Finn and Rachel Miss Theire Train...
Finn Hudson slows his run as he steps onto the platform when he realizes that it's useless; the train is leaving regardless of whether he's on it or not. With a curse under his breath, he resigns himself to one of the cold, metal seats. In the moonlight, the rain speckles really show up, not that he cares.
Just as he's watching the damn train head off down the tracks, a flustered brunette scurries onto the platform, mumbling things to herself that he doesn't quite hear. "Wait!" she calls in a fruitless attempt, waving her arm (the other is currently pulling along a hot pink suitcase) in the air crazily. "Come back." It doesn't. Go figure. But a few seconds later she's dragging herself over to the paint chipped seats, dropping down with slumped shoulders.
"I can't believe I missed it," she laments aloud, Finn unsure of whether he should respond.
Then she turns her head toward him, the man suddenly warming at the sight of her chocolate brown eyes. "When is the next train?" she whines a little pitifully; he can easily imagine a puppy in her place.
"Tomorrow morning," he mumbles with a shrug, "six am."
"What? You've gotta be kidding me." She gapes toward him, then whips out her phone and begins typing furiously to whoever. He watches her face tense with concentration, giving the smallest of smiles.
But still, it's late, past midnight to be exact, and the next train isn't for hours. "You should go home. Get some sleep before you come back," he offers kindly.
"I don't have anywhere to go."
"You don't?" He doesn't know why he's so surprised; it's the same reason that he's considering waiting here all the night the first train come morning. Well, he's not even considering it anymore - if he wanted to go and get some sleep, maybe in a crappy motel somewhere, he would've gone by now. Staring deeply into her warm eyes, he doesn't want to leave at all.
She gives a forlorn sigh. "No."
Her curt response makes lean away, only slightly. She picks up her case, lying it down on the seat between the two of them, all at the same time her teeth worrying her lower lip. Then she looks at him again, unsurely.
"What about you?"
He tilts his head, "what about me?"
"Don't you have a place to go back to?"
"Well, sort of, but I'm not going back. I can't go back." Her face moulds with sympathy, and she looks as though she wants to speak again, but holds herself back. The woman's head bows, before she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a pink IPod, the same pink as her bag. He smiles again.
"Do you mind...?" she starts, slightly nervously, but he shrugs.
"Go ahead; we've got a long wait ahead of us."
Again, his eyes drift over this girl, from her thick brown locks, to her plump full lips that begin to mouth along the words of whatever she's listening to. She's wrapped in a tight red coat to keep the cold out, but that's sort of countered by the fact that she's wearing a short skirt with a thin pair of tights. For a moment, she must sense his eyes on her, peering upwards with an inquisitive spark to her gaze, and he turns away with a blush that he can pass off as the cold. It's going to be a long wait indeed.
