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“The least you can do is pick me up!”
“Such a shame. The latest episode of my favourite series is airing.”
Oh, this little—
“Your brother should have eaten you in the womb.”
The man's laughter, the bastard Jade, echoes through the call.
“Not my fault you fell asleep. Have fun waiting, Azul.”
With that, the line goes silent and the call ends. He presses his glasses up his nose and breathes out his frustration.
Okay, don’t panic.
Anyone can accidentally sleep past their train stop. Azul just needs to check when the next one shows up.
In… Fifteen minutes? For God's sake, in this weather? It’s the dead of winter, in the middle of the damn night. What if it doesn’t show up? What if he’s stranded here? What if—No, no, no need to panic. He has a warm scarf bundled around his shoulders, a nice jacket, and a pair of gloves. Even with the cold biting into him, he’ll survive the wait.
Well, if someone doesn’t show up and kidnap him first at this rate. The station is utterly empty, practically abandoned with how desolate it is. As if the moment he stepped off that train, he had crossed that line past the tangible, into the corporeal. A slice of reality cut away from the confines of time. A single piece of a shattered mirror—not a soul in sight.
Rubbing at the sides of his arms, the cold begins to settle in. The tip of his nose reddened already, Azul mutters out a few curse words under his breath. This could have all been avoided if he had just driven to the location as planned from the start, but no, there had been a warning for black ice on the freeway. The last thing he needed on a day like this was to somehow get himself killed in a car crash. He had worked hard enough to land the meeting in the first place.
Only for them to be unimpressed with his vision.
“Pretty cold, isn’t it?”
The soft voice of a man down the platform slices cleanly through his thoughts, dragging him back into the moment. Azul snaps his head in the direction it came from, wound a bit too tightly as he feels the muscles in his neck pull just a bit achingly. It's what he gets for sleeping on the train of all places.
“The doors to the station are locked, you can't go inside anywhere, or even get out of this place.” The man sits on a bench beneath one of the few lights lining their side of the platform. Golden skin and choppy white hair, akin to spider silk, he’s hardly dressed for the weather with nothing but a thin jacket covering his shoulders.
How did I not notice him to begin with?
“How did you get here then?” He questions, moving towards the boy sitting on the bench by a few steps. The distinct clack of his shoes echoe off the cold, barren walls of the station. From this distance, Azul can note a warm flush on the man's cheeks, clearly from sitting out in the cold a bit too long.
“An accident?” The boy giggles, a nervous tension wrung in his laughter.
“An accident ?”
“It’s my first time on the train. I may have… Gotten lost.” The smile on his lips quickly turns sheepish.
This guy can’t be serious…
“You’re telling a stranger in the middle of the night that you’ve never used the train before and that you’re lost?” The boy opens his lips to speak, but Azul doesn't let him. “Do you lack self-preservation skills?”
With that final comment, the stranger droops, as if he’s some sort of kicked puppy. His eyes find the floor, and his posture sags. Still, somehow, he smiles. As if it's permanently etched onto his lips—sewn in. Even if it's only meant to be seen by himself.
Maybe I was a bit too harsh.
Azul takes in a deep breath, sitting himself down on the opposite end of the bench. The metal is cold, even through his pants, but the train will come soon enough. An apology lingers on the tip of his tongue, but it doesn’t make it very far before the man speaks again.
“Rough day?”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry! You just seem a bit stressed. And well, you’re dressed pretty fancy too. So… Rough day at work?” Somehow, this boy bounces back in an instant. As if he weren’t just scolded, and called incompetent to some degree. How commendable.
Azul weighs the importance of the following conversation, deciding whether or not it’s worth his energy. There's nothing to be gained… But there is also nothing to be lost. He’ll likely never see this man again, however, a conversation to pass the time can't hurt.
“I suppose you could say that. I run a restaurant.” Oh, but that's hardly where his dreams end. His ambitions lay in a sector of the world deemed unreachable to most. All he needs to do is grasp them with his own two hands, one slow step at a time. His personal retribution for those who mocked and teased every fibre of his being all throughout his school years. But with the meeting today, he feels it all slip further and further out of his grasp. “I have a partnership that I’ve been discussing with a large company. You know, themed cafes and such?”
“Wow! You’re someone pretty important, aren't you?” The boy gleams at him, and for a moment, it's enough to forget just how cold it is. Even under such a dingy light, there’s an indescribable, ephemeral shine about him.
