WHISPERS hello, I don't miss you

[chelsea]

SAMUEL / OPEN.
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'Move it Chelsea.' Her father's harsh voice cut across the train station, as she followed quietly. She clinged onto the satchel that she was carrying, and her shoes shuffled soundlessly against the floor. Brown eyes glanced about the place, as she followed her father's footsteps. For a Muggle, he was rather self-assured on where he was going. But then again, when had Chelsea ever seen her father anything but self-assured? He had this face of calm-ness, always present. Even in times of worry he was sure collected, never one to leak emotion. Chelsea would pay anything, just to see a thread of emotion on her father's face. Yet, that would never happen, would it?

Realising she had been drifting, and had falled behind her father a few steps, she watched him give a look at her, at which she immediately caught up, for fear of another scolding. Chelsea may not show emotion most of the time, but it didn't mean she wasn't scared of a few things. For one, she was scared of her father. His scoldings were horrific, and made her on the brink of tears every time, something that itself was a feat to manage. Chelsea was glad that she was leaving. She wouldn't miss those at all.

They reached a solid wall, and with a motion of her father's hands, he walked through it. Chelsea blinked, surprise overcoming her, before realising her father was probably waiting on the other side. It would do her no good to keep him waiting. And without a second thought, she pushed her trolley into the wall, and entered. The feeling of going through a wall was anything but pleasant, but she survived. As brown orbs scanned where she was, she took note of the sign that hung precariously over her head. Platform Nine and Three Quarters - her station. A faint smile on her face, she immediately schooled it back into one of nonchalance, quickly gaining her position by her father. Black orbs bore into her, as he swiftly took her trunk and entered the train, depositing it into the cabin. Only when he had gone off the train did Chelsea dare enter. It was time.

Her eyes lingered on her father. Did she miss him? Not really. She wouldn't miss him. She blamed him for the leaving of her mother, she blamed him dearly. She did not miss him. What she was looking at, was how her father, despite his only daughter leaving, was still able to keep a still expression, a steady one. The only thing that was moving, was his eyes, as it was locked into hers. The staring match continued, till the whistle of the train was blown. She broke the competition, blinking. Her father would never miss her. The train started moving, and as Chelsea stood at the window, so did her father, who remained rooted on the platform. Would she wave? Yell goodbye? Plausible options, but Chelsea was most likely not to do any of that.

Yet, she had to say she was leaving, in a way, right? Right. But what was the best way to say it? She doubted he would care if she waved, or if she had hugged him before she had left. He wouldn't care at all. So why should Chelsea bother? It would be, as she herself would have aptly put it, 'a waste of time'. He wouldn't care-- Nevr. Still, she had to. As a duty of a daughter, since he had been her father after all. So, moments before her father left her vision, her lips parted, a single word forming from them. Directed for his ears alone, given that he would hear anything she said.'Goodbye.' The single word left her lips, herself saying this without remorse, to the man she called her father. And as her father looked up, he was left only to see an empty window, the fourteen-year old girl now retreated into her compartment on the train. And there she sat, staring out of the window, her chin rested delicately on her left hand, right hand running pale fingers through her brown hair. She wasn't crying, nor was she smiling. She was thinking.

Goodbye was always the hardest word to say.

[icklesammykins]

"I'll miss you too.", a young blonde boy said as him and a brown-haired woman walked through the platform. It was Samuel Ryder and his mother. He looked at her with a smile, his mother handing him his own journal for school, and stationary. "Now you write to me every week, so I have something to look forward to.", she added with watery eyes. She loved her son to death, and since his father passed she would be all alone in their new house. She always loved having a son, because in her eyes son's treated their mothers with more respect than daughters didn't, but Sam figured that was because his little sister was a thumb-sucking little brat.

With a goodbye wave, he walked onto the train, having been tackled by an old friend. After they sat down, they visited for awhile, but the girl went to visit her friends. While she was gone, he figured he shouldn't be alone so he took his camera and put it back around his neck, moving down the compartments, finding one with only one girl. "Umm, mind if I sit with you?", he asked softly, moving blonde streaks out of his blue eyes.

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[chelsea]

She expected quiet. It wasn't much really, it seemed natural. Perhaps it was because people saw her as weird. The girl of average height with wide eyes, that never ceased it's intense stare once she had landed a target. Those eyes of hers, that potentially haunted people. She knew people were afraid of them, and at times, even she was afraid of them. Just staring at herself in the mirror made her think, on how weird she looked. Alien-like? How apt those words were at describing the freak she saw herself as. How apt.

She still hadn't moved from her spot, still staring out of the window. If anything, Chelsea enjoyed the outside scenery. She loved the way how everything was a mesh of colors, from the lightest green to the darkest blue, from the brightest yellow to the dullest brown. She loved how everything complimented one another, how everything was just like.. a picture. Pictures; she loved pictures. She loved to take them, at least. A camera rested in her backpack, yet to see the daylight as she sat quietly there.

A mass of footsteps outside. As Chelsea listened to them, her attention being diverted from the window at that point, it seemed that none were headed for her compartment. If anything, she had not heard the sliding of the door, to open it. She hadn't heard that, and that was, in a way, good. She wasn't expecting company. A sigh escaped her lips, as she leaned her head on the smooth wood of the cabin. It was cooling, a welcome relief to her. It allowed her, a small smile on her face. She was glad for this comfort, comfort she would be unable to feel from her parents, or her friends. If she even had any.

The smile remained, that is, until the door to her compartment. She didn't move, for fear it was somebody bad. She was easily scared, after all. Yet, the voice that followed the newcomer's entrance, didn't seem threatening at all, actually. Mind if I sit with you? A request, to join her. Her blue-green eyes turned to him, as she let her eyes scan over him. He didn't carry anything threatening, save for a.. camera? Her eyes lit up at the sight of it. A camera. Chelsea loved cameras, definitely. Looking up at him, she gave a slow nod, permission from her given to him. He had a camera, perhaps someone interesting to talk to. Photography was a hobby, a common passion that could be shared between many.

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[icklesammykins]

Sam's bright blue eyes scanned the girl over, first noticing that she was the quiet type, reserved and intelligent. She was probably a future Ravenclaw. He took his luggage and put it in a special compartment, sitting down across from her, horizontal from her positon on the seat; diagonally. He noticed her looking at his camera with a smirk.

"My name's Sam.", he said and smiled, hoping she wasn't too quiet to announce who she was.

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[chelsea]

He was sure smart, to realise she was one for little words. And as her blue-green orbs looked at him, he promptly took a seat, across her. Eyes wide, as she realised that it was rather close proximity, she struggled to maintain her expression of neutrality, No, she was not allowed, as her father deemed so, to reveal emotion to the other. Even if to do such a thing required a hell lot of will power.

She had almost missed his name, had he not had a loud voice. Realising she was meant to speak, she gave a nervous little cough, before replying to his introduction in a low voice, uncharacteristic for a girl - 'Chelsea. I am Chelsea.' There, her name. For him to use and call her by, a title of sorts. Glancing at the door, hoping that no one else would join them, for fear that Chelsea would be unable to hold a conversation, she glanced at him again.

'You are new, to the school?' For a girl brought up in America, Chelsea still maintained that part of her that was British. Her parents influence, no doubt. They spoke impeccable English, although her mother had traces of Chinese roots in her language. She always felt her mother would speak perfect Chinese, if she had tried. After all, her name itself was already a rather Chinse name, no? Aria Chan. How... different.

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