recessional
volkner/jasmine | 522 words | rated: k+ | slice of life
Pokemon is © to its respective owners. "Recessional" and the lyrics used herein are © to Vienna Teng. No infringement is intended.
He doesn't notice her at first, not that he means to overlook her; it just happens that, at first glance, she is just a face among faces. Another body in a too-crowded room. But when he sees her, he's surprised that she'd be here. This girl from as far away as Johto, come to see a lighthouse that cannot be much different from her own. When she speaks, softly and carefully, he listens, not because he has to or feels like he should, but because the softness and the sugary sound of her voice all but beg him to (and he doesn't mind).
"It's so beautiful here," she says.
In this moment, he sees nothing but her; the bodies crushing them turn into weightless walls. For what he can tell, they're the only two at the top of this lighthouse. He can only stare at her as the swarm drones like a hundred thousand angry combees. And when he doesn't do anything else but stare, she shifts her weight uncomfortably. Finally he moves, snatching her hand and saying over the useless background noise,
"I want to show you around."
As he leads her to the elevator, he remembers something about a black-haired ice princess that he loves, but he forgot already why that would even matter in the first place.
He felt his heart sink when she mentioned her train to Johto leaves at midnight, and now he finds himself sitting next to her in the hard plastic terminal seats. It's only around eleven-fifteen, according to his pokétech (which always manages to be a few minutes ahead), but she's already sleeping soundly. Her hair falls around her like soft, dark vines while her cheek presses into the tough fabric of his jacket.
Above them an unknown female voice calls for passengers for the 11:30 train to move to the boarding area. He watches her shift and not wake up and decides that he would die if he moved and woke her up.
She eventually wakes up on her own, maybe twenty minutes before the time her train departs. A young boy pushing a cart stops and asks if either of them cared for a hot drink and she takes a coffee, no sugar. He can only admire her and wonder how someone so delicate and sweet refuses sugar in anything. For himself, he takes a cup of tea.
The announcement calls for all remaining passengers for the midnight train to make their way to the boarding area. When he checks his watch it reads 11:51.
They hurry to stand and he takes her suitcase and her hand, and in something between a skip and run, rush to the train. The sound of the train hardly drowns out the sound of pouring rain from where the train entered from outside.
She takes her suitcase from him and gives him the tiniest smile. She takes a few steps toward the door and stops, glancing back to look at him.
He holds one hand up, as if he intended to wave before she walked away.
"Well anyway," she says, "I'll see you around."