Gaze

I love listening to music at the highest safe volume while travelling. Somehow, it always feels different on the road. I don’t care about the language or the genre—I just let the songs wash over me and feel them. Thanks to the student discount, I had a premium Spotify account, which honestly felt like a small luxury.

The moment I hit play, a romantic track from Dear Comrade filled my ears.

It only deepened the mood I was already in. And that wasn’t good. My thoughts began to wander into dangerous territory—soft, dreamy, reckless. Just then, my earphones beeped, pulling me back to reality. It was a message from my mom. She always knew exactly when I would arrive, yet still asked.

“When will you reach the station?”

I replied, “If there’s no delay, half past eight.”

I paused the music and switched back to Netflix. But every time a scene edged toward something steamy, I became suddenly aware of where I was. I shifted slightly, careful not to draw attention.

Still… I felt someone watching me.

I looked up.

It was him.

This time, our eyes held longer. Much longer. It felt like a quiet conversation—unspoken, but vivid. His eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, deep in a way that made my chest tighten. They sent butterflies racing through me, and I felt warmth rise to my cheeks. I must have been blushing, because he smiled.

And that smile made his eyes glow.

I hadn’t known eyes could be so captivating.

As our gaze lingered, our feet brushed lightly. Just a touch—but it sent a current through me. The air between us seemed charged. With every second, the heat inside me grew, even though cold wind rushed through the train.

Then the girl sitting beside me broke the spell.

She asked if I could plug in her phone charger since I was sitting near the socket. I agreed and helped her, but it quickly became a mistake. Once her phone was charging, she kept talking—asking question after question. I wasn’t good at creating awkwardness, so I answered politely, even when it meant revealing more about myself than I wanted.

All the while, I felt his attention on me.

I couldn’t see him, but I could feel it—like his ears were tuned to every word. Maybe it was just because I found him attractive, but his quiet curiosity felt more charming than intrusive.

Two hours later, my home station finally arrived. Relief washed over me. I gathered my bags and stood up. My eyes found him again.

He was still seated.

This was the second-last stop, so I guessed he would get down at the next one. Then why did my chest feel so heavy? Should I ask his name? Would that seem strange? What would he think of me?

Too many thoughts crowded my mind.

All I really wanted was for our gaze to last just a little longer.

Slowly, I walked toward the door.

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