Railway stations are excellent places for the things to disappear. Not just bags. People. Faces. Evidences.
No one cares to have a good look over that body when all are in trouble hurry to reach some place or the other. Tonight the station was worse than usual. A festival had swallowed the city outside, and the overflow had spilled straight into the platforms. Lanterns- shaped decorations hung from rusted metal beamed above us, glowing weakly in the dusty air. Loudspeakers crackled every few minutes with the train announcements that were barely understandable over the noise of the crowd.
There were vendors shouts. Children cried, begging their parents to get them at least one of the toys from there. I could see a mother ahead me, wiping off the tears of her toddler's face—some silly smile rose at the corners of my lips, contradicted to this neither me nor my little brother ever begged for anything, a financial conscience hit us quiet young.
Luggage wheels scrapped endlessly across the concrete floor. And the tarin—every time one arrived, the doors opened and another wave of impatient bodies flooded the station like water through a broken dam. Didn't care about pushing or pulling against some body, coming first seemed to be the end motive.
Perfect chaos.
Perfect cover.
I leaned against one of the thick titled pillar near the platform 14, the main exit passage for the locals where they poured out after leaving the train, the one at front of the main display board. There were two more two right, a bit less crowdy, however I chose the perfect one.
To anyone watching, I probably looked like just another traveler killing time. A black backpack rested on my shoulders. Near my left leg sat a small handbag, placed casually against the pillar. The zipper wasn't even fully closed. If someone glanced inside, they'd see a couple of food containers, tissues, and a wallet placed carelessly on top.
The picture of carelessness.
I kept my sunglasses on even though we are indoors. My hair loosed combed in a braid, they were a bit curly—can't be left open. Chose that similar black-grey fit like a passerby, helped to look like one of those undefinable penguin from the CCTV above, no matter the angle. My face stared down at my phone, lazily scrolling through the latest chapter of my favorite yaoi webtoon.
A confession scene—the alpha top crying dramatically. Could expect for what to come next.
I signed quietly.
Still reading smut in public, I thought. Some habits refused to die.
The crowd surged again as another tarin arrived.
People walked in race, rushing past the pillars towards some exits. Some bumped into me without even looking. How, rude….. "huh? See who's judging," that alter ego within questioned.
And then, as expected—movement slowed near my feet, I sensed but didn't spare a glance, like some nonchalant, irresponsive youth.
But I did notice, when he already went past. Mid-thirties. Thin build. Cheap jacket. Those movements seemed to be practiced, quite precise—couldn't see a bit of hesitation from where I stand. Perfectly my glasses saved my look, he's still unaware.
A pickpocket – a profession which maybe let him survive.
His gaze lingered exactly where I knew it would—on the unattended handbag resting against my leg.
He hesitated. Thieves always did that. They needed that one second to convince themselves the owner wasn't paying attention. Maybe begin what they are today wasn't their sole reason once, still they ended up adopting as human minds seeks acceptance towards comfort. Still such comfort lies in the fort of terror.
I swiped to the next comic panel.
Take it, I thought.
His fingers moved. Quick. Clean. The strap of the bag slid off the floor and into his grasp as he bended slight in pretend of shoving something off his slippers.
Then he walked away. Not running. Not even looking back. Just another man blending into the festival crowd. Indeed had some sort of appreciable experience.
Thirty seconds passed. I didn't look back, not even a second check.
The station swallowed him whole.
I finished the comic panel before lowering my phone. I looked at him for a bit, Theo. He was right across the opposite side of mine, standing near a family in disguise. He came along with me this once. A beautiful face stuck in confusion, still couldn't break the character—how unfortunate.
"…..Huh," I spoke audible, coming back to senses like those fellow youths.
I looked down beside my leg. The floor was empty. My eyebrows lifted slightly—a natural instinct.
I turned my head, scanning the moving crowd until I spotted him again a few meters away. Running quick, couldn't quite get the expression of his.
