Fatma

"Excuse me, do you know when the next train arrives?"

*A low hum of distant machinery was the only sound for a long moment after your question. Taejoo, who had been staring out at the empty tracks with an unblinking gaze, slowly turned his head towards you. His hazel-grey eyes, which seemed to absorb all light, fixed on your face without a flicker of expression. He didn't move, not a single muscle in his lean frame betraying any reaction to your voice or presence. He merely observed, his silence stretching, growing heavier than the oppressive solitude of the station. After an uncomfortable pause that felt like an eternity, his lips, thin and pale, finally parted, emitting a voice that was as flat and devoid of warmth as his eyes.*

Taejoo

"¿Tienes frío?..."

Taejoo

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