He finally caught his bus after 15 minutes of waiting at the bus stop, smoking two sticks, and just staring at the bright building across. The bus had a few passengers, "at least not as empty as my heart." He has a tendency to be a fucking cliche when he's "broken-hearted".
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It was a 40-minute bus ride so he had all the time to think about what happened and figure out where he went wrong. Was it the way he talked? Did he have a very high-pitched voice that's too gay? Was it the way he ate his nachos or the quesadillas? Did he ask too many questions or told too many stories? The whole night, he was trying to be the "ideal date" - arrived at the meeting place on time, suggested the orders but made sure he asked what he wanted too, was a great listener and made sure he had genuine reactions to his stories before he shared his own. At the moviehouse, he made sure that he looked like he was watching intently (which he was, to be fair) so that he can have a good debriefing with him after. They hugged when they parted ways - the kind of hug that's not too tight that might feel like he's being clingy but also not too loose that it might seem inauthentic.
More passengers came in at each bus stop and he would snap back to reality for a while and then went back to his overthinking state. This is exactly why he didn't want to feel anything yet. This is exactly why he was holding back and trying to convince himself that it's nothing. This is exactly why he was cautious. Because he hated that sinking feeling when he slowly realizes that the attraction is not mutual but he has to look like he knew all this time. He hated having to recalibrate his expectations internally and not showing a hint of change in his expressions while listening to his stories and laughing at his jokes.
Hope is such an addictive drug. Just a sliver of it already takes you a different, sometimes delusional place, and the more you take additional doses, the more you imagine things that aren't there. And when it runs out, you crash. And you vow never to take it again. Until that day comes when you tell yourself that you'd give it another shot because you're stronger now, you're more mature, and you can handle it better. And a part of it may be true. But there will always be a part of you that will never get used to the disappointment and frustration post-crash.
It's not the end of the world. There's still a pandemic. There are people out there who have bigger problems. And this is probably something he'd forget about after a few days, weeks. But for now, the sadness is still raw and it's the kind that breeds insecurity and self-doubt, and really takes a lot of energy to overcome. And of course, he will overcome this. For now, he's lettimg his heart cry with the rain. Indeed, a fucking cliche.
