Some people say a dream is just a dream. Others call it
fate.
===============
February, the coldest there had been for a while, too cold for it to snow... almost.

I was sat on a coach that was continuing from its latest stop in Westerville and heading towards Lima, Ohio.

I had been hopping from coach to coach for almost a year at this point, staying for a while in the places I liked and doing odd jobs when I was offered them. I never formed any attachments though, never stayed for long enough. Always moving, always searching.

If you asked me what for, I wouldn’t have told you, hell, I didn’t know myself most of the time, following the pull of my own body and the desperate need to find what every cell in the body craved for.

Not a whole lot of people ever asked or tried to share stories on those long arse on-the-road nights where insomnia kicked in and the need for company was too intense to ignore, but for the benefit of those who did, I listened carefully, gave an outsiders perspective when it was required and answered any personal questions with cryptic remarks or simply redirected my gaze and quickly changed the subject.

Most people just accepted my lack of willingness to talk about my past, and to those who pressed on the matter I only had to mention how gorgeous my Prada bag was or comment on the new Mark Jacobs collection.

Everyone here was so closed-minded they quickly judged me and returned to their seats further forward, shooting me rather disgusted looks every once in a while or simply ignoring my existence altogether. Overall, people left me to my own musings and I was perfectly fine with that.

It was early, too early, when the coach pulled up to a small service station. My breath came out in small puffs in front of my face and I had to wipe the window with my sleeve to see we had pulled up to a small service station with only two pumps, a small shop and a car bay.

I stood and stretched, my back arching like a cat and my arms high above my head. Only five others and myself occupied the coach and all were sleeping. After reaching into the overhead compartment to pull out my scruffy duffle bag and skateboard I quietly crept down the centre isle from my place at the back, careful not to disturb anyone before softly rapping my knuckles on the drivers inside door, requesting he let me out.

A moment later the exit door creaked open and I descended the few steps before my feet hit gravel. The early morning air was clean and crisp as I breathed in deeply, a sharp change from the musky smell of the coach, my body almost hummed in appreciation.

Coffee, I needed coffee, hell, I always needed coffee. This was one of the things I always seemed to seek in the places I travelled to, a good coffee shack.

I knew I had at least an hour and a half to get back to the coach if I wanted to continue on that particular route and we hadn’t passed anything except fields for at least half an hour so I decided to head in the direction we had been travelling in hopes of coming across some sort of diner or cafe where I didn’t have to relieve myself in a bush.

It was around four am, the sun had yet to fully rise and the stars were still clearly visible. After a few minutes of taking in my scenery I got bored, set my iphone music onto shuffle with the volume down low to create some background noise and pulled out my skateboard from where it was wedged between my back and the duffle bad that hung from my shoulders.

Travelling via skateboard was considerably faster than walking and a lot more relaxing too so it didn’t feel like long before I came across a quaint looking shack that advertised itself as ‘the lima bean’.A car park with only four spaces was located directly across from it, one of which was taken by a rather beaten up Chevy.

As I got closer to the ‘lima bean’ and peered through the glass windows I noted a rather tiered looking girl behind the counter filing her nails, she looked to be a year or two younger than me at around 22, had clear tan skin and long, silky looking dark hair that was pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Other than her the place was deserted, but at that hour it was hardly surprising, I was amazed the place was open atall.

I rested my board on my hip and paused my music before entering. The girl looked me up and down, most likely trying to decide if I was going to cause trouble because of my slightly rough and ragged state, as my clothes were rumpled and I hadn’t shaved for at least a week, you try and stay clean shaven when you’re on the road for the best part of a year. Weather she decided I wasn’t going to be a problem or not I did not know but I grinned at her nonetheless and added a wink for good measure.

“Good morning miss” I almost sang in my excitement.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow at my tone and stared me down for at least another good minute before the corner of her lips turned up into a humoured smirk.