“Not quite. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be going that well.” So many graphs and data sets he curated. All the infographics and the presentation he practised until he could recite it in his sleep. All for nothing.
It's all falling apart.
“Oh… Sorry about that. I’m sure that they’re missing out.”
“Nothing for you to apologise for.”
“But…!” He chews his bottom lip, searching for the right words. “Money really does make the world turn, huh?” Still, something about his tone seems oddly apologetic. As if he were responsible for Azuls misfortune.
“Who says I also didn’t want the money?” Azul chides, watching the man’s face hastily shift into confusion, by much of his own amusement. “I’m a business owner too. However, I do cherish my clientele as people.” Mostly.
“See? Not just money.” Oh, how naive. “You’ll just land an even better deal. I just know it.”
The next one… Of course, there will always be another opportunity that’ll show itself. He has never been one to sit around and wait, festering in his own failures. Je has to admit though, today left him wanting to escape. Just for a moment to rest his mind. However, the world will always turn, even while he sleeps. This few minutes here is all he’ll allow himself.
The boy next to him sneezes, something small and cute, before sniffling and pulling his hand out of his pocket to rub at his nose. His fingers are beautifully adorned in gold rings, the subtle clang of bracelets on his wrist making themselves heard beneath the thin sleeve of his coat. He’ll get sick at this rate.
“Are you taking the next train back?” It's hardly Azul’s place to question, but he does so anyway.
And, perhaps, he shouldn’t have. For a moment, he’s met with a resounding silence, quieter than the whistle of the cold winter wind against bleak concrete. Quieter than the sound of his own breaths, forming into warm puffs once they pass through his lips. The expression on the boy's face is perplexing. There’s something odd tugging away at his red eyes; yearning, melancholy, remorse, or something along those lines—and a smile that doesn’t quite reach them.
“No, not the next one.” He settles, as if he had been actively debating the decision. And honestly… Quite a ridiculous conclusion if Azul has any say in the matter.
“Why not? It's freezing out here. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that you’re barely dressed for the weather.” He gestures out a hand to the boy’s outfit, fabric far too thin for anyone in their right mind to wear in the negatives.
There’s another one of those beats of silence, before the man begins to softly giggle.
“What?”
“You sound just like someone I know!”
“I’m sure that person has their head screwed on right then.”
“Oh, definitely. I don't know a person smarter than he is.” The smile on the boy's lips shifts once more, wistful in nature—nostalgic. As if he’s speaking a silent wish for no one to hear, reminiscing on something out of reach. Memories that he cherishes like no other.
Azul has a few of those, scattered far and sweetly between. Late nights with his mother in the kitchen, learning new recipes. Watching her plan menus for her own diner. A dream he took on in his own heart as he aged. Memories he deflects back to on days that wear him particularly thin and weary. The taste of his mother’s cooking and the scent of her clothes lingers in the back of his mind, along with a visit home that is far overdue.
“You still haven’t answered why .” Azul waves off his own thoughts, his own homesickness. Now is hardly the time.
“I’m…” Hesitance. The boy holds his tongue for a moment before eventually caving. “I’m on the run!”
Not… What I was expecting.
“From who?”
“Family.”
“Are you not an adult?”
“I am! I just—” He pauses again, brows pulling together, taut. And finally, he frowns. He frowns, and his gaze slowly shifts up, the moon nowhere in sight. It's a black night. No clouds above, no whistle of the wind, hollowed out and bare—the world spun on its axis, the sky peeled up and pulled apart from zenith to nadir, torn away by the fringes gently—until all that remains is this train station, and a pair of dreamers. “They expect a lot from me.
“They want me to take over the family business. Nothing new but, they’ve gotten really excited these days.” He sighs longingly, shoving his now red tipped fingers back into his pockets. “Making official announcements and things like that.”
“Do you not want to?” It seems like the simplest, most obvious answer. Cliche even, ripped from the spine of a children's novel.
“No, it's not that.” It doesn’t take long before his hand leaves his pocket again, beginning to fiddle with his large, dangling earring.
“Afraid then?”
“Mmm, not exactly.”
“Are you honestly making me play a guessing game right now?” Perhaps, it's the annoyance that tinges Azul’s tone, or the pointed way his eyes begin to pin the man down which inevitably drags the answer out of the platinum blonde, sputtering it out as if he were shoved into a confessional.
