why he refused to shake Hakyeon's hand earlier and all of a sudden it all makes so much sense in his head. The sings were all there. He only refused to see it for what they were since it's not supposed to be possible.

 

Hakyeon knows what will happen before it does. Sanghyuk's fingers are back under his ear and he pushes the soft spot under the jaw to push his head aside. He takes another step. He's so close Hakyeon could smell his perfume if he wanted. Except. There's none. Just the good old aroma of the worn out fabric of the hoodie. Hakyeon swallows.

 

He can't see Sanghyuk anymore, but he can feel him. The latter is pressing his lips where his fingers played seconds earlier. Hakyeon should fight. He knows he should trash and scream and make Sanghyuk realise he isn't an easy prey. But he can't. Something inside just tells him that it's how it's supposed to happen. That it's what is supposed to happen.

 

It's not Sanghyuk's lips anymore that wander around his trachea. It's harder, almost slicing. It's on his clavicle now. Hakyeon should have listened to his sister.

 

"Stop." Hakyeon whispers and even his own voice sounds loud after the endless minutes of deep silence.

 

Sanghyuk draws back. His mouth shut tight, eyes dancing with the same previous lustful crimson. Their eyes lock again.

 

"Stop." Hakyeon repeats.

 

Sanghyuk keeps looking silently.

 

"Why me?" Hakyeon wonders out loud.

 

"Because it has to be." The other finally answers. Hakyeon can't tell for sure, but he could swear his teeth are bigger. "You can feel it, can't you?"

 

And Hakyeon could. Lightly, swiftly, all around his heart, like a thread made out of cashmere. A pull, magnetic attraction.

 

Hakyeon's head hit the brick wall, this time from his own initiative. He let his head go, unrevealing his smooth throat, the vital pulse.

 

Within seconds Sanghyuk is back at his throat, lips as cold as his fingertips on his hips. He can feel it even through his clothes.

 

Hakyeon is not afraid because he knows it's how it's supposed to be. His sister always said he was special, that he attracted weird people. She was right, in a way.

 

Neck rendered numb with the icy feeling of Sanghyuk's lips, Hakyeon barely feels the puncture. It's the warm, gooey substance pouring down the side of his neck that confirms the deed. Sanghyuk gives him the impression of drawing him in like never before. The threat enclosing, tightening around his heart until it's compressed and barely moving anymore. But Hakyeon feels no pain. He feels Sanghyuk's fingertips become warmer, yet not quite warm. He feels like he's awakening from a three days slumber, head clearer as ever. He realises that he'd close his eyes without noticing.

 

Sanghyuk moves in front of him. He is not wandering at his throat anymore. He's looking fixatedly at him, face to face without any lie. Hakyeon opens his eyes, dark maroon, as deep as ever, mixing, entwining, swirling with deep cold purple. He smiles, teeth pointy.

 

 

 

 

---