Aria stood near the door, gripping the rail, unsure of what to make of the bizarre scene unfolding before her. The moment she stepped onto the bus, she noticed the passengers weren't behaving like normal commuters. No one was reading a book, checking their phone, or even nodding off. Instead, they were all sitting perfectly still, eyes locked on the driver, as if he was about to announce the secret to life.
She blinked a few times, thinking she might be imagining it. But no, the stares were real. It was as if the driver had just won an Oscar, and everyone was waiting for his acceptance speech.
Aria felt a little out of place, but she didn't want to be the weirdo standing by the door, so she tried to find an empty seat. As she moved down the aisle, she noticed a child sitting by the window, a broken leg in a cast, staring at the driver like he was the second coming of a superhero. The kid's eyes were wide with admiration, as if the driver was some kind of leader leading them into a new era. Aria stifled a giggle—was the kid waiting for the driver to deliver a motivational speech, or was this just how people here treated bus rides?
Despite the weirdness, Aria suddenly realized that the cold she had been feeling when she first got on had completely vanished. It wasn't that the bus had magically warmed up, though—it was the strange, almost hypnotic atmosphere that had completely distracted her. The weirdness was so thick, she felt like she was wrapped in a blanket of confusion, and she wasn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned.
As she looked across the aisle, her eyes landed on a guy with a poker face sitting just a few rows away. He was as still as the rest of them, but his expression was less like a follower of the bus driver cult and more like someone who had just discovered that all buses had a "no talking" policy. His lack of reaction was almost funny, like he was trying to act normal, but the whole situation was too ridiculous to ignore.
Aria tried to shake off the feeling, but she couldn't help wondering if she'd accidentally boarded the bus to a strange new reality where bus rides had become a sacred ritual.
Aria glanced down the aisle, her eyes scanning the bus for an empty seat. But as expected, there were none.
Resigned, she gripped the rail tightly and steadied herself as the bus jolted forward. The warmth of the bus did little to thaw the cold unease in her chest. She glanced around, observing the passengers who remained eerily silent, their faces blank as they stared straight ahead.
A boy was sitting near the middle, his poker face standing out amidst the subdued expressions of the others. Unlike the rest, who seemed either annoyed or indifferent, he looked... calm. Almost detached, as if he didn't belong to the scene unfolding around him.
Aria shifted her weight uncomfortably, the sway of the bus making it harder to stay balanced. Just then, the boy glanced in her direction, his dark eyes locking with hers for a moment. He didn't say anything, didn't even smile, but something in his gaze felt deliberate—like he'd noticed more about her than she was comfortable with.
Before she could look away, he stood up. Without a word, he stepped into the aisle and gestured toward his seat.
"You can sit here," he said, his voice steady and devoid of emotion.
Aria blinked, taken aback by the sudden gesture. "What about you?" she asked hesitantly.
"I'll stand," he replied simply, gripping the rail as if it were a natural choice.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, muttering a soft, "Thanks," before sliding into the seat. It was still warm from where he'd been sitting, but the thought of him standing just to give her his spot left her feeling oddly self-conscious.
As she settled in, she glanced up at him again. He was standing perfectly still, his hand gripping the rail with the same detached air he'd had while sitting. He didn't look at her, his gaze instead fixed out the window, as if the world outside held answers only he could see.
Aria couldn't help but wonder who he was—and why he felt so different from everyone else on this bus.
There was an unusual silence among the passengers on the bus. It wasn't uncomfortable, though—it felt warm, almost calming, to Aria.
There was something unsettling about them, something different. They seemed as dark and empty as a moonless night in late December, as cold as the harshest winter frost.
Yet, she wasn't scared.
She broke the silence, her voice hesitant but curious. "What is it you're looking at out of the window?"
His reply came after a moment, curt and distant. "Sky."
Aria tilted her head, surprised by the simplicity of his answer. Yet, the way he said it—like there was more to it than just the word—made her wonder.
"What about the sky?" she pressed, her curiosity growing.
For the first time, he shifted his gaze from the window to meet hers. His eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to study her for a moment before he spoke.
"It's vast. Free. Unlike anything else."
Aria, feeling a little more drawn into the conversation, furrowed her brows. "Vast and free?" she repeated, trying to understand what he meant. "You mean like... it's empty?"
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze returning to the window. For a moment, Aria thought he wasn't going to speak at all. Then, quietly, he said, "Sometimes, empty is better than full."
Aria blinked, trying to process his words. She paused, then remembered her manners.
"Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Aria Reyes," she said, offering a small, uncertain smile.
"Vali Lamfree," he replied.