my friend wanted to go somewhere. it was a convention that was being held today. i am not sure what it's about, nor do i know how long it'll be.
all i know is that we're taking a bus ride.
we know of such vignettes. the short moments that we don't process. transitory periods between place to place. contradictory notions of figurative silence placed alongside the noise of the world as we move.
we enter the bus. so do others.
we take a seat. we wait as others do so.
the door closes. the driver announces our departure.
the bus departs.
to me, there was an interesting aspect to it.
time feels compressed in a way, and it also feels like everything turns into one thing. usually, that thing is dead. i wish that the blended parts of the world that come from these moments were less gray.
such was the routine that grasped my imagination over years, but now it feels more alive than ever.
there's only one reason: it's because i'm with her this time instead of how it usually is—a transition from life to brutal work.
i notice her staring at the window. i do so too.
the scenery was what i expected: trees, buildings, grass, a construction site, a parking lot, a grocery store.
the blur of scenery was romantic. maybe it was cause of her, maybe it was because i paid attention to it for the first time.
, no. i'm staring at her staring at the scenery. that's what she's seeing, not me.
i lean my head sideways in this realization, but her hair is still in the way. in moving my head back to its original position, time feels like its fragmenting. i can't see everything that she's seeing, only the beginning and end of her sightline.
in that way, it's similar to a slideshow. one static moment to the next.
one building. one tree. one farm. one construction site. one parking lot. start, end. one fragment to the next.
i wrap my arms around her. she reacts with "hm? is there something wrong?"
"no, i was just struck by the yearning..."
connection of fragments are laid across my mind. the store is connected to the garden which is connected to the window which is connected to my sight which is connected to my own.
"it seems that you have been yearning a lot lately. it's kinda cute."
another string is woven.
"i kno- huh? it's not..."
"isn't it, though? it's as if yearning is being programmed into your very soul, your desire being the result of fragmentary thoughts that appear time and time again. everytime we meet, it seems that you always want one more hour, one more moment, one more thing to do."
"ueyhfuiwdhfekf don't pile it on...aaaaaaa..."
"okay, okay. though, if i'm being honest, the sa-"
a tunnel approaches. we plunge into darkness.
in time, my arms let go and i stare at the seats ahead of us.
atleast, i think they're the seats ahead of us. i can see glimpses of it, owing to the tunnel's brief glimpse of light. however, most of it is darkness.
the same applies to her, and that stings a lot. i can barely see her. i don't want that, i want to be with-
"hey."
"what is i-"
she lays down on my lap.
i can see her face, although only for glimpses. she, too, can see mine momentarily, and the embarrassment that's arising out of me.
"if i'm being honest, the same has been happening to me. it's been a slower process, but it's happening regardless."
"uh...w-what do you mean-"
"i only said what i said earlier because it has been happening to me too. we've both been staring for so long to the point where we start to realize we're being stared at too."
...i get what she means. well, i don't, but it certainly feels that way.
"i see...it's just that i feel so...aaaaehuiyndhfjdsf..."
"we're becoming more vulnerable is what i'm saying. undone and redone, this is what's made in our yearning."
"what do you mean..."
"look at yourself. look at me as well. doesn't it feel like something has shifted? not just us, but this whole environment?"
"n-no, but...i think it's someth-"
exiting the tunnel, the light makes our feelings most obvious.
we were going to continue this exchange, but this light made us stop.
it is at this moment where i am laid bare, made most vulnerable. actually, it was always in this vignette that i'm the most vulnerable i ever am.
this is just its most transparent version.
i don't know what will become of us. neither does she.
friends? lovers? rivals? partners? it doesn't seem to matter. so do their boundaries.
all i know is that we're going to a convention together.
i just want that moment to last longer, permanently. it's not anything about this scene, the moment that's after, or the context before.
it is this vulnerability i want.
the bus stops. we're here now.
"shall we go?"
"yeah..."