Some strangers might become your friends, or even confidants.

It all started when Hyukjae started taking a different bus to his relative’s house on Thursdays.

The late bus was rarely crowded, and Hyukjae had taken a liking to the second last row from the back, on the left side of the bus. It was always too dark to see anything but his reflection outside of the window, but the bus driver left the lights at the back half of the bus off, and he found the darkness comforting. The lights at the front half would turn on when people were getting on and off, but otherwise left the entire interior satisfyingly dark. The constant changes in light were annoying at first, but Hyukjae quickly adapted and was happy with spacing out and listening to music for the half hour ride.

He hadn’t intended to speak to anybody; much less a stranger, but the brunette hadn’t exactly given him a choice.

Donghae had taken one look at him and decided that he was approachable and therefore his new bus buddy – or so he’d said during his rapid-fire introduction. Hyukjae doesn’t talk much, but Donghae doesn’t mind. He’d spend the ride talking about his day, his past, his plans, his thoughts – anything that came to mind. Hyukjae’s irritation at being unable to listen to music without being rude slowly faded with each conversation, and before he knew it he was already removing his headphones when Donghae entered the bus at the stop after his.

Donghae likes to talk. Hyukjae likes to listen and understand.

Donghae has an older brother, mother and grandfather. His father and grandmother have both died – the former when he was fifteen, the latter when he was eleven. Donghae is now nineteen and still lives with his mother. His brother is living on campus at a different university but still visits occasionally.

Donghae likes seafood but hates sweets. His mother still gives him little Japanese sweets when her co-worker feels like surprising her, and Donghae now gives them to Hyukjae. Hyukjae rarely has anything to give in return, but Donghae doesn’t mind.

Donghae comes from a rich family and has been to more places than Hyukjae can count on all of his fingers and toes, but less than the number of bones in his body. Hyukjae’s pretty certain of that, anyway. He likes learning languages, and aims to become a translator for Japanese, Korean and French. Hyukjae thinks that the mix of languages has fried his brain a little, but sometimes the intellect behind Donghae’s thoughts leaves him speechless in the one language he knows.

Donghae doesn’t have the same ambition and studious nature that Hyukjae has, but his passion lies in people rather than chemicals, numbers and the physical makeup of people. Hyukjae sometimes tells him about the varied risks of the behaviour he sees around him – drinking coffee, smoking, drinking alcohol – and Donghae will see him a week later with a proud smile as he tells him what he’s stopped doing. Hyukjae likes that Donghae listens to him when he does speak.

Donghae is openly biual. His mother doesn’t care, but in the accepting way rather than the dismissive way, Donghae tells him. He’s dated several people throughout high school and first year uni, but his workload has discouraged him from dating for the time being. Hyukjae thinks that Donghae can tell more about him even when he’s not speaking, because the knowing glint that appeared in his eyes when Hyukjae listened to him talk about his uality makes him nervous, yet not afraid.

Sometimes Donghae says nothing at all. He’ll sit down heavily beside him, sigh and then rest his head on Hyukjae’s shoulder. Hyukjae likes to think that their routine is swapped at these times, and Donghae is listening to him instead. Hyukjae will talk about the books he’s read, the artists he’s listening to, the things he’s studying, and Donghae’s shoulders will progressively lose their rigidity.

Hyukjae likes to speak in lyrics. He’ll have a song come into his head, and he’ll say the words softly to Donghae, speaking smoothly even when the words should be awkward or not spoken at all.

Donghae’s developed the habit of playing with Hyukjae’s hands. It doesn’t matter who’s talking – Donghae will take Hyukjae’s right hand between his own, and play with his fingers, twist his thick silver ring around his middle finger because it’s the only one it’ll fit on, rotate his wrist by the palm as Hyukjae describes pronation and supination, and tap his fingers along his knuckles to a song in his own head. Hyukjae admires the shape of his fingernails and wonders when they’d stopped being strangers, and what they were now. Friends see each other more than thirty minutes a week, and Donghae knows nothing about him. Not really.

Donghae doesn’t like when the lights turn on so abruptly. He flinches and then smiles at his reaction, usually turning to watch Hyukjae until the lights turn out again. He says he likes seeing Hyukjae’s reflection in the window, and Hyukjae thinks he’s crazy.

Sometimes Donghae’s mother takes him home and he doesn’t take the bus. Hyukjae’s personality deems that he should relish in these moments, being able to listen to music and drift off, but his mind is used to being active at this time – absorbing everything that is Donghae, and focusing on one thing instead of the usual dozens.

Hyukjae decides that it’s okay to open up to Donghae one May, when the bus is empty and Donghae is quieter than usual. He tells him that his left leg has a steel rod in it from when someone on the other team dove into him during soccer. He’d been in crutches for the last part of year twelve, and had been subjected to more ual jokes than he wanted to recall. He lives with his aunty and uncle since his parents are on a year-long cruise around the world. They’d been hesitant to go, of course, but Hyukjae wanted them to be happy and see what he had plenty of time to see later. Donghae tells him that he admires Hyukjae for this, and Hyukjae doesn’t see what there is to admire.

Hyukjae describes his aunty and uncle as nice enough people, but a little distant, like they don’t know what to do with him. Sometimes they look at him in a suspicious way, with something in the depths of their eyes that makes Hyukjae feel cold from the inside out. Hyukjae has a feeling that he knows what it is, but he’s not ready to talk about it yet. Hyukjae’s not sure, but he thinks Donghae might know too.

Donghae doesn’t have many classes on Thursdays, so his bag is always light. Hyukjae’s might as well be add