Chapter Text
So fucking tired. The first three words that came out from Soojin's mouth the moment she walks out from their company door. good lord. she likes getting paid, she's sure everyone does. But does anyone actually like working eight hours everyday? Doesn't seem so.
Loud car horns. Busy street. Thick smokes from big trucks. Soojin can't tolerate how messy it is to not own a car in this big year of 2025. A single vehicle is affordable now, but the thing is, she doesn't have the means.
…and probably that's why she almost jumped in joy when she received the news that their city mayor implemented free bus rides for everyone in different parts of their city, especially in her town. What makes her excited is the bus will pass by her workplace, at the exact right place.
Oh how lucky she is.
And thank god they moved out when she was twelve. The city they lived in before was now considered as the poorest city in terms of per capita—no establishments, no parks, no entertainment, lack of facilities and such. And whenever she thinks about that, they actually dodged a bullet. But it doesn't change a thing anyway, this economy is still fucked up by anyhow.
Here she is, she was even lucky to think that it would only take her twenty-five steps to get to the bus waiting station.
Soojin paused. Is lucky even the right word? Isn't this thing a must for a tax payer like her? To see where the money from the people go? Because in this economy, having a lesser evil leader is such luck. Too sad to think about that.
Everything about politics stresses Soojin. She remembered having beefs with fellow online friends. She isn't the type to pick fights, but she can't just let it slide when there's a truth beneath the lies. Soojin hates misinformation, and she pity the people that got brainwashed by it.
Soojin's thoughts got interrupted by a loud horn coming nearby, signs the IDL bus is coming. The people in the line lined up properly, some were standing from the public chair that was put near the station, some sat on the gutter, and some people were seen running heading to the station Soojin is currently standing in—technically was chasing the coming bus.
The bus stopped right in front of their line. The door opened and it revealed a guy in their mid 40s, wearing a blue, fitted guard uniform, matched with shiny shoes.
Soojin thinks it's too pleasing to see workers wearing their attire at work.
"Everyone line up!"
The guard started to assist the first passengers in the line with luggage to arrange their stuff at the bus compartment. Everyone patiently waited for their turn to hop on the bus.
While waiting, Soojin moved her backpack and wore it in front of her. She's never been a fan of backpacks and usually prefers small bags like a handy or a tote, but her job as a Procurement Manager stops her from doing that, so she needs her laptop, she can't do anything about that. Backpacks are good anyway, as she doesn't want to hold several things in her hand.
The line starts moving slowly. The senior citizens were the first ones to move and were assisted by the driver and the guard, regular passengers followed. It was Soojin's turn now to enter the vehicle. She was welcomed by a cold breeze of air coming from an air conditioner. She roamed her eyes around inside, eyed for the pair of chairs on the eighth row on the right and headed there, sitting beside the window.
Finally.
She's going home now. It's Friday and payday today. There would be a lot of people now. Soojin remembered her cat. Her cat probably misses her, she can imagine her cat making those loud meows that sounds like it's almost a part of a choir—or maybe it was just scolding Soojin for being so 'late'.
Passengers were settled in their chosen seats. There was no noise that could be heard except from the noise from a television that was mounted in front, in the aisle, where it was meant to keep the passengers entertained. Aside from that, is the faint conversation that can be heard between the driver and the guard.
Soojin likes this, and she likes it when it happens. Everyone seemed to be tired and exhausted at this hour that they were being united in silence. No one cares if you sleep with your mouth open, sometimes with dripping saliva, or if your phone accidentally fell because you were too sleepy to hold it tight. It’s just, everyone is minding their business.
Usually, Soojin puts on her earphones to listen to her jazz playlist, but this time, she decided not to. She just wanted to listen to a world inside this vehicle. She can hear somebody having a phone call in a lowest voice they can do, even a toddler asking his mom to give him a candy they bought, and of course, small chuckles from a pair of young girls who seemed to be gossiping about something funny, which Soojin finds irritating before, but that was before.
