So this was supposed to be a one shot when I started it and turned out to be a bit longer, so I decided to divide it into three parts.
I was listening to a song that day. Two people meet in a bus and aren't able to talk to one another.
This is my way to tell the story and I hope you like it.
I am not used to write in present tense or in first-person perspective, hope it's any good.
Thanks EmCelle for helping me out here ;) (and every other story)
I don't own Lost Girl or any character.
Begegnung part 1
Lauren POV
The double doors open. People are streaming out like a swarm of honey bees on their mission to collect pollen for their queen. I wait patiently for the rush to pass. Some of them don't seem to notice me standing on the left side of the bus. Shoulders crash into my right side. Bags almost slap into my face. With the years you get used of being ignored. At least that's what I say to myself, but who am I trying to fool? It still stings every single time.
I clutch my book and spiral-bounded notepad to my chest, ducking my head. I've learned to make myself invisible for others, to get out of their way.
The sun is shining and it is a beautiful day in early summer. I love to go out to study at the park a short bus drive down the alley I live in. My bronze colored, mirror glassed sunglasses fit perfectly to my white blouse and those dark blue worn out jeans. I love those pants. They hang a bit more loose around the waist since the start of the semester. I sometimes forgot to eat and instead consumed too much of those Thai Latte. I could kill for one of Johnny's Tea House specials.
The bus is nearly empty when I finally have the chance to step inside. One of the benefits of living four stops from the terminus. I place the student ticket at the control panel. A green check-mark blinks almost immediately. I look around shortly like I always do. Scanning the small sitting area to my right. Mostly old women are seated in the front near the drivers cabin. A few younger teens, around fourteen I guess, are laughing loudly at the back.
"Cool kids sit in the back," I once heard my nephew saying.
He's turning four this fall and he surely is the coolest boy in town with his cowboy hat which he refuses to take off, only for getting into bed.
"Aunty, Cowboys don't sleep with their hats on", he said, rolling his eyes. "If you don't know that, you should watch more Lucky Luke!"
I had a hard time convincing him, that the water from the shower would ruin the brown leather strap bound around it when my sister finally allowed me to take him for a sleep over at my place. But eventually he agreed and stepped into the spray, laughing because the water drops tickled his small back.
I adore him. He overflows with vitality. Laughing all day long, fooling around, even enjoying the little things. I feel all kinds of wonderful and free and just like I could do almost anything when I'm with him. He breaks through my calculated mind.
My gaze drops on the two empty seats behind the secure glass near the exit to my left. I rush over and sit down next to the window laying my book and notepad on my lap. My sunglasses color the world around me in calming sepia. It feels like I'm looking at old photographs. A warm touch of orange and brown. Like those in the photo album my mum used to show off when my whole family came home to visit on Christmas Eve.
The only time all of us find our way back to the place everything started. My mum lives in England, alone after my dad died in spring eight years ago. My dad had always wanted us to do what our hearts desired and he had done everything in his power to make that possible.
His death broke something inside of me that I'm yet to fix. The doctors thought the pain he had suffered from was some kind of rheumatism. They started endless tests and prescribed a lot of medication until one day, a young intern examined his blood again. She had a hypothesis we all hoped wouldn't turn out to be true.
A week later it was clear. Diagnoses plasmacytome. They started a new treatment. Chemotherapy, radiotherapy. In the end he lost the battle against a much stronger enemy. He died at home in his bed one night around two o'clock. Just like he had wished for, with his beloved family around. I saw him taking his last breath. He died with a smile. The war was over. The pain was gone.
Shortly after the funeral we received our certification of matriculation for the university of Toronto.
Me and my sister moved to Canada that year to study and try to build a new life away from the world we grew up in. We didn't plan it that way, it just happened.
My sister is two years older than me. She found her luck in a businessman called Naresh. He and his family moved from India to Canada when he was five. She hated the life of a student and when she got pregnant about three years after they started dating, she cried happy tears. Naresh, my sister could now call her husband, earns more than enough money to buy his small family a house in the suburb.
My sister has always been the lazy type. Some people even asked my mother if we were related at all. She is the exact opposite of me. At least in character. I've always been the straight forward one. The one who worked hard to get fulfill my dreams. I still am. My sister never did much for anything. Most of the things she wanted just came by. Some call it luck. I call it cleverness. She knows just which strings to pull.
But she is a great mum. She loves her child, my nephew. Family means everything to her and I worship her loyalty. She has been on my side, always. Protected me during my childhood. I couldn't have wished for a better big sister.
"You know, you can visit at any time. Just give us a call," I still remember her telling me that she'd move to the other part of the town. Leaving me all alone.
It felt like loosing my anchor.
My younger brother always talked about traveling the world and seeing all those places no one ever had been. Since middle school he saved money and three years after my sister and I had left home he did, too.
