Author's Notes: This is a short story of mine that might be anywhere from just 2 chapters long to a full length novel. I haven't quite decided what to do with it yet, so I'm putting it up for you lovely people and hopefully you will have some ideas.

The idea was given to me while listening to the song 'Congratulations' by Blue October with Imogen Heap. It's a beautiful song if you ever feel like listening.


"Is that seat taken?"

Serra Wittinger glanced up from the notebook upon her lap to find a pair of stark green eyes looking down at her. A young man stood there, his height probably 6'3" to 6'4", which was much more than her own 5'4" frame. He was built like a large cat, long and lean, and one arm gently outstretched, signalling to the seat beside her that would be empty if her own purse and bag were not settled in it.

"O-of course... I mean, um, no, it's not," she managed, quickly scrambling for her things and setting them down at her feet. He merely nodded, taking the seat next to her and laying his small bag across his lap, stretching out his legs and slouching down slightly. Serra re-crossed her legs so she was angled away from him slightly, opening her small notebook again and taking out the pen. She chewed on the cap nervously, half-wondering why he chose to sit next to her of all people (not that there were many other choices) and the other half worried he was going to read anything she wrote.

As if she wrote anything interesting.

"Serra, right? Wittinger?"

"Serra, right?" Startled, she wheeled around from where she had been standing, to find those same eyes staring at her once more, albeit younger and seemingly darker in the moonlight. It was a Friday night and she had been dragged to a party she hadn't really wanted to attend. The whole night had so far been spent on the balcony for her, avoiding men of all ages that were growing too drunk to take 'no' for a good enough answer.

"Yeah. Thomas, is it?" She recovered quickly, taking in his appearance. He wore black slacks and a black long-sleeved shirt. Lucifer himself must not have looked that good. He took a few steps toward her, standing next to her and leaning forward to look over the balcony and appreciate the view of the city it gave them. After a moment, he turned to her, a warm smile breaking through the dark barrier his face held. He held out his hand.

"Thomas Balter," She replied, turning and smiling to him, her hand firmly grasping his outstretched one. His hair was much longer now, but not too long. The perfect length on a guy, to her, and dark, too dark to be a brown, but not quite enough to be a black. His eyes still held that mysterious luster, gleaming and bright.

Warmth flooded her fingertips as she gripped his skin, shaking gently. "Where have we met before?" He murmured, looking deep into her own ice blue eyes. The long blonde locks framed her face nicely, cascading down her back. She'd actually taken the time to curl the ends of her hair tonight, although she hadn't known for who at the time.

For him.

"I think we had Economics together last semester." Serra replied, trying to sound nonchalant but knowing she was failing. Never before had someone so well, beautiful, taken interest in her anywhere, much less some place where there were plenty of other gorgeous girls around.

"I could never forget a face like yours." Thomas grinned, leaning forward slightly to graze his lips ever so softly across the flesh of her wrist. It flew up her arm like fire, igniting something in her chest she didn't quite recognize. Most would mistaken it for lust.

The train they were riding on jerked slightly and she pulled away, unconciously rubbing the spot he had kissed as a familiar flush creeped up her cheeks."Still a big flirt, huh?" She smiled at him, trying to brush off the feelings that were quickly pooling in her chest.

After an hour of idle conversation in which Serra felt she revealed far too much about herself and felt far too comfortable about it, he turned to her, reaching out suddenly and smoothing a stray hair back behind her ear. Her heart began to pound in her chest at the abrupt physical contact and she felt very exposed very quickly, even though she didn't quite know to what. As he hand dipped down, stopping to finger the locket that hung around her neck, the tiny bits of flesh that when made contact with felt like fire.

It was the most erotic moment of her life and so far it was with a man she barely knew.

"Only for you, of course." He winked at her playfully before looking around the rest of the train cabin. Across from them was an elderly man who was snoozing against the wall behind his head, and to their left was a happy family of four, a mom, dad and two little boys, both playing on DS Lites as the parents napped, leaning against each other.

As Thomas got settled in more, pulling out a book and stretching out his legs, Serra flipped her journal back over and continued to write about her trip so far, not even caring if he read over her shoulder.

"I didn't say anything before, but you're actually in my seat," Thomas said after a little while, pulling out the ticket from his back pocket and showing it to her. Sure enough, it was exactly where she was sitting. Serra laughed.

"No one actually sits in their assigned seat, silly." She giggled, taking in the serious look on his face, "Haven't you ridden on a train before?"

"Not a very convenient way of getting around, so no, not really." He frowned, looking over the ticket. After a second, he reached across her lap and tucked it into her journal, "Here, you can keep it so you'll always know you stole my seat."

Serra smiled, although nervously, her cheeks burning with him so close, "Thank you."

They stayed like that for a moment, each shyly staring into the other's eyes before Thomas pulled back, coughing softly to clear up the slight tension.

"So, uh... What are you writing about?" He gestured back toward her journal and she glanced down at it before looking back at him.

"Oh... Just about my trip so far, hopes for it, expectations. Just so I can look back on how much better I thought it would be." She shrugged, sliding her pen back into the leather book before closing it tightly.

"Why would it be any less than you expected?" He blinked.

"Isn't that how everything is?"

He just shrugged. Serra continued.

"We, as humans, are born and raised with these high expectations. We're told from a very young age that we can get out there and change the world. So here we are," With that, she motioned to the two between them, "At the perfect age to take on the world, high on these ideas we keep hearing and now that we've graduated, we can go out there and get everything done.

"But the world isn't like that. It's cold and cruel and it's not going to let us get anything done. So now we sit and wait for the world to run us over so we can become our parents and hope that our kids will get something done with our lives because we were too excited to do anything."

"Is that how you see it?" Thomas replied almost immediately.

Serra just nodded, looking back at the journal that stared back up at her, reminding her of what a fool she was making of herself.

"It's that simple to you, huh?" He said again, almost to himself. He looked back over at the children across from them, taking her words into consideration. Their lives were going to be shitholes, just like their own. He chuckled. The little fuckers had no idea. She shifted uncomfortably next to him. Poor girl had obviously said too much for her own comfort.

"Let's go for a walk. We've been sitting for too long." Thomas announced suddenly before standing up and grabbing her hand, intent upon pulling her up with him. Serra hesitated, biting her lower lip before pushing her things off of her lap and into her bag, sliding it under her chair. He helped her up and as they came face to face, he felt his breath catch. She was beautiful.