Disclaimer: If Shaman King were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
Background music: Next Stop, Heavenly Queen – The Twins (Please listen to it. It's a sweet melody and would be like ice cream with this cream puff I've written.)
Next Stop
The train rushed past, scattering papers in its path. The silver sides of this quick bullet on a rail were almost like the tail of a comet and in a flash it was gone. People started scattering from the platform, clutching their briefcases and various belongings as they exited the station. This was an open air station and the sunny blue sky decorated the place above their heads. Amiss all this motion was a single person, bundled up in a dark brown trench coat, two sizes too big, and a dark burgundy scarf. This person was apparently asleep on a bench, leaning back into the pillar behind him. The scarf bunched up into his chin, so half of his face was hidden by the red material. Breathing softly, the person stayed sitting in the station until the sky started turning a dark purple to signify the end of the day. As stars started to twinkle above, a station manager stepped out of his booth and walked over to the person, shaking his head.
Why was someone this young, a mere boy, really, waiting at a train station?
"Excuse me…it's eight fifty. You'd better be getting home," the station manager said gently, shaking the boy's shoulder. The boy came awake with a start, blinking rapidly to get situated with consciousness. His green eyes were still laced with sleep but he smiled and stood up. "Thank you."
The station manager stared at the boy, about maybe sixteen, past the rim of his conductor's cap. "He didn't come today, did he?"
The boy shook his head, stifling a yawn. "No. But one of these days he will." The boy smiled, a genuine warm smile that warmed the cold night. "And when he does, I'll be here waiting for him."
The conductor shook his head, ruffling his brow with a soft disbelief. "Young love these days…"
The boy chuckled, his face turning red. "When you put it that way…"
"You're much too modest, Mr. Diethyl. It's the only reason you're always waiting here, isn't it?"
Lyserg paused to think it over before slowly nodding. "I guess so. Thank you again."
Stepping onto the sidewalk, Lyserg Diethyl turned to look up at West End Station. He really had been waiting for some time, hadn't he? Even the station manager knew who he was now. Feeling the cold pavement under him, Lyserg set off for home.
The station manager yawned as he stepped into the help booth. He blinked as he saw a familiar face already seated on the bench. Shaking his head again, the man decided to take business as usual.
Lyserg smiled gently to himself as he held a warm Thermos in his hands. He had forgotten his gloves at home but had somehow remembered to bring some soup. Decked in the trench coat again minus the scarf, Lyserg made himself comfortable and waited.
Rush hour came fast today. Lyserg watched absent-mindedly as busy businessmen bustled past him, giving him only one fast glance before rushing along. He saw friendly Ms. Hunt wave at him as she made her way onto the train to visit her grandchildren. Not only had he been here long enough to know the station manager, he had already known a few usuals.
"'ello, Lyserg." Lyserg turned to see Sam, the guitar player that frequently played around these parts. Setting up the guitar case for funds, Sam took out a stool. "Still waitin', chum?"
"Always," Lyserg murmured.
"Lucky chap, that Yoh," Sam said, shaking his head. "How long now?"
"Four months."
"Already?" Sam strummed a thoughtful note. "He's gotta show sooner or later, eh?"
"I hope so." Lyserg stopped. "I know so."
"Positive attitude," Sam nodded, strumming more notes. Lunch hour came around and soon even supper. Sam had packed up and left, while Lyserg remained where he was, trying to retain the fading warmth from the empty Thermos. Thomas, the station manager, was starting to pack up to go home. The station never closed, but once Thomas went off duty, it was the man's ethical duty to make sure the boy made it home safely. After all, it made no sense to put yourself in danger while you were waiting for someone that important.
"I'll see myself out," Lyserg called, standing up. The midnight train would be coming in a few hours, but he knew he wouldn't be coming so late.
Lyserg walked out of the station, swinging the Thermos gently back and forth.
--
"Wait here for me, alright? I'll come back no matter what."
Lyserg stared up at the cloudless sky. It was already getting warmer. Taking off his coat, the long sleeved dark red shirt was exposed underneath.
