Blinded by the Light: Drabbles

Drabble Six: Train

Brian shivered when the opening doors filled the close to deserted train carriage with cold February air. He craned his neck to look mildly accusingly at the lonesome passenger that stepped inside the vehicle, impatiently waiting for the man to walk past, and mainly, for the automatic doors to slide towards each other again. He had lost track of time long ago, but judging by the ink black colour of the sky outside the rectangular windows of the train, they had exchanged the dusky afternoon for an even darker evening quite a while ago. Another time, another time, another place, he would have used pulled the sleeve of his coat up to glance at the watch on his right wrist. But right now, this action was simply out of question, considering the fact that this was the arm he had tightly wrapped around his sleeping partner's torso. After a long day of studio work, it had taken Roger no more than ten minutes of sitting next to Brian (leaning against, that was) in the quiet train compartment to finally give into the sleepiness he had been fighting against for hours.

For this reason, the last thing Brian wanted was to wake him up by an unexpected movement, so all he did was using his hand, which was resting on Roger's ribcage, to tuck his scarf a little tighter into his coat in order to protect him from the intruding cold. He then proceeded to carefully drag the zipper up, his heart skipping a beat when this caused Roger to change his position a bit, but he was quickly able to catch his breath again when the drummer soundlessly continued sleeping after having squished his cheek a little closer against Brian's shoulder.

Contentedly, Brian glanced out of the window, smiling at the reflection of their bodies in the dusty windows, before glancing down at his lover again. Roger always looked so peaceful in his sleep; away from the sometimes torturing reality of being blind that contradicted greatly with his nevertheless bight, cheery, and energetic personality. While being awake, these sides that both played such a large part of his everyday life clashed constantly; but as he was asleep, he finally seemed to find rest – not only physically, but also mentally. In his sleep, his visual impairment couldn't haunt him, his brightness and energetic nature (and the expectations these had created) couldn't follow him. Sleeping seemed to be the only opportunity for Roger to truly relax and let go of the everyday situation, so Brian did everything that was within his power to allow him this moment of rest.

But whereas he was in charge of his own movements and sounds, Brian simply could not control the actions of the few but certainly present people around him. This was something he deeply regretted the moment a broad, middle-aged, overweight, and incredibly loudly speaking man in a too tight fitting public service uniform stepped into their compartment to check the train tickets of the handful of people present in the vehicle. Brian listened with a frown to the loud, low sound that was the man's voice, only to conclude that he wasn't toning it down, but that he instead seemed to speak louder the closer he got to them. The guitarist coughed meaningfully in an attempt to make him understand that he should watch his voice, but this guy didn't seem to be one to recognise subtle gestures and signs; he mindlessly continued speaking at maximum volume, even though Brian could sense that he wasn't the only one who didn't exactly enjoy practically being screamed at. He flashed a nervous glanced at the drummer, who was still soundlessly sleeping against his shoulder, and he realised all too well that the conductor and his loud behaviour were forming a serious threat to Roger's peaceful state of mind. Unfortunately, all he could do was pull him a little closer and pray that he wouldn't wake up anywhere soon as the man approached.

'Good evening gentlemen! Can I see your tickets?'

Brian looked up to see that the man to whom the disturbingly loud voice belonged was now standing next to them, hand reached out towards them to receive their tickets. Brian flashed him a smile and a bit of a nod as a silent way of greeting him (and, at the same time, to drop the hint that he had to be more quiet – not to say completely silent, preferably) as he shifted slightly and dug into the pocket of his coat. Wordlessly, Brian handed the small yellow papers over, praying the man would get the silent hint, while at the same time, it failed to surprise him that he didn't.