A/N: Here it is~ My solo fic for Reverb 2015

I've always spent my time on the transit, going to places far and wide, spending a buck or two depending on the bus or the metro. Oh the curses of not having a license. However, I love my time on it and I've seen and felt the beauty of traveling. It's a whole other experience for me and so I was so happy to be able to get Captainpomelo's Public Transport AU for Reverb. (fists bumps for first choice wins) She's been nothing but wonderful and a great friend to laugh and talk to so I dedicate this story to her and our shared time on public transit~

Thank you to Ash, Proma, Keryn, Flamingo, GG, Dander, Lucy, and Roni for your wonderful eyes~

This story is also loosely inspired by the anime/manga "April is your lie."

I received permission to extend my deadline so I'll be updating when I can.

I hope you all enjoy~

Fleeting | Reverb '15 | A SoMa Public Transportation AU

Stop and go.

Green then yellow.

With every passing shadow, Soul's attention drifted outside the window, willing him towards the sunlight that lurked behind the leaves. His eyes caught the bright specks and it blinded him, but he blinked away the irritation, choosing instead to look on at the moving scene before him.

No one looked familiar; in fact, there weren't any faces he could pull from the crowd even though all the buildings were recognizable enough for him to know that he was headed in the right direction. They whizzed by, escaping his careful gaze as new signs and streets replaced them on his journey.

Just a little more. Just a little closer, he thought. He was near his destination, or at least one of them. The bus slowed to a crawl, easing its way to the sidewalk and the bus stop. Air pressure was released as his right side dipped and the doors swung open.

Soul didn't bother to look at the people who silently shuffled into the empty rows in front of him. He didn't need to see them, didn't need to know who they were. They came and they went, just like all the other people in his life, just like those people who were there before them, the ones who occupied space, and then left. They were fleeting. Dull and gray scale like everything else that seemed to pass by. He only knew that one thing, or rather two things, were constant: one, that they were taking this ride with him, and two, that they would be keeping to themselves as he did.

No questions asked. Not a word traveled to him or from him.

The bus grumbled under him, rising back to rebalance, and then merged with the lane, not bothering to wait for the new passengers to sit. It turned, it sped up, and then it slowed down. Soul sighed. The wait would be worth it, he reminded himself.

The air was hot. Sickly heat spread through the cramped space as flushed people were squeezed close to one another, unable to budge from where they were planted as the bus moved forward, honking as cars continue to cross its path. The half occupied handrails jerked when the light turned red, swaying from side to side as passengers pulled on them, desperate to remain upright.

He leaned against the window, looking out to the pedestrians that crossed the road, wondering if it was warm as where he was trapped. Sighing again, he turned back to the pages on his lap and continued to listen. "Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone," the singers wistfully sang into his ears. The whimsical sounds washed over him as he listened carefully for the notes that called to him, and he paused every so often to jot down more lines on his paper.

His job was easy enough. Anything music related was easy for a person of his caliber, and transcribing songs was one of the most laid back positions he could snag, even if it was from his own brother's record studio. His promised song for the day was half finished, but it was alright. He could complete it within the thirty minutes that it took to reach Wes' home, minus the ten minutes that he wasted already while his gaze shifted back to the right… at the girl who sat diagonally from him.

Damn it, he grumbled. Damn it all.

She was the reason why he'd gotten nothing done, why his fingers itched to tap on his thighs, why his neck burned a little hotter under the already scorching heat of the bus. She was like the passing sights and the stolen wind, almost invisible, and yet he saw her, captivated by her. Soul wanted to grab his pencil and to scratch at his seat, to get up and move himself away from the evidence, and to seat himself behind her to watch her from another angle. But he silently remained where he was, stationed at the back of the humpback, a few seats behind her and across the row. Closest to the air vents, he hastily thought and scolded at his reflection, and groaned at the terrible conditions he forced upon himself.

They'd never met, never crossed paths, and hell, she probably didn't know that he shared the same route as her. Twice a day. After school and then in the evening, though they got on and off during different times. Like clockwork, they always took the same bus at the same time. Truth be told, Soul had tried to delay his schedule by a few minutes, just to avoid this girl who he shared the same path with, but fate would always find a way for them to meet. Her very existence was terrible to him, terrible in all the right ways. She was as bad as Bonnaroo Buzz ice cream served with a plate of wafers and a bottle of Hershey chocolate syrup by a waiter who would insist it was all-you-can-eat. Addictive and sweet, a danger to all souls out there.

But.

She was a splash of color in his dull life.

A bump in the road caused her pigtails to bounce, though the pink elastic, ones as pink as her blouse, held them in place. She looked small enough to fall out of her seat at the next disturbance, and Soul wanted to be the one who held her steady.

Wait.

No.

He groaned, closing his eyes and rewinding the ipod in his hand, stifling back curses that he wanted to throw at himself. Only a creep would think such a thing, to want to hold her against her will somewhere she didn't want to be. He wouldn't be that person, even if her sandy blonde hair beckoned him closer, even if her pink round cheeks begged to be caressed.

Ew, oh hell no.