He became a writer of adventure travel books. My little Hans stare-in-the-air. My daydreamer. Everything he did as a kid, he did with so much passion and devotion. Sometimes I see him in my nephew's eyes. He told me to listen more closely to what my heart was telling me. Warning me, that I would lose myself inside my head if I didn't stop overthinking, rationalize or streamline everything.
He is the kind and warmhearted part of our family. Watching out for us although he is the youngest member of our clan. He felt responsible to take our father's place, holding the bunch together.
Now I can see his face every time I go to that small bookshop around the corner of the campus I love to get lost in so much. His light brown eyes are smiling back at me from a cover in the holiday-section. I am not allowed to buy one of those books, because he wants to tell me his stories in person and present all his photographs.
"You need to know the story behind it, so you get all those feelings." His voice sounded so excited when he had called me that night before we met again a few years back. His first book had been released that day.
I am so proud of my little 'Mustachio'. He hates that nickname, but that fluffy bush beneath his nose he had cultured in Turkey on his second trip, needs, almost screams to be celebrated. He looks just like Mr. Hardner, my second grade English teacher.
Gross.
We never ever made it to the photograph part, because he had so many anecdotes to tell on each and every Christmas Eve that, after the first and then the second bottle of red wine had been finished, together with some shots of various booze he had collected on his trips, we could hardly form coherent words anymore much less whole sentences.
That's way I love Christmas now more than ever.
The bus drives off, leaving waving people running towards its doors behind. They would have to take the next one. I'll never understand the policy of bus drivers. There has to be some kind of codex. Never open the door again once it's shut. I myself was standing in front of closed doors more times than I can count, my finger on the button pushing eagerly just to see the giant vehicle rolling off without me.
My eyes are flying over the scenery outside. It is around eleven thirty and some passersby are surely searching for a place to eat their lunch. Cafes and bars pullulate along the street. A few shops and some apartment houses loosen the crowed places where people meet other people. Hugging, shaking hands. Business or casual looking. I am not much for company though. At least not with some strangers.
"You cannot make friends, if you don't meet new people, Lauren." My mum just wanted me to be happy, when she pushed me inside that room full of children, when I was around five.
"Mum, I don't need friends, I have you and Sam and Tom and Dad." I tried desperately to keep my hold on her wrist. My small fingers slipping from her freshly lotioned palm.
"Your sister and brother aren't friends, they're family and Dad and me don't count as well. You need to find some kids your age. To talk to, to play with, to have some fun." She shoved me deeper into the ocean of eyes staring back at me like I was their prey.
"But kids my age are boring. They just talk about puppets and Lego and they play silly games. Mum I hate Twister. Please don't make me play Twister. Please don't leave me here." I can still feel the fear when my younger self had finally realized that Mum was long gone and I was surrounded by all those groping, sticky hands and those jarring, loud voices of little devils crawling along the floor. Encircling me.
I let my mind drift off. Thoughts are running through my head. Coming and going as they please. I don't mind them at all. They are my silent companion. The good and the bad ones. Though for today, I have decided to give the good ones room to blossom and the bad to not bother my happiness. It is a far too warm and beautiful a day to be ruined by cold reality.
A reality in which my twenty seven year old self is left alone in a small single apartment with some very sad and mostly dying plants. My green thumb never had the chance to show off its qualities. Or it already does and I am just a bad gardener.
The bus is directing to the next stop sign and comes to a halt. Only one old man with a wheeled walker is waiting to be picked up. When the doors open, he struggles to get inside. His hands are shaking when he tries to maneuver the heavy walker aid onto the higher floor in front of him. Of course he didn't push the right button. The one that would let the hydraulic pump bring down the only stair to climb to get inside on eye level with the concrete.
I place my stuff next to me on the dirty surface of the seat and stand up. Climbing out next to the man, he must be around seventy, I grab him by his arm to steady his position. My parents taught me manners.
"Oh, thank you, Miss. I couldn't have made it on my own."
His voice is higher than I would have thought and very husky. I just nod and smile shyly. Me and my social skills. I am not very proud of the lack of interpersonal communication. That's why I love my sunglasses. They hide the insecurity in my eyes.
The man sits down on one of the seats in the disable-friendly area opposite the door, placing his rolling helper in front of him, adjusting the breaks. His light blue eyes look up at me and with a toothless smile he waves a "Thank you, Miss." when I find my place by the window again.
I feel uneasy. I could only hope that I would get more comfortable in accepting compliments or that I would learn how to use my mouth to form words while helping foreigners. Especially because of the career I'm into. A doctor should be able to talk to their patients or at least look them in the eye, right?
I look down at my book, fiddling with the binder. My face must show all shades of red. God, I hate it. The choice to leave my blonde long hair open, had been a very good one after all. Another option to mask my feelings.
