"You shouldn't worry about me," I whispered softly, breaking his gaze with a sad smile.
"Why can't I?" he persisted, his intense gaze practically piercing through the side of my head. We were stood side by side, his body slightly angling towards mine while I faced the train tracks. "What's so wrong if I care about you Cassie?"
"Because..." the more people who care, the harder it will be for me to try again, "It'll be more difficult for me to keep my walls up if you care," I answered honestly, my eyes flitting up to his, "And if I let my guard down, I'll be happy. If I'm happy, I'll end up hurt."
All good things come to an end, and the empathy of the stranger was no exception.
"Give me a chance to at least prove you wrong," he pleaded, tugging on his hood as he sighed, "I know you think that things won't ever get better, but please, just for one night, allow yourself to be happy. Stop focusing on surviving for once, and allow yourself to actually live."
He gazed intently at me, a single look from him able to silence the myriads of doubts I had been seconds away from voicing. I had never thought it was truly possible to get lost in someone's eyes, but Romeo seemed to have a way of captivating me against my better judgement.
He saw me, really saw me, all the broken pieces and missing parts reflected within his own onyx orbs as I held his gaze, chocolate pools of compassion with swirls of empathy and care unlike any other. Intense and piercing, yet mellow and kind, a simply beautiful paradox within his eyes that reeled me in and left me completely mesmerised.
And it terrified me.
For a second he made me think that mental stability was achievable, and that one day I might actually obtain true happiness. I didn't even simply just get lost in his eyes: I found a path within them, leading me to a future I'd given up hope on ever reaching.
But was he being realistic, or selling me false dreams?
"I don't know if I can do it Romeo... I don't know if I can." I taught myself how to be strong – how to survive – and that robbed me of experiences crucial to any childhood. "I run away from things, not try and solve them. That's why I push people away, why I push happiness away, because I'd rather avoid the things I know I need than face them. It's who I am, and I don't think I'll ever change."
"What happened Cassie?" he sighed, slightly astounded at my words, "What happened that hurt you so badly it's made you afraid of being happy?"
"Life happened."
He shot me a blank look, wordlessly telling me to answer the question in more detail.
"The past is something I'd rather not think about," I started, breaking his gaze as I looked out into the night, watching as the dark blues blended together in the sky. "Because it reminds me of how much everything's fallen apart." I had to watch as the foundations of my perfect childhood were shattered, and now I've been living amongst the debris ever since.
Once I had been everything I was scared of: trusting, carefree and happy. Perhaps I viewed it with rose-tinted glasses, or my naïve childhood mind romanticised the ordinary, but back then everything felt like pure bliss. I'd been young and stupid, with hopes as high as the limit and an unbroken heart worn on my sleeve, thinking that everything could only get better.
But of course, it didn't get better: it got worse. Everything I'd thought was stable crashed, leaving me hanging on the edge until today I lost what was left of my miniscule strength and began to fall, spiralling to the conclusion that death was the only option.
"How are you meant to heal from the past if you avoid it though?" Romeo questioned rhetorically, and I hated that he had a point. "You're still bleeding from an old wound, but it can't heal without giving it the proper treatment it needs."
"Who said it was an old wound? The past could have been yesterday... or even this morning." I corrected, watching as his expression turned thoughtful, "Or maybe it is an old wound, but it constantly gets reopened."
Every time I managed to stop the bleeding and attempted to start the lengthy healing process, a knife would get dug back into the wound, twisting deep inside and leaving me with even more damage than I'd had to begin with.
"Can we stop with the metaphors and just be blunt here?" he complained, exasperation evident in his voice, "Because I can't decode your messages and it's driving me crazy trying to figure out what we're really talking about."
"You started this," I pointed out with a slight smirk, "And your reasoning is flawed. You also can't heal in the same environment you became sick in, so what am I meant to do if I can't leave the environment I'm in? How do I escape my mind?"
"You don't," he answered breezily after a brief pause, "You have to heal your environment, and then the wound. You need to fix your mindset first, and then the problems it plagues you with."
