𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

Waiting Room [P.T. 2]

The station's endless hum surrounded Gian like a blanket, a constant presence that neither comforted nor distracted him from the gnawing impatience building in his chest. He had given up looking at the clock—time was meaningless here. He simply sat, waiting. Always waiting.

Just as he was about to resign himself to another eternity of this limbo, a sound cut through the noise of the station. The soft, melodic chime of an arriving train echoed from somewhere deep within the tunnels. Gian blinked, sitting up straighter, his heart quickening.

It wasn't the train he had been waiting for—the one that never came. This was something else. A new arrival.

The station seemed to shift around him as the train came into view. It glided in smoothly, its polished silver surface gleaming under the dim lights, sleek and elegant compared to the old, rattling trains he'd seen before. The doors slid open with a soft hiss, inviting him in.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Gian stood up from the bench. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the empty track ahead of him—the track where the train he had been waiting for should have come. But it was still empty, silent.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward and entered the new train.

Inside, the atmosphere was completely different. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the spacious interior in a warm glow, and the seats were plush, far more comfortable than anything he'd expected. It was peaceful in a way that the rest of the station hadn't been, like stepping into a place untouched by the chaos outside.

Gian walked slowly down the aisle, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. He took a seat by the window, leaning back with a sigh, and closed his eyes for a moment. The tension he'd been carrying for so long began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet sense of relief.

But just as he was beginning to relax, something caught his eye.

Through the window, on the opposite track, the train sped past. Gian frowned, leaning closer to the glass as the blur of motion began to slow down. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Then, his heart stopped.

Inside the train, he saw them — a majority of his friends. They were seated together, chatting away, laughing as if it was just another day, completely unaware of him. They looked happy. Calm. Alive.

But Gian knew better.

They weren't supposed to be on that train. They weren't supposed to be here at all.

It hit him like a punch to the gut. They were on the train he had been waiting for—the one that meant death. If they were on that train, it meant only one thing.

They were bound to die.

Panic surged through him, his heart pounding in his chest. He slammed his hand against the window, desperate to get their attention. But they didn't look at him. They just kept talking as the train carried them further and further away.

"No!" Gian shouted, his voice echoing through the empty train car. "Stop!"

But it was too late. The train was gone.

Gian's mind raced. He had to stop it—he had to warn them. But how? He was stuck here, waiting in this limbo while the people he cared about were heading straight toward their deaths.

He felt a sudden pull, a rush of adrenaline surging through his veins, and then— Gian's eyes snapped open, and he was no longer in the train.

Instead, he found himself lying against the wall of a Home Depot. He got up, his heart racing. He looked around, and he was in a massive mall. The same mall where he had died.