Vampire Academy Oneshots and Drabbles (VA - Romitri)

The Silent Train Station

So, here's the thing . I'm currently writing Just Not Cut Out for Torture. So that one's gonna stay a MONDAY & FRIDAY update.
But.
The others... are all complete. So maybe we'll do it this way. A chapter a day. I'm waaaaay too impatient to drag this out, you guys :-) The final chapter will post on Friday, April 22.

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Abe leaves Janine

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"Hello," she said, shyly, as she glanced at him through lowered lashes. Her breath caught yet again, as she surreptitiously studied his devastatingly handsome profile.

"Hi," he said, looking up from his paper, nodding in greeting. His eyes were pleasant, distant, the eyes of a stranger. Her stomach plummeted.

They waited, the rain spattering gently off their umbrellas, at the silent train station. A light fog drifted in, blanketing everything in a wispy haze and giving even the most mundane objects a surreal tinge. She listened to the incessant dripping, fancying she could feel her body losing its grasp on reality, fraying at the seams.

"Ummm..." she said, wondering if she should say anything, wondering if she should ask.... But of course she shouldn't – couldn't. There was too much between them, now, for there to be anything left to say. The silence stretched out, thinner than spider silk, spooling away into nothing.

"Yeah," he said, forstalling the question, saving her from the embarrassment of asking. Of course. How could it be different, really? she wondered. She scuffed the toe of her boot against the pavement, embarrassed anyway.

The train came, pulling into the station with a squeal of brakes on iron, throwing sparks into the damp air. The screeching of the wheels against the track echoed the screeching of the banshees in her head, and she lost track of where one started and the other began. Perhaps they were both infinite – both inevitable.

"Bye," he said, with a wave of his hand, as he folded his paper and picked up his bag. It was expensive, flashy – like everything else he owned. Like his impeccably tailored suit and the violent-hued scarf wound carelessly around his neck. A peacock would be less ostentatious, she thought dispassionately, and yet it suited him.

He left, walking slowly through the doors; they went swoosh behind him, and then shut with a final click.

She stood waiting in the rain, feeling her tears drip softly down her cheeks, mingling with the raindrops already there, wondering if he'd look out the window to see her, one last time. He didn't. Of course he didn't. It wasn't his style.

"Bye," she said, softly, as the train pulled out, her words echoing from the empty stone walls.

He didn't hear her; he was too busy looking forward, to his new life, his new destination. That's how he lived his life – perpetually moving forward, trampling over the past. Would she want him any other way? She wondered. What would it be like, to know he would stay? She snorted. May as well wonder what it would be like for the sun to suddenly spin backwards in the sky. He was practically a force of nature – and if he were any other way he wouldn't be himself. And, she was forced to admit, she wouldn't want him.

She stood in the rain for another moment, watching until the train was out of sight, savoring the smoky, salty taste of her tears on her lips – they were the last she would cry for him.

Then she turned and resolutely walked away, putting him, and her past, forever behind her.