Your watch reads 08:27. You are running late.

By the time you reach the entrance to the subway station, heart pounding from the sprint from your apartment, you can hear the familiar sound of heavy wheels on train tracks pulling away from your platform, confirming what you already knew, that you have missed your train by just a minute, seconds even.

Your shoulders sag and as you walk down the steps you resign yourself to the fact you will most definitely be late for work. It's only Monday, so along with everything else you have to deal with, apologising to your pig of a boss for being late, again, is now also added to your list.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

As you wait on the platform you think back to the last forty-eight hours. In your opinion, you have just had the worst weekend ever, in fact worst doesn't even cut it. You have had a completely shitty, most fucked up weekend you have ever experienced.

It had started out well enough, a pleasant relaxed start, browsing the local farmers markets like you both normally do, followed by a night with a night out on the Saturday. But that all ended when you found out your supposed best friend was sleeping with your boyfriend of six years. Initially you'd been calm, collected - not really taking in what they had said.

"We just want your blessing. We didn't decide to just love one another Piper - it just happened."

The words meant nothing at first.

It was after he moved away from your side, to hers. Took her hand in his, placed his arm around her shoulder, not yours, not where it should be, that was when the words first struck home. Love. Not just sleeping with one another. Not just casual, fancied a fuck, sleeping together. They were in love, and they wanted your fucking blessing as well.

That was where the past six years fell apart and you had no good reason not to be angry about it.

You had stood abruptly from the table, plates and cutlery clattering to the floor and screamed at them. Not just raised voices and strong words, proper full on screaming, for once not caring for what anyone in the restaurant had thought of you.

A tirade of harsh angry words aimed first at him, then her, eventually the both of them, fell from your lips like wine pouring from a bottle, tainted with the sheer hate you felt for both of them in that moment, for how they made you feel, for what they had done to you.

What had made it worse was they just sat there, looking at you with wide eyes and acceptance, listening to every word, eventually saying,

"We understand Piper, we knew you'd be angry, we just couldn't keep it from you any longer."

Any longer. Two words that meant more than you knew.

That was when you turned your back on them and the six years with him and a lifetime with her; turned and walked out of the restaurant, back to your apartment. The one you shared with him.

There were instant reminders of your lives together as soon as you stepped in your shared space, it had been too much to handle so you had taken to smashing things.

First it was just photo frames, captured images of times when you had been happy together. A hike in the mountains. A trip to the park. When he had fucking proposed to you on the beach. Each fell to the ground as you broke each reminder of your lives together like they had just broken you.

Then it was anything he'd bought you, bought for the apartment, for the life you had planned together. Anything he had fucking touched.

Like the eye in a storm, you stopped for a second and looked at the devastation around you, for a moment you felt cleansed. Like you had taken all the shit and cast it aside, destroyed it. Then you thought that's exactly how you felt. Cast aside. Destroyed. Unloved. Incapable of being loved.

That's when the drinking started. When you realised that life you had planned for, invested in, had faded from view the moment those words had been spoken in the restaurant "love". Wasn't he meant to be in love with you? Committed to you?

You needed to escape this, to not feel the hurt and pain for just a moment, so took consolation in whatever alcohol you could find in your apartment. It started with the two bottles of wine in your fridge, but that wasn't enough. It had taken the edge off but it hadn't managed to numb the pain of your heart breaking, your life shattering into a thousand pieces.

Soon enough you were searching through cupboards, drinking the harder spirits left over from parties you'd thrown for friends, from holidays and special occasions long forgotten. It helped, the multiple liquids in their various shades, but it still went no where near covering the pain you felt.

When that had run out, you had managed to stumble to the local store and bought a bottle of tequila and a large tub of ice cream, ignoring the looks of pity from the young cashier behind the counter. As you placed it on the counter you realised it wasn't even organic ice cream. That's how shitty and fucked up you felt.

Morals and values seemed to have been left by the wayside by the two closest people in your life - so why the fuck should you care about the small things such as what you bought at the store anymore.

Opening the door to your apartment you saw the destruction you had caused with fresh eyes, the pain of realisation hitting you once more as to the reason this happened.

