You stared down at your feet. The patent leather of the pumps gleamed under the bleak florescents. You could see the red tinging your skin around your heel. You let out a sigh, craning your neck back to get a look at the board. The ticker tapes blinked again and again, reading the train stations and their corresponding tracks. Your eyes trailed over the name of your desired station, accompanied with a blank square where the track number ought to have been.

You glanced at the time on your phone. Half past midnight.

The train station buzzed lowly with the sounds of the few people remaining as they strolled through the cafes and drugstores. A number of vagabonds leaned over the trashcans, waiting tiredly for a morsel to make it’s way into their grasp. You looked around, suddenly becoming aware of the vast emptiness of the waiting area. An uneasiness crept up your spine.

"Excuse me," you mumbled to the desk clerk, sitting safely behind his plexiglass, "Is there something wrong with the next train? Is it still on time?"

He half rolled his eyes, glancing at the screen, “The next train is on time. It arrives at 1:45. You can take a seat if you want.”

You bit your lip, glancing at the benches covered with the sleeping bodies of the homeless. With another sigh, you dragged yourself back to the waiting area,  standing tiredly before the sign. Your clutched onto your purse, squaring your shoulders defensively. Your eyelids fell heavily over your eyes, begging to close as your mind seemed to focus on nothing but the pain in your feet, drawing attention to each throb as it swelled from the sharp edges of your Jimmy Choos.

"Tired?"

You nearly screamed at the sudden interruption of your thoughts. Your neck turned sharply in the direction of the sound. It was a boy. He sat upon one of the benches, which he’d somehow managed to claim, situated in one of the darker corners of the train station. He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his leg as he tilted his head up to look at you.

"No." your voice shook, despite your attempt to keep composure, "Not really."

"Hmmm," he almost sang, smiling up at you, "You seem tense… Noona."

His voice was low and smooth, playful and just a little too calm. You gulped nervously and looked away, deciding not to engage any further with the stranger.

"Am I scaring you?" he pouted, "Don’t look away."

"I’m not scared." you very nearly cried.

"Good." he sighed, "Don’t be."

You hesitantly turned back to him, taking in his features more attentively. He was, indeed, a boy, no older than perhaps, nineteen. He had one of those annoyingly perfect mouths that was part pout, part smirk and he was very aware of the fact, smiling up at you as innocently as his sinful lips could manage. He wore black, from head to toe, which seemed to accentuate the porcelain quality of his pale skin. And his skin seemed even more to accentuate the darkness in his eyes, dilated, sleepy, and very obviously not natural. Your stomach churned.

"What are you doing here, noona," he breathed, leaning back, "All alone and so pretty?"

Your cheeks burned. “Nothing.” you mumbled.

"Nothing?" he laughed, the sound incredibly pure, especially in comparison to his features, "Dressed like that?"

He brought a leg up on the bench, resting his chin on his knee, “Those are some very nice shoes.”

"And that dress," you could feel his eyes trailing over every curve of your body, "Is not made for nothing."

You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide yourself from his unfaltering stare. His lip twitched at the corner, admiring the way your chin trembled.

"Was it a party? I bet it was fun, hmm?"

You shook your head, gazing around in search of another person. The station was practically barren now, save for the few baristas remaining in the open cafes, none of whom even spared a glance in your direction. The churning in your stomach grew stronger. You were, for all means and purposes, alone.

"Not a party?" he tilted his head, "Was it a dinner then?"

You nodded curtly, staring down at your feet, wishing to heaven you hadn’t dressed up at all. The boy hummed, brushing his thumb over his lip in contemplation.

"Who was it for? Your parents?"

You didn’t respond.

"Your husband?"

You pursed your lip.

"Ah," he smiled, "Your ex?"

You frowned. He giggled, leaning forward again. “So young and you’re already divorced?”

"I’d rather not talk about this." you replied sharply.

For the first time, the boy’s smile faltered. He pressed his lips together, his eyes wandering over you again.

"That’s fine." he said, although the tone of his voice clearly said otherwise.

"Actually, I don’t think we should be talking at all." you continued, gaining a new sense of confidence from his reaction, "I don’t think this is-"

"But I’m lonely, though," he whined, "You’re not going anywhere for a while, Noona. Keep me company."

You felt a chill run down your spine. You stammered, “I-I really-“

"You know, it’s a good thing he isn’t with you anymore." he smiled sleepily, "I’m sure he didn’t appreciate you."

You swallowed your words, staring at the boy in a mix of shock and fear. He leaned against the wall, his long legs stretched out before him. He was tall. Probably taller than you. With those legs, he could easily catch you if you tried to run. You caught a glimpse of his arm as the sleeve of his pullover rode up. His veins protruded from his skin, the definition of his muscle drawing attention to their shape. He closed his fist, watching them move beneath his skin with a deep fascination.

"Am I right?" he asked, not looking up.

You blinked rapidly, your eyes wandering over everything but him.

"Are you lonely too, Noona?" He looked up from beneath his lashes, calculating your expression.

You pulled a strand of hair back behind your ear, staring up at the train times blankly.

"Don’t you feel bored with it?"

You bit your lip, clutching the strap of your purse.

"I can see it," he lowered his voice just slightly, "In the way you dress. And the way you stand. And even in the way you breathe… always sighing."

You swallowed, bringing your attention back to your shoes, glaring with the reflection of the florescents.

"You’ve been really good about it, though, haven’t you?"

You hesitantly turned towards him, your heart beating erratically.

"I know you have." he smiled softly, the smirk hardly even visible beneath the rosy tint of lips, "But you don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know."
 
The board blinked and beeped above you, but your eyes remained fixed on his, his pupil taking up almost all of his iris now, his eyelids hooded with a look of lust, and just a hint of something else you couldn’t quite place. He matched your stare, leaning forward to watch you more closely.

"You can come with me if you want." he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I can take care of you."

Your eyes flitted down to his lips. He swept his tongue over the plump red flesh, the curve of the corners not faltering for a second. You imagined those lips on you, trailing along your cold skin, biting, and caressing the scarless plains of your neck and shoulders, and chest and…

"Attention," the intercom sounded from above you, "Last call for passengers on track 17. The train will depart at 1:45."

You glanced up at the board, the previously empty spot beside your train now blinking with the number “17.”

"Aren’t you curious, Noona?" the boy sang teasingly.

You looked around again, seeing no one, not even a barista, in any of the shops.  The boy stood up, brushing the dust from his jeans before stuffing his hands in his pockets. He tilted his head, his eyes shifting up and down your physique.

"He wasn’t even your husband was he?"

 The intercom came on again.

"Track 17 will depart in five minutes."

He looked up at the board, then back at you, his pupils practically shaking with excitement.

Your throat felt dry. Your legs shook. Your chest constricted. Trembling, you walked towards him, continuing down the hall. His hand s around your waist, pulling you close to his side as his fingers traced circles along your hips.

"Trust me," he breathed, his lips already attacking your neck and biting your ear, "You won’t have time to regret this."

He then broke out into laughter, the sound completely absent of any humor.