The sound of a train horn blaring through the small station filters through the music blasting through my headphones. The light illuminates the concrete walls, but I don’t make a move. It’s not my escape.

I stay sat on the bench against the wall, my head tossed back against the slab. The rumbling of the tracks sends vibrations through my whole body, like tremors. I don’t react.

I’m not sure if I feel anything anymore.

There’s still 15 minutes til my train arrives to sweep me up and drag me back to my hometown. I thought maybe going to see my mother would help mend whatever piece inside of me you broke. But I’m beginning to think it’s a lost hope. All of me is broken.

The train screeches to the stop in front of me, letting the passengers off on the other side of the tracks. Watching through the windows, I see them all scurry off. I can’t help but to search for your face. I seem to be doing that a lot recently, and no one is ever you.

They never will be.

When the engine steams and the gears start turning again, the train slowly leaves the station. People are crowded on the other side as the wind tunnel picks up, blowing the litter and hair of every person in the vicinity. I relish in the bite of cold against my skin.

A final gust of air blows through in its exit, and almost like a magnetic pull, my gaze drops to the other side of the tracks. Hair tousled and windswept, frame turned to the side, eyes cast upward at a mystery man. Until they’re not. Like the magnetic pull is tugging in both directions.

Your eyes land on mine from across the tracks.

Suddenly, it all comes flooding back. Every fight, every word, every memory playing on loop in the back of my mind like a fucked up movie screening.

You’re looking at me as I look at you, but something is different. Something has changed. The fight we just had was brutal, our worst to date, but… That can’t be it, right? Your eyes tell a different story. They’ve always been my favorite part about you, so easy to read. And right now, they’re telling me you want to leave.

”I didn’t mean what I said,” you had practically whispered, and I knew you were lying. You meant every word.

“Don’t do this,” I had begged, even if you hadn’t ripped the bandaid off yet. I knew it was coming. “Come on, baby. Don’t.”

”Harry…” My name on your lips never sounded so bitter than it did then.

“N-no… No! I don’t—“ I was spiraling already at that point, grasping at any frayed edge of our relationship to hold onto. “I don’t want anyone else! I just want you!”

“Don’t make this harder, Harry…” I can still remember the pain in your face when you said that. Like I was the one ripping your heart clean out of your chest, not the other way around.

And even though the pain has since been lifted from those features, I can still see it in your eyes. Even all the way over here. I’ve always been able to read you through your eyes. I hate when they nervously flick to the man beside you.

I can’t sit here anymore. I’m restless now. Standing up from the bench, my feet work on autopilot as they drag me closer to you. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, especially when my feet land on the textured yellow line. The one thing keeping us apart.

It’s been 3 months, I still haven’t moved on. I still only want you. I want your scent, your eyes, your whole being. I need it.

I need to find a way over to you.