"Red really brings out the color of your eyes, you know that? You should wear red more often."
"Hello, Lyserg. Still here?"
"Yes, Ms. Hunt."
"Well, stay healthy boy. You don't want him to come back and find you half-dead." She grinned a wrinkly smile.
"Listen…something's come up and I'm gonna have to go somewhere for some time. No, don't look at me like that…I'll be back, I promise. It's just…I have some stuff to do somewhere and I'm going to have to go away for some…no, don't cry. You know that only makes me want to cry. Smile. It's not so bad."
"Oh, I'd never do that to him." Lyserg responded with an equally friendly smile.
"I'm rooting for you, boy," Ms. Hunt said enthusiastically. "When he comes home, what are you going to do?"
Warm brown eyes bore into his…so warm that they were the only thing he needed on cold winter nights and refreshing enough to drown in during the warm months. Arms that radiated the same care and warmth circled around him, enveloping him in a huge of what smelled like warm maple. Lips that twisted into a wide smile pressed themselves onto his…
When Lyserg merely smiled, Ms. Hunt laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Oh…boys. I should know what you're thinking."
"That's not it!" Lyserg protested.
"Then why are your cheeks so red?" Ms. Hunt walked away chuckling lightly, leaving Lyserg feeling light-headed.
--
Birds migrate during the summer and winter months. Lyserg watched a flock fly north as he stared up at the sky, a listless expression on his face.
"Excuse me? Can I help you?"
Lyserg looked down from the sky, his head quickly falling out of the clouds. The station manager jogged over to the new member of the station and quickly pulled him aside. The new employee looked over at Lyserg before nodding at the manager. "Sorry," he called shortly, walking away. "Continue on."
--
"You know, sometimes I think your smile's the only thing getting me through the day."
Lyserg stared down at the newspaper in his hands. So many bad things were happening…station bombings, freak fires, a brutal robbery…it was things like these that gave him the shivers and the warm arms that used to protect him from his fears was absent from around him to comfort him.
"Hey, boy."
Lyserg looked up. The station manager walked up to him. "You'd best be careful, boy. You've read about the station bombings, I presume…" The man glanced down at the newspaper. "Security's boosted up and you can never be too careful." He paused. "On that subject, you don't think…?"
Lyserg shook his head. "He's still with us."
The station manager gave him an understanding look. "You'd know best, boy, with your connection and all."
--
It was a rainy day. The sun had hidden around darkly colored clouds, like the puddles you find on the bottom of watercolor pallets. The station was deserted, as it was damp and uncomfortable. Thomas had gone to get a coffee break and the newbie, Chris, was elsewhere. In the comfort of knowing no one was there, he let the tears fall.
He didn't mind waiting much. In fact, he didn't think it was bothersome. Someone who was worth all that waiting was worth more than a few gloomy days here and there.
But sometimes it got lonely…Thomas climbed into the booth again, getting himself comfortable in the warm booth. He looked out past the rain drenched window and saw the boy sitting on the bench, hunched over, head in his hands. Thomas understood the unspoken pact and turned away politely to let the boy cry in privacy.
--
"You okay, boy?"
Lyserg nodded, turning to Ms. Hunt. "I'm just a little sore, that's all."
"Hmm." Ms. Hunt looked into the sixteen year old's eyes. "You've been waiting for a long time. Are you sure…"
"I'm sure." Lyserg stared out at the shiny rail. "He will come one day and I'm going to be here when he does."
"You've got your mind made up," Ms. Hunt said affectionately. "We worry about you, boy. Don't forget that."
--
The bomb threats were already fading from memory, what with the recent crack down by the police. Lyserg didn't mind getting routinely searched, although it was usually for looks since the guards had gotten to know his schedule. Thomas had helped to explain it too. His bench was still there, weather-beaten and faithful. Lyserg sat down again, trench coat, which had been left behind by Yoh, at home. The weather was starting to get too warm for such apparel.
It was a hot day. Someone was selling shaved ice near the platform, ignoring the fact that no one really wanted to buy anything from him due to the debris scattered while the train sped by.
