Night bus
Something I wrote the other night. A li'l rusty. I'm still trying to get started with my writing for real again after a much too long break.
It’s never a good idea to ride the night bus.
He ponders this as he sits in the back of it, taking it all in. The smell, the noise, the drunken people.
Mostly the smell.
Someone taps him on the shoulder, a face that reeks of alcohol mere inches from his.
Something is slurred, probably meant as an insult, but it’s not really possible to make out any words. Steve turns his face away and gazes out the window. Still five more stops to go.
The drunk at his side simply won’t give up, and he’s kinda trapped against the window now. Just ignoring him won’t do for much longer.
”Look mate,” he finally snaps. ”I can’t make out a bloody word yer sayin’, why don’t you go bother someone else?”
It actually works. He’s amazed. Relieved.
Turning his head against the window, he relaxes slightly again. Just two more stops.
Someone sits down next to him, and he doesn’t bother looking, not until he hears an all too familiar voice.
”Aren’t you going to say hello to an old friend?”
Jack.
”What the fuck...” he begins, but is interrupted.
”Manners. Aren’t you ever going to change?”
Steve has never quite understood this idea of Jack’s about his manners. But there’s not a lot he’s really managed to understand about him at all yet, so maybe he shouldn’t bother.
”I was on my way home,” he grumbles, and adds ”to sleep” to make it clear that he doesn’t want any visitors.
”Now you’re not.”
”What?”
”We’re going on an adventure.”
Steve groans. ”Oh don’t you bloody start...” He needs sleep not an adventure, but Jack just grins.
He should have walked home.
It’s never a good idea to ride the night bus.
He ponders this as he sits in the back of it, taking it all in. The smell, the noise, the drunken people.
Mostly the smell.
Someone taps him on the shoulder, a face that reeks of alcohol mere inches