Chapter Text
Elio arrived at the station early, not wanting to miss his train. He walked with purpose through the large atrium, craning his neck to look up at the familiarly neoclassical ceilings, adorned with repeating arcs of geometric shapes inlaid with gold; then, turning that long porcelain column in all directions to look at the great expanse of marble surfaces surrounding him, somehow both cold and beautiful. It was as if he was in a cathedral, and he suddenly felt full of worship for the beautiful space he currently inhabited. He wanted to stop and stare, take it all in with mouth agape, but his feet didn’t stop moving, understanding their mission to get him on that train.
He glanced down at his wrist, eyes skimming over the silver and rope bracelets tied around him, before landing on the face of his watch. Noting that he had plenty of time, he allowed his legs to slow their hasty pace so he could enjoy the sights. He all but stopped in the middle of a corridor, taking in the people rushing all around him with luggage in tow. He wondered what it would be like to know them, how it would feel to stand in the middle of all that chaos with some stranger he barely knew and look into their eyes. He’d never had that thought before, that want . He wondered what he’d find in that stranger’s eyes, and what they’d find in his. An unexpected chill ran down his spine, bringing him back to the present moment. What was that?
Somehow his legs had carried him to the newsstand, so he quickly perused the day’s selections of newspapers and magazines, deciding he had plenty to read in his backpack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted bags of chips to the side of the shop, grabbing a few in the likelihood that his ever-present appetite would show up at some point on the train ride. He brought the snacks to the counter, paid, and left.
He took the escalator up to the train level. He squished to the right, leaning against the moving handrail, one leg underneath him, the other bent on the stair above. He looked down, noting how he was hugging himself, almost protectively. He didn’t know what he wanted to protect himself from. Travel always made him anxious, constantly afraid of being late, of miscalculating the time it took, of missing . Totally lost in thought, he almost tripped off the end of the escalator. Snapping into action, he hopped off the moving stairway and looked ahead. He saw rows of people lined up behind numbered doors, glancing down at his ticket to see ‘Door 4’ printed there. He found it quickly, stepping behind a brown-haired person whose large backpack almost obscured their entire frame. He let his mind wander to the possible destinations of this mystery traveler, and what they would be doing once they got there.
He was lost in this train of thought until the line started retreating in front of him. He gave one last glance at the back of Mystery Traveler’s head, then walked forward and held out his ticket to the agent, who punched a hole in the middle and noted his assigned seat. He walked through the door and across the platform, grabbing the handrail and stepping up onto the train.
The inside of the train was decidedly less noisy than the station and the platform, seeming hushed in comparison. He could hear the snick-snick of his shoes on the tacky, plush carpet. The crazy pattern was trying to be hip and modern but failed in so many ways. He walked down the aisle to his assigned seat, finding that it was one of four chairs arranged around a small metal table in the shape of an oval, two seats facing each other on either side. He gulped. Not ten minutes ago he’d been thinking about locking eyes with a stranger, and here was his chance - he would inevitably be doing just that, whether he liked it or not. Would the other person be keen to stare back, or would they awkwardly avoid his gaze the whole trip? Would he have to pretend to look past their eyes instead of into them?
For now, he didn’t have to worry, since he was the first of the foursome to arrive. He imagined the people who would sit there in a matter of seconds or minutes, before the train departed, and laughed to himself as he thought of them as a quartet. He knew probably no one else would think of it that way.
He didn’t have to wonder about his seatmates for long, as someone came and took the window seat opposite his. She looked to be about his age, a petite girl with small features. Her demeanor indicated that she demanded nothing from him and was not bothered by awkwardness. This put Elio at ease. A few moments later, a man came and sat next to her. He was wearing a zip-front sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, headphones placed securely on his ears underneath the fabric. He didn’t seem like he wanted to interact but kept staring ahead, pretending like Elio didn’t exist. Elio squirmed in his seat.
The fourth seat beside him remained open as he tried to busy himself, pulling out his walkman and putting on his headphones, and placing his book and his journal on the metal table. He stared out the train window, busying himself with watching people still milling about on the platform. He was lost in random thoughts and the music coming through his headphones when someone plopped down on the seat next to him.
The stranger muttered something to the four of them, Elio being too lost in his own world to bother listening. He heard him sigh heavily, as if this stranger had rushed to the train and was glad he had caught it. Elio felt a momentary connection with the stranger, suddenly not wanting him to worry. As soon as the bizarre feeling came over him, he shook it off, chiding himself. Way over the top .
Not getting any response from the group, the stranger settled into his seat as well, pulling out his own walkman and set of headphones, and a book. A book which Elio instantly recognized.