This Won't Last Long.

Rain. Walter finds its sound soothing. In the late night sitting by himself in the bus stop, he closes his eyes, savouring the serene moment the rain has given him. The road lights flicker in the heavy curtain, not a car has passed. This won't last long, he thinks.

A man in a raincoat burst in, pulling Walter back from his thoughts. The man looks younger than him, about 20 to 23. Panting, the man removes his dripping coat, accidentally flicking some rainwater on Walter's jacket. "Sorry," he says and sits down beside him, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He bounced his right leg up and down anxiously like a wind up toy. His index finger swipes through the screen, brows squeezing together while biting his nails. "Please please please," Walter hears him murmurs. 

A ringing explodes inside the bus stop. The man picks up immediately, sticking it on his right ear. He stands up, a habit, and hooks his thumb onto his jeans, his unbuttoned flannel swaying as he moves, revealing a white T-shirt inside.

"Nina, listen to me! Yes I know I'm late! Very late! Just wait for me, okay? I can explain this, just give me another chance! Don't go, please! Hello? Nina?" The man ruffles his curlt hair and tears his phone off his face. He calls back a few times, but all ends up in the answering machine. "Bollocks!" he swears and falls on the bench, his hands still punching in the numbers.

Walter pays no attention to him, his eyes are fixed on the transparent ceiling. He watches the drops chase each other, merging into a bigger drop when they touch, then trickle down the slope when their combined weight is too much. This won't last long, he thinks again. He turns, and finds the man scorching stare on him.

"When will the next bus arrive?" The man asks impatiently. 

"About 3 am." 

The man is not satisfied by the answer. Like a ticking bomb about to explode, he jumps up from his seat and exclaims loudly. "3 am? I can't stay here till 3 am! I need to get there right now!”

Walter does not reply, his eyes half open, hoping that the man can see that he doesn't care. All he wants to do is to cherish his time while he still can, not listening to a stranger’s babble as if doing so can directly summon the bus out of nowhere. As he expected, the man continues to complain and waver, completely oblivious to his looks. Moments later, the man calms down and slumps under the bench like a stringless puppet, forlorn congregating on his face.

The sky rumbles.

Tears start to boil in the young man's ruddy eyes. Afraid that his crying may make him look effeminate, he covers his face with his hands, yet that only makes his crying looks more obvious. Ugly with tears, he chokes between each hiccup, "I'm a failure."

"Yeah you are." Walter responds with an imperceptible nod.

"That doesn't help." The man frowns.

"I didn't say I am going to help."

The man sobs, dabbing off his tears. "I love her so much," He says, the dry stripes on his face glistening. "I let her down."

"In the end nothing matters anyway." Walter whispers and shuts up instantaneously after realizing the sentence slips off his mouth. 

"What do you mean nothing matters? We're about to get married! I'm about to meet her parents! It's something you single dogs don't understand!" The man booms angrily, kicking the air in front of him before resuming to more weeping.

You won't understand either, Walter thinks. A tinge of sadness squeezing his chest. He decides to give the man some time to piece himself together, he may be a little too harsh with him. 

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The lonely gloriette stands unyieldingly in solitude, its glow conspicuous in the night. Blooms of water dance around it childishly, enjoying their fleeting second before becoming one with the puddle. The moon is completely veiled by the overcast. Half an hour has passed, sobbing turns into stable breaths, the man is ready to talk.

"Why are you here anyway?" the young man asks with a quivering voice. 

The corner of Walter's lips twitches. He licks his lips before answering, looking away, "Waiting for the bus." 

"At 1 am?" A miserable laugh escapes from the man's lungs. 

"Couldn't sleep, took a stroll outside."

"And you got trapped in the rain?"

"No, it rains after I got in here."

"Oh," the man exhales a long sigh, "Well, I guess I'm waiting for the bus too." He laments under his breath, "If I didn’t go to the pub and pass out after 30 shots maybe everything will be different.”

“Alcohol before meeting with your future mother and father-in-law doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“How’d you know?”

“You screamed that in my face.”

“Shoot, I’m so sorry,” The man apologizes. Walter nods, indicating that he accepts the apology and he should continue,  ”I just thought some booze might be able to chase the problems away. I was so stressed I’m afraid I might make a fool of myself.”

"And you did it."

"Yeah, I did it." The man rubs his face. 

They look outside, letting the tranquility settle down.  Listening to the whispers of the rain, a breeze sweeps towards them. The man shivers as the cold bites into him. For sure the shower isn't going to stop any moment now. 

He breathed in, drawing the damp air into his nostrils. The flame inside him shrivels and extinguishes. He starts to contemplate his problem. They’re still not over yet, right? He believes Nina is not that kind of a person. her parents might forgive him and give him another chance.

------------------------------------------ 

Walter doesn’t think he can hold on to it anymore, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. The monster is running wild inside him, clawing and ramming the bars, forever howling. He has been grappling with it every passing moment. 

Should he tell him? 

