You turned the page, I burnt the book.

Traingazing - I

I took the train from a small town to London every day to go to college. It was usually a quiet ride, coming from a small town in the early morning- you wouldn't expect a crowd anyway. The journey would start at my little family home- my family had long moved to Germany- where I woke up alone.

It was sad, sometimes... not seeing my mother standing at the foot of the bed, gently shaking me awake, saying, "Ari, Ari, wake up, honey. You don't wanna be late, you know the train never waits." I don't see the sight of my sister once again complaining about breakfast or my father making toast. Not even the warm smell of breakfast and tea- the mornings were as cold as now back then, but now they feel colder... more damaging.

I woke up in my ever-messy room, cold wind against my face instead of my mother's warm touch. I washed up, changed, brushed my hair and packed my bag then headed downstairs- sat down on my sister's favourite chair and drank hot chocolate from my father's favourite mug. Slipping my shoes on, never tying the laces because my mother isn't there to remind me to anymore, I walked out- forgetting my sweater so I had to walk back.

I was 2 minutes late to the station but the train hadn't left. They served breakfast on the train and I'd stopped bothering to have breakfast at home ever since my parents left, so I got in a took a seat. Ms Evans, ever cheerful, came wheeling her usual cart in. And I do feel guilty for it- but I love the breakfast from the train. Freshly fried eggs with the perfect amount of salt and pepper shining in the sun, golden toast buttered just right and a tall glass of milk with honey. It wasn't how my parents made it... it was way different but still great nonetheless.

I know the fact that I didn't really eat it much would make my love for it an understatement, but I just wasn't hungry that morning. I'd rather stare at the guy a few booths away from me. Which... I did. He'd been coming on this train every morning like me for a month now. He never really talked much... spent his time watching football on the little TV, doing homework or using his phone. Sometimes he'd be on a call... but a very low voice, as if he was really sad.

At first, I thought it was because he didn't want anyone to listen in but the chronic sad look on his face said otherwise. Sometimes, I wanted to hug him... but I trapped the feeling in me and sedated it till it no longer wanted attention. Then it just became a routine thing to stare at the pretty boy on the train and watch him do his thing.

I know he's taking the same courses as me, the same school too- because I recognised the cover of his book on the table as I was passing by once. His favourite colour is this grey-ish blue. One of his playlists have the songs Atlantis - Seafret; Freeze - Kygo; Dandelions - Ruth B.; Moonlight - Kali Uchis; I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys; and If I Am Without You - Yaeow. He seems to religiously use the same type of pens and has this pretty water bottle he never lets go of. It's all... kinda cute.

I wondered if there's anything noticeable about me. My books were way neater than his, despite all my doodles- my favourite colour was light green... I had a shit ton of playlists... My pens were all different and I actually carried a thermos, not a plastic bottle. I didn't wear glasses like he did and I didn't watch sports. I got my homework done at home and I didn't seem as sad. We were kind of opposites... and while people say opposites attract... I really doubted it.

I wondered why I even hoped that at all. That he'd notice me. The thought of him made me smile- for whatever reason. Unlike other people, instead of dwelling on the tragedy of it- I let it brighten up my day. The thought of him. I let myself love him- because holding back wouldn't do me any good. But slowly... the scene of him looking out the window and not at me started to feel sad. That I'd never see or make him smile.

Then one day, I left my wallet at home. I always had a ticket to town the day before I needed to leave, but never a ticket back. They aren't too expensive but this was not the time to turn into an influencer and fake being poor for money. The station was super empty, save the waiter from the pizzeria cleaning the tables... and... him. If I missed this train, there would be no way home- not another train till midnight and I couldn't stay here till then.