Something for the weekend (For crimeblogger)
It wasn’t exactly the nicest place in the country to meet someone; Leeds train station. In London, there was a mixture of the old Victorian stations with their impressive architecture and skylights, and the more modern, slick stations, all giving excellent first impressions to visitors from around the world.
Leeds was nothing like that; bare bones, dated and grimy. He couldn’t even get onto the actual platform to meet the train, to be there as John got off. Instead, Lucien was stuck behind the ticket barriers, torn between glancing up at the arrivals board and looking out over a sea of approaching commuters on the other side, even though he knew that the train was still at least another ten minutes away.
He shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Inside, he was a bundle of excitement and nerves. This was exactly why he didn’t date. Why would anyone put themselves through feeling like this? It was shitty.
God, though, he couldn’t wait to see John again.
Leeds was nothing like that; bare bones, dated and grimy. He couldn’t even get onto the actual platform to meet the train, to be there as John got off. Instead, Lucien was stuck behind the ticket barriers, torn between glancing up at the arrivals board and looking out over a sea of approaching commuters on the other side, even though he knew that the train was still at least another ten minutes away.
He shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Inside, he was a bundle of excitement and nerves. This was exactly why he didn’t date. Why would anyone put themselves through feeling like this? It was shitty.
God, though, he couldn’t wait to see John again.