Begrudgingly, Soul admitted that she was quite pretty the more he looked at her. A year ago, when he'd first noticed her existence, when she first began to plague his thoughts, he was convinced she was plain looking, nothing to write home about, especially not with that hairstyle. She was like any other passenger; she came and she left, never dwelling in his life.

Although that changed quickly the more he found himself looking over to the back of her head, often enough to remember how she parted her hair, long enough to memorize how many times she looped her hair ties and the different colors she used depending on her outfit.

He was a mess.

In the months that followed, he saw the way she twiddled her thumbs when her stop grew closer, as if she were worried about missing it, though she never did. She furrowed her eyebrows sometimes and bit her bottom lip, gnawing on the soft pinkness that she thinly layered with capstick as she fidgeted. The girl grew more confident in the weeks that followed, gazing out the window idly instead of squinting to read the signs, never looking to his side of the bus. Eventually, she started to bring books, and then recently a kindle made its way into her bookbag. Soul relaxed when she fiddled with her kindle, laughing to himself when her shoulders stiffened from a hard game of tetris, leaning closer hoping to catch a glimpse of her score if they sat near each other that day, but not too close.

Never too close.

Most of the time, though, she would entertain herself by staring out of the window. Like today, he thought, and she was beautiful when she was captivated by the world. It was like she was taking in all the sights and sounds around her. She captured it, every detail, every drop of color, and she never let it go, like she was holding it against her heart. Her face brightened at the littlest things, even at a leaf that found its way through the crack of the window and onto her lap, even at a boy who waved aimlessly at the bus. And she waved back, of course. She always waved back. He knew she was squinting through the light that blanketed her eyes, and he knew she was smiling, content with where she was now. She kept her chin held up and her heart open.

When they stopped at a red light, she would take a deep breath, taking a moment to see where they were, eyes darting at the shops across the street. She would take another breath, and he would lose his, trying to experience the day as she did. Did she smell the sweaty bodies, the dirty exhaust, or the filthy cushions? Or did she smell the drifting scent of the diners, the dough that browned in the bakery, or was it something else?

Soul tore his eyes away from her, focusing on his music.

She was an ever-present force in a place that moved- someone familiar where he should have had nobody. On a busy bus, through all this confusion, this bothersome space, there was a little spot of peace. This girl was the only tranquility that existed in his life, the quiet that rang the loudest. He knew they would meet again later that day, and again the next, even as his song told him otherwise, that come tomorrow, she would be gone. It was a painful reminder of the true nature of public transportation, and yet, he hoped it was wrong, hoped that he would see her again.

Surprisingly, they always got off at the same spot in the afternoon, but he went left and she went right. He went to Wes' house in the neighborhood across the street from the bus stop, and she went wherever she went. And after Soul escaped his brother with a lighter mind but a heavier knapsack, he would see the girl, standing at the bus stop with her bag over her right shoulder, or sometimes he would see her walking up. And they patiently waited for the bus that would appear a few minutes later, just like clockwork.

There were more people that evening, more than he'd ever seen at that bus stop. Was there an event that he hadn't heard about? A city wide plot that he wasn't a part of? He grimaced and nudged his knapsack closer to his leg, making minimal effort to show ownership but knowing it was still effective.

Wes had let him off early that day, pleased with the song that Soul had transcribed, not knowing that it had only been completed on the hard surface of Wes' front door. Or perhaps he did know- maybe he heard the scratching of lead on his door, or see the messy half-filled notes that Soul abandoned. Either way, he'd taken it, hadn't he? And he let Soul play on the grand piano in his living room until he was fit enough to make the journey home, always before Wes could offer dinner, always in time to see the girl walk up to the bus stop.

He bit his lip. Bus stops were a menace, terrible places full of terrible things. There were people, odd smells, people, sometimes even trash, and trashy and smelly people. Yes, these were the horrors that plagued public transport, but at least he could rely on his music.

After switching to a new track, he leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his thighs, closing his eyes to block out the people around. He let himself fall into the guitar as it strummed, envisioning the strings as they vibrated in chords. His fingers twined together and he let them drop in front of him frustratingly. The bus should've been coming soon, should've made its way around the corner by now, but it clearly wasn't there. Soul hung his head, too tired to glare onto the empty streets, too warm under his black jacket to complain about the people again.

But then, he caught a whiff of a cooling scent, a fresh spring breeze almost, like the season that signaled change. It reminded him of the flowers that bloomed on trees, the ones that released their petals swirl with the wind, filling the sky with color. He looked to his immediate left, and there she was, looking down at where he sat.

Soul tore his eyes away, flustered at her sudden attention. In that split second, he saw her small, thin nose that pointed out, and a sprinkle of freckles that he'd never seen before. He noticed her pale, tiny ears and her pink lips that were pressed into a thin line, sticking to each other as if they hadn't opened in a while. And he was surprised at the stunning green that he'd seen, the hushed forest that reflected light through the curtain of foliage overhead. He was lost in them, her eyes, and even though he wasn't facing them anymore, they were etched into his mind.

And then the bus pulled up, crashing through his thoughts before they could drift to other things.