There is no moon tonight.

Without even the pale light of the moon to see by, all you have are the harsh, electric lights of the bus stop, light that disappears into the shadows beyond your rectangle of hope seemingly without a trace. It is pitch black as you look out onto the road, and pitch black as you look behind you at the buildings and streetlights shrouded in darkness. Darkness that swallows all light and all sound.

That is, until the sounds of a vehicle reach your ears, and the bright lights herald the approach of a large, black-and-white bus who displays the words 𝙱𝚄𝚂 𝟷𝟼 - 𝚁𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙴 𝟾𝟶 on its LED headsign. It screeches to a stop in front of you, wobbling slightly and with no small amount of noise, until it comes to a rest and the doors open as the driver announces his destination.


Did you hear that right? You look around to see the reactions of others, others that have quite suddenly appeared beside you, out of the darkness when you weren't paying attention, you assume. But many of them seem not to care, stepping up to the bus driver, who greets them with a nod. Boarding continues for a minute, then two, as some passengers disembark and others climb up the steps to take their seat on Bus 16. Finally, you are left alone again, or perhaps with another questioning figure, until the bus driver looks you right in the eye and says,

"Anywhere but here...." Was Mira's solemn answer to the drivers question. The young woman looked to be on the end of her rope, a mixture of hopelessness, fatigue and sadness sounded through her soft voice. She entered the vehicle with a heavy heart walking up the steps carefully, holding her floor length dress until she reached the top. It was a wispy off the shoulder piece in muted hues of blues and greys, Mira did not even remember putting it on. In a rather useless but elegant attempt to cover her shoulders she had wrapped herself in a crochet shawl, reminiscent of a fisherman's net.

She scanned the seats, looking for a secluded place. A good amount of passengers had excited the buss at the stop, freeing up more than enough seats for the new passengers. Too absorbed by her own thoughts Mira slowly made her way from the front to the back of the bus, not paying much attention to the other people around her. She settled on a spot near the back, close to a window, lowering herself on a surprisingly comfortable seat. As she sat down she let out a deep yet quiet breath, closing her eyes. A pained expression on her fine face.

Finally she would be leaving this place......

The copper haired girl gazed out of the window thoughtfully, her arms wrapped around her form as if she was hugging herself. She tried her best not to cry, feeling the lump at the back of her throat. Things had settled down giving her time to think......and feel. How naive she'd been to think the worst was over. How much heartbreak could she take...? And her life was far from over, years upon years were still left. It was a long way to go and she wanted to spend those years happy.

With those three words, succinctly spoken and with the feeling of "been there, done that," another wayward soul boards the bus, one of short stature, an air of casualty, and a worn, paperboy's cap, which he adjusts with a slender hand. Pulling out a few coins, which he deposits into the bus driver's outstretched palm, Ji gives the driver a brief nod before making his way to the back of the bus. Setting his only possession, a dark gray backpack, onto the seat beside him, he sighs, tipping his head back and closing his eyes for a short moment. It's good to be back.

"Life's not easy," notes the bus driver, putting the coins in a pocket and adjusting his rearview mirror to count the passengers present. Ji grins.

"You said it first," he agrees, lazily stretching out his legs and arms in a sort of pre-ride exercise, like a cat before a nap, then curling up again in his seat. "They're not going easy on me, that's for sure." The driver hums, eyes taking note of each passenger in turn.

"Well, good to have you back. You were gone for a few days, weren't you?"

"Yeah, work and life and... all that," Ji mumbles, tucking himself into his oversized hoodie like a kid in a sleeping bag. "But, I'm back now..."

The driver laughs, headcount done. He glances out the bus doors, still open, into the inky darkness on either side of the bus stop. It's quiet, besides the rumble of the engine, but he listens carefully. "True. Enjoy the ride, Ji." And then, in a clear, loud voice:

---

As the bus departs, the low, comforting purr and the steady motion of the vehicle lulls the passengers into silence, some catching z's while others read, or simply stare out the window.

Ji yawns; prepared for the long ride ahead but presently not quite sleepy enough, his attention catches on the fairy-featured, red-haired girl who stares out the window with an expression of heartbreak. Leaning over to Mira's seat, Ji taps the armrest lightly.

"Sorry to bother you, but you're a first-timer, right? I was curious," he explains, then pulls something out of his pocket. "I won't talk if you need the silence, but I was wondering if you wanted this." A handkerchief, embroidered, with gray cats and the initials J.C in the corner. Ji jerks his head towards the bus driver. "If you need anything, just tell Taeyung and he'll fix it for ya. He's good at that."

