There wasn't a sunset.
Not really.
It was just the usual golden smear across the station glass — half-smeared by someone's greasy forehead and the city's pollution.
But when she looked up at it?
It looked like closure.
Or maybe something trying to be.
---
She stood beside me on the platform.
Not speaking.
Just adjusting her earbud cord like she needed something to fidget with before her heart exploded.
I watched her hands.
The nervous rhythm.
Like she was building up to a confession and kept chickening out at the punctuation.
---
Then, slowly, she handed me the splitter.
But this time…
She plugged it into her phone.
A new playlist popped up.
> "Confession Song (Final Mix)"
She glanced at me, then back at the screen.
"Only one track," she said. "I figured… we wouldn't need more."
---
I took the earbud.
We both put them in.
And for a moment, the world paused.
Not because of some miracle.
Not because time respected teenage romantic tension.
Just because she looked at me like she didn't want to run anymore.
---
The music started.
Simple piano.
A soft acoustic guitar.
No vocals.
Just... a melody that sounded like walking home with someone, hands brushing but never quite holding.
---
We stood there, listening.
Saying everything we were too dumb or too scared or too awkward to say with actual words.
It was maybe two and a half minutes long.
But by the end of it, my heart felt like it had aged ten years.
In a good way.
Probably.
---
She looked at me.
Then at the train pulling in.
Then back at me.
The announcement blared overhead.
Next stop, next transfer, next decision.
And then she said, quietly:
> "I liked you the moment you handed me that earphone."
I blinked.
She kept going.
> "But I didn't know how to be someone who deserves to be liked back."
---
I said nothing.
Because sometimes words ruin things.
So I stepped a little closer.
Not dramatically.
Not like in the movies.
Just close enough that she could feel I hadn't moved away.
---
The train hissed.
Doors opened.
People moved around us.
We stood still.
---
She leaned in.
Paused.
"Okay if I—?"
I nodded.
She kissed me.
---
It wasn't perfect.
It was short.
Kind of awkward.
We both missed the timing a little.
Her nose bumped my cheek.
One of the earbuds fell out.
But it was real.
And it was ours.
---
She smiled afterward.
One of the real ones.
The kind that didn't ask for permission.
"I still hate mornings," she muttered.
I smirked. "I love ours."
---
We boarded the train.
Same seats.
Same rhythm.
This time, our hands found each other.
Not brushing.
Not hiding.
Just… held.
---
The music played again.
Same track.
One earbud in each ear.
No skips.
No rewinds.
Just play.
---