The bus slowly accelerated, and the passengers settled deeper into their seats as the city lights began to blur past the windows. Soojin decided to close her eyes for a while.
“Wooh, thanks for saving me a seat!”
Soojin got alerted, opened her eyes, and confusedly looked at where the voice came from. She looked at the once empty seat beside her that is now occupied by a fair-skinned young woman in a green t-shirt, dark grey sweatpants and a pair of black clogs. Her jet black hair that was worn down, was being tied in a low ponytail. The woman seems to be catching their breath with their subtle, heavy breaths.
The young woman looked at her for a second before letting out a relieved sigh, one hand pressed dramatically against her chest.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed out between small pants, “I thought I was about to become roadkill back there.”
Soojin blinked once.
The woman pointed a thumb behind her shoulder. “That uncle driving the motorcycle almost sent me to heaven.”
“…Congrats on surviving?” Soojin answered quietly.
That earned a laugh. A real one.
Probably not the polite one people force out during awkward conversations, you know? But that one immediately filled the small space between them. The woman leaned back against her seat, still trying to catch her breath, while Soojin sat there slightly stiff, already regretting responding at all.
The bus continued moving through the city streets. Outside the windows were glowing signs, convenience stores, motorcycles squeezing between lanes, and tired office workers crossing the street with slumped shoulders.
Inside the bus, however, it felt strangely calmer today.
The woman beside her adjusted the strap of her tote bag before finally turning properly toward Soojin.
“You looked like you saved this seat for somebody.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh.”
The woman nodded seriously, then sat more comfortably anyway.
Soojin stared at her for two whole seconds.
The audacity.
The young woman noticed the stare immediately and grinned without shame.
“You looked approachable.”
“That might be the first time someone has described me that way.”
“Ouch,” the woman muttered. “Self-damage.”
Soojin exhaled softly through her nose. Not funny. Didn’t laugh. Close enough.
The woman noticed.
Of course she noticed.
People like her always noticed things.
“My name’s Shuhua, by the way.”
Soojin hesitated for half a second before answering.
“Soojin.”
“Ohhh.” Shuhua’s eyes slightly widened. “You look like a Soojin.”
What?
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know,” Shuhua admitted immediately. “You just do.”
Soojin decided then and there that this woman was ridiculous.
Soojin thinks this one is probably the type who talked to cashiers like they were old friends. Or probably waved at strangers’ dogs on the street. One that spoke before thinking and somehow survived life anyway.
Meanwhile, Soojin carefully measured every word before speaking. Most days she preferred silence over conversation because silence never demanded energy from her.
Yet somehow, five minutes into meeting this woman, her peace had already been invaded.
Shuhua suddenly leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice dramatically.
“Can I confess something?”
Ugh. Soojin already felt tired.
“You’re going to confess it anyway.”
“You’re very smart.”
“That’s not a confession.”
Shuhua ignored that.
“I actually ran because I saw the bus moving already.”
“That’s usually why people run.”
“No, Linda, listen.” Shuhua pointed outside the window. “I was buying street food first.”
Soojin looked at her. Who’s Linda?
“You almost died for street food?”
“It was fish balls.”
“…That doesn’t make it better.”
“It does to me.”
Soojin finally laughed.
Barely.
But it happened.
And for some reason, Shuhua looked oddly victorious afterward, like she had accomplished something important.
The television mounted near the front of the bus continued playing some noisy variety show. A toddler somewhere behind them started crying because his candy fell on the floor. The guard was helping an old woman adjust her grocery bags overhead.
Life continued around them naturally.
Still, something about this conversation felt detached from everything else.
Soojin found herself observing Shuhua quietly while the other woman rambled about random things with surprising ease.
She talked with her hands a lot.
Her expressions changed every few seconds. One moment dramatic, the next playful, then suddenly sincere without warning. There was something unfiltered about her. Honest in a way that made Soojin instinctively cautious.
