dreamnotfound oneshots

vexatious

Ugh, this guy again.

Clay tried to ignore the man next to him as he struggled to open his P.O. box.  He quickly retrieved his mail and locked the box back up before turning to leave.  When he pulled the key from the lock, his hand brushed the other man's and he cringed inwardly.

He sifted through the first couple envelopes, and on his way out, threw away the junk he didn't need in the bin he passed by.

After checking the time on his watch, the green clad man hurriedly put the rest of his mail in the satchel that was slung over his shoulder.  He quickly made his way across the street to a bus stop, not bothering to sit on the bench that was offered there.

Just a few minutes early, but waiting won't hurt much, Clay thought.  Well, that short moment of bliss didn't last too long.  Here he came.

The man joined Clay at the bus stop, standing at the other end of the bench.  Good, he's keeping his distance.

Only a few moments of awkward silence passed and the shuttle rounded the corner.  Already, Clay could tell it was going to be a son of a bitch trying to find a seat in there.  It's Friday at five in the afternoon, of course it's going to be packed with people trying to get home.

When he boarded the bus, it was crowded.  He could feel himself breathing in other people's breath.  The air was humid with sweat and whatever else, too.  It was disgusting.

It's just a few minutes, and then I'm home.

There were no seats left, but a couple pull handles weren't being held onto.  Clay took hold of one, leaving one vacant next to him.  Oh, no, wait-

A hand reached up and grabbed the other hand-grip.  Him, of course, who else would it be?

The two met eyes before their gazes darted away quickly.

The bus ride was suffocating, especially with Clay practically being able to feel the other guy's breath blow in his direction.

Eventually, the bus came to a slow stop.  Clay and the second man got off of the bus, each taking a moment to breathe the fresh air.  Damn, that was probably the worst bus ride in the history of bus rides.

They both began walking in the same direction.  Painfully, Clay opened the front door of his apartment building, closely followed by the man.  Both he and Clay reached to press the button to call an elevator down, which caused Clay to screw his eyes shut for a moment.

I'm almost home, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

The two stepped on the elevator, standing as far away from each other as possible in such a small space.  Quiet elevator music played, saving them from complete silence.

I see this guy everyday and I still don't know his name.  Should I ask?  Would that make this worse?  Probably.

A quiet ding brought Clay out of his thoughts, and he stepped out of the elevator right after the other man.

They both traveled down the hall in the same direction, Clay stopping at his apartment which was directly across from his.

"Who are you?" A voice suddenly sounded.  "We do this every week, except for Sundays.  What is your name, even?"

Clay turned around.  The man looked at him expectantly.  I've never heard this guy speak before.  I never would have guessed he was English.

"My name is Clay.  It's funny, I was just thinking about this in the elevator," he mused.  "And you?  Who are you?"

"George.  Are you creepy, or is it just insanely coincidental we both go to the exact same places every single day?"