It's Just Another Story

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It is cold out – the streets lit by a suffocating haze of flickering light, trembling with the curious glances of passing strangers. Kyungsoo shuffles down the sidewalk quietly, eyes fixated on the dusty concrete disappearing beneath his scuffed converses, numb fingers tucked deep inside his coat – the angels on Winter heavy on his heels. He breathes lightly into his scarf and the sudden warmth wraps itself into the tightly knit wool and clings onto his frost speckled cheeks. It is a quarter-past-ten – the lonely rumble of traffic in the near distance eases Kyungsoo in the silence of his own presence. His heels clack against the cement and he clears his mind of today. The cold presses its numb fingers against his temples and Kyungsoo finds himself empty. He doesn’t think about the promotion he’s just received at work – be it only a small promotion, yet he’d worked hard to receive it. He doesn’t think about the friendly night at the bar with his friends, trying so desperately to convince them to take a taxi home instead of driving – he’d managed to persuade them in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t think about tonight’s dinner, or whether he’ll be too tired to cook when he gets home after the train ride. His mind is clear.

A sudden blinding light catches him off guard. He jumps and the toe of his shoe digs into a raised section of pavement, causing him to crash onto his knees. His fragile hands fly out from his pockets, bruising against the hard ground in an attempt to soften the impact. His heart races, but his mind is still clear. He tries to replay the oddness of the light in his head. Something about it was unusual. Kyungsoo stumbles to his feet and dusts himself off lightly. He catches a glimpse of his white hands, stained with red scrapes and feeling the intrusion of stinging against numbness. The air around him remains cold and uninviting and Kyungsoo wonders if winters have always been this lonely. His knees ache and he bends them in an attempt of the stiffness, wincing in the process. A sudden voice catches him off guard once more.

“Had quite a fall there, I see.”

Kyungsoo turns in the direction of the voice and jumps back a few steps from the figure literally standing few inches away from him. He regains his balance and coughs on his embarrassment. He shyly nods and stares at the stranger’s attire. His heavy ebony boots are scuffed, bound endlessly with fraying red laces wound tightly around the ankles. The black-died denim of his skinnies cling tightly to his skin, clusters of tacky diamantes sparkling like stardust around the pockets. The stranger shifts the weight from his left foot onto his right and a slight chilly breeze sends ripples through his oversized, yet terribly thin tee-shirt, splayed with the words It’s hot in large bold font. Kyungsoo laughs quietly at the irony, yet he’s a little surprised that the person isn’t shivering in this weather. After all – he’s stuffed in his own warm denims, thick monochrome-grey wool coat and unattractive pea-scarf his mother knitted him several Christmases ago and he still wishes he’d brought his gloves from home.

Kyungsoo mumbles a tiny y-yeah and nods as the stranger laughs. Kyungsoo catches his eyes as he does – they’re dark, almost as black as the sky tonight. They hold a small sparkle, but Kyungsoo isn’t sure if it’s really there, or if it’s simply the reflection of the street lights. His laugh seems hollow, and Kyungsoo realises it doesn’t reach his eyes. The stranger simply stands there, letting the breeze blow his jet hair into his eyes and Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether to say something, or simply bow and leave. There’s nothing here except for a small whisper of anticipation stirring amongst the silence and Kyungsoo doesn’t know why his heart is beating so fast. The stranger smirks, his full lips turning up slightly at the corner, obviously amused by something which Kyungsoo wasn’t. The street lights flicker as the latter turns hesitantly on his heels and shuffles quietly back on route. He leaves the shadowed stranger there, eyes full of curiosity and amusement. He tries to shake the image from his mind, but it seems everything else has left and the tall stranger is the only thing that remains.

His ears are pricked for echoing footsteps trailing his, but he finds none. The curiosity itches in him and he swings around after counting his twentieth step. The street whispers empty behind him and he doesn’t know if the disappointment is from the expectation that the stranger would still be standing there, or the sudden want to see his face again. Kyungsoo scolds himself for being so stupid and runs the remainder of the way to the train station.

