PRETTY BOY, george karim x reader

| 001 | trains & failed interviews

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If anything, train stations were the worst. Having to socialize with a random stranger only to attain your ticket, stand waiting for possibly hours for your ride to arrive, and then awkwardly hold onto a pole if there wasn't any space to sit. 

This having been your first time, you were nervous. It was a wonder how your parents managed to keep you cooped up in their house until you were thirteen, then send you off for training like it was nothing. Training with Jacobs hadn't been the best time, but you had to admit, it did bring out your skills. 

You tapped a rhythm to your thigh, in sink with each step further you took. The queue was lengthy, and it had to be a good few minutes before you reached the front. You found yourself glancing around, hoping for something to distract yourself. Alas, only a mere three buttons had found your interests, silver, with an engraving you weren't quite close enough to read. 

The man in front of you couldn't be much taller than you were, looking around, most likely waiting for someone. You would've leaned forwards in attempts to read what was written in small print if it weren't for the lady who pushed through the crowd, breathless, and found her way towards, presumably, her husband. 

Everyone surged forwards, and you tripped over your feet, sucking in your stomach as you found balance.  

The lady, who you had plenty of time to study, had strikingly red hair, a hue that could only remind you of fire. No doubt she would be kind but fierce, with a strong attitude. The myth -- it wasn't exactly that, but you couldn't remember any other words to describe it -- had yet to be proven false. All the red-heads you had met only established that idea more. 

Moving on to the next person, you found yourself admiring her distinct coils of black that set atop her head. She was beautiful, wearing a yellow sun-dress that only made her pretty features stand out more. The girl, who was probably only few years older than you were, rocked on her heels and grinned.

The man in front of her looked nothing like she did; if anything, they were opposites. Yet he held her hand, and she cradled it like his porcelain skin was delicate. 

You smiled at the sight, stepping, once again, forwards in the line. 

The happy couple sauntered on, leaning on a post and laughing about something funny. 

Another person finished, and you were up again. Now you could almost see the man in charge of the tickets. 

It didn't take long before you were up at the front, and you beamed, rummaging around your bag for a pound. It was surprising how cheap they were, especially with prices going up. 

"Hello," you started, wincing. Gosh, you sounded like an old woman. "Erm, uh, to London? When's the next tube leaving?"

"Nine. Should be here in twenty minutes." He clicked a button and the cash register opened with a ding. He held his palm out and gave an expectant look. "Are you gonna pay, or what?"

"Oh, right." Your mouth opened and closed, and you briskly handed him the bill, recoiling back when his skin grazed yours. Not a moment later and the ticket was in your hands. You muttered a quick have a good day before rushing away from the people, sighing in satisfaction when you had space to breathe. 

There wasn't much to do in the time it took for the metro train to come, so you resorted to wandering around, trusting future you to not miss it. With the exception of a few newspaper stands, there wasn't much to buy, other than a small café built in the walls. 

It wouldn't matter, because coffee was always needed. Once you got settled, a good job and good income, then you could make tea. At the moment, though, you couldn't have any tea, so coffee was the way to go.