pft no i didnt take the title of this fic from one of zanya's lethal formation cards whaaaaat

Every morning, he stands near the exit—the same spot he's always stood at for the past four months. Even when there's a crowd, I still see him. Standing there, sometimes reading a book, sometimes typing on his phone but most of the time letting his gaze rest on the passing view as the train moves on.

I always get in the carriage before he does in the mornings, but by evenings he'll be the one in the carriage before me—where most of the time the ride home would be lonely except for his quiet company.

At first I paid him no heed, simply seeing him the same way one would see a restaurant waiter in a town you're visiting for the summer. Someone who you only see once in your life, someone you'll never think much about.

It took me days later to figure out I'll see him for the rest of my school life. It took me another week to recognize our schedules.

Now, I find myself wondering. I wonder if he has any siblings. I wonder what his hobbies are. I wonder and wonder, not knowing when will I get answers.

This morning it's just the same. I'm sitting at my usual seat when the train stops at his station. From the corner of my eye, I see him walk in with numerous other people. It's easy enough to find him; he's the only one in this carriage with long purple hair and a white uniform.

Today he's reading another book. It's the size of his palm and from the looks of it he's immersed himself in the words, if the rapid page flipping is any indication. A small smile makes it way to my face. I'll admit, his behaviour is kind of endearing.

Later that evening he doesn't read his book. Instead I find him with his eyes closed and his head tilted an angle, his phone placed on his lap. My eyebrows raise. Could it be that he's… sleeping? Moreover, in a public transport?

A feeling of distress cowers my heart. What if someone walked in and took advantage of him before I came here? The idea of it doesn't sit with me well.

I look at him from the door, careful not to topple as the train begins to move. Once again we're the only two in the train and it gives me reassurance that nothing has happened to him. I hope. But nothing is ever certain and it doesn't hurt to be safe than sorry.

So after meaning to do it for weeks, I take the seat next to him, trying to be quiet as possible. I take out my own phone and change it to silent mode to keep myself busy. There's no use getting too distracted, or I won't be able to wake him in time and he'll miss his stop.

Time passes on as the train halts from one station to another, letting itself closer and closer to our separation point. It's not until we're two stops away that I notice movements from the corner of my eye. His fingers twitch and when I look up, he's trying to sit upright again.

Damn, he's waking up.

His eyelids flutter open and when he turns his head to me, I meet eye to eye with golden orbs. For a moment I forget where I am, what I'm doing and most importantly, I forget how to breathe.

It takes longer than I would've like, but a nervous smile appears on my face as I begin to realize my surroundings. "You don't mind I sit here, right?" I manage to ask without stumbling over my words. Anything that he says, I won't hold it against him. It's not every day you fall asleep in a train carriage and wake up to a stranger sitting next to you when the carriage itself is near empty.

He's still looking at me with his gold eyes, before a shade of red paints his face. I feel my own cheeks stinging from the heat and silently wish my blush isn't as obvious.

"Y-Yes—I mean, no, not at all!" he stutters, quickly turning his head to stare pointedly at the free seat in front of him. He pushes his glasses up a little and coughs into his hand. From this angle, I could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

Cute.

His hair is shinier than I initially thought; a nice shade of indigo that isn't too bright for the eyes or too dark. If I touch it, would it be as soft as it looks? From the way it pools over his shoulder, I'm sure it will. He seems to be the kind of guy who cares about these things.

It's only when he coughs again and giving me an anxious side-glance did I realize I'm staring at him.

Oh.

With a face beet-red from my not-so-discreet behaviour, I try to focus on the buildings outside. Nothing but blurry images of the world; separated by glass, speed and a train. And then the blurry images slow down. And then it comes to a stop.

The doors open, and as I expected, no one comes in—let alone go out. The doors close and we continue our journey in silence. Or not so silent since the back part of my mind is yelling at me that it'll be his stop next and that I should do something like ask for his e-mail or phone number. And if that's advancing too fast I should at least try to spark a conversation with him.

Come on Ryuenji Tasuku, ask him what school he attends.

…

…

…

My nerves get the better of me. I can't do this. This is a terrible idea, why should I go through with it? He's going to think I'm a creep. Especially after I stared at him for a complete ten seconds or so. You screwed up good, Tasuku. You screwed up good.

Before long the train stops again and my breath hitches. This is it. Another day goes by where I chicken out. The doors slide open and he stands up from his seat. He lingers for a few moments, before quickly making his way out of the carriage.

He stops right after he's outside and the doors shut behind him. The train moves; my eyes follow him 'till he's out of sight. I close my eyes and lean my head back with a sigh, feeling the glass window hit my head. What does a guy have to do to get to know another guy?

Just like a shooting star, the time I had with him was brief.

The next morning I didn't see him. My first assumption led to the possibility of him being sick. However, when I thought about it, he never really missed a school day—even with a minor cold. So I dismissed it as an anomaly and maybe he came down with something worse than a cold. But colds don't last for months.

For so long, I waited to see his face. For so long, I hoped to see him come in and maybe be the one who chose to sit next to me; waking up every morning with a new hope. But in the end, that hope was always crushed.

I didn't know what happened to him. Not a year later. Not now. I never got to know his name, his interests, nor himself as a human being. I can only remember him… as the kid who always rode the same train with me.

The fates are cruel. I can say that with conviction.