--
No one understood the butterflies in his stomach every time the train door opened. It didn't matter when it was, but whenever he watched those silver doors slide open, the funny feeling would arise in his stomach, time after time. It never failed. It didn't matter if they opened to let one last person in, his stomach would do some kind of flip.
Interesting people were starting to leave these doors, girls on summer holiday and boys going to their places. These were the kinds of people who would give him second looks, but he never paid them much mind.
One time, a boy with silver headphones stepped off the train and made his way to the station door, not pausing a second to look at him. Lyserg stared at him even though he had left minutes ago. Staring at the spot where he was. Almost like the person he had been waiting for, actually. It had been only recently when he had realized how he felt and it had only been a couple of weeks they had spent together before the departure.
Although his eyes had peeled away as another train came in and an endless array of possibilities spilled through its doors.
--
"What's going on?"
"Sorry, boy." Thomas looked at the boy standing next to him apologetically. "We're having a remodeling…just changing a few parts here and there…and unfortunately…we're replacing the benches."
Lyserg stared at the empty spot where his trusty yellow bench had been. There was even an outline in the white wall behind it.
"Sorry…the station's not closed, but it'll be dusty. There are still a few seats…you can go sit there." Thomas pointed to a seat a few feet away from where Lyserg usually sat.
"He might not see me if I'm not straight in front." Lyserg shrugged. "It doesn't matter much." He walked over to the pillar where his bench used to reside next to and slid down to the ground. "I don't mind waiting here like this."
Thomas shook his head. Stubborn kid.
--
The air was getting cooler. The sky was starting to loose its baby blue quality and the clouds were starting to age. The youth of summer was starting to slip into the maturity of fall. Even now, the autumn leaves were starting to blow through the station. And there he was, sitting where he usually sat. The warm wooden yellow bench had been replaced with cold metal seats, and these got cold as the weather changed.
A circle is never ending. Infinity is a figure eight on its side. Wheels will spin and spin and never get to its beginning or end. The water cycle circulates constantly. The life cycle continues cranking past slowly.
Lyserg rubbed his hands and breathed on them. Why did he always forget his gloves?
"Lyserg, you forgot your gloves again! Seriously, I think we should put on those little clip things babies have to secure their pacifiers. Don't give me that look. How would you like it if your pretty little hands get frostbite? Again, don't give me that look. Your hands are pretty."
--
Thomas thought it strange that today, the coldest day of the year, the boy was wearing his gloves. He hadn't doubted he wouldn't show; after all, rain or shine, the boy was here. But never wearing gloves…the boy wasn't much of a gloves person. But today, here he was, wearing dark navy blue mittens.
Presently, the boy was asleep again, his head buried in the familiar winter red scarf. Circling his arms around him, feigning a familiar embrace, the boy was fast asleep, his hair embossed with the gently falling snowflakes. Thomas glanced at his watch. Eight forty five.
He'd give him five more minutes. The boy deserved that much.
At exactly eight fifty, the boy woke up, blinking gently, although he hadn't wanted to wake up. He had liked it here in his dream; he was with him, warm and gentle. In the harsh reality of winter in a train station, it had been a brutal wake up.
"Eight fifty," Thomas said quietly. The boy jumped to see the station manager standing next to him.
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I was tired." The boy rubbed his head, which had been leaning against the pillar. "I won't keep you from your family. I know it's cold and you want to go home." The boy rubbed his hands automatically and looked down at the gloves.
"You've been wearing them since you were here," Thomas said helpfully.
"I know. It's just…for a second it was as if he were holding them." Lyserg stared at his hands thoughtfully. "He'd bought me these after I'd lost my fifth pair."
"Hmm."
"And I'm making good care not to lose these either."
"I'll make sure you don't, boy."
"Thank you."
It was a silent night, holy night, as the boy with green hair stepped onto the street for home.
Owari
Note: I was trying to get at a hopeful kind of mood with this fanfic. It's a bit off from my usual style, or so I think. Tell me what you think of his somewhat different style. As for the song, I couldn't really tell you much about it except it's about train stations and waiting. So…Read and Review, thanks!