Bus Driver's Are Ruthless, Second Day On Set.

"No! Wait!" Liam shouted, waving his arms like a man signaling a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. His voice cracked slightly, but the bus driver remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Liam skidded to a stop, panting, his hands on his knees. "You damn bastard!" he shouted at the retreating vehicle. "I got places to be!"

The bus rumbled away, completely unbothered by his existence. For a moment, Liam stood there, seething and trying to catch his breath. His eyes darted down the street, and his heart lifted as he spotted another bus stop not too far ahead—and another bus slowing to a halt.

"Time for Plan B," he muttered, breaking into a full sprint. His sneakers slapped against the pavement as he ran, his bag bouncing awkwardly on his back. "I swear, if I miss this one too, I'm taking a cab even if I have to sell my left kidney to afford it!"

The second bus wasn't waiting for him, though—it was waiting for someone else. A woman stood near the rear door, maneuvering a child in a buggy as she prepared to board. Inside the bus, the passengers shuffled around like a poorly choreographed dance routine, trying to make space for her in the already crammed interior.

By some miracle, Liam's frantic sprint brought him to the bus just as the woman was beginning her careful ascent. His lungs burned, and his face glistened with sweat, but he didn't care. "Made it!" he wheezed, grinning triumphantly.

Then he realized the front door was still closed. The bus driver sat there, staring ahead like a prison guard ignoring a riot.

"Hey! Let me in!" Liam shouted, knocking on the glass of the door. The driver turned his head, glanced at Liam, and then… went back to ignoring him.

For a moment, Liam was too stunned to react. "Oh, you wanna play like that, huh?" he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Fine. Let's see who wins this round."

Without hesitation, Liam darted to the rear door, where the woman with the buggy was still boarding. He squeezed past her as she struggled to maneuver the bulky wheels onto the bus.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he muttered, flashing a sheepish grin. She gave him a confused look but said nothing, too preoccupied with her child to care.

Inside the bus, people turned to stare. A few eyebrows shot up as Liam casually walked into the packed aisle, acting as though nothing unusual had just happened. He held onto the nearest pole, his face composed, his breathing still heavy from the sprint.

The bus driver glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening slightly. Liam caught the look and smirked, tilting his head in mock innocence. "What? I was already here," his expression seemed to say.

The passengers nearby exchanged looks, some chuckling under their breath. A man with headphones whispered to his friend, "That guy's got guts." A woman in a large sunhat muttered, "The audacity… but honestly, I respect it."

Liam stayed perfectly still, staring out the window as if admiring the view. The bus jolted forward, and he almost lost his balance but caught himself just in time. He gave a quick nod to no one in particular, internally congratulating himself. Mission accomplished.

As the bus rattled down the street, Liam allowed himself a small grin. Sure, it wasn't the most dignified way to board a bus, but he wasn't about to let the driver's attitude or his own bad luck ruin his day.

"You wanna ignore me?" he thought, glancing toward the front of the bus. "Fine, but I'll still win." He leaned back against the pole, the rush of victory soothing the sting of his earlier panic.

...

As the bus jerked to a halt at his stop, Liam bolted out the rear door, nearly tripping over the last step in his haste. He landed on the pavement with a graceless stumble, quickly straightening himself as though nothing had happened. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he checked the time.

8:55 AM.

His stomach dropped. "Five minutes? Are you kidding me?!" he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting toward the distant meeting point on the map app.

The estimated walking time blinked back at him.

10 minutes.

Liam's face twisted into a grimace. "Great. Just great," he muttered. "The one guy who got fired yesterday was booted because he couldn't be on time. And I'm supposed to be better and fill his shoes? What is he gonna think if I show up late?"

He glanced down at his legs and groaned. "I guess all that running wasn't just for health… but also for wealth."

With a determined nod, Liam broke into a full sprint. His sneakers slapped against the pavement, his bag flopping wildly against his back once again.

"Why am I like this?" he muttered between gasps. "Why can't I just wake up like a normal person? It's only when I got an appointment or work coming up I swear."

Passing pedestrians gave him strange looks as he dashed by, his face flushed and drenched in sweat.

An elderly woman holding a poodle clutched her chest dramatically. "Is he being chased?" she whispered loudly to no one in particular.

A man walking his Labrador stepped aside quickly, pulling his dog's leash taut as Liam zipped past. "Don't trip, Usain Bolt," the man muttered sarcastically, shaking his head.

A girl walking past looked at him with slight contempt.

"He's handsome...but he just gave me the ick running like that with that backpack flopping on his back."

Liam's lungs burned as the minutes ticked by. "Almost… there…" he wheezed, the meeting point finally coming into view. Just a couple more blocks.

At one point, his foot caught on an uneven patch of sidewalk, and he stumbled forward, his arms flailing wildly like a windmill. H

e managed to stay upright, glancing around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. A teenager on a bike stopped to laugh at him, but Liam ignored it, muttering, "Not today, Satan."

By the time he reached the location, the clock on his phone read 8:59 AM. Liam skidded to a halt just as he approached the group gathering on set. He doubled over, hands on his knees, panting like a marathon runner at the finish line.

"Made it," he gasped, sweat dripping down his face. "I… actually… made it…"

Straightening up, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve and tried to compose himself. His shirt clung uncomfortably to his back, and his hair was a mess, but at least he wasn't late. That's what matters, he told himself.

As he approached the crew, he noticed a few people staring. One woman whispered to her colleague, "Did he just run all the way here?"

"I think so," the man replied, raising an eyebrow.

Liam forced a grin, pretending he couldn't hear them. "Morning, everyone!" he said, his voice louder than usual to mask his breathlessness. He walked toward Director Charles, who was busy reviewing notes with an assistant.

Charles glanced up briefly, his sharp gaze flicking over Liam. "You're on time," he said simply, returning his focus to the clipboard in his hand.

Liam nodded, trying not to let his relief show. "Of course, Director. Wouldn't want to disappoint."