Bastille Imagines

Train

Here you are, sitting at the platform waiting for that constantly-late train to take you to hell. And by hell, you mean work. Bright and early and the early risers have already been taken to the main city, and looking around, you're the only one here. The icy colds nips at your nose and elsewhere, numbing the tips of your fingers in a persistent bitterness. You look up and notice half a moon, reflecting against the morning sun as it rises: this was probably the best part of your day, other than going home that is.

Your job isn't bad, as a retail sales assistant you don't get much thrill from what you do, there's always a repetitive cycle of putting on that fake smile and pretending that you actually enjoy being here, when in all reality, it's the last place you want to be. You've been getting on the same train for a year now, and it's still the same boring, empty carriage that greets you and the occasional visit from the ticket man to boost your day.

Finally, as the train arrives you chase it down always forgetting that it stops further down than you think. As it zooms past you peek through the windows and unexpectedly you see a crowd of people inside the train. Great. Looks like you're going to have to stand for this one, albeit not understanding why it's so busy.

The doors open and a number of people come flooding out of the train and onto the platform. As far as manners go, you wait until everyone is off your carriage before you step on, being greeted by a few of the leftover people. The only seat available is next to a man sleeping, his head perched against the window. He looks exhausted; his scruffy beard tangled around his jawline and his hair rebelling against the grain of his parting. Trying so hard, you attempt to sit in the chair directly across from him, entangling yourself with his long, stretched out legs giving you no room to breath. Mirroring him, you also lean your head against the window in a tiring, slightly-lop-sided manner. Man, how you wish to be back in your bed.

You stare out the window as your eyes meet the trees and the river below you, the sun highlighting only the best of natures features. You focus your eyes on the sleeping mans reflection, his jaw hanging wide open, the slits of his chocolate brown eyes not fully closed and the occasional sound of what is an attempt at a snore. It pleases you watching him, it's funny how despite his exhaustion he still manages to look fairly decent. Like a sleeping model. Something or other.

When the train jumps to a stop, he jerks himself awake and discreetly wipes away the beginning of the slight drool hanging from his mouth. Seeing you, he instantly blushes and diverts his eyes to the entanglement of his fingers. You can't help but mutter a giggle at his embarrassment although you feel slightly guilt when he wriggles in his seat.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." You blurt out, unsure of where this confidence originated from. His unsettled laugh hints he's not quite as amused as you are about his sleeping state. He rubs the back of his neck and tucks himself in.

"Yeah, that must've been quite a sight eh?" He recoils. You only smile back with a distorted snort. Great, now you both have something to be embarrassed of.

"Early morning for you I take it?" You ask, keeping the ebb and flow of the conversation in its mannerly fluency. He subtly nods his head as he yawns, stretching out his long limbs, your legs thoroughly tangled within his.

"Yeah, just got back from touring this morning. Absolutely shattered." He mumbles as his yawns slowly settles. You feel it's contagious effect as your mouth yearns to yawn just like the man in front of you, but you refuse it. Oh god you need to yawn. Do it.

Your mouth stretches wide and you slowly intake air and breath it out in a satisfying yawn. You can see his smirk spreading across his grinning face.

"Made you yawn didn't I? Am I that boring?"

"Yawning is contagious. I can't help it!" You defend yourself stifling your laughter. The man across from you looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes as the sun reflects off them. They're a deep brown, with a somewhat resemblance to his hair colour which encircles his entire face. You admit, he has quite the charm to him. You introduce yourself feeling like now is a comfortable time to do it and thankfully he responds likewise with a gleaming smile.

Kyle.

The name suits him. Bubbly yet charismatic. You both sit there, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence as the words slip right off your tongue when talking to him. You explain a little bit about yourself, and before you even have the chance to change the subject onto him, you arrive at your stop.

"This is me. It was nice meeting you." You cheerfully smile. His eyes somewhat droop at the saddened thought of separating. He stands up and catches your arm.

"If you wouldn't m-mind, I-I would really like to see you again. I mean, it was nice talking to you, great actually. I don't know, m-maybe I can s-see you again, like whenever. I-if you want to that is..." He rambles. His sweet incessant rambling has you considering his offer, he's cute.

"Yeah...yeah that sounds nice, I work at Primark just down the road there and I finish at six. So I'll see you then Kyle."

His relieved sigh is followed by the closing of the doors of the train. He keeps your gaze as the train rolls away and a smile etches onto your lips.

You have a sneaky suspicion that that smile will be staying in your lips for a while. Maybe today won't be so bad after all. 

A/n: sorry for the shitty chapter, had to include Kyle in here somewhere. (Ps, I do actually work in primark and this was kinda based off my daily routine, without Kyle sadly but yeah. pps the picture is actually the view I get from my train when it goes over the river)