The First Train

People often talked about seasickness. Even car sickness was a thing! And general motion sickness to boot. But train sickness? Campbell had spent the last hour doing everything possible to try and stave off the waves of nausea and discontent.

Clicky clacky. Clicky clacky. Clicky clacky.

The scenery seemed to go by slowly. Campbell was full of anxiety: meeting someone for the first time in real life. It was such a stupid idea; online had so much more protection! Two screens at least. And some phone lines. Did the internet even still use phone lines?

Campbell was so busy with the whole train sickness thing that the person who sat down across from him went completely unnoticed. Until they talked.

"You know, Policy St. Station was the last stop?"

"That's nice," Campbell mumbled, not looking up.

"You look even cuter than in your pictures, you know."

Pictures? Campbell finally looked up to see a familiar face. Familiar, like when you walk around a stranger's house and recognize people from one picture in the others. His heart skipped a beat.

"Harlow?"

He was taller than Campbell expected. A little stockier, around the shoulders and the ribs. His dark wavy hair was mostly hidden by a beanie, speckled with tiny dots of snow. He must have just gotten on the train. It really was him...

"I knew you'd forget to get off at the station, you goofball. Probably had your head so deep in your phone that you didn't even notice. Probably worrying about something-or-other~"

Campbell looked at Harlow. Then Campbell looked down at his phone, out the window, and then at his own lap.

"I got trainsick… how did you even know I was actually on the train?”

“I didn’t,” Harlow shrugged. “You don’t seem like the type to stand me up though, so I figured there was some other explanation.

Campbell stared dumbfounded; Harlow had put a lot of trust in him, boarding the train like that.

“It sucks that you got trainsick,” Harlow said. “Let’s get off at the next station.”

And then, just like in the movies, the announcer came over the train speakers to let everyone know that the next station was almost an hour away.

“Well, that sucks,” Campbell sighed, but his traveling companion didn’t seem fazed.

Harlow had a presence about him that Campbell had only seen on TV. He went around the car asking for motion sickness medicine until he managed to find an older gentleman who had some left over from his flight last week. He gave Harlow two pills, who in turn gave them to Campbell.

"It's remarkable how you can just go up to strangers and ask for things," Campbell said in awe. He took the two pills and put them in his mouth, drinking a swig from his water bottle. He never left home without his water bottle. How long until the medicine kicked in?

"It's no different to when I said hello to you the first time on Discord. Or when I slid into your DMs," Harlow said with a wink. "Sometimes you just gotta ask for the things you want."

With that sentiment hanging in the air, Campbell had no choice but to extrapolite. Harlow wanted him. It was a weird feeling to have; like sixty-three butterflies in his stomach arguing over whatever-it-is-that-butterflies-argue-over. Something worth getting all aflutter about.

"Hah. You're even cuter when you blush,” Harlow said, sitting next to Campbell once again. “I knew you would be. Nobody who uses blushy emojis as often as you do does so without having a super cute blush."

"I don't think there's a strong correlation between the use of blushy emojis and actually blushing," Campbell argued, but in his case, the correlation was extremely strong. It was nearly 1.

Harlow looked out the window, watching the scenery go by.

"This is a little unfortunate,” he siad. “I had ideas of places we could go, and now we are stuck on this train."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Campbell said quickly. "I should have been paying more attention to the stops. This is all my fault."

"Well, it is your fault you didn't get off at the right station,” Harlow agreed, “but I'm here with you and the people mean more than the venue. And by the time we get to the station, we'll probably have gotten past the awkward phase, right? We’ll be all laughter and kissy kissy."

Campbell didn't understand how people like Harlow existed in the world; hadn't he ever heard of anxiety? Did some people just go around being all normal? Wild.

"Harlow, you know I've never..."

"Kissed anybody, I know.” Actually Campbell had kissed people, but it was never on his terms. It was pushy girls or social expectations, so they didn’t count to Harlow. “But we're gonna fix that little shortcoming; I promised that we would."

A first kiss on a train was pretty romantic, Campbell thought. But the notion of kissing this man he'd only just met today... and what if he wasn't a good kisser? What if Harlow didn't want to see him anymore, after such an awful kiss. Campbell grew quiet and looked down at his phone. 44 minutes until the next stop.

"I see you thinking! This is like when we roleplay, and you write these big long internal thoughts - but ah! This time I have the upper hand, because I've been writing with you for months. So let's take a guess!"

Harlow tilted his head and pursed his lips, leaning around to look at Campbell’s face.

"You are thinking... what if you're not a good kisser? Or worse, what if Harlow - and by that I mean me - isn't a good kisser? Am I close?"

"The first one," Campbell laughed nervously. The thought that Harlow wasn't a good kisser didn't even cross his mind. Upon seeing him, Campbell knew without a doubt that Harlow would be a good kisser. Nonetheless, his skill at reading Campbell's mind was impressive.

"Well, you have the home-field advantage. You got on the train first, so I think that’s how it works. Admittedly, I’ve never watched baseball, but that sounds right.” Harlow grinned. He had a damn pretty smile for a boy. It kinda made Campbell melt a little bit.

Harlow was just as stupid in person as he was online, but that seemed to put Campbell at ease. There was something very disarming about playfully stupid men. By the time the meds started to kick in, Campbell was feeling a lot more comfortable with Harlow.

"Are you still feeling sick?" Harlow asked.

"Less so," Campbell admitted. He checked his phone again. 35 minutes.

"Rad. Because..."

Harlow peered at Campbell’s phone with an analytical look and then moved his lips right to the ear of the latter; speaking in one of those 'kind of loud for a whisper, but still functionally private tones.'

"That means I have 35 minutes to kiss you, and convince you that I'm just as smooth and dreamy in person as you say I am online."

As time ticked on, Campbell wondered exactly how sincere Harlow's words were. Every movement Harlow made, every touch Harlow gave, every glance Harlow shot... each was dripping with intention. But none of them were a kiss.

But they were holding hands. Or rather, Harlow was holding Campbell's hand in his, running his thumb along the back of it. Campbell checked his phone again, like he did every few minutes.

9 minutes.

There were three minutes left on the clock when Harlow made his move. And it wasn't motivated by the time until arriving at the station. No, it was triggered by the passengers at the front of the carriage getting up and moving into the vestibule compartment in preparation to get off at the station. Harlow waited until the two of them were alone, because he knew full well that Campbell would be so much more comfortable with some relative privacy.

Harlow put a hand on Campbell’s cheek to guide his face, and then he pressed his lips to Campbell’s. And with one smooth motion, he pushed him down onto the bench seat, and continued to kiss him.

Kissing was a lot like it looked on TV, Campbell thought. His head was swirling with things he thought he should be doing, but each thought was buffeted away by another crash of Harlow's lips to his. One after another, until his thoughts were a senseless little puddle and there was nothing but the tingling on his lips.

When it was over, Campbell's cheeks were pink and Harlow was hurrying him off the train. He stumbled behind Harlow, trying to keep his footing, until they were on the station platform and Campbell's labored breaths made puffs of misty fog in front of his mouth.