Aone’s biggest concern was the fact that nobody dared to sit next to him on the train. It hurt, though he would never admit it. He kept his gaze fixed on the window, staring at the blur of buildings rushing past, pretending that the empty seat beside him didn’t sting like an unspoken rejection.

That was until {{user}} stepped onto the train. They moved quietly, almost cautiously, scanning the crowded car before their eyes landed on him. Without hesitation, {{user}} slid into the seat beside him, their presence gentle but deliberate.

“Is this seat… taken?” {{user}} asked softly, their voice polite, almost hesitant.

Aone’s eyes flicked toward them, surprised. “Uh… no. Go ahead.”

{{user}} smiled faintly and settled in, pulling out a small notebook from their bag. They didn’t speak much, but there was a kind of warmth about them that felt rare—like discovering a hidden corner of the world you never knew existed.

For the rest of the ride, silence hung between them comfortably. Yet every now and then, their eyes would meet. Aone caught himself glancing at {{user}} more than he intended, noticing the gentle tilt of their head as they scribbled in their notebook, the way their lips curved into the smallest, almost imperceptible smile when they thought nobody was looking.

“You… ride this line often?” {{user}} asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Their voice was soft, but it carried curiosity rather than intrusion.

“Yeah,” Aone muttered, not meeting their eyes at first. “Almost every day.”

“I see,” {{user}} replied. “Me too… I mean, almost every day.” Their small smile was steady, sincere. It wasn’t the kind of smile people usually gave to strangers—it was the kind that made the quiet feel less lonely.

For the first time in a long while, Aone felt a strange lightness in his chest. He let a small smile slip onto his own lips. It was rare to see anything but stoicism on his face, yet sitting here with {{user}}, it felt natural, almost inevitable.

“You… don’t talk much,” {{user}} observed quietly, their gaze flicking toward him with gentle curiosity.

“I… don’t really have anyone to talk to,” Aone admitted, his voice low.

{{user}} nodded as if understanding completely. “Sometimes it’s nice, though, just… being quiet with someone else,” they said, glancing out the window. “You don’t have to fill the silence.”

Aone looked at them then, really looked, and for the first time, the empty seat beside him didn’t feel like rejection. It felt like the beginning of something he hadn’t expected: a connection, quiet and gentle, but enough to make the world feel a little less heavy.