"And how exactly do you suggest I do that?" I asked, annoyance seeping into my voice as I took on a slightly sarcastic tone. I wasn't annoyed at him specifically, but more so the fact that everything he was saying was true, despite it being a very bitter pill to swallow.
"Allow yourself to be happy," he replied regardless, "Accept that not everyone is going to leave, and not everything is going to go wrong. And even if things do go wrong, and the happiness turns out to be temporary, the memory of it will still be there, reminding you during the bad times that better days are possible."
Pausing, I took a second to process his words, unable to silence the nagging voice of doubt in my mind. "Death seems like such an easier option though..." I muttered, raising my voice so he would be able to register my words, "Instead of going through all the hassle of untying the rope from my hands and saving myself, I could just make this all easier for everyone and... die."
My gaze lingered back over to the train tracks, the prior thoughts I'd been having since I stepped foot onto this platform resurfacing. I think Romeo had noticed earlier that I couldn't go two seconds without looking over at the railway, but somehow hearing his voice and gazing into those endless dark brown eyes of his made me fleetingly forget for a second that I'd ever thought about wanting to end my life. But just for a second.
"I don't think your death would make life easier for anyone; it would do the opposite." Romeo amended my words, "Countless people care about you, want, and need you to stay alive."
"I know, it's just..." I had friends who cared for me, and I'd been lucky enough to find a selfless best friend in Theo who would do anything to see me happy again, but none of that changed the way I felt inside. "Being depressed makes me feel like no one cares even though I know they do."
I could be in a room full of my friends having a great time, Theo by my side as we laughed at a joke, and yet still feel completely alone. No matter how many times I heard it, my brain refused to comprehend that people could truly care about me. Even with Theo, there were moments I thought he might just feel obligated to be care about me, as though he had to rather than wanted to.
"But how are people supposed to be there for you if you won't let them?"
"They aren't," I sighed, my eyes drifting back over to his inquisitive ones, "I don't want to be selfish and consume everyone with my negativity."
Telling people about my issues felt like I was being a burden, dampening their moods with my incessant problems. People loved to say they were there for me, but the truth is no one would really want to sit and listen to all of my complaints and feelings. And even if they did willingly listen, they wouldn't understand – until tonight, no one ever had.
"So what's different about me?" His tone wasn't accusatory, rather just genuinely intrigued. "What made you willing to confide in me when you usually wouldn't?"
I know it wasn't his intention, but the question made me second-guess my honesty, as though I was betraying Theo by confiding in someone else after being so insistent on withholding my thoughts from him.
But with Romeo... it felt normal. He had an instant trusting aura around him that I simply melted into without realising, yet one look into his deep brown eyes and I could see the pain inscribed within them, hidden unless you knew what to search for.
"Somehow, I think a part of you understands," I spoke honestly, "I think you must have gone through some form of trauma, because you're not trying to give me the same advice I've heard repeated to me throughout my entire life. You're actually listening, not with sympathy or pity, but with empathy."
He nodded, his eyebrows slightly raised at the accuracy of my words. "One fire burns out another's burning. One pain is lessened by another's anguish."
I shot him an offended look. "You did not just quote Romeo and Juliet."
"I did," he grinned, chuckling slightly at my appalled expression. "But you're right. Perhaps I have gone through some unspoken trauma, and maybe I'm running from it too, by immersing myself in your problems so that I don't have to deal with my own. Maybe I'm using your fire to burn out my own..."
"Hypocritical much?" I remarked, pacing my words as I didn't want to probe for too much information immediately. "Why don't you want to face your problems?"
He sent me a poignant smile. "My problems can't be fixed."
My eyebrows furrowed as I took in his sombre expression. "Surely there must be something-"
"Cassie," he cut me off, a solemn look on his face as he cast his eyes downwards, "Trust me, there's no solution. I'm trying something at the moment but- I already know it's not going to work. Nothing has."
A silence fell between us as I searched for something to say, torn between apologising or telling him not to give up hope when a sound I was well acquainted with drifted into my ears, causing my head to turn in the direction of another oncoming train that was screeching to a stop before us. "Should we get on?" Romeo asked, "Or just stand out here all night?"