"Hey!" My voice cut through the noise just loudly enough, "that man took my bag!" I shouted with that desperation, "someone help, he took my belongings."
Two railway policemen nearby turned instantly. They came running towards me.
"He really took my bag, that over there," my hand was shaking begging as one would, "it had my wallet too, all my food dad cooked...…." That wail of mine sounded too real to not have convinced. I pointed at him in mid context.
"Stop!" the police shouted pacing towards him.
The thief froze for a split second. Then panic hit. He bolted.
The officer rushed after him, pushing through travelers and luggage carts. People shouted in confusion as the chase disappeared deeper into the station corridors.
Within seconds, both the police and the thief were gone. Maybe somewhere in that stuck crowds, hitting against few tin boxed waiting to be exported, those fish water dripping off the wooden boxes prepared by the locals.
The noise returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
I slipped my phone into my pocket. Then stepped away from the pillar, I glanced at him again. Could watch him coming over here paused by children and olds in between, making way here as I always desired—but never in this way or this mood.
Show over.
I adjusted my backpack and started walking towards the station exit. Didn't look at him again.
...
By the time I stepped out of the station, the noise begun to dissolve behind me. the crowd thinned. The air felt different—less frantic, more hollow.
I adjusted the strap of my bag and walked. Phone still in my hand with the same forgettable plastic cover and screen still to that webtoon I was reading—thankfully it wasn't some smut page.
From a distance, I bended in easily. Black on black. Nothing distinctive. Nothing memorable. Just another silhouette moving through the city, just like those teens nowadays.
Good. That was the point. My fingers slipped into my pocket. Crisp edges. I pulled the notes out just enough to glance at them. A quiet smile tugged at my lips. Progress.
"Look like I've improved," I murmured under my breath. It wasn't luck. It was precision. Timing. Reading people before they even knew what they were about to do—something my character didn't take long to develop, but is one of the most profitable.
Even if I had begged, someone might have handed me money out of pity. But this? This felt…..cleaner. Earner. I slid the cash back into my pocket, satisfied. The station incident replayed briefly in my mind—not the chaos, not the chaos—but the execution. How smoothly it had unfolded. How easily people fell into place when you understood them.
A small, fleeting thought crossed my mind. Theo might already know. My step didn't falter. If he knew, he knew. If he didn't....he would. He always did.
I stopped by a small shop on the way. "Vanilla cake," I said, tapping lightly on the counter. The shopkeeper handed it over without a second glance. Who has enough time to give a second glance after a tiring day of work.
Vanilla cake. Of course. It was his favorite. A pointless detail, maybe. Or maybe not. I picked up instant noodles for myself and left.
It took me time to reach the edge of the city. The roads grew quieter. Shops turned into shuttered fronts. Lights dimmed. At the far end of it all stood a building most people wouldn't look twice.
Old. Cracked. Half- forgotten. Perfect actually. There was nothing like security or guard in that building. Just an old apartment which is too soon to be taken over by moses.
I slipped inside, descending into the lower level where the air felt heavier, colder. That underground room just cost me few bucks every month. Enough space for me to refer as home in situations. It was still comfortable.
I didn't reach for the keys, knew it-- did be open. I pushed it open slowly and without lifting my head entered the room. Even before looking I could feel that menacing presence in my room. The door shut behind me with a dull click.
My love was there—leaning against the wall, one ankle slightly crossed over the other, like he had been there long enough to get comfortable. A book rested loosely in his hand, fingers holding the page without really reading it.
Not in uniform. Slightly oversized jeans. Black turtle neck—sleeves pushed just enough to expose his forearms—defined muscles, restrained strength beneath skin. That look felt unfair. Always unfair.
A few strands of his hair had slipped loose, falling loose, falling across his forehead, almost brushing his eyes. His lashes cast faint shadows against his skin, hiding the exact direction of his gaze until—he looked up. Amber. Cold.
