Zaterdag 01:23

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LUCAS
Lucas braked on his skateboard, skidding to a stop outside the train station. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tucking the board under his arm as he called Ralph, entering the building.

"Ralph," he said before Ralph could say anything after answering. "I—I have to go." He couldn't speak clearly, his heart beating fast, his shoulders shaking like he was freezing, even though the building was warmer inside.

"...What?" Ralph sounded sleepy, as though Lucas's call had woken him up.

"I..." Lucas looked around the station, making his way across the dirty floor, one shoulder against the wall to avoid bumping into people. He was breathing fast. "I have to go back to Utrecht."

"Wait, why? What's going on?" He sounded more alert. "Are you okay?"

"My—My mom, I have to go back, she's..."

"Lucas, do you need to call an ambulance or something? What's going on?"

"No, she's in the hospital right now, I just—I have— And my hotel room, I don't know what to do, I just have to—"

"Lucas, don't worry about it, I'll take care of the hotel stuff, just go to your mom."

"Are you sure?" He stopped, running a hand over his face.

"Yes, be there for your mom, it'll be okay."

Lucas's eyes stung, and he pressed his lips together, taking a breath.

"Thank you."

He hung up and took off, his phone back in his pocket.

- - -

It was a little past two in the morning, and there was a buzzing stuck in Lucas's head. His back was straight, his bag between his feet, skateboard across his lap.

Somebody had left a water bottle, about a third full, in the seat across from him, the water sloshing. The sound of it echoed in Lucas's head, loudly, so loud he forgot about his mother, about what he was doing on the train in the first place. His hands were shaking and he ran them over the surface of his skateboard, the roughness taking the shiver off his shoulders.

He stared at the bottle intensely, like it was the only thing on the train other than him.

The water moved back
and forth
and back
and forth
and back
and forth
until something Lucas snapped, and he lunged, nearly dropping the skateboard, and snatched the bottle, the crunch of the plastic loud in the silent carriage, and threw it into the seat diagonal from him, so he was unable to see it and unable to hear it.

He sat back in his seat, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut, blocking out the fluorescent lights above him. He took a deep breath, the absence of the noise easing him slightly.

His mind wandered back to his mom.

Cold.

He didn't know what had happened. He hadn't received any messages from her, she hadn't responded to his messages. He looked out the window, into the darkness, his knee bouncing up and down.

It's my fault.

He picked a hand up off the skateboard, his fingertips feeling raw from rubbing the rough texture, and covered the lower half of his face with his sweatshirt, sighing.

If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp, he thought. If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp, he could have made sure she was okay, that she was taking her medication every day, as that was what he'd assumed she hadn't been doing. He could have made sure she was safe and warm.

If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp, his mom would be okay. They would probably be at home right now, asleep, or watching a movie. Maybe baking.

If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp.

If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp.

If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp If he just hadn't gone to Antwerp
he wouldn't have met Jens.

Fuck.

Lucas dropped his hand onto the board, gasping as needles pricked his eyes. He left him.

Again.

Maybe it was better that he'd left. That he didn't say anything to Jens. If Lucas didn't say anything, Jens would forget. Forget about Lucas. Forget about everything.

It probably all meant more to Lucas than it did to Jens. That was how things usually went. Lucas remembered things that his friends said to him, his friends didn't. He remembered birthdays, anniversaries, events, parties, his friends didn't.

Lucas felt his phone digging into his stomach and considered calling Jens. He's probably asleep. He dropped his head against the window next to him, the glass cold against his skin.

Just let him forget.

His nostrils flared and his eyebrows turned up, tears welling in his eyes. He choked, pulling his sweatshirt back up to cover his face, and sobbed.

There was no one in the carriage to hear him.

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