lockwood and co♡ locklyle

04・❥・hopeless

Lucy♡

1279 words

The day that I met you I started dreaming 

I like the sound it makes when it starts pouring rain

I think tonight I'll leave my light on

'Cause I get lonely when it's out and I miss you right about now

- Kingston, Faye Webster

Chapter Four. Hopeless

Lockwood glanced at me, his watch, and then back at me again. "I'm assuming George isn't coming."

"Looks like it," I mumbled, scuffing my boots back and forth.

Lockwood reached over to the hat rack and pulled off a scarf before stepping forwards and winding it around my neck, "just in case," he said.

I blushed and quickly turned towards the door, tugging it open and hurrying down the steps. Lockwood strolled down the cobblestone street with his familiar graceful strides and I fought to keep up with him. Any feeling of awkwardness between us dissolved the moment we stepped outside. Maybe we just felt more comfortable being ourselves around each other without the beady eyes of George or the skull analysing every encounter.

The sky overhead darkened but neither of us paid any attention. Along the walk, many passers-by stopped to chat with Lockwood. They would call out his name or wave from their balconies, even going so far as to run up to him. He would always flash them his best grin before tugging on my arm and saying, "so sorry but we really have to go."

"But we don't even know where we are going," I said as we left a rather boisterous young lady.

"Precisely Lucy, which is why we cannot dilly-dally," he grinned at me and pointed towards the underground subway. "Feel like catching a train?"

"I do feel like being spontaneous."

"Let's do it then."

Lockwood took the stairs whilst I took the escalator with my still-healing leg. He reached the bottom of the platform before I did and lent against the rails casually. "Fancy seeing you here," he said as I hobbled over to him. We climbed onto the C2C, which was packed with daily commuters. Lockwood managed to find a spare hanging rail and clung to it. I grabbed onto his coat as the train jolted to a start.

The carriage was crammed. People pressed into each other from every angle like a tin of sardines, swaying as one with each shudder of the train as it raced through underground tunnels. I tried not to think about how my nose was essentially squashed into Lockwood's chest. I looked up at his face as he gazed placidly over the crowd, a hint of red tinging his cheeks.

Eventually, the train slowed to a halt. The doors opened and people spilled out onto Fenchurch Street station. Lockwood and I surged forward, weaving between the crowd. I still gripped his coat, not wanting to lose him in the throng. We made a beeline for the exit. This time he took the escalator with me. As we reached the top and stepped out into the city a drop of water slid down my cheek, followed by another and then another.