Chapter 3
One of countless train rides Faye and Lena had shared (Chapter 3)
The train station buzzed with the steady hum of life—heels clicking against tiled floors, muffled conversations blending into a distant murmur, the occasional chime of an arriving train. But Faye heard none of it.
She only heard her.
“Faye!”
Lena’s voice—soft, familiar, warm—cut through the noise like a thread pulling her in. Faye glanced up from where she was leaning against the wall, a smile already tugging at her lips. She would’ve known that voice anywhere, no matter the volume—shouted across a crowded studio, whispered in breathless exhaustion after rehearsals where they collapse on the floor, as they synchronized their breathing patterns, or, like now, carrying that light, effortless lilt that made something inside her ache.
Faye looked up from where she was leaning against the wall, her heart giving an involuntary, traitorous flutter at the sight of her. Cheeks kissed pink from the cold, eyes bright beneath the station’s fluorescent lights, as her soft brown hair fluttered in the wind, with a small smile tugging at lips. Faye found herself looking for a moment too long.
God.
She was beautiful. And it was so unfair.
“How are you feeling after yesterday’s class?” Faye asked, in an attempt to distract herself, as voice dipped into something softer, laced with concern. She knew Lena’s hip injury all too well—the way it haunted her, how she pushed through the pain like it wasn’t there. Like she always had something to prove.
Lena huffed a laugh, nudging her lightly with an elbow. The touch was fleeting, but Faye felt it everywhere. “You always worry too much, Faye,” Lena teased, shaking her head. “I told you, I’m fine.”
Lena grinned, shifting her weight onto one leg as she added, “Look.”
There was a teasing lilt to her voice, the kind that made Faye’s stomach flip before she even knew what was happening.
“Madam Lumière made us do so many wall sits that my thigh muscles feel so strong.”
She giggled, poking her own thigh before glancing at Faye, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Come on, feel it.”
Faye barely had time to react before Lena grabbed her hands—warm, delicate fingers wrapping around her own—and placed them firmly against her thigh.
Faye’s brain short-circuited.
All she could think of was how warm Lena’s thigh was, pressed against her own palm. How solid the muscle was beneath the soft fabric of her leggings, the faintest tremor from post-rehearsal exhaustion lingering under Faye’s touch.
It took every ounce of Faye’s self-control not to do something incredibly stupid—like letting her fingers linger, tracing the firm lines of Lena’s thigh, or worse, giving the slightest, most fleeting squeeze. Just for reassurance. Just to feel. But her brain was already short-circuiting, her palm burning from the warmth of Lena’s skin beneath it.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her touch light, casual, like this wasn’t completely unraveling her from the inside out. Because if she let herself indulge—if she let herself feel even a little too much—she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to stop.
Her fingers twitched.
Lena’s laughter rang in her ears, bright and teasing, oblivious to the absolute havoc she had just wreaked on Faye’s nervous system.
The warmth beneath her hands was real. Immediate. And it was all she could focus on.
Faye swallowed, willing her voice to stay steady. “Yeah,” she forced out, attempting something close to casual. “You could probably crush someone’s head between these.”
Lena cackled. “Are you saying I’m strong?”
Faye pulled her hands away—too fast, too obvious—and cleared her throat. “Just saying I’d rather not be on the receiving end of a grand battement from you.”
Lena nudged her again, smirking. “Oh please, you love it when I kick high.”
Faye was not going to survive this train ride.
—
The doors slid open, and she all but ushered Lena inside, needing distance before she did something stupid—like melt into a puddle on the station floor.
The usual evening rush had died down, leaving only a handful of passengers—some scrolling through their phones, others dozing off as the train rocked gently along the tracks.
They found a spot by the window, and Faye hesitated for just a second before letting herself lean, just slightly, against Lena’s side.
The warmth seeped through their coats, spreading through her chest in a way she wished she could ignore. But she couldn’t. Not when it was Lena.
Not when she’d spent years pretending that she didn’t feel this way.
Outside, the city blurred past in a wash of golden streetlights and glowing signs. Their reflections in the window overlapped, silhouettes tangled together like something that almost belonged. Almost.
