Passenger

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Being in the seat next to the driver is always strange when you think about it. You are in the front with the same view, same seat type except you have none of the responsibilities, instead you can afford to glance around and observe your surroundings. My Dad sat in silence as he drove, fully focusing on the dark roads whilst I zoned out and listened to the music on my phone. 

The music played into my ears whilst I observed the streets outside, how poorly lit they are on the dark evenings with the dim streetlamps. I saw homes lit up, silhouettes of families sat in living rooms watching television makes me think of home; the home I'd rather be at. 

I rested my head in my hand as the streets became less visible and slowly the only source of light was from the headlights on my Dad's car along with fellow drivers. He muttered about the weather, how foggy it was going to be and I nodded along. Tonight all I craved was warmth and bed, the feeling of the crisp bed sheets rather than sitting in an uncomfortable car seat, forced to sit upright. 

Seeing someone walk by was a rare occurrence on the motorway, usually it would be if they had a breakdown and were waiting for someone to help out. Other times included the police, or even a suicide attempt; something I haven't personally witnessed. Pulling away from the reams of cars that we rode behind the city illuminated the windows, scenes passed us by and I smiled knowing home was near. 

The city night life was coming to a close, only few walking by in these early hours of the morning. His dark form was clear under the headlights of passing cars, he blended in with the darkness yet stood out like a sore thumb compared to those laughing or wobbling as they walked. He asserted himself, kept his head low as smoke passed his lips into the atmosphere.

I felt enticed by him, it was something different. A smile didn't cross my face, instead the emotion and pure curiosity was held in my eyes as I saw them reflected in the window. His head lifted as his hood fell down, a mess of brown hair on the top of his head as he glanced around bringing the cigarette to his lips. 

Unaware I'd been staring the car came to a halt and I glanced back from my window to see we were stuck in traffic. Tearing my eyes from the lights in front I looked back to see him leaning against the wall on the pavement opposite our car, a light smirk on his face as he blew smoke clouding his features. My eyes locked with his as he threw the remainder of the cigarette to the ground and wiped it with the sole of his shoe. His hands went into his pockets and he exhaled, a clearer less poisonous wisp released. 

A force caused me to jolt as the car started to move forward again, glancing back desperately I saw him move away from the wall. In my side mirror I focused on him, seeing how once we were too far away he walked off. A new puff of smoke emerged, the lasting image lingering in my mind.  

Parking in the driveway I unbuckled my seatbelt but my Dad called my name. Removing my hand from the door handle I sighed, knowing what was coming. It was the 'things get better' speech, how I'd find someone else- someone who wasn't a lying cheating asshole. 

All I did was nod, give him a small smile to convince him so he'd be distracted from the tears that brimmed my eyes, for once I was thankful for the lack of lighting in the sky. 

We all walked, laughing as we stepped out of the club. I felt lighter, I was floating by- a sensation I've missed from my body that uplifted my spirit, but that could be the alcohol talking. My friend helped me walk along the streets as I paused, taking my heels off and spoke of nonsense about the guys we noticed, the 'ones who would be a good rebound.' But I just nodded, the tears far from my eyes this time. 

In the sky above it was laced with stars, their light powerful but not strong enough to guide us home. Instead we were reliant on the bar and club signs to form a pathway leading us into the city centre, away from the places where the music pounds and everyone is exposed to making mistakes. Yet as we passed the same repetitive music I paused outside of a small bar, hearing something unique. 

Calling out to my friends I walked inside, they called out for me but I didn't respond. There was something about the sound that felt right, I needed to know it. Standing in the entrance I realised I had no shoes, my friends had kept them back for me so I stood there shoeless. 

Walking through the bar was fairly empty, yet a few tables were covered with different sorts of people, a variety with half empty glasses of all shapes and content. I spotted an empty table and sat down then glanced up to see who was performing. 

A band, made up of four members. All performing on their own instruments, looked around my age. Except the bassist was standing out, something about him seemed familiar but my mind remained cloudy- nothing wanting to process. Sitting there my eyes began to feel heavy, sat in the back of the dull bar with the heating and their music playing my eyes began to droop. Unable to fight the urge to drift off for a little while I rested my head against my arms on the table. 

Someone was calling for me, muttering to someone else. A gentle nudge of my shoulder caused my eyes to slowly open and I lifted my heavy head up, feeling the pounding already. The room gently swayed as I sat upright in the chair and my hands gripped the table unable to process where I was. 

A voice quietly addressed me in a formal manner, I wiped my eyes and blinked a few times as a figure was sat opposite me. He had dark eyes, they matched his hair, yet a kind smile on his face seemed different. There was something about him I knew, yet the cloud was fading but instead of being replaced by vivid memories it was laced with a thunder storm. 

He told me where I was, that I was still in the bar whilst everyone else had left. Except him and his band mates, I pointed to him, realising he was the bassist to which he chuckled. Passing me a glass of water I was ordered to drink it and phone for someone to come and get me as the bar needed to close. 

As I drank the water my vision was 20/20, the storm was easing and memories of last night replayed. I saw the drinks, the array of empty shot glasses I displayed making my friends laugh. The almost phone calls I made to him in my drunken state, the dancing, the laughter and the music I heard as I entered here, shoeless. Glancing beneath the table instead of my bare feet two large slippers were covering my cold toes, they were blue sharks, the boot type that cover your entire foot. 

I laughed lightly at the odd yet incredibly comfortable footwear as I sat with my contacts in my phone, unsure who to call. My mind wandered to the place it shouldn't, I refused to let myself call him, I don't need to let him back into my life. I doubt my parents would want to be rudely disturbed since I moved back in, my friends would be as hungover as I am if not worse. Which left me with few options. 

Placing the empty glass back on the table I stood up, the rush of everything hitting me like a ton of bricks and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around me, steadying me on my feet. I glanced up, it was the bassist again. He smiled sweetly as he asked if I managed to sort something out. Politely I nodded, as I knew I'd just catch the first bus back home and do the walk of shame through my home town. 

Bending down I removed the slippers and gave them to him, heading out of the door after thanking him for his help. No names exchanged, a simple act of kindness. 

Walking down the streets as the sun was just waking up my feet hurt with every step, the icy pavements pin pricking the soles of my feet. Yet this wasn't the one thing that bothered me the most, instead it was the bassist and where I knew his face from. I glanced to the window displays on the other side of the road, seeing my reflection and how wrecked I looked. 

I didn't even see him join me. His reflection was stood next to mine holding the daft slippers. Turning around I faced the stranger again, he helped me slip into the clouds that I wore on my feet as we wandered around the city, heading back to the bus stop. 

He asked if I minded him smoking to which I shook my head, he lit a cigarette and slowly blew the smoke from his lips. Something in the back of my mind was yelling at me about it, the way he was smoking but nothing was evidently clear. As we walked and talked some more I couldn't get it out of my mind, whatever was bugging me. 

We approached the bus station and crossed the roads, only as we stood still at the crossing and cars paused in front of us I noticed his reflection, him smoking, then everything just clicked. The hooded smoker on the street. The smirk as I sat bored in the car. The mysterious bassist. The kind stranger. 

Calum. 


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