“Okay, okay!” He shakes his head fervently, his lips curling upwards once more, bittersweet. “It’s just that, well, I know I’m not the best person to run the business.”
It's all too familiar, that sense of inferiority. Eating away at him, as if he’s nothing but feed at the bottom of the ocean—rot. Worthless .
"And who told you that?"
The hand by his earring pauses, if only for a split second. An extra moment of breadth to choose his words carefully. "No one. No one said that." He's a horrible liar.
Is it pity which brews in the pit of Azul’s stomach? Filling up and up until it reaches the brim, until he can taste it in his mouth—familiar. A past of his own that constantly re-weaves itself in his mind like a broken spindle. Clotho herself spinning together all that ambition, anger, and resentment into thread, woven into fabric as thin as silk, dyed with insecurity. So shiny, yet oh so delicate—mere child’s play to tear apart.
He has no room to feel pity for this one, random stranger he’s met. And still, he does. That soft part of him that he’s never quite been able to smother away. The smallest of flames in the vast ocean, still barely holding onto the frayed embers of itself.
Maybe it's empathy. That chalky, familiar taste being nothing more than an echo of who he once was—now in tatters. Unsalvageable scraps that drift atop the salty sea.
He reminds me of myself.
“I want to prove myself, I really do.” The boy speaks again, and Azul simply lends his ear. “But, I don't know how to start all on my own.” It's probably the cold, or perhaps that innate sense to hide when spilling one’s guts out that has the silver haired boy pulling his feet up onto the bench, just to wrap his arms around his legs. Both hands exposed, he forms them into fists to keep at least the tips of his fingers warm. "I have a friend who's always helped me, but… We're not on the best terms right now."
Azul isn’t quite sure what to say. He’s hardly had enough people confide in him. So, to say his skills in this area are rather underdeveloped … Instead, he waits.
“Ah, not that it matters anyways.” The man breathes out slowly, grinning as if there's an audience. A smile that no longer means anything—a hidden maw that lulls into deceiving comfort. “I’ll probably just be the figurehead or something.”
Azul doesn’t quite understand everything. Too many scattered bits—a picture left incomplete. Like splattered stars against the sky that haven't been mapped, strung into a constellation, and given a name. But slowly, it begins to form in his gloved hands. It spins together ambiguously, with half-whispered confessions and warmth that seeps into his heart.
“Well, if you think of yourself in that way, then sure.” Azul stands from his spot on the bench, taking a few short steps until he’s standing right before the boy. He peels off his scarf, warm and fluffy, leaning forward to carefully swaddle it around the man's neck. The blonde practically drowns in it—but his wide, ruby eyes peer up at Azul curiously. “You don’t need anyone else, I promise you.”
“But… I don't know how to do anything. Even you're helping me right now.”
This is an act of kindness he hardly extends to others. He always weighs his promises on a scale, dropping coins into each pan, tipping them from one side to the other with terms and misleading words until they lean favourably towards him. A trait of his that's managed to get hi, this far, close enough to creating a second location for his restaurant—clambering his way up to where he is now.
He could offer his assistance. Everything he knows, all the time he’s spent in school cramming and working on projects. But, for what? For who? A stranger he’s just met? No matter how oddly endearing this boy may be, it’s likely a bad investment of his time.
Be realistic, Azul.
“It's freezing. If you aren't taking the next train then just keep this for now.” The offer dies on his tongue, and he sucks in a deep breath, cold and frigid enough to sting. “If you really want to be acknowledged, you’ll find a way to achieve it.”
“And, if I do something wrong?” The boy looks to Azul as if he knows the answer to every single question he’s laid awake at night mulling over. “I can never tell when people are just using me.”
“It comes with the job.” He can’t stop himself from chuckling, reminded of the sinkholes he’s found himself in before because of it. “You just need to find people you can trust. You’re a bit naive, but it's nothing you can't work on.”
“You and him really are similar…” The man murmurs, muffled by the scarf now wrapped around him. His gaze dies out, lacklustre and distant, and in the moment, it feels as though the world has suddenly crept out of orbit—only for it to snap right back into place. “Can I get your phone number?”
.
.
.
“What?”
“Hm?” The confusion returns to his eyes, perplexed for a short second before he’s panicking. “Oh! No, no, I mean—I just want to return your scarf some time! And, and—I should have said that better, huh…?”
