Graffiti on the Train

It was early, almost too early for a Monday morning but that didn’t matter. He woke from his slumber and his eyes opened slowly as he took in the sleeping form beside him. She looked so at peace, so innocent and so his. She lay there in his favourite shirt, the plaid material covering her porcelain skin and flowing over her curves delicately. He stayed next to her for a moment, a smile on his lips as his senses came to life, his fingers gently running through her long, dark hair and his ears taking in the pitter-patter of the rain outside hitting the glass of their bedroom window. The rain wasn’t going to affect Harry’s plans for today, he wasn’t going to let it. In fact, Harry Styles wasn’t going to let anything affect or change his plans for today. He slipped out from underneath the sheets, rising to his feet as he pulled some crisp, clean clothes from the dresser before padding out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom.

The heat from the shower coloured his skin a slightly irritated shade of pink, but the pressure that the water created against his spine released the tension and his worries disappeared as he ran the sponge over his body. He cut off the flow of water, blotting the liquid droplets from his skin and dressing his frame before tidying the bathroom, making it look as though he was never there. Stepping back into the bedroom, he reached under the bed, pulling out his rucksack. The clatter of the spray cans and that tiny box he had been hiding for weeks dragged him back to reality and he realised that time was passing by quickly. He glanced back at her almost still body, the only motion visible being the soft rise and fall of her chest. She scribbled a note and left in on the mattress, knowing it would fill her with wonder when she woke.

As he stepped outside, the rain came down hard and Harry tugged at the corners of his beanie in order to keep his curls from getting wet. The rucksack felt heavy on his back; heavy with the secret he had managed to keep. He hadn’t really considered the repercussions of what he intended to do, had only thought of the positives; the smile on her face and the way her lips curl up, the laughs of disbelief when people realise what had happened. He couldn’t wait for the aftermath of his actions, could only imagine the relief that would wash over him when he heard the words he wanted to hear, that he had waited so long for. The rain continued to fall hard as he made his way down the street, morning was yet to break and the air was still dark and silent for the most part.

Moments pass and the street that had been as quiet as a church hall only minutes earlier had become littered with the sound of children playing football in the last garden on the road. The kids were young, ten or eleven years old at most and Harry laughed to himself. Their parents were nowhere to be seen and he could only imagine them sneaking out of the house early so they could play sports before a long day at school. That was what Harry was doing right now, in a sense. Except he was sneaking out of the house before a day of what he could only hope would be bliss. The breakfast he has planned, the walk in the park afterwards, then the canal trip where they’ll have lunch, followed by strawberries and champagne. Months of planning had gone into this one day and he really hoped that the rain would clear and the sun could be the backdrop to the happiness that he prayed was imminent.

After walking a few more blocks, he reached the crossroads near the train station. His heartbeat raced as he noted his destination, noted that there were more people around in the built-up area than he had yet seen this morning. He wondered if any of the people had even the slightest clue as to what they would witness today, if they just had a tiny inkling that something out of the ordinary would be happening. They all looked terribly unsuspecting so Harry carried on towards the train station, excitement building with each step as he heard the rattle of the spray cans in his rucksack.

Timing was crucial today and as soon as Harry had got inside the train station, he took a seat and checked his watch. She’d be waking up soon, probably in around five minutes because she never hears the alarm the first time. The ‘five minute repeat’ function was more than useful for the pair of them. Harry would get on the train just 10 minutes later at Whitechapel, ready meet her at Shoreditch. She wouldn’t get on the train as she intended because she’d see his message and Harry would get off and she’d run into his arms and it would be perfect. He’s had the moment planned for so long, replayed the way the events would all unfold in his head, over and over again. Harry was ready. The banner was almost ready and with that realisation, he pulled out his spray cans.

Sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains and she yawned, stretching out and rolling over to be met by the sight of the cat rather the muscular figure she had expected. A note also lay in the wake of Harry’s body, the words, ‘Meet you at Shoreditch x’ scribed in blue ink and she smiled. She went through her usual routine of showering, slipping into a dress, grabbing breakfast and shooting out of the door, ready to catch the train. Her heels clicked on the cobbles as she walked at speed, trying to call Harry as she went. This morning, as the rain fell and she put up her umbrella, her mind wandered to what exactly made Harry leave home without her.

He had just finished now, his rucksack on the floor with the two spray cans resting on the side. He was proud of his work. The five words painted in black against the white fabric, ready to be hung on the side of the vehicle. He’d thought about this, he really had. He would have to work quickly, just before the train pulled into Shoreditch, he’d force open the doors; they were old and rusting anyway, it wouldn’t be too difficult. He’d hang the banner on one side and the speed of the train would pull the other side of the fabric so his message would read clearly. As the train pulled into Whitechapel, Harry gathered his things and jumped on board.

Harry was spontaneous, adventurous and driven by adrenaline; it wouldn’t surprise her if he had gone for an early morning run and would meet her at the station as promised. She didn’t worry, not too much, at least. She left a message on his phone, her voice fairly calm but with a tinge of concern as the words left her mouth. She hung up the phone and dropped it into her bag, almost at her destination.

The train arrived in Shoreditch, the clamour of people rushing in shock and panic as the doors opened. The announcement came over the loudspeakers, though no calm was brought to the station. “This is an important announcement. The 07:45 train from Whitechapel will not be leaving Shoreditch station due to a fatal accident. Alternative departures will be advised of. We ask that all members of the public stay clear of platform 6 and await the arrival of the emergency services should they require assistance. Thank you.” She had not long entered the station and had heard the announcement in full.

People were whispering as she walked through the crowds, the phrases ‘only a young guy’ and ‘such a tragedy’ filling the air. Panic had begun to set in for her and only one thing was going through her mind.

She approached a steward, begging for information, ‘What’s happening? Who is it?’ She was met with little information, which pushed worry to the forefront of her emotions. She picked the phone up, tried to call Harry again as she paced around. The emergency services were there now, police, paramedics and even firemen. They made their way to the edge of the platform and the area was segregated and people were asked to leave. She wouldn’t move; kept calling and calling and calling, pushed her way past security guards and to the scene of the accident, just metres from the casualty. Her worst fears came true when she heard his ringtone, his phone in the hands of a man in uniform. She took in the sight of his battered body being lifted onto the stretcher and fell to the cold tiles, sobbing.

She was told she had to leave, that she shouldn’t be there and she wanted to argue that she should be there, because that was her Harry and he was hurt, limp and vulnerable but she could only sob. Between shaky breaths and tears, words flew from her lips and into the direction of another uniformed man, ‘What’s going on? What happened to him? How badly is he hurt? What was he doing? That’s my boyfriend, tell me what’s going on!’ The man comforted her, took her hand and passed her a tissue as he explained to his colleagues exactly who she was.

She was told, ‘we’ll do all we can, he surfed the train and slipped up’ but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear at all. She could barely believe it, could barely process what had happened.

And as she was led away to the awaiting ambulance, that’s when she noticed the banner. It made her sob harder, made her shake that bit more but she couldn’t hold back the tears, not now. Not now that his unconscious body was being rolled past her on a stretcher. Not now that she knew this was all her fault. Not now that she had read those five words.

‘Marry me, I love you.’