King's Cross

I have no idea how it actually turned out in the end, but this is based on something I saw after I went to London one night, where a guy actually did end up chatting to this girl at Kings Cross

Dodging through massive crowds, trying to keep up with the time that kept on running away, he found himself struggling. Would he make it? The train was in 7 minutes. Being in a foreign country was one thing, but adjusting to a different culture was another, he thought to himself. The tube was at 22:22 and it was now 22.15. He had to make this train.

 

 

Standing on the crowded platform, lost in her music, she hummed along absent-mindedly to the sound of Roxy Music and The Cure. She’d never been one to make the train on time, so today was an especially rare occasion.

 

 

Slightly out of breath, he entered the platform, trying to squeeze his way through the tightly packed crowd to have a chance at even getting on board the next train. He looked down at his phone, another text message from Mom asking if he was okay. He sighed, wondering if his mother would ever be okay with the possibility of him moving to London. Looking around, he began to observe people. Not in a creepy way, but in a way of social learning. Businessmen and women on their way home from a busy day at work. Musicians carrying their instruments home. The occasional nineteen year old on their way out to go clubbing, scantily dressed and possibly slightly drunk due to a few pre-party drinks.

 

And then he saw at her and it hit him. Hit him like a tidal wave. A million thoughts flashed through his head, but at the same time, everything stopped. He was able to assess her, to take in every inch of her through his eyes. He was able to look at the natural wave in her warm, mocha-coloured hair and how it flowed down her back, stopping just at her indent in her spine. He was able to look at how her skin glowed in comparison to every other person on that platform waiting for the 22:22 tube on the Circle Line. He glanced down and noticed how her soft baby-pink playsuit fell off of her hips just right, and how her legs seemed to go on for days. She turned around, flicking her gorgeous hair from one shoulder to the other, and he caught a first glimpse of her face. How her eyes were blue, not like pools of water, but blue like an Adonis blue butterfly, and surrounded by soft lashes, which had a perfect curl. Minimal makeup, yes, but somehow it just suited her. His eyes drifted downwards and focused on her lips. Rouged and perfectly in proportion, fitting in with every other perfect part of her body. It was when these thoughts were running through his head that he stopped, suddenly aware that her piercing blue eyes were focused on him.

 

 

She glanced over towards him and away again, wondering if he’d seen her looking. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt, this curiosity. Intrigue. She adjusted her position so that she could see him without it being too obvious, wanting to get an opportunity to look him up and down to see if she could gain any more information about him from his appearance. She noticed the way that his shirt was slightly crinkled and was untucked, just hanging over his belt buckle. His dark hair was slightly scruffy, but not in a bad way. In one of those ways where you want to run your fingers through it and do nothing more. And his stubble that was more a seven o’clock shadow than a five, but was loveable none the less. He looked like a genuinely nice person, not one of those loveable rogues that turn out to be a******s. He just seemed nice, you could tell. Amongst all of this, however, she found herself focusing on one thing. His eyes. The faint spark of despair that was etched into him. The look of a person that, no matter how much he smiled, it wouldn’t reach his eyes.

 

 

The more she stared at him, the more she wanted to help him; to save him. And the more he looked at her, the more he wanted to be saved by her. She was like a ray of sunshine and he was like a dark cloud, but somehow that was just okay.

 

 

After a decision that felt like an eternity to make, he established to himself that he’d rather talk to her and get let down rather than let her go and regret making the wrong choice. He asked her what she was listening to on her iPod. She told him ‘Joy Division’. He told her of how they were his favourite band. After one minute of conversation, she knew that he needed her. After two minutes of conversation, he was hooked. After three minutes of conversation, she had never felt more comfortable around anybody else in her entire existence. After four minutes, the train had arrived. However, the conversation continued. He sat with her and she was glad for the company. Not just that, she was glad that, out of everybody, he chose her to talk to. The more she looked into his eyes, the less sadness she saw. The more he listened to the words that she said, the more he wanted to here. The conversation flowed and flowed until the train reached her stop. She hoped he would go with her. He couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye, so he didn't.