It had been months since Corpse last took the subway - or any public transport for that matter. And as he went to take the last seat in the crowded cabin, he felt his breath hit rapidly against his face mask. What usually was a reassuring piece began to seem more like a means of constricting air.
However, it couldn't be helped. He rarely ever left his apartment so a car was of no use (although now he was beginning to think investing in one would be wise); and second, the recording studio he often went to was too far to travel on foot. Perhaps if his muscles allowed, he would've chose to walk anyway. Anything was better than the shoulders jabbing him into place from either side.
He brought his chin down to hide as much of his face as he could - his unruly hair working for once in his favour and casting a blind over his dark eyes.
Corpse had left his house in the most colourful clothes he owned, thinking if anyone were to be on the lookout for him, his excessively dark palette would be a dead giveaway. That had felt like a big brain move until people in the subway eyed his bright cat themed hoodie for a moment too long.
The subway came to a halt and the woman on his right lurched into him. He hadn't meant to push her away so harshly, or even at all, but the woman barked a snarky comment before he could apologize and stalked away.
A few more people blatantly glanced his way before stepping off the subway.
Corpse's heart was a jackhammer. The way it beat hard against his ribcage grew a nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach. He focused so intensely on calming the sensation that he hadn't noticed another young woman plop down beside him.
Only when she dropped heavy books onto her lap and the train began moving again did he take a peak at her subjects.
The pocketbook for Physiotherapists; Anatomy and Physiology; Myofascial Pain and Dysfunction.
The hardcovers made his brows raise. He was a little too familiar with the field she was studying in - though his experience lied on the opposite end.
The train suddenly rumbled and the girl's shoulder collided into his. His breath hitched though he remained as stiff as stone.
He caught her eyes turn to his quivering hands, clasped tightly together to minimize the movement. He scolded himself internally for freaking out as he much as he did. He was quite a strong looking man. Not many would pin him for someone with crippling anxiety.
And as he had hoped, she cast her attention away.
Whispers from the couple in front of him drew his focus. As much as he tried to appear unbothered, his head snapped towards them and as a result, the two stared right at him.
Had they been talking about him? Maybe he shouldn't have worn his rings outside.
He stuffed his hands between his legs.
Of course he just had to pull a freaky move like that. Perhaps he should pull his hood up. Although doing so now would probably make him seem even weirder.
Just five more minutes and he'd reach his station. The anticipation made him restless and his leg began to itch for any kind of movement. Even so, he forced it down. Just five more minutes.
The restlessness grew to his eyes that jumped from speck to speck on the ground, searching for a distraction. To their own accord, they moved to the woman's books although they were no longer where he had last seen them.
He had to tilt his face higher to see that the woman had shifted a little further away, creating a comfortable space between them. Corpse wondered how he hadn't felt her move as they sat about a hair's width apart.
He did not notice her crystal blues catch sight of him; nor did he notice the discrete way she moved her books into a better view for him.
The train creaked into stop once more. Sage Graves secretly watched as the man rose, the perplexed face behind that mask no doubt clearing into one of relief.
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