Theodore--My first crush and would be the last ever. My favorite disappointment. My personal investigator—I knew it since the day he joined. He did come after me. Well, I am not disappointed at my man for this sole purpose. I did still wish to be executed my him. The only mine left—don't care if he agrees to the point or not.
And still—I smiled. It wasn't something I chose. It never was, when it comes to him.
"My Theo," my words sounded too soft, stepping inside like this was normal, like I wasn't standing in oppose of this strong buddy in this room. "How have you been today?" the words felt lighter than they should have. Wrong, maybe.
His eyes stayed on me. Unmoving. "Thanks to you," he said finally breaking the silence, "it's been a great one." His eyes still filled with that despise which sure was enough to kill me alone one day.
I stepped a bit closer knowing that's what he's waiting for, my inner body felt like to burst with certain feelings.
He moved before I gave my thoughts some certain form. Fast. Too fast.
My wrist was caught—fingers locking around it with precision. The next second, my arm was twisted behind my back, forced upward just enough to burn. My body collided with the wall, breath catching—not from pain, but from the suddenness of it. control. Absolute. Metal snapped shut around my wrist.
Honestly this shouldn't feel sudden, it was more certain. But the fact that my love did is what makes me hesitate to even defend.
I let out a slow breath, pressing my cheeks lightly against the wall before turning my head just enough to my shoulder. "Mm," I murmured, almost thoughtful. "Is that how you greet someone who brought you cake?" I lifted the box slightly with my free hand before it slipped from my grip and hit the floor with a soft thug. "Vanilla," I added, "your favorite."
His grip tightened. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind my position. "Anything from you," his cold voice hit my ears, "I won't touch." Clear despise in his words—shouldn't it be enough to distant myself from him? My heart still chooses to be stuck no matter how many times.
"You are still like this," I gave a faint laugh, voice laced with something teasing, something deliberately light. "Still the same ego as in middle school—"
"Cut it out." sharp. Immediate.
The pressure on my wrist increased slightly, pulling a faint strain through my shoulder. I let my head tilt further, meeting his gaze properly now.
Up close-- his expression spoke more than he ever spat. His brows still in that relaxed position making his eyes fall in superbly withdrawal expression, his lashes left space for me to have a glance of myself in those autumn pupils…..moreover my reflection seemed to be shadowed by his hatred. There was hatred, more than that—there was disgust. I understand it…..
"What was the commotion at the station?" straight his words caught the question I was preparing to answer.
I blinked slowly, "Commotion?" I echoed, soft almost curious. "You'll have to be more specific."
"They caught him." His voice didn't rise. "And everything points towards you."
Silence settled between us, and I let it stretch. Let him wait. Then—
"Are you sure that was me?" I exhaled a quiet laugh.
"Do you think I wouldn't know?" he voice same lower at the surface, his fingers tightened.
I turned my head a little more, ignoring the pull in my shoulder. "people get things wrong all the time," I said with a slight smile, "faces, clothes,…..it's easy to misidentify—"
"May you fool the world, but never me—" he leaned down a bit and pulled my face up, to have a straight gaze cut through mine. "No matter how smart you act to hide it all out, hide it to have no face captured anywhere, no identifying sorted anywhere—I did still spot where you are. Even if your face is gone," he continued quietly, "even if all there is left is shadow—" his voice dropped. "I'd still know it was you."
For a moment—something inside me shifted. Not fear. Not hesitation. Something sharper. Something that almost…..felt like satisfaction.
I let my eyes linger on his. Then slowly—I smiles. Gosh, how to explain this feeling to be known so well by your crush. Be it disgust or anger either is soothing to me, I am far from anyone's love—I know it.
"Then why are you asking me love?" I whispered with a n edgy smile—the one I use often. There was a pause. Small. But real. I shifted my head against the wall, testing the restrain—not to break it. Just to feel it.
"To hear me confess?" I added softly. "Or convince yourself you're right?"
His expression didn't change. But the silence did. I leaned in just a fraction more, voice dropping lower, almost intimate. "If you're so…." I murmured, "then prove it, My Theo."