'Shots and Shit Like That

Shout at the wall

"Mind the gap," the metro announcer lady says to me as I step over the threshold of the underground train. I barely pay any attention and sit down in the nearest seat, next to the door. A fairly tall person sits down beside me. I don't even glance up at my phone. The announcer tells us we're leaving the station. I hear the doors shut next to me. The little bing brings a smile to my face as I win the level I was stuck on for the past hour. Then a buzz. One of my friends texted me. "Do you even care about me at all?" Dammit, I forgot to call her. I said I would call her. I'm such a jerk. I start to type out a reply. 'Yes I do care abou—' Then my battery finally gives out on me. The screen flickers to inky blackness. I stare at my own reflection for a while, waiting for the regret to come filtering in. Strange. Normally I feel some emotion about these things. She'll see that I've read it. Well, that's another friend I've lost. I almost snort. I seem to have lost all my fucks to give as well. Lucky me. 

"Miss could I have the time?" Someone calls out from my right. The person who sat down next to me. He looks to be in rather good shape, with his fluffy brown hair and clean trench coat. A guitar case sits on his lap. Strange that he doesn't have a watch. But hey, I don't either. 

"Well, my phone's dead soo..." He looks at me still. Wait... there was a board that showed the time of departure back at the station. He knows the time. Having caught on about me catching on to his lie, he smirks down at me. I can feel a scowl gripping my face. 

"Sorry, I just.. well I wanted to say hi." His smile widens, showing perfectly straight teeth. And for a moment, he looks away. "—I just thought you needed someone to talk to." Seems he doesn't know what to do with his arms. I hold back a chuckle as he waves them about, putting them on his case, under the case, by his sides, then back on his case as he waits for my reply. If I reply. 

I study him further. His eyes look pink. Has he been crying? "Hi." I watch the wall zoom past through the other window. Spray paint whorls fly across my vision too fast for me to read the assorted gangs that marked the tunnel. I glance back at him. He's still looking at me. 

"Why are you staring at me?" His eyes flick to the floor. Then back to me. 

"It's nothing, I—" He stops himself. 

"Why were you crying?" I should not have said that. He's a stranger. I open my mouth before he can respond. "Never mind." My nails click on my phone screen. His eyes seem wetter than before. Why do I find myself asking this person questions? I'm not that observant. Why could I tell he'd been crying? I want to reach out. I want to befriend this boy. But the train stops and he leaves before I can do anything. My stop isn't for a while. The metro doors close as I watch him go up the stairs. I never saw him again.