Da Bin steps out of Smokey's, letting the door slam behind her. The white plastic bag with "Smokey's 24 Convenience" printed dully on the front dangles from her elbow, jostling the ramen cups and Oreos inside. Puffing her cheeks out in minor annoyance--those doors were always so heavy--she steps aside to the bus stop, a faded sign that she likes to think was once a bright shade of blue. The bus is late again. She does not really care, because once she's home she'll be bombarded with "it's much too late for you to be out"s and "where have you been"s and "you're grounded young lady"s. Sometimes a girl just needs her Oreos, a concept which her stepfather seems to have not grasped yet. Her reflection is cut short as a bus appears in front of her, so suddenly to appear as though it wasn't traveling, but it arrived anyway. Perhaps she was thinking to deeply--yes, of course, she'd always been a daydreamer. Da Bin pushes her bangs out of her face and boards the bus, paying no attention to the route printed on the front of the bus but assuming it's the one she needs.

"Junmyeon Court please!" She chirps, giving the bus driver a cheeky smile, as though they share an old inside joke. A second passes, and her smile turns into a look of utter confusion at the sight of a male driver rather than the usual elderly lady who gives Da Bin gum.
"Erm, this is route 7, right?" She adds, peering around the bus with a sort of nervous amazement. She brushes a hair off her short checkered skirt and straightens it expectantly before turning back to the driver and mumbling "I uh, don't want to be any later than I already am…"

Mira was freed from the torment of her own mind by the unexpected kindness of a stranger. She was too fatiqued to attempt to hide her sadness, failing to manage even the slightest of smiles for the young man. Instead she opted to show her appreciation through her words, which she chose carefully. She didn't know what he meant by being a first timer, but came to learn he probably meant this being her first busride. When he handed her a handkerchief she again was touched by his kindness, so much so that tears trickled down her face quietly.

"Thank you..." Her tone was uneven and full of emotion. She dabbed at her cheeks with the handkerchief, noticing the embroidery when she lowered it. Little grey kittens with the letters J.C at the edge. Mira gathered her bearings and turned to him, shifting in her seat so she could make eye contact.

She registered his advice and kept it in the back of her mind. The one feature that stuck out the most to Mira was the paperboy's cap he was wearing. It suited him in a slightly clumsy, but charming kind of a way. The same kindness emitted from his brown slanted eyes. Mira did not feel like talking much, yet willed herself to do it anyway. To return his kind gesture.

"I must apologize, I am not having one of my best days." She began, finding strength the more she spoke.
"It's my first time on this bus yes, I got on very late because I wasn't sure where to go."

The bus driver, at Da Bin's entrance and following question, raises an eyebrow. Ji, likewise, leans forward, to better catch a glimpse of the new arrival.

"This is Route 80, not route 7," the driver responds, neither harshly nor gently, but with a sense of expectation, hands ever ready on the wheel, engine ever thrumming. "But if I were to wager a guess, I don't think she's coming. And," he adds, tilting his head to look out behind her into the electric light of the convenience store and, seeing no one, looks back. "—it's dangerous for a girl like yourself to be out here all alone. You say you're from Junmyeon Court? I can make a stop there, if you'd like."

Here, his eyes soften just slightly, brought on by a fading memory, and he nods, as if to someone beside Da Bin, or behind her. The parking lot is empty, filled with dim electric lights.

"It's not in my nature to leave people alone. But the choice is yours."

After getting his look at Da Bin, Ji slowly returns to his own conversation, no longer glancing at the girl like a cat who's seen a bird and is intent on finding out what it tastes like. Curiosity comes quickly and easily to Ji, and leaves in the same fashion.

"You sure you don't need anything else?" He questions Mira, worried upon seeing the tears reappear on her face. "Take it easy, okay? We're all... well, this bus doesn't come for everyone. Maybe you can take something from it. Just a thought." Ji gives her a small smile, hoping it serves as a small encouragement for the obviously-in-distress passenger. It gives him memories of his own checkered past, of the days when he was struggling for a place to call home, and a passion to live for. Much has changed, he thinks, and yet nothing has changed. Ji gives a wry smile to that thought and moves on, keeping a compassionate eye on Mira (and his handkerchief) as the night wears on around them.

Perhaps a passenger or two boards the bus, so quietly that they almost slip the mind. At the very least, the bus driver delivers a bag of unknown contents to an employee that approaches the bus, who thanks him, hands him a pack of cigarettes, and disappears back into the sterile silence of the shop. The exchange is routine, at least to Ji and any other regular, and yet mysterious, because no one has ever seen what the bus driver is exchanging for his cigarettes.

But perhaps it is nothing, and it is the night that fools us into thinking otherwise.