The bus moves on again with a loud puff of air escaping the tired break-system. While my eyes find their way to look back outside the window, I silently hope for my special place to be free of any human being. I searched for that kind of loneliness for quite some time now. Hard to find some peace and quiet in my part of the city, where most of the inhabitants are students like me.
But that bench at the end of the park, embedded between bushes and trees, next to a statue of a woman in all her naked beauty, I could allow to relax myself and concentrate on the words I have to get my mind wrapped around.
Maybe I shouldn't practice as a doctor but go into research. I am a fast learner and my combination skills are over the top. Not that I think of myself to be better or more special than others, but I could easily catch up and that I know as a fact.
A big pothole lets the tire of the bus crash down hard and my book and notepad I pawed mindlessly, are slipping off of my lap, along the hallway, to find an halt in front of the doors.
"Dammit," I whisper before I hurriedly make my way towards the exit. The next bus stop isn't far and I have to get my stuff before some heedless feet stomp upon it.
When I kneel down to get my book off the floor with one hand and crawl a few inches forward to do the same with my notepad, another heavy eruption makes me loose my fragile balance. I am crouching on all fours now when the bus stops and the doors open with a hiss. Just in time for the first passenger to step in, my sunglasses had slipped from my nose to land directly underneath a large man's shoe, must be at least size eleven or even twelve.
Holding my right hand in the air, with my notepad in a tight grip my face must look like that of a kid who has just been told hat their dog had run away. I have to admit, it feels a bit like loosing that beloved dog. Those were my favorite sunglasses. The worst part, they were my only pair as well.
Several people just rush past without looking down or offering to help stand up. The only hand I see and feel laying on my shoulder, is the one of that older man with his wheeled walker when I turn my head his way. He smiles sadly back at me. I force myself to return that smile while I had managed to stand up. I don't meet his eyes for much longer than milliseconds and nod again, politely. Looking back where my broken sunglasses, my shield, my mask had been trampled underfoot, are spread all across the entrance zone by now.
Okay, this day has just turned from awesome to- not that awesome anymore. At least my place by the window is still free for me to return to. I feel a sigh building in my chest when I sit back down. When I am about to take a breath to release a bit of the growing tension in my upper body, I watch as a feminine hand with neatly manicured nails slips through the gummy of those glass doors before they could shut completely.
The sensor forced them to open up again and my eyes are scanning over that hand, along a well defined forearm up to an even more toned upper arm covered half way in a light blue silk blouse hitched up . My ogling gaze drops upon a delicate glimpse of a collarbone, almost hidden under that shimmering fabric.
The world around me stops in track. I feel myself loosing the ability of my mind to command my body to do anything but stare. Forgotten is that sigh tightening my throat, or that I would need to inhale oxygen soon or die.
The sudden sound of the bus doors and that peeping to step back makes me crash back from the clouds I find myself in. My brain is pumping signals through my limbs, telling my lungs to start working again. My heart rate beat's around one hundred twenty per minute and the cover of the book earned some waves around the edges because of my sweaty palms that are holding on too tightly.
'Okay, Lauren, you just saw a hand, an arm- which is a really beautiful arm...' I shake my head slightly, closing my eyes for a second. 'Get your shit together,' I think.
When I open my eyes again, looking up through the secure glass in front of me, I am met by a pair of the most gorgeous brown orbs I have ever seen, that I could tell without a doubt. They are staring back at me and I feel attached to their shine. As if they are smiling brightly just for me. I have never looked into such pureness. No fog or curtains to walk through, I could easily enter and get embraced by their warmth. Maybe people were right when they said, the eyes are the window to one's soul. There is this natural pull to get lost in them.
"Wow."
I swear I can feel it. Right there. With just one look. Although I have never seen that woman before. I can't take my eyes off of her. My body responds in a way it hasn't in a long time now. I've almost forgotten all about those emotions. The prickling in my belly. The tension in my throat loosening and twisting into that dry sand-land. Every swallow of none existing saliva is like rubbing one's skin against emery paper.
I don't even notice that the bus is driving again or that the woman moved from the spot at the doors right next to where I am seated.
I blink several times. With her standing next to me, all my insecurities are coming back full force. My face burns and I'm more than sure that my cheekbones are blazing with embarrassment. My eyes roam along her form. Her hair, her upper body, her legs. It only takes a few seconds, but I can't help it. My finger nails are the last stop of my unintended journey. As soon as my head turns and my chin almost smashes against my chest, my hair is shielding my face immediately.
"Hi, is this seat taken?"
That voice. Melodic and soft, that I could have overheard it by the loud noises of the wheels on the street and the creaking on the inside. 'Gosh, please talk to me again', was all my mind could gather. But as some kind of routine when anyone directs their attention my way, I just nod and wave my hand invitingly.