No, he shouldn’t. He’ll bear the truth himself.  No matter what they do, nothing will change the fact that-

"Robert." the man says suddenly, cutting him off.

"What?"

"Robert, that's my name, what's yours?" 

I already know that, Walter wants to say. Instead, he chooses to swallow it down. He answers, "Walter." 

They shake hands. Walter's gaze returns to the scenery. How he hopes it can last longer.

Robert stares at his phone, his thumb running down the aluminium button on the side. He presses it down, the screen lights up. 2 am. His gaze rests on the picture of the two of them together. Nina’s smile, Nina’s black hair, Nina’s copper skin. He holds the memory in his hand, he’ll never let go, when the bus comes, he’ll go to her house, then he’ll cascade all his feelings for her.

Tell him, tell him, the voice inside Walter’s head urges. He shakes them away. He’s tired, so tired, why does she have to wait. This is torture, tormenting lives just for fun under her pen. It’s not like she’ll accomplish anything in the end. But should he tell him, let him suffer the same as him? Or let him die ignorant, missing all the opportunities he could have done?  

...

He has chosen.

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“If you only have time to live until the bus arrives, what would you do?” Walter’s mouth opens. Robert sniffs before answering, “One hour left? Damn, I don’t wanna die that fast.” 

“What would you do?” Walter pulls the focus back to his question. 

ｓｔｏｐ．

“I’ll call everyone I love before I go, I guess. There isn’t much to do in one hour.” 

“Right. What if I tell you,” Walter’s voice cracks. His hands turn cold. He struggles to push the rest of the sentence out of his mouth. 

Ｓｔｏｐ　ｉｔ　ｎｏｗ,

“When the bus comes, we’ll all die?”

“Woah,” Robert sits up, his eyes windens, surprised by this depressing statement thrown out at him out of the blue. “Is the bus strapped to a bomb or something?”

“No,” Walter croaks. “You, me, that bus we’re waiting for, that girl you called Nina, are all fake. We'll fade out of existence when this story ends." 

Robert is concerned about Walter's mental health, he hopes he isn't some kind of lunatic that just escaped from an asylum, especially not the one featured in a horror movie. Beside, he looks completely casual when this nonsense comes out from his mouth.

“What story?” he asks.

“This story.” Walter answers, pointing at the ground. Roberts still doesn’t understand. He smacks his lips and eyes at his raincoat that has rolled off the bench, plotting a plan to escape if he tries something funny. Walter follows his gaze and an idea lights up inside his head. He needs to prove it, prove that everything is fake.

“If you don’t believe me, walk out into the rain without your coat, then come back. If you don’t want to come back that’s fine too, you’ll return here eventually.”

“Haha, sure,” Robert forces a laugh. He inches towards the edge of the platform, closing up to the splattering rain outside. He doesn’t want to drench himself for a madman, but he doesn’t want to get murdered because of refusing either.  “Okay, I’m walking out.”

He steps into the storm, opening his arms like a flower welcoming a bath from Mother Nature. He can feel the tappings of the rain, however, he can feel no wetness, as though the strings of drops are mere sticks falling from the sky. His clothes are dry.

He can’t believe it. He starts to panic. He turns towards Walter, who doesn’t know if he should smile about being right or be terrified at the fact that they have been living in a lie. Before he can react, Robert sprints inside and snatches his collar, shaking him. “What’s going on?!”

“We’re characters inside a short story, when it ends, we end too,” Walter explains, his voice unruffled. “You are not supposed to leave the bus stop until the bus comes, that’s why you don’t feel anything.” Robert lets him go, “When did you know about that?” “Today, this morning, when I can’t remember my life except now.”

“I need to tell Nina.” Robert dials her number, his arms quivering in excitement.

“It’s no use, she won’t pick up, she’s only a fake memory.”

“No, she IS real, I saw her today.”

“That’s a memory.”

The familiar voice of the answering machine drones in the background. The whole world freezes. Robert feels abandoned, his heart being ripped off his chest.

“You saw me called her earlier-”

“You actually heard nothing, did you? You made them all up,” He looks at Robert in sympathy, “Accept it, this place is the whole world.”

Clear liquid gushed down Robert's face, “Why do they want to do this?”

“Entertainment. We are her petty puppets in her play.”

“How much time do we have left now?” Robert’s phone flashes. 2:45 am. “15 minutes?”

“Not really,” Walter’s saggy eyes blink tiredly. “Sometimes the time flow isn’t tied to the clock, it’s the paragraphs that keeps it flowing.”

“So, how long?” Robert’s knees turn weak. With a thump his bum slams on the bench in defeat.

Walter sneers coldly. He plays with his fingers, “Not long, her vocabularies are too shallow, the descriptions are short either. All we can do is wait.”

“We can’t change anything?” Robert whines hopelessly.

“No, sadly,” Walter looks up, his eyes glassy. He regrets his decision, he should've done this earlier, when they'd actually have time to change something. “Goodbye, Robert.”

The rain thickens. A long honk stretches across the road. The headlights of the vehicle pierced through the water wall, jerking into a stop.