"Let's go." The train doors slid open to reveal the bliss of empty seats as I began to stride down the platform with Romeo right by my side once again. His eyes were focused on me with utmost subtlety as we approached closer to the platform edge, only departing from me once he was certain I was safely on board before stepping on after me.
He chose to stand instead of sitting down, holding onto a train pole beside me while he placed a hand on his chest before reaching up to tug on his hood, an action I'd noticed he did more times than necessary. "Why do you keep checking if your hood is still on?"
He froze, taken aback by my observation. "I, um- it's just a habit," he chuckled nervously, his pitch ever so slightly higher than his usual deep tone.
It felt almost comical to see Romeo's nonchalant demeanour vanish, something about the absurdity of his reaction causing me to smile. Amused, I raised my eyebrows at his answer but nodded nevertheless, wanting to push for more information but deciding to leave the matter.
"Why were you on the train tonight then?" I steered the subject towards something I thought he would be more willing to discuss. "Were you going to do more graffiti?"
His eyes flicked back up to mine, the storm clouds within them slightly clearing as he nodded. "You can search me up if you want," he offered, sounding somewhat reluctant, finally letting go of the train pole and moving to sit beside me with slow movements, "My art is a representation of me; it might give you some more answers that I can't give you."
Sending him a surprised smile at his willingness, I pulled out my phone and followed his instructions, clicking on the first image that came up. Written on a wall in haunting typography was a quote, with two kids sketched underneath. They both had a hand gripping their faces tightly, covering their mouths as tears ran down their faces.
"We are told to speak about mental health, but when we do we are told we're overreacting." I read aloud, placing my phone between us so he could see the screen too, "You muffle our cries, yet urge us not to stay silent. We can't breathe if you won't let us."
I clicked on another, seeing a disfigured depiction of a brain being squeezed by wires and cables to the extent it looked like it was about to burst. "What's this one about?"
"Stress," he replied, the answer slipping off his tongue with ease, as though he'd been asked why a thousand times. "My GCSE's were making me panic, even though I knew they would amount to nothing more than mere numbers to my name in a few years."
I scrolled past a few more before landing on another image, showing a group of people of numerous ages, genders and races all stood next to each other, with different dates written above their heads. I paid closer attention to the dates, finding that some of the younger people had less time than those older than them.
"I wonder if we would treat people differently if we knew when they would die..." I murmured, my eyes trailing the length of the graffiti as I felt Romeo follow my gaze to the phone screen. An explanation was unneeded, since I grasped the concept he was trying to convey almost immediately.
"I wish the world was actually like that," Romeo's voice broke me out of my daze, causing my eyes to snap up to his ruminating ones. "I wish we could actually know exactly when we'd die."
There it was again. The smallest glimmer of pain passing through his gaze before he masked it so quickly I might have missed it if I'd blinked. "What did you think of it then Cassie?" he sent me a small smile, awaiting my answer as he abruptly disposed of any sign of sadness. He was almost as good at hiding his feelings as me.
"It was beautiful," I praised, a smile mirroring his own spreading across my face as I allowed him to think I hadn't noticed his change in emotion. "I wish I could be as talented as that."
"You already are talented," he pointed out, his eyes scanning mine as I stared back blankly at him. "Have you forgotten that you write poetry?"
"I wouldn't class it as a talent," I shrugged, "That implies I have to actually be good at it!" He shot me a challenging stare, his eyebrows raised in defiance of my statement. "It isn't," I insisted.
"Show me then," he suggested, "I'll tell you honestly if it's good or not, and I'll try not to be too critical."
I held his gaze for a while, ruminating over whether to trust him with words that no one else had ever read. My journal was for my eyes only, since one slip into the wrong hands would definitely result in me enduring several visits to a therapist. I didn't know if I wanted to allow someone to have insight into my brain, reading my deepest thoughts and feelings at their own judgement.
Perhaps my answer got lost within the depths of his eyes, since I wordlessly removed my rucksack and picked out my journal, placing it in his hands, apprehension swarming me as he held something no one else ever other than me ever had before.
"Go ahead," I watched him tentatively turn the first page, "Welcome to the inside of my mind."