—
“I’ve got a one-for-one bubble tea deal,” Faye blurted out, desperate for a distraction, for anything that would stop her from hyper-fixating on the way Lena’s warmth still lingered on her palm. “My treat. You deserve it after yesterday’s torture session—and, you know, something to look forward to today too.”
Lena’s eyes flickered with amusement as she leaned in just slightly, her shoulder brushing against Faye’s. “Are you trying to bribe me with bubble tea?”
Faye scoffed, crossing her arms. “No. I’m trying to reward myself for surviving, and you just happen to benefit from my generosity.”
Lena laughed, light and carefree, a sound that sent something warm curling deep in Faye’s chest. “Fine, fine. But if you pick something weird again—like taro with cheese foam—I’m disowning you as a friend.”
The train rocked gently beneath them as they found a pair of seats near the window. Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of golden streetlights and neon signs, casting a dreamy glow over everything. The rhythmic hum of the train, the distant murmur of passengers, the occasional chime of an announcement—it all felt oddly quiet in contrast to the storm brewing inside Faye’s head.
She stole a glance at Lena, who was absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, her gaze trained on the passing scenery. She looks tired. Faye knew her too well—the subtle way her body curled inward when she was exhausted, the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to stretch but didn’t want to draw attention to it.
“…You sure you’re okay?” Faye asked again, softer this time, like she already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway.
Lena sighed, turning to her with a small, knowing smile. “You really don’t stop worrying, do you?”
Faye shrugged, lips quirking up at the corners. “Not when it comes to you.”
Because she had seen Lena’s worst days—the ones where the pain was unbearable, where she had to sit out, forced to watch from the sidelines while everyone else kept moving. And that was a massive deal. Lena wasn’t the type to give in easily. She would push through anything, grit her teeth and dance through exhaustion, through discomfort—until she couldn’t.
Faye still remembered the way Lena’s fingers had trembled as she unfastened her pointe shoes that day, how she kept her face carefully blank even as she swallowed back frustration. The way her hands curled into fists when she was told to rest, the way she had forced out an “I’m fine” that neither of them believed.
So, no. Faye wasn’t going to stop worrying. Not when she knew how much Lena hated showing weakness. Not when she had seen her barely holding herself together before.
Lena sighed, turning to her with a small, knowing smile. “You really don’t stop worrying, do you?”
Faye just stared at her, the words unspoken but so loud between them.
I worry because I care.
I worry because I know you, because I’ve seen what happens when you push yourself until there’s nothing left.
And that scares me.
Lena’s knee brushed against hers, a soft nudge that felt more like a silent reassurance, as if she knew exactly what Faye was thinking—too much, as usual.
It grounded them back to something familiar, something safe.
—
The motion was casual, practiced—like they’d done it a million times before. But this time, Faye couldn’t ignore the way every second Lena’s knee brushed against hers seemed to stretch into eternity. The way her skin tingled, almost yearning for the contact when Lena pulled away.
Lena let out a soft laugh, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing as she studied Faye with that look—one that sent a shiver up Faye’s spine, something that made her heart skip a beat.
For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The hum of the train, the gentle sway of the carriage, even the murmur of voices and the clink of coins faded to nothing.
It was just them, sitting side by side in the small space, where nothing else mattered. Nothing but the quiet, subtle tension between them.
Outside, the world sped past. City lights flickered like a thousand fireflies caught in the wind, casting their soft glow over the dark streets below.
Streetlamps lined the roads like beacons, and the towering buildings seemed to stretch higher into the night sky, their windows glowing faintly.
The occasional silhouette of people passing by caught Faye’s eye, but even they felt distant, like shadows of another world.
She turned her gaze back to Lena, her heart thumping harder now, as if the rhythm of the tracks had somehow become a part of her own pulse.
The train’s gentle sway seemed to match the rhythm of her thoughts, pulling her back into the warmth of the moment, the softness of Lena’s presence.
And just for a moment, Faye could bring herself to hope.
To wish that maybe, just maybe, this feeling would last a little longer than the fleeting moments it had always been.
But the train pressed on, as it always has, its steady chug a reminder that nothing stands still.
Not even this.