This time it wasn't anger that consumed you. Sadness swept over you, as the door closed, you slumped against it, slowly falling to the floor, hugging your knees close to your chest and you cried. Small sobs at first as the waves of emotion started lapping over the memories of the last six years together. As the tears fell down your face, you felt the warmth in them as they hit your arms and cascaded to the floor. It didn't take much more for you to break out into broken cries, punctuated with drawn out breaths as your body tried to keep going as the pain took you away.

You can't remember how long you sat there for, the cries turning to full, unashamed wailing, letting the emotion run out of you until there was practically nothing left. Nothing but a shell of the person you had been before the start of this God forsaken evening.

You picked yourself up off the floor and stumbled to the kitchen. The ice cream was doing a fine job of become a sticky melted mess, so was flung to the back of your freezer. You wanted to feel nothing. To be reminded of nothing. You grab the neck of the tequila bottle and take the lid off, grabbing a glass, caring not for the size of it.

You pour yourself a shot of the tequila and slam it back - taking comfort in the burn as it trickles down the back of your throat.

You decide to toast to all the things that are being discarded like an unwanted wrapper.

You take a shot. This one is for all the times you made plans.

The hard liquor hits the back of your throat and reminds you, It's better this way.

Another shot. This one is for all the hopes and dreams you had of a life together. Better it happened now than once you were married.

For raising a family together. Could you even imagine yourself with kids? As a mother?

For growing old together. You thought you loved him, but was it just familiarity?

For just not being alone. Fuck.

As the last thought enters your mind, you realise your vision is getting hazy and you struggle standing upright. You move to the sofa and lie down. There is no way you are sleeping in your bed tonight. It will smell of him. Of the two of you. It will serve no purpose other than to remind you of the life that is no longer yours.

Your eyes start to close, and you welcome the weariness in your body. You have done it, finally, you've exhausted your whole being, to the point where you no longer need to think, you let the alcohol take control and you slip into the darkness of sleep.

Thanks to the variety of alcohol you consumed and the whirlwind of devastation that had stuck you unexpectedly only hours before, you slept well considering it all. When you surface from your slumber you realise that it's not actually morning, it's late afternoon and you've been out of it for sometime.

The hangover is a beast, but it was the incessant hammering on your door that was actually causing you pain, reverberating in your head and making you physically wince in pain.

Finding your feet, you stumble from the sofa to your door, hurling it open to lambast whoever was on the other side for making so much goddamn noise.

When the door opens you find him standing there, clearly in shock, as he first sees the state you are in, then the state of the apartment behind you. A worried look crosses his face which angers you. He has no right, you are like this because of him, because of her, them.

You turn away, and in doing so attempt to slam the door. But his reflexes are quicker than your movement so he catches it before it shuts, and steps into the apartment, mouth open to the chaos he finds when he stands and surveys the remnants of your actions from the night before.

"Good god Piper - what happened?" He sees the bottles on the floor, the smashed remnants of your life together. "Did you drink all that? Is this why you weren't opening the door….are you still drunk?" His mouth flaps like a fish, not certain of what to say for a moment.

He goes to speak again, but you cut him off. You don't need his words, not now. Not ever. He gave up that right when he cheated on you. So you speak to him instead. Low, quietly spoken words, but carefully chosen, the hatred seething behind each syllable.

"Get your shit, get out. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear from you, either of you again. Nothing can be salvaged from this, you gave that away when you slept with my best friend."

He stares at you - at the devastation surrounding you and goes to speak, but you remind him again. "Just get the fuck out of my sight. I can't bear to be around you. Take what you came for and leave."

You turn away, not without noticing the sigh and the sagging of his shoulders as he turns to the bedroom to collect his belongings. Moments later he reappears and moves to the door, a small bag in his hand. He'd planned for this. His stuff was already packed, ready to take. His voice is soft as he turns to go.

