The Benefits of Public Transportation - Yumikuri

Chapter 3 - 551 days ago

I sat at the same bus stop, listening to music and smoking, leaned against the disgusting metal side. Lazily blowing smoke and absentmindedly tapping my foot to the beat. Checking the time. Another drag. I tapped some ash from the tip of the cigarette, and watched it crumble to the sidewalk below.

At 7:04, company arrived at my bus stop in the form of a short blonde girl with pink earbuds. She leaned against the metal beside me, grabbed the cigarette and threw it into the road.

"Bad habit." She proclaimed.

"That's how fires get started."

"Well. The city will burn."

I chuckled, and moved around to the bench. It was cold, and I could feel the small holes patterning the metal pressing into my butt. Sliding in next to me, the girl - Krista. She put in her earbuds and started playing her music, waving her screen in my face. Ah. Fake Your Death.

"You really seem to have a favorite there, doncha."

"MmHM!"

And we waited together in silence. As close to silence as you can get in a city. She had her volume way up, presumably so that I could hear her music too.

When the bus showed, we boarded together, and her resting face morphed into a bright smile as she handed the driver her money and flashed the grin at the other passengers. I followed her down the aisle, about to slide into the row behind her, when she grabbed my arm; "No. Sit here."

More of an order than a question or a plea, so I sat. She shoved an earbud in my ear, and we didn't speak for the rest of the ride, piano chords in place of conversation. Gerard's song in stead of our words.

~

Later that day, when I was on break, I crossed the street in blonde-girl fashion. Or at least that blonde girl's fashion; blatant jaywalking. Pulling open the door to Forever 21, I was blasted with unnecessary amounts of air conditioning and pop music.

God. I thought as I perused the aisles. This store is an insult to everything humanity stands for.

In the end I just grabbed some tank tops, they were dirt cheap and I needed a few anyway. I got in the leftmost line and waited for people to pay for their selections.

An eternity later, I half-assed a smile at the blonde chick swiping my credit card. She nodded back, not making eye contact and smiling like she had for everyone else, instead scribbling something on my receipt and handing my card back. I was mildly disappointed, but we'd known each other for probably a half hour total, and she probably thought it was creepy- me showing up at her job and all. So I was an idiot to expect anything else, really.
I crossed back over to my side of the street, pushing through main entrance and Employees Only door to shove the quadruplet of white tanks into my backpack. I paused after doing so, and dug back into the bag to grab the receipt. Sure enough, the black sharpie writing  was there, and spelled out messily:

We should hang out. Fake Your fucking Death shitface. - Krista

Ha.

HA!

I guess half an hour of piano chords can do something.

I tugged my hat back on, letting my hair fall loosely as always to rest on my shoulders. Walking through the back to retake my position, I wrote down orders and slid them to my orange-haired coworker. We had a good system, and Sasha, the other girl working with us, would make the drinks. The line wasn't quite long today, so I noticed when another joined it's ranks.

Fucking blonde girl.

"Hey." She said when she reached me. "Tall black coffee."

"Wooooww, you strike me as a frappe type." I replied. " You do work at the most stereotypical store on the face of the Earth."

She rolled her eyes and I scribbled on her cup.

Krista, black coffee

And below it

Let's do it dick head. Call me.

I handed the cup bearing my digits to Sasha to fill, and nonchalantly turned to the next customer. Like I hadn't just given a potential girlfriend my number. Phew.

~

I hopped anxiously from one foot to the other while waiting for the bus home, checking my phone every few seconds.

Damn, Ymir. What's with you? You must really like this chick.

Hell yeah I do. Have you seen her?

Yeah, well, calm your tits. She's not going to like you if you follow her around like a fucking puppy.

I sighed, and leaned back against a pole with a sign announcing bus times. No fancy-shmancey green metal bench and shit over here, just a metal stick in the pavement. The bus pulled up and I hopped on, taking a seat in the back and, one again, clicking on my phone. Nothing.

I sighed again.

When is she gonna text me? I mean, she said she wanted to hang out? What does that mean? Is she even gay?? What does it mean when a straight girl tells you to hang out?

Bzzt. Bzzt.

I glanced down. Green Messages icon. Unfamiliar number. Yes!

Swiping left and excitedly punching in my passcode, I read

Hey shitface?

No "This is Krista" or "Hi, is this Ymir?"

Just "Hey shitface."

I liked it.

Yup. Sup dickhead.

Do you perhaps live in the bottom condo, third down the street, painted pale green? Surrounded by similar buildings, painted yellow and blue, on a street that, as a whole, forms a psychotic rainbow?

...indeed I do?

good. I would hate to have picked the wrong lock. I'm inside, hurry up.