Silence | Book 2

2-13: Exposed [M-T]

Tristan dragged his suitcase along the platform of the train station, and himself to one of the deserted benches. There were very few people at this hour, on a Christmas evening – and even less trains going. As he sat down, he shivered from cold and pain alike. He was tired, and the bare skin of his good hand looked nearly blue in the harsh white light.

In silence he pulled his knees up, hoping to retain some warmth he didn't have. It would still be over thirty minutes before the train arrived. The maps had told him he had to take a night train into London, and then a second one to Oxford. Home seemed so far away, and he was already exhausted.

The only thing keeping him awake was the constant, pulsing pain in his back and hand. It made him feel nauseous, his breaths slightly shallow. He closed his eyes and leant forward on his knees, trying to think of anything else. Each time the hurt dragged his attention away.

The only thing that stuck was the desire to go home; like a distant dream past the feverish wisps of other thoughts. He wanted to crawl in his bed and hide away, to pretend the world didn't exist. Quietly he opened his eyes and stared ahead at the train tracks. Maybe he wanted to pretend he didn't exist.

Would it really matter all that much? Now he was already lost with nobody aware of who and where he was. To perhaps toss away his wallet, and die in a ditch where nobody knew him. But then the image of Anya came to mind, of Hibiki, of his father, of all his friends. The truth was that many people knew him, and he had to make it home for them. Or maybe that was just the thought he clung to, knowing that even now he didn't really want to die or be lost. There had to be something better to fight for; he'd caught a glimpse of it when he was with Hibiki.

His gaze fell down to his ankle. With his good hand he pulled down his sock, enough to see the shimmer of gold. Even though he was hurt and shivering, it made him smile. The memories of that evening were strong enough to withstand the aching. To be with someone who smiled because he was there; someone who enjoyed his existence. He wanted to see Hibiki smile at him again.

With a deep, trembling sigh he sat up. Even moving made him grimace. Every bit of strain he put on his back felt like getting crushed. Slowly he attempted to take deep breaths of the cold air. For a little while that was all he focussed on. All the other thoughts got lost, as the pain snatched them away from him and left him confused.

He glanced up at the clock. Maybe once he got on the train he could try to sleep. But he wasn't sure if what he would dream would be much different. He pushed himself up and looked around. He didn't know what he was looking for.

There weren't many other people, and he didn't want to look at them. The ceiling of the station was a large construction of steel and glass, but looking up for too long made him dizzy and the light hurt his eyes. Some of the tiles were cracked, and it annoyed him because it reminded him of being broken.

A heavy pain radiated from his hand, and he couldn't ignore it. Slowly he pulled his hand out of his pocket, only to see a mess of pale, yellowish white blisters, surrounded by deep red skin. The cold air blowing over it felt strange; it stung and hurt, he couldn't feel anything in the blisters, but the red skin was so hot that there was a slight bit of relief. He bit his lip and slowly put his hand back in his pocket, letting out soft whines between his clenched teeth as even the loose fabric of his hoodie hurt.

In the distance, the light of a lone train drew closer. The squealing of he brakes reverberated through the station, until it came to a halt. The noise caused his head to ache, and for a moment he felt like his entire mind had been severed. But then it stopped, and he managed to recollect himself with several heavy breaths.