His cheeks are scarlet tinged when he arrives at the platform, skin tingling and palms sweating within his coat. The station is sprinkled with sleepy eyed figures – sombre-masked businessmen returning from late-night private matters, alcohol-stained teenagers, passing cigarettes through naïve fingers, and him. Big jitter nervously about the overhead fluorescent bulbs, clinging to the plastic covers and casting small shadows over the grimy tile columns. He glances at his watch, his wide eyes and pink nose reflected in the glass face. He hasn’t missed his train, luckily. Kyungsoo wonders if his mind is playing tricks on him, because to him, it definitely seemed he had spent a great deal of time exchanging silences with the stranger he’d seen met on the street. Kyungsoo wonders if he should have asked for a name. Kyungsoo wonders why he’s wondering. The train pulls in with the slightest screech of braking metal and snaps him from his thoughts. As he shuffles in alone at his end of the platform, Kyungsoo catches a glimpse of an oversized black shirt, long lean limbs and diamante encrusted jeans disappear through the train doors at the opposite end. The doors close and Kyungsoo falls into a dusty seat in the empty carriage.

It is warmer in the train and Kyungsoo is more than happy to shed the heavy grey coat from him. He straightens up his folded white shirt sleeves and breathes out heavily as he leans his head back uncomfortably against the cool metal bar, the flaking siren-red paint scratching itchy against the skin on the back of his neck. His body sinks with sudden fatigue and his back relaxes into the hard plastic of the public chair. The carriage doors suddenly slide open and Kyungsoo springs back into his surroundings. Even though his blurry vision, he can make out the unmistakeable tall figure of the mysterious stranger he’d met earlier, It’s hot t-shirt and all. The stranger jumps into a row of seats opposite him and Kyungsoo doesn’t know where to look. He can feel the heat of the stranger’s stare burning into his skin and his pretend focus on the flickering lights isn’t going to work much longer. Kyungsoo clears a small cough in his throat and faces the stranger hesitantly. He doesn’t know why the man creates so much tension in him. He doesn’t even know why he’s scared. Kyungsoo’s gaze matches with the stare the taller man is giving him and he chokes out a small h-hello. The midnight-clad stranger, feet firmly planted on the ground, shoulders hunched forward, arms leaning on his thighs, laughs. He murmurs a cocky for a second, I thought you’d forgotten me and Kyungsoo can’t put a pin on why he wants to smash the emergency stop button and run. He doesn’t know what’s holding him there either – curiosity, anticipation – holding him firmly in his seat, unwanting to move – wanting to know what the stranger will do next. The lights flicker again and Kyungsoo doesn’t remember there ever being such a problem with the lights in this carriage. The stranger suddenly moves forward and Kyungsoo instinctively reclines in his seat only to find the man simply transferring his spot in the train to the seat two away from him. Kyungsoo feels like he’s suffocating. The winter angels seem to have seeped their way underneath the metal doors and Kyungsoo feels an urge to grab his coat, curl up and pretend to sleep for the remaining portion of the ride. He can feel his chest beating loudly and he can only hope the stranger’s ears aren’t as good as his.

The strangers swallow the silence for a while. Every now and then, Kyungsoo will catch the other’s gaze and his heart starts pounding again. The stranger will laugh and Kyungsoo doesn’t understand what he could possibly find so amusing. Perhaps he was a sadist. Perhaps he knew he was making him uncomfortable, and he took so much enjoyment out of it.

“Jongin,” the stranger says out of the blue.

Kyungsoo flinches a little in his seat and gives the man a confused expression. The stranger turns to him with a pretty little smile on his sadistic face and repeats, “Kim Jongin. That’s my name.” Kyungsoo plays with his fingers for a little while before finding his voice.

“Kyungs-…” His voice trails off as he notices the other’s amused smirk. He wonders if he said something funny, but Jongin seemed the type to laugh at anything – not out of enjoyment, but for something else that Kyungsoo couldn’t quite understand. He is just about to open his mouth again when the train slows to a stop and the warning bells signal the doors opening. Kyungsoo wonders if Jongin leaves on this station, but before he realises it, his feet act on their own accord and he is standing on the platform looking back at the dark eyed man. The doors close and Kyungsoo’s mouth drops in horror as he recognises the keys Jongin is dangling in front of him. He slaps his pockets and does his best to hold in his cursing. He watches in shock as the train powers away and the evil-smiled stranger beams proudly at his work.