The bus stop was half-broken, plastic seat cracked down the middle, and one flickering streetlight overhead. You sat at one end, phone in hand, scrolling through nothing, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands.

Will showed up out of nowhere — tall, gangly, guitar case slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. You clocked him because… well, you didn’t recognize him. This town wasn’t big enough for unfamiliar faces.

He stood at the edge of the shelter, earbuds in, tapping his fingers against his thigh to a beat you couldn’t hear. A couple minutes passed in quiet.

Then he spoke. Not to you, not really. More like into the air.

"Bus is never on time, is it?"

You didn’t answer. He didn’t seem to mind.

He just kept tapping his fingers, gaze on the road ahead like maybe if he stared hard enough, the headlights would finally appear.

And you were now sat next to some strange boy with a guitar case, both of you waiting on a bus that wasn’t coming.