The bus was half–empty, the kind that groaned like an old man every time it climbed a slope. It was late afternoon, sunlight softened by the dirty windows, the world outside washed in the warm color that made everything look gentler than it really was.
He slumped in the left window seat, school bag pressed against his leg, his thumb lazily scrolling through his phone. He was rereading the cultivation novel again, out of habit more than joy. A story of fate, heavenly chance, endless struggle. He knew the plot by heart.
"Chapter 432…" he muttered. "This is the one where the MC gets betrayed."
He made a face.
If I ever reincarnate into a novel, let it not be one of these.
He snorted softly. Knowing my luck, I'd die in chapter one.
The girl sitting beside him shifted slightly.
He didn't know her name, but she had the kind of presence you noticed without trying, quiet, careful, always hugging her notebook like a shield. Today she was asleep, head tilted toward the aisle, hair slipping loose from her clip.
He pretended to keep reading, but his thoughts drifted.
School was exhausting. His grades were fine, but life felt like it was always pushing him into molds he didn't choose. His mother's constant calls about "thinking about the future," his father working overtime just to keep food on the table.
Sometimes he felt guilty for wanting more.
Sometimes he felt angry that wanting more made him guilty.
The bus hit a bump; his phone jumped in his hand.
Outside, fields blurred past, then warehouses, then nothing.
His mind drifted again, unexpectedly heavy.
If I died one day… who would even know?
His mother would probably scream at the sky.
His father would fall silent, burying everything inside.
His friends… two of them might cry. The others would forget after a week.
He swallowed.
It was a stupid thought. But it lingered.
A sigh slipped from him.
The driver muttered something under his breath up front.
The bus accelerated a little.
He went back to reading.
That was when the world snapped.
A flash of metal from the right.
A horn, long and broken.
A sound like steel screaming.
Then impact.
The bus lurched sideways, bodies slamming into each other, seats tearing free. His shoulder hit the window. His forehead cracked against something hard. He tasted blood instantly.
His vision fuzzed.
A heartbeat later, he was on top of the girl, crushing her against the seat. She let out a choked, terrified sound beneath him.
He tried to push up,
White pain ripped through his back.
Something was in him.
Something cold.
He froze, breath hitching. When he forced himself to look over his shoulder, he saw the end of a metal pipe, long, thick, slick with dirt, embedded in his back at an angle.
No. No no no,
His body began to shake.
Not like this.
I'm seventeen. I'm going home. This isn't how it ends.
"Help…" the girl whispered under him, voice trembling. "I… I can't breathe…"
He forced his hands to move, lifting himself just enough for her lungs to expand again. His arms trembled violently.
His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
I don't want to die.
Mom will be waiting.
Dad will pretend not to cry.
I haven't done anything yet. Not one damn thing that meant something.
His breath hitched, turning sharp.
The girl's hand brushed his sleeve, desperate. "Please… please get up…"
He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear his vision.
Focus. Move. Think.
He tried pushing with his palms again. The pipe slid deeper. A strangled sob tore from his throat as the shock burned white-hot.
But the movement gave the girl more space. The pipe's tip was touching her side now, faintly pressing into her skin.
If he fell, it would go through him… and straight into her.
Panic clawed up his chest.
"I can't" He choked on the words. His voice cracked. "I can't hold for long."
Her eyes widened, fear sharpening her face. "Save yourself…"
He almost laughed. A small, broken sound.
"Do I look like I can save myself?"
His arms shook harder. He felt the blood sliding down his back, warm and nauseating.
I can't die like this.
I can't let it end on a bus like some nameless extra.
I won't.
He clenched his teeth and pushed again, dragging the pipe with him, agony radiating through every bone.
The girl whimpered as the pressure shifted away from her.
"Thank you… thank you…" she whispered, clutching her side.
His breaths came ragged now.
A part of him, the scared, human part, wanted to stop. His survival instinct screamed to make the pain end.
But another part…
A deeper part…
One he didn't realize he had…
Refused.
It was stupid. Irrational.
But it was his.
His pride.
All his life he'd survived out of sheer, stupid stubbornness and pride, holding ground when he should've run, swallowing pain because he refused to bow.
"I won't…" he tried to steady his voice, tried to summon that same defiant fire.
"I won't die failing."
The girl stared at him, tears streaking her cheeks. "Someone… someone will come… just hold on…"
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
The roof of the bus groaned. A broken beam shifted.
The weight pressed down. Harder.
The pipe sank deeper.
He screamed soundlessly this time.
He saw spots.
His fingers spasmed.
Not yet.
Not yet, dammit.
Voices shouted outside.
Metal was pried open.
Light spilled through a tear in the bus wall.
"Two alive here!" a rescuer yelled. "Hold the roof! Stabilize it!"
Hands reached toward the girl first, easing her out from under him, sliding her sideways. She cried out when they lifted her, but she was alive.
Alive because he held on.
Alive because he refused to fall.
The moment she was out of danger, his body finally betrayed him.
His arms collapsed.
He sank forward, hitting the floor on his side. Warmth gushed down his back. His ears rang. His vision dimmed.
Someone grabbed his shoulders.
"Stay with us! Kid, stay awake!"
He wanted to. God, he wanted to.
But the darkness surged forward, cold, not cruel, just… final.
His last thought flickered weakly:
At least… I didn't lose.
Then the world slipped away from him.