Horn P.O.V

Cuts will be here soon. He had a very late train and a rather long ride, but he's nearly here. I'm excited to see him in person, but also anxious. When he sent me a picture of himself, he looked very roughed up. I want to make sure he's okay, maybe take him to a walk-in clinic.

After checking my phone, I see that Cuts has texted me. It's been about twenty minutes since the message sent.

Cuts, 2:47 P.M.
Hey...

Me, 3:05 P.M.
Hey, sorry, I didn't check my phone. What's up?

Cuts, 3:07 P.M.
Not much. I woke up earlier and now I'm just waiting for this damn train to arrive.

Me, 3:08 P.M.
It'll get here soon. It's not too much longer :)

Cuts, 3:10 P.M.
Yeah...

Me, 3:12 P.M.
You okay?

Cuts 3:15 P.M.
Yeah... I'm fine... Just anxious I suppose...

Me, 3:17 P.M.
Anything I can do to ease that feeling?

Cuts, 3:20 P.M.
Just be there when I arrive...

Me, 3:21 P.M.
Of course :)

Cuts, 3:23 P.M.
Thank you...

Me, 3:24 P.M.
No problem :3

Noticing that the time is only growing later, I decide that I should start driving to the train station. Typically, I don't drive many places, but because the train station isn't exactly close I figured it would be better for me to drive there. I also know that Cuts will be tired when he gets here and most likely won't be in the mood to walk back here.

I grab my keys off of the kitchen counter and I'm out the door. There's a bit of pep in my step as I walk down the stairs. I'm excited to see Cuts. The fact that I'm getting to meet him so soon is exciting. The situation may not be ideal, but if this is what it takes for him to be safe then I'm fine with that.

By the time I get to my car, it's about 3:30 P.M. Cuts' train will be arriving in about half an hour. It's crazy to think that someone I met just a few days ago is going to be here.

Normally, when people meet on the internet they don't ever get to meet. They may talk for a long time, become best friends, even date long distance if they're willing to try. Sometimes, they'll meet up and everything will work out. Other times, however, aren't as happy. Other times, they won't be able to meet up. They'll start communicating less and drift apart until they finally move on and forget about each other. It's upsetting for at least one person when that happens, especially when one or both said that it wouldn't. I'm hoping that Cuts and I don't have to go through that.

I drive to the train station and park my car in the parking lot. I head inside and look at the board to see what platform Cuts' train will be at. According to the board, his train will be at platform nine.

After walking for a few moments, I reach platform nine. It's a bit of a walk from the front. However, it's worth it if I get to see Cuts when he arrives.

I sit down on a bench and check the time. It's nearly 4 P.M. The train should be arriving any moment now. I tap my foot on the ground anxiously. Now that I'm here, I hate having to wait. I wish Cuts was here.

Cuts, 4:05 P.M.
We're getting close to the station.

Me, 4:07 P.M.
That's good.

As if on cue, the train comes to a screeching halt at the platform. I stand up from where I was previously seated on the bench. I watch as people file out of the train, waiting and watching for Cuts.

After a majority of the passengers exit the train, Cuts walks out. His eyes instantly lock on me and a big smile spreads across his cute face.

Cuts runs up and throws his arms around me. I'm surprised at first, but return the hug quickly. It feels amazing to see him in person. A computer screen or virtual photo doesn't compare to seeing someone in person.

"Hey," I say after a few moments.

"Hey," Cuts practically whispers.

He breaks the hug and adjusts the backpack on his shoulders. Only now can I see the full extent of his injuries. His face is bruised purple and is covered in scratches. I'm sure the rest of his body is the same way.

"Are you okay?" I ask worriedly, inspecting his bruises a bit more closely.

"I'll be fine," he reassures me. "Everything's fine now that I'm out of that hell-hole," he sighs.

I don't exactly believe Cuts' answer. His injuries could be far worse than he's letting on. I don't want him to be critically injured and not say anything, but I also don't want to force him to answer any questions right away. He just got here. I'm sure he's tired and isn't up for playing twenty questions.

"Okay."

I offer to carry Cuts' bag, but he refuses. "I can carry it," he says quickly.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"It's fine," he answers. "You've done more than enough," he adds.

I can tell that Cuts is the independent type. He obviously doesn't want to be a burden, even though he isn't. It'll take some time to break him out of that shell, but eventually, he'll get there.

"You tired?" I ask.

"A little," he answers.

"Well, you can rest a bit when we get back to my apartment and I can cook dinner," I suggest while getting in the car.

Cuts gets into the passenger seat. "I can help," he offers.

"I have a small kitchen," I warn him.

Having two people in the kitchen of a studio apartment could be disastrous. It certainly won't be easy if we're both trying to cook and prepare a meal. I don't exactly have experience sharing the kitchen with anyone.

"I think we can manage," he says.

I laugh softly. "I guess we'll just have to see about that."