People who wore their emotions openly always frightened her a little bit. Because Soojin herself had become too good at hiding. Too good at smiling when she was irritated. Too good at saying “I’m fine” when her mind felt unbearably loud. Too good at swallowing words before they could turn into arguments, confessions, or anything vulnerable. Somewhere along the years, composure became less of a personality and more of a survival skill.
And maybe that was why people like this random woman unsettled her.
Because Shuhua laughed loudly when something was funny. Openly complained when she was tired. Looked annoyed when she was annoyed. Everything about her existed openly, without hesitation, like she had never learned to shrink parts of herself just to make life easier.
“Do you always stare at people this hard?”
Soojin immediately looked away toward the window.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You were analyzing me.”
“I am literally not.”
“Looks like you were deciding whether I’d survive a zombie apocalypse.”
“…You probably wouldn’t.”
Shuhua gasped loudly, and acted like something stung her heart.
“That fast?”
“You almost got hit by a motorcycle over fish balls.”
“That was one time.”
“That happened ten minutes ago.”
Shuhua collapsed dramatically against her seat, muttering about betrayal from strangers.
And weirdly enough, Soojin found herself waiting for whatever ridiculous thing would come out of her mouth next.
That realization unsettled her more than it should have.
Because usually, after work, Soojin hated noise. She hated unnecessary conversations. Hated people invading her little bubble after an exhausting day.
But today… It felt…
warm.
Annoyingly warm.
Must’ve been the wind.
The bus stopped near a crowded intersection to pick up more passengers. A few entered noisily before settling down again. One college student accidentally bumped into Shuhua’s shoulder while passing.
“Oh sorry!”
“You’re good,” Shuhua replied easily with a grin.
Soojin noticed the way she smiled at strangers naturally. Like kindness cost her nothing. She thinks this woman looks like she rarely understands how exhausting the world could be sometimes.
Yet strangely enough, Shuhua herself looked tired too.
There were faint shadows under her eyes. Her ponytail was messy, like she tied it in a hurry. Her shirt sleeves smelled faintly of smoke from street grills outside. And clogs. Her dusty, black pair of clogs.
A tired person pretending not to be tired.
Soojin understood that more than she expected.
“So what do you do?” Shuhua suddenly asked.
“Err…Procurement manager.”
Shuhua stared blankly.
“…I’m too unemployed to understand those words.”
“You’re unemployed?”
“No. I just don’t understand corporate terms.”
That made more sense.
“And you?” Soojin asked quietly.
Shuhua sat straighter immediately.
“I work at a pet café.”
Soojin’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“With cats?”
“And dogs.”
“That sounds loud.”
“It is loud.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is terrible.”
“…Then why are you smiling?”
“Because they’re cute.”
Fair enough.
The bus slowed near another stoplight. Outside, rain had started drizzling lightly against the windows, turning the city lights blurry and soft.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. A resting silence settled between them.
And somehow, that surprised both of them more than the conversation itself.
Shuhua rested her cheek against her palm and looked outside.
“You know,” she said softly, “this bus feels peaceful.”
Soojin looked at her briefly.
Then outside too.
“It does.”
And she meant it.
Maybe because everyone here was heading home.
Or maybe because for the first time in a while, the ride didn’t feel painfully long.
A few minutes later, the automated voice announced Shuhua’s stop.
“Oh,” she muttered. “That was fast.”
For some reason, Soojin silently agreed.
Shuhua stood up from her seat, fixing her tote bag over her shoulder. Then she paused before leaving.
“I’ll probably see you again,” she said casually.
Soojin almost said,
Probably not.
But the words never came out.
Because strangely enough, she thought so too.
Shuhua smiled one last time before stepping off the bus into the drizzle outside.
And just like that, the seat beside Soojin became empty again.
The silence returned.
Only this time, it felt different.
Soojin looked at the rain sliding down the glass window.
Then at the reflection of the empty seat beside her.
The ride home suddenly felt longer than before.