She sits down. Right next to me. So close but yet so far. I sneak a peek to my left. Her deep brown hair falls freely over her shoulders. A few strands are tied back on the top. I couldn't see much more though. I wouldn't want her to think of me as some awkward weirdo staring at her.
The secure window in front of me, reflects the both of us like a mirror. The picture is a bit palish but it's enough to admire the beauty next to me without the fear of getting caught. Her silk blouse fits perfectly. It hugs her every curve. She's sitting upright. Hands on her lap, holding some kind of suitcase. A black leather suitcase. Laying across her left arm, there is a blazer. Dark blue or black. Can't tell for sure.
I look back down. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable. A scent fills my head. Her scent. It's a mix out of the ink of a printer, pineapple shampoo and that strawberry body lotion I couldn't get enough of when ever I went to that drugstore in town.
I used to sniff on it every time but always chose the boring home brand. It was cheaper and as much as I love that smell of freshly cut fruits on my skin, I have to save money. Living alone and being a student, well, there was always a lot of month left when the money was all gone.
'Just say 'hi'', I could, but now it seems more strange than anything else. The small time frame to start small talk or introduce oneself is short and I missed it seconds ago.
Playing with the rings on the side of my notepad, my mind creates a short movie about the what-could-have-been's.
"Hi, is this seat taken?"
"Well, gorgeous, now I'd say it is."
I could never have said something like that. But I would have loved to hear her voice again.
'Just say anything. Try a -nice blouse- or -oh wow, what body lotion do you use-.' God, no. Just thinking of those sentences sounds creepy enough.
With my head hanging down and my hair as my safety curtain in front of my face, my eyes are dancing freely from notepad, to her hand, to my book cover, across the outline of her right thigh, her knee, back to my fumbling hands.
I am nervous. Very nervous and I can't remember being as antsy as I am now. Maybe when I was in high school and that girl in the back I adored for months had finally noticed me. But that feeling had been replaced shortly when she had only asked for me to step aside, because I was filling up the entire space and she couldn't move to her favorite place in the last row.
Even back then I hadn't said anything. Just that nodding with a shy smile on my lips. What would have happened if I had found the courage to say those words? Like -hi- or -can I buy you lunch- or something like that.
Small talk. I have never found anything more complicated. How could anyone get from the sunny weather to a candle light dinner for two. Is a candle lit dinner even still worthy to be called a date?
My curiosity wins over my anxiety of getting caught and I just feel the need to look back up and into that mirror converted secure glass. I stare at myself. My tensed sitting position. My flushed face. My fidgeting right leg bouncing up and down.
'This is ridiculous.' I know that, but I can't help it. My gaze is gliding along the plain surface. Slowly finding it's destination upon the smooth skin of her chin up to those luxurious, slightly pink lip-glossed lips. My heart is racing wildly by now. I can hear it in my ears. My blood boiling inside my veins. Rushing through my system. I feel the temperature rising inside my whole body. Burning like an inferno.
Her cheekbones are colored light red. I can't say whether it is rouge or the warmth of running for the bus earlier covering that perfect space between her nose and her ears. All I know is,that she looks sexy as hell.
Discovering every inch of her face I've finally made my way up to her eyes. She is looking down. God, I wish I could loose myself again in their welcoming depth.
'Look at me.' Now I am talking to her inside my head. Pleading words she would never hear as long as I keep my mouth shut. 'Dammit, Lewis, say hi. You can do it. She's the most beautiful human being you've ever seen. Don't make such a fuss! If not now, when?'
Closing my eyes I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts or at least what's left of them, adjusting my sitting position to find a more confident pose.
'Hi. Hello. Hey.' There are a bunch of greetings I could use to start a conversation. I could even ask her questions. 'You know what time it is? You know how many stops are left until terminus? Can I hold your hand for the rest of the ride?' Oh boy, this would end in a catastrophe.
'Maybe first things first and I'll go with a simple -Hello I'm Lauren- and see where this leads us to.'
I open my eyes after my inner monologue comes to an end and my confused balance of body mind and soul equilibrates again, just to find those astonishing orbs staring back at me through the mirroring glass.
Caught up in her gaze I feel unable to move, to breath, to think. My mouth slightly is open, that I can feel. The words I collected with blood, sweat and tears, mustered up on the tip of my tongue ready to burst out for her to hear, have dried out with the last bit of saliva there had been left.
How could it be possible for those thousands of thoughts to fly around in my head and not being able to be collected and formed into words. And words into sentences and sentences into something that makes more sense than sitting here and staring at that gorgeous woman possibly getting the thrills because of my ogling eyes?
I am such a chicken.
Okay, first part done. What do you think?