Azul isn’t sure whether to sigh, or laugh. So he merely smiles, holding his hand out for the man’s phone. Hastily, the blonde digs into his pocket to procure it, fingers practically frozen over and jittery. Then, he unlocks the device, opens the app, and places it in Azul’s hand.
Is this a… Designer phone case? What brand might this be from again…?
Whatever, now isn’t the time to question that. Azul pulls his gloves off, typing in his number and name before saving the contact, handing it back over. The man takes it delicately between his hands again, staring at the name for a moment before glancing up with a grin.
“I just realised that I never got your name.” He reads it over again. “ Azul… It's a pretty name. I think it suits you.”
It's simple flattery, but it has him swallowing thickly, questioning whether it really is the cold leading to the flush on his cheeks.
“You never even asked. Honestly, you’re too trusting for your own good.” Azul scolds. “Sharing all of this with a stranger? What goes through your head?”
“Hmmm… Not a whole lot—Ow!” He reaches up to rub at his forehead where Azul had flicked him, but giggles. “What was that for?”
“Enough thinking like that. It won't get you anywhere.” Azul grips his gloves, grabbing one of the boy's hands. They’re soft, perfectly manicured, but they’re freezing. He can finally get a good look at the rings decorating his fingers, all etched and beautifully crafted. All gold . He doesn’t dawdle on it too long, pulling his gloves over the boy's hands. “And since you refuse to take the next train, just remember that there aren’t too many more until they stop for the night.”
The man nods, staring up at Azul with a question just begging to spill from his lips.
“What is it?”
“You… Never asked what my name is.”
“Alright. What’s your name?”
His lips open to speak, but the wind finally whirs again as the train tugs into the station. It screeches along the tracks, and if the boy had even muttered his name, Azul didn’t catch it. He assumes the blonde didn’t, as his lips close just about as fast as they opened.
“You’re really staying here?” He questions one, final time.
“Just one more.” The boy breathes out slowly, “I just need a little more time.”
The moment has come to a close—people will part like stories will end. However, calling this the end is quite cynical. With the few minutes he’s gotten to know this guy, he’ll likely message Azul the moment he gets on that train.
“Then, good luck, I suppose.”
The doors to the train pull open, the light from within spilling out onto the platform. It's significantly brighter than the pathetic fluorescents they’d been sitting under, and it hits the boy in a way Azul can only describe as perfect—as if the blonde was made to be adored in the sunlight.
Azul shakes off the thought, turning and stepping into the train—into the warmth again—only for the boy to call out to him one final time.
“You’ll land a better deal!” He reassures, “I know you will! You’re amazing!”
Azul pauses for a moment as the words settle in again, like honey seeping into warm pancakes, unearthly sweet and sappy.
“Thank you.”
The doors shut.
Azul lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, moving to sit down on the nearest seat. The warmth of the cabin burns into his hands and cheeks, bringing life—and feeling—back into them.
His phone buzzes.
That was fast . He can’t help but think, but then it buzzes again. A phone call. The caller ID being that of his friend from earlier who had so generously left him stranded.
“What is it, Jade?”
“Did you hear the news?”
“No, I was busy freezing at the train station. Care to ask if I’m even on the train?”
He laughs, “Are you on the train, Azul?”
“Whatever.” He frowns, “What's the news?”
“The company we were partnering with. They announced earlier that the CEO is stepping down soon. Something about his son taking his place.”
…?
“Send me the article, would you?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”
It takes a second before it arrives in his messages, and he clicks on it, skimming the contents until he happens upon a picture.
A picture of the CEO’s son.
The boy from mere moments ago.
“Kalim al Asim. That's his name, apparently.” Jade continues to say. “Never heard of him before this.”
In Azul’s left hand lies a lock.
“He… He has my scarf.”
“What?”
And in the right lies a key.
“He has my scarf… and my gloves. Do you know what this means?”
“That you’ve finally lost it?”
“This is it! This is exactly what we need to get the partnership moving.”
A mutual partnership. A perfect way for Kalim to prove himself, and exactly what Azul needs to get himself out of this dastardly situation. Just what he needs to boost his business.
He presses the key into the hole, and everything clicks into place.
“I can never tell when people are just using me.”
It all… clicks into place?
A message comes up on his phone, an unknown number. His heart sinks.
Does he dare turn the key?