Stops Along the Way
Lee Donghae falls in love every morning on the subway.
He is always the first person to board, his small hometown on the outskirts of the city being the first of the subway’s many stops. Being first has its simple pleasures; Donghae can choose whichever seat he wants to sit in without having to fight the crowds of rush hour. This always gives him a sense of freedom, so he sits at a new spot every morning, basking in the thrill of the different seat, different view, different perspective. There’s also the quiet atmosphere. With no other noise than the familiar whir of machinery nearly lulling him back to sleep, Donghae likes to rest his forehead on the cool windows and watch as his breath fogs up the glass before reaching out to create filmy worlds of stick figures and hearts and dreams.
As much as Donghae loves this part of the ride, the part for him and him alone, the best thing about the entire journey has to be the people. In a place where the general public barely gives each other a first glance, much less a second one, Donghae finds the most interesting people.
At the second stop, after Donghae’s drawings have disappeared, people start trickling in. There’s a professional looking man in a suit with a briefcase and a fancy smartphone in hand. With his neatly combed hair and shiny leather shoes, many would think him to be a serious businessman, but Donghae knows better. Having seen the screen of the man’s phone, Donghae knows those frowns are not from business deals gone wrong, but rather from frustration at the inability to reach the next level of the game.
The first time Donghae leans over to give advice on how to beat the boss of that level, he is met with a furrowed brow and a snarky remark about nosy high school kids. So Donghae sits back in his seat and tries again the next day. And the next. And the next. One morning, he is finally rewarded with a true smile, one full of affection and a slight awkwardness, as though the facial expression is an alien sensation to the other. Donghae’s pulse flutters a little, and without even knowing the other man’s name, Donghae gives him a piece of his heart.
After the third stop, most of the seats are filled. There’s this girl, a first year from a different school than his, who usually sits next to him. She has sparkling eyes that get smaller when she flashes a smile that is the sun of Donghae’s morning. Her dazzling disposition and cute actions drew Donghae in, but it is the undercurrent of her personality, a hint of something more, that keeps him there.
He finds out what that spark is one day. I’m in love, she tells him hesitantly, a far cry from her usual outgoing self. I’m in love with another girl and I don’t know what to do. Confess to her, Donghae says, because he firmly believes it’s wrong to keep such a beautiful emotion pent up. She looks doubtful still, so Donghae brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. Pulling her in closer, he presses a chaste kiss on her forehead and says, there’s nothing wrong with loving. She giggles a little and murmurs a thanks as they arrive at her stop, waving as she gets off. Donghae waves back, a fond smile on his face as he watches her walk away with another piece of his heart.
By the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh stop, many people don’t have seats or even a pole to hang on to, and every morning, Donghae gives up his seat for one of the unfortunate many. It changes from day to day, but Donghae can recognize most of them. There’s the old man with a basket of pork buns to sell, something Donghae always happily assists him with (see? His loudness does have its uses sometimes). There’s also a pretty pregnant lady who always teases Donghae about his grand dreams of a married life as he paints worlds with her three year old son in the limited space they have. Recently, there’s been a blonde man with a dimpled smile who fascinates Donghae with his ability to talk and talk and talk (after two days, Donghae knows enough about the man to write a biography). All these people, as small as their part may be in his life, Donghae knows that he loves them, all of them, just a little.
There’s nothing special about the subway, or so his friends, his family, the world tell him; Donghae likes to believe otherwise, and they in turn call him a dreamer, an idealist, a romantic. But Donghae begs to differ. He can see the harsh realities of the world, see what people can do to each other, see how hate brews and ferments. It’s just that Donghae tries to do something about it. So he gives away small pieces of his heart because he figures that the world needs more love, even if it’s just a little bit. And he sees no harm in this, especially when some people need the love more than he does. Sometimes, though, Donghae wonders what it would be like to love someone so much that he’d be willing to give the person his whole heart.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Donghae apologizes, bowing slightly to the person he bumps into as they both try to go through the door at the same time.
“No, it was my fault. After you.”
Donghae pauses for a bit once he is off the subway and looks back. A flash of red, a brush of leather, a jingling of chains, a gummy smile- and he is gone. Donghae turns back around and absently puts a hand over his heart. He heads towards school, chest feeling lighter than usual.
mso-fareast-font-family:PMingLiU;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:ZH-TW;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">Lee Donghae falls in love every morning on the subway. But today is the first time he falls in love off of it.