“Good morning sir,” she mock saluted. “And what can I get for you at this fine hour?”

“Oh I like you,” I hummed in thought for a moment, reading over the choices from the overhead board, “tell me, how are your mochas?”

“oh honey, if I’m making it for you, it’s gonna’ be a caffeine orgey in your mouth” she smirked wider.

“That sounds promising... I’ll have low fat then, if it’s not too much trouble”

“Coming right up sweetcheeks” was her reply as she turned and began to prepare my order.

I glanced around the shop, my eyes locking on the sign for the restroom, I figured then was a good a time as any to go and clean up after a yet another night on the road.

When I returned from the toilets ten minutes later, fresh faced, clean shaven and minty breathed with a new set of clothes on an appreciative wolf whistle caused my cheeks to heat up with a tell tale blush. I was wearing my tightest, white skinnies, bright blue docks that were laced half way up my calves and a grey woollen jumper that hugged across my chest and arms.

The smell of fresh coffee greeted me so I reached my arms out, making grabby hands in the air at the barista until she passed me my mocha with a soft laugh at my childlike behaviour.

I was probably about halfway through inhaling the entire cup when the girl sat down on the chair across from mine, tucked her legs under herself and leaned forward on her elbows. I grinned into my mug, she had been watching me for the five minutes I had been sat down before coming over and her curiosity was evident.

“You were right of course miss” she hummed in acknowledgement as I continued “it really is a caffeine orgasm”

She laughed at the statement, held out a hand and introduced herself. “Santana Lopez, at your service. My friends call me Tana or Satan, though, so take your pick” she winked.

I lowered my mug to the table and raised her well manicured hand to my lips, brushing against the soft skin on her knuckles, the blush that slowly crept up her neck until it was high on her cheek bones exactly what I was aiming for.

“Kurt Hummle, Miss Lopez” I murmured.

“Kurt Hummle” she tested the name as though she recognised it but couldn’t remember.

I knew she couldn’t have, I mean, I had never met her before; surely I would have remembered her sharp and rather blunt remarks. I felt like I should have been able to place her though, I felt like I should have known.

“So, Mr Hummle, what brings you to the lima bean at six in the morning” Santana interrupted my musings.

“I’m searching.” I stated, the excitement obvious in my voice.

“For...”

“I don’t know yet”

“You... don’t, know yet?” her expression was mildly confused but her amusement was far greater.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll know, when I find it. I’ll know.” I grinned.

“Well, whatever you say Hummle.” There was something about the way she said ‘Hummle’, like it was the most natural thing and not the first time either. It made me bristle, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and every cell in my body felt like it had been ignited with that single word.

I rubbed my now sweaty hands on my jeans and pushed my chair out, a violent scrape echoed through the small space of the shop due to the force I used. My hip banged into the table as I reached down to grab my duffle and board from where I had set them by my feet, the sudden movement of the table knocked over my mostly empty cup which caused the last of its content to spill over the scratches and dents in the dark wood.

I looked up in horror at the overwhelming sense of d�j� vu that left my body burning and my mind screaming.

I had to move, I had to do something, anything.

Santana’s eyes had widened drastically as the scene unfolded before her, she watched me closely until her gaze darted past me out of the window where she focused on something across the road.

No, no, no, no, NO!

He was there.

His car door slammed behind him as he kicked it closed.

He was there

He pulled off his sunglasses and tugged his hand through his curls, looking the definition of ease.

He didn’t know. He never knew.

The loud tinkling of the bell rung out as the door ricocheted off the wall when I reached it, its melody breaking through the screaming inside my head and the burning of my muscles.

My body froze, hand still on the glass door. A strangled shout ripped its way out of my throat.

His eyes locked with mine as he took another step out onto the road.

The sound of my heartbeat pounded in my ears.

He didn’t know.

He can’t die. I won’t let him die.

The screeching of the brakes was heard as we felt the collision.

Darkness overtook my senses.