"We never meant for this to happen Piper, to hurt you, it's just, well, you know how love is-"

The glare from you is enough to halt him from speaking further, you go to say something but you decide you have no more words for him. No more energy to waste on him. He sees the anger in your eyes, how you have tensed up, knuckles turning white as you restrain yourself from lashing out at something, someone. So he turns and leaves, bag in hand, mind heavy with the words he wants to say, but knows he can't bring himself to say. The door opens, and with one last look, walks away from you one final time. Then he is gone.

Moments pass before you collapse to the floor where you were standing, you didn't think you had any more tears to cry - but you do. You shoulders shake with the sobbing, your heart aches, but after a while it starts to feel good.

You have finally reached that point where you can not get any lower. You have broken down so far, the only thing to do now is build back up.

You take the blanket off the sofa and wrap it around you, tucking your legs beneath you, curling into a ball, as if making yourself as small as possible will prevent any further hurt hitting you. You close your eyes and feeling the warmth surround you and fall back to sleep, only waking again the following morning to the sound of the alarm on your phone.

So that is how you come to be standing on the platform, late for work and the effects of the last forty eight hours still clinging to your skin, replaying through your mind.

You still feel numb, to your emotions, to the people around you, to everything. You have the need to do something though, something wild, unadulterated, anything, just to feel again. Something that lets you know you exist, not just surviving.

You shake yourself from your thoughts, bring yourself back to reality, the here and now and that's when you notice her. The tall, hot, dark haired woman stood on the opposite platform to you.

She is dressed casually, clearly not heading to any place that requires smart dress, instead she wears tight black jeans that fit her curves in all the right places, showing off her long legs perfectly; a white, low cut vest top under a leather jacket, and scuffed converse sneakers. Black rimmed glasses are pushed to the top of her head, holding back a few strands of her long hair, whilst her pale skin seems the glow in the dull light of the subway station.

You are mesmerised by her and stand staring at her across the tracks, your eyes tracing over every part of her, committing everything to memory. She keeps her head down, taking little notice of the people around her as she reads her book, unaware of how she holds your attention.

Whilst at college you dated men and women, so the fact you are taken by her is nothing new. The women and men you dated were hot, but none were as beautiful as this woman across from you now.

She continues to read, still engrossed in her novel, long delicate fingers turning page after page; you continue to stare, drinking in her beauty. You notice a slight smile appear at the edge of her mouth, and your heart flips. You feel drawn to her in a way you have felt with no one else, you yearn to hold her face in your hands, to feel your lips crashing into hers, to hold your body close to hers, to taste what she tastes like….

The sound of an approaching train breaks you from your thoughts, but you continue to look at her. The woman opposite closes her book and pulls her glasses from the top of her head, looks to her approaching train, then looks across the tracks, directly at you.

You can't hide the fact you were staring. There is no point looking away, so you just smile. Her eyes close slightly as she realises you've been staring, you notice their movements up and down your own body as she checks you out, a smile and a raised eyebrow confirming she likes what she sees.

But the train pulls in, blocks her from your view and your heart races, eyes frantically searching for her amidst the people getting on the carriages. Then you see her. She has stood by the closed doors nearest to you looking across to the platform you are stood on, her own eyes searching for something. Her eyes connect with yours and that's it. She smiles at you and suddenly there is a surge of electricity through your body as her gaze bores straight into you, reaching every part of you, jolting you back to life, pulling you away from the cliff edge you've been stood on since your world crashed around you.

As the train pulls away you both continue to look at one another until she is too far away for you to make out clearly. You release a breath you didn't realise you were holding and start to consider what just happened.

You feel as if something has been woken inside of you. For the first time in a long time, you feel alive.

A/N OK - so this was meant to be a one-shot that I started to write on my commute to a meeting this morning, hoping I would finish it after my journey. But the whole drunk, destructive Piper element of the story happened, so the story I thought of, stood on a platform this morning, waiting for my train to arrive, will be finished in the 2nd part. :)

I've tried to keep from over editing it (I normally re-read a bunch of times before updating anything!) - so any errors I do apologise for!

I had originally planned to update Something Good whilst on the commute - but I liked this idea I had - so thought I would go with it, so sorry for that, I will work extra hard to get that next SG chapter up as soon as - but I hope you like this too.

As ever - reviews, comments, thoughts all very welcome! :D