#devilsfool

(College AU)

The platforms are cracked and uneven, edges swallowed by weeds pushing through the stones. Iron tracks stretch into darkness on both sides, vanishing into tunnels that no longer promise arrival or departure. The overhead canopy is skeletal now, its glass mostly gone, leaving the night to pour straight through.

Wind moves freely here, unbothered. It carries old dust, torn paper, and the faint echo of things that once had schedules and destinations. Gabrielle stood on the edge of the platform, where the signage still clings to rusted frames, letters half-faded into suggestion rather than direction.

She is not watching the tracks. She is listening to them. Not for sound in any meaningful sense, more like the memory of motion. The aftermath of something that used to pass through here with intention.

Her fingers rest lightly against the edge of a broken bench. She doesn’t sit. She never quite settles into places that expect waiting. A faint shift in the air reaches her before anything else does. Not with sound, or sight. Just...presence. As if the station remembers it was never truly empty.

[text] When would you say is the best time to visit New Orleans?

[text] My apologies for the sudden text. It’s been such a long time since we met, but you’re the only person in my contacts that lives there. And is likely an expert.

[Text:] Hey, guess what? I found some old merch from your rock star days. A T-shirt, no less.

[Text:] Seems like someone washed it so much that it got distorted, so now it looks like this: