opia; matty healy.

10%

What am I doing here? I have the sudden urge to run away. I think of grabbing my phone and calling a friend; calling someone who'll talk me out of this momentary lust for disappearance. But there is no one. Not a friend from LA or a friend right here in Wilmslow. I think of Alex and I refuse, then I think of Matty and the fact that most likely – most likely, I am able to rely on him for tonight at least. But what about the next day? What about a year from now when I learn to trust him and all of my burdens, every worry I have, becomes too much?

I quickly type 'trains to London' in my phone's internet search bar, praying there'll be something useful. And there is, right there, staring back at me. A train in 20 minutes at the station down the road, waiting for me to get on and leave. I back my bag, because I'm not the kind of person to come up with a plan and not go through with it. I've been in Wilmslow a month, and already my parents have become far too much for a sixteen year old to handle.

I only take the essentials: all of the money I can scrounge, a few snacks I brought upstairs the other night, a phone charger, headphones and my phone. I leave a note, and as I write I begin to worry that for once I may not go through with this plan after all. There's a small bit of panic setting inside of me, willing me to climb under the covers and forget I packed my bag. But I leave with a small note sitting on my bed.

Let me know when my parents get back from mars.

I laugh, a small laugh, and open the only window in my bedroom. It looks out at the street and has a small ledge leaning off it, allowing me to slide down safely and fall to my feet in our front garden. Knowing my dad won't be home for another hour, I climb out and land on the ground. I don't open the small gate because I know it will creak. I climb over carefully, making my way down the street and towards Matty's house.

I pass it, wondering for a moment whether I should go in and ask him if I'm what I'm doing is a good idea. But he'd talk me out of it, and all I need right now is reassurance.

I pass a few more houses before I turn another corner and see the bright lights of the train station in the distance. I pass a house with a dog at the front window, howling and barking like there's no tomorrow. I ignore it, and instead plug my headphones into my phone and let myself forget what I'm feeling. Tom Petty's You Don't Know How It Feels plays in my ears, familiar and yet still so sweet.

I watch my feet as opposed to looking up ahead. I watch them move in time to the music, slowly with tempo and time and rhythm and beat. I watch them until the sidewalk cement changes to the gravel road and back to the sidewalk texture once again. I look up now, making sure I'm headed in the right direction and not running into any walls.

I feel unobservant as I take a seat in the almost deserted station. A few people stand about but I pay no attention. I tap my foot in time with the music while my left hand taps along on my knee. Am I really going to London? I've never been, not once. When we arrived in England we landed somewhere far closer to Wilmslow. I think about the excitement, the adventure, and how much of a relief it will be to finally feel far away from everyone I know.

"Hey," I barely hear the voice over the volume of my music, but I hear it nonetheless.

It takes me a little while to react as I remove my headphones, "Hi?"

A boy with a crooked smile and short, brown hair sits beside me, observing me with eyes of interest and intrigue.

"I'm sorry," He apologises, "I just saw you sitting here and thought you needed some company."

I stay silent, unable to form a sentence. The boy was far more tanned than any boy in England that I'd seen before, in fact his skin was a little darker than Alex's I notice. His teeth are white, seen even under the dim light, and he wears glasses that frame his face suitably. It's not that I'm taken aback by his appearance, because he's not only the tannest boy I've seen, but also the most beautiful, it's just that I'm not quite sure what to respond.