Inside, the bus was far from empty, but it wasn't overflowing either. The seats were filled with the soft murmur of other passengers, most of whom seemed lost in their own thoughts, gazing out of the windows or staring at their feet. But what caught their attention wasn't the passengers—it was the seats that remained.
There were only four left, and the arrangement of them felt almost deliberate, as though fate had decided to place them in the oddest way. Two of the seats were together, nestled into a corner of the bus. They were side by side, close enough to offer the comfort of being near someone, but not quite close enough to make conversation feel natural. The fabric of the seats was worn, faded with time and use, but still soft enough to offer some semblance of comfort. They seemed inviting in their own quiet way, as though they were waiting patiently for someone to occupy them.
But the other two seats… those were another matter entirely. One was tucked away on the far side of the bus, behind a row of occupied seats, distant from the other seats. The other was even farther, almost at the opposite end of the bus, separated by several rows of occupied seats. The odd placement of these two seats made it feel as though they were intentionally kept apart, separated by the empty space, as though the bus itself had chosen to keep them distanced from one another.
It felt strange, almost like a small puzzle that had been half-formed, with pieces that just didn't quite fit. And yet, there they were—four seats, just enough for them, but none of them in the arrangement they had hoped for. There was a quiet discomfort in the air, an unspoken tension as they stood, unsure of where to sit, knowing that whatever choice they made, it would be less than ideal. And still, they stood there for a moment longer, as if waiting for something—anything—to change, before finally deciding.
But on the other side of coin.
The boy didn't waste a single second. There was no hesitation, no flicker of doubt in his mind. His movements were deliberate, measured, as though the decision had already been made for him long before he stepped onto the bus. Without looking around, he walked toward one of the vacant seats, his feet almost moving on their own, as if they had a clear sense of where they needed to go. He lowered himself into the seat with a soft sigh, the cushion of the worn fabric creaking gently beneath him as he settled in. He adjusted his posture, running his hand briefly along the seat's edge, as if trying to reassure himself that everything was exactly as it should be.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to stand still. The murmur of conversation from the other passengers, the hum of the bus as it idled, the rhythmic swish of the tires on the road—they all faded into the background. In that quiet pause, the boy became aware of the faint tension in his own shoulders, the way his heart seemed to thump just a little harder than usual. He wasn't sure why, but something about this bus ride felt different. It felt… significant.
Then, just as he was beginning to settle into the new rhythm of the bus, she appeared.
It happened so suddenly, yet in a way that seemed almost inevitable. The girl with the striking blue eyes. He first noticed the faint shimmer of light in her hair as she walked down the aisle, the soft glow of the overhead lamps catching the strands in a way that made them appear almost golden. Her movements were fluid, graceful—each step was light, almost like she was floating just above the floor, the rhythm of her footsteps matching the quiet hum of the bus.
His breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he wondered if his heart had stopped. She was getting closer, and with every step, he could feel the space between them shrinking, the anticipation building, almost painfully slow, until there was nothing left but the gentle thud of his heartbeat in his ears. She was right there now, standing next to him, so close that he could smell the faintest trace of her perfume—a soft, floral scent that seemed to wrap around him, making the air feel warmer, thicker. His palms suddenly felt clammy, and he clenched his fingers into fists, willing himself to stay calm, though his nerves seemed to be alive with electricity.
The girl stopped beside him, her presence filling the small space with an undeniable weight. There was a brief moment of silence, a stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly, as though time had paused just for this interaction. He dared not look directly at her—he was afraid that if he did, the fragile moment would shatter, and she would be gone. But then, with the gentlest of movements, she lowered herself into the seat beside him.
The sound of her settling into the seat was so quiet that it seemed to echo in his mind. The fabric of the seat rustled softly, her hand brushing against the armrest as she tucked herself in. The space between them, though small, felt vast. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, the soft pressure of her presence beside him. It was as if the whole world had narrowed down to this single, suspended moment.
And then it hit him—this was it. The boy felt a strange, almost overwhelming sensation, as if the universe had tilted just slightly, just enough for their paths to cross. It was as though some higher force had carefully arranged this encounter, threading it into the fabric of the day, making sure they were brought together in this precise, unexpected moment.
It was as though the gods themselves had smiled upon him, as if, for just a brief instant, everything had aligned in perfect harmony. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat like a reminder that this moment, this quiet connection, was something special, something beyond the ordinary. And yet, the world outside the bus continued its slow, steady pace, as if nothing had changed at all.
The bus rolled steadily along the city streets, its wheels humming against the road, the soft swish of the tires barely audible over the quiet murmur of other passengers. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the monotony of the ride, a rhythm everyone seemed to follow in their own separate worlds. The girl sat near the front, her posture slumped slightly, as if the weight of the day had already begun to press down on her shoulders. She didn't look around much, just gazed out the window, her thoughts drifting like the scenery that passed by.
She hadn't been paying attention to the time, but eventually, the familiar sounds of the bus slowing down caught her ear. It was her stop. She blinked, her thoughts snapping back to the present as the vehicle came to a halt, the engine's whirring slowing with a final sigh. The doors opened with a soft whoosh, and the cool rush of air from outside entered, brushing against her face. She stood up slowly, her legs slightly stiff from sitting too long, as if the movement was an afterthought. She glanced at the exit, then back at the floor beneath her feet, her gaze unfocused.
Her hand reached out, grasping the pole to steady herself, but she didn't seem to hurry. She was moving in a detached way, her mind elsewhere, as if each step was automatic, as if she had done this countless times before. Without even a second thought, she stepped off the bus, her shoes tapping lightly against the pavement. The bus's doors slid shut behind her with a soft, final sound, sealing her away from the inside, from everything she had just left behind.
But she didn't realize it. She didn't realize what she had left behind.
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A/N: i never lost my phone. Did you?
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