Torn Souls

4. Stranger, like the moon

The bitter wind bit his face the moment he left the warmth of his apartment. He pulled his coat tighter around him. It was just another reason to stay home and not do anything. But he knew better.

George's cheeks were red. His eyes felt dry. Much opposite of earlier when his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wet. It was a friday, but didn't feel different from any other day. And the tears might've stopped but the pit in his stomach hadn't gone away.

His brain lit up with an idea. The subways. The one he passes every day. He didn't have anyone to say goodbye to. This might've been an intrusive thought to others. But for him, it was a solution to many- if not all- of his problems. He wouldn't be leaving anything behind.
George hadn't smiled like this for at least a year. He felt like he found a solution to all of his problems. Five minutes. Five minutes and I'll be okay. He sped walked to the station and down the stairs to the platform. He looked like a child at disney. Only it was the complete opposite. He stuck out, the station was almost empty, only a few people. But they all wore frowns on their faces. He was nervous, like any normal human would be. But George knew soon it'd be over, quick and painless.

Waiting for the train to come felt like hours. He stood close to the edge. His heart was pounding faster than the train could move. It'll be over soon. And he smiled. He felt relief. Relief of never having to worry. He heard the train coming he felt the platform tremble below his feet. And a strange scent of fresh cut roses surrounded him.

"Excuse me, sorry. I think you dropped this." The stranger tapped his shoulder. No go away. "It fell out of your pocket." George took the note cautiously. The boy didn't go away. His time was running out.

"Thanks." George didn't drop a note, he knew that, but he took it anyways. He looked up at the boy- the stranger. He was beautiful. Tall, with green eyes. His cheeks dusted with a few freckles. He only wore a hoodie, a color George couldn't see, and ripped jeans. How is he not cold? He looked back down at the folded, small peice of paper in his hand. He unfolded it slowly, cautiously.

"You're pretty. Please stick around for a little longer :)"

George snapped his head up. But the stranger was gone. He vanished. The confused brit flipped the paper over and over, searching for anything. But there was nothing. He blinked back the tears in his eyes. His hair blew in his face as the train whizzed past him. He didn't even flinch when the train blew its horn.

His stomach sank, knowing his opportunity was gone. He could wait for the next train, but it wouldn't come for another hour or so. And he didn't feel like waiting. Damn it. He read the note over and over, tears threatening to leave his eyes.

"You're pretty. Please stick around a little longer :)"

No name. No number. No nothing. Why would someone do this? How did he know. Who was he? How did he know?! He had never been more confused. He walked out of the station. The sun had come out and it wasn't nearly as cold as before.

It had never felt more impossible to concentrate. Words jumbled up into meaning less phrases as the professor shouted to copy what was on the board. All George could do was write. His hand was moving, his eyes were watching, but his mind was somewhere else. The scene played over and over again. In his mind's eye, George examined the tall boy infront of him. Black ripped jeans matched with a hoodie that fit him well, sleeves rolled up to his mid arm. His hands were large and he was decently musclular compared to George's slim figure. His cheeks were red, assuming from the cold. One thing was, he had sunken in cheeks that seemed dim of life. His eyes faded into a pastel green.

How he seemed confident and understanding. Like a friend giving you advice. Except, he'd never seen this person before. His brain asked the same question over and over, who? How? Why? Why did this universe want him to suffer? He couldn't do anything without something going wrong. It's like he was cursed. It sounded ridiculous, as he scoffed. Come on now. Cursed? But it truly felt like it.

Each of his classes were the same. Focus seemed like a foreign concept he couldn't understand. The sun was beating down. Like it's warm beams were trying to melt his frozen heart. I didn't even say goodbye to them. He wanted to care but couldn't bring himself to do so. His parents were pricks. They wouldn't have cared. Maybe just "oh, good riddance." He shrugged at the thought. He tried to repair the broken relationship too many times. He had failed too many times. He couldn't care. He didn't care. They wouldn't care. They didn't care.

George wanted to clear his head. He wanted to be alone. And outside. He went to the park and found an empty bench. It was a beautiful day, and lots of people were outside enjoying it. The grass blowed in the breeze. The few dandelions were mixed in with a few forget-me-nots. He heard a group laughing in the corner. A couple were chatting in the other. Everyone seemed to have someone else.

He burried his face in his hands. They felt cold and soft against his warm face. He wondered where he could've possibly gone wrong. What could he possibly have done different? To end up anywhere else? In a different country. In a different apartment. In a different city. Town. School. Park. Or possibly even dead.

He looked up at the sky. He wanted to scream. But he couldn't. So he settled for a heavy sigh instead. The sky was a soft blue. It was comforting in a way. But still didn't stop his mouth from being fixed in a frown. It didn't take away the sadness that occupied his deep brown eyes.

George looked down when he felt something on his leg. There sat a cat staring up at him, with a rose petal- a white one- one it's head. Once the cat knew it had his attention, it stood letting out a meow, shaking off the delicate petal. George reached down to pet it's soft fur. It was a pure, deep brown. It's coat was set for the winer, thick and full. It's golden-green eyes looked into George's, and blinked slowly. It circled around George's legs, rubbing against them. It was a stray cat. Despite its thick fur giving it a fluffy look, it was still skinny.

"Stay here." George stood up and flung his bag over his shoulder. He hoped to have enough to get this cat and him something to eat. The local market was only a few minutes away, but he still walked briskly, just below a light jog. Walking into the store, he looked around. The isles were well organized but the store was massive. He found the deli meat and cheeses and looked for something fitting. His eyes coursing over all of the foods under the oven like shelf. Like a heat lamp but not quite. Then he found exactly what he needed. His eyes locked on it.

George grabbed the medium cup of popcorn chicken and stood in the line. He sighed, hoping the cat would still be there. And it was.

It sat looking around, waiting on the exact bench he left from. The sun hit it's fur, making some spots look golden. When it saw George, it stood up and meowed. And he couldn't help to smile at his new little friend.

"Hey buddy." George sat beside the cat, giving his head a small scratch. He placed his bag back on the ground and got out his binder, turning to the assignment he might as well do. "I've got some for the both of us." He opened the lid to the chicken and placed a small chicken ball on his hand. The cat took it quickly, leaving George to wonder if the cat even tasted it. "Hungry huh?" He laughed, receiving a long meow.

He sat with this cat for hours. They finished the chicken long ago, but the cat choose to stay. George had gotten a lot of homework done, which he was grateful for. The sun had moved from mid sky to just above the horizon. Almost sunset. The shadows grew long and the suns beams became golden. George observed the clear fading blue sky, taking note that the moon was out early. "Hey buddy. I've got to go. Its been nice." He scratched the cat's head. It had a look of understanding in it's eye, letting George know it was okay.

Cat jumped off the bench and headed behind a tree. Did that cat just disappear?! George wasted no time to run to the tree. The cat was gone. No where. What the HELL is with today?! He didn't have time for this. He had enough to worry about.

George walked back to the bench to grab his things and began the walk to the bakery. No but what the hell. It wouldn't have just taken off. It didn't climb the tree. It definitely didn't move from the tree. It actually disappeared. Maybe I am going crazy. Thoughts pounded, whirling in confusion. One stuck out; he was no cat whisperer but since when the hell were strays so friendly?! He'd think about it more after work. There were too many thoughts too fast, and they were beginning to ache.