There was a girl found on the station tracks, her eyes open and staring up at the fluorescent lights like she might have been searching, forever looking for something, something that she wouldn't, couldn't find.
I shouldn't, couldn't dream to relate.
Yet, the moon is reflecting in the rain like it might be trying to whisper its story, soak its life into my skin.
It can't seem to tell me why, why, why I'm here. How I came to be even though I know, am so sure, that its seen my life pass right by.
Does it matter? Can it? Could it? Should it?
Could it just maybe, hopefully, if I beg it... Could it tell me where the tracks have gone? Why the marks on my skin no longer tell me where to go or where from I have come?
There are no answers, no useless, so petty, truths to find, are there?
The clouds are swallowing you, dear moon, in such wet grey, grey, never ending grey. Where will I be without your light?
Nowhere it seems.
I'm not sure I was ever anywhere to begin with.
--
Louis Tomlinson isn't sure what happened, how he came to be under the the bus stop awning with his skin feeling like fire in the rain. He remembers maybe saying no, but to what he doesn't know, can't seem to place the memory even though it must have happened only moments ago. He's sure that it must have been to the boy with the powder and the needles, but how could he say no? Why would he do that? He needs to find that boy, do whatever it takes to make him forgive him, because his skin isn't just burning, its itching, crawling, snaking around him. He's sure he saw the boy with the curls -- who is that? -- only seconds ago, or was it now? Maybe he said he was attacked, but how can he be so sure if he doesn't know? Maybe if he calls, if he begs, if he tells him he's in pain -- he is, isn't he? -- then this boy will help him find the right boy with the right powder and the right needles. Maybe he will help him say he's sorry, because he's alone and he's so low, low, low that he's not sure he'll be able to breathe. Some how that thought both terrifies and satisfies him. Maybe, just maybe, the girl on the tracks was onto something.
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Remember to Breathe
FanfictionHe wishes he could stop the things -- the things, he's sure are everywhere, anywhere, nowhere, but here. He falls into another bed, another place, he doesn't even think he knows this boy's name. No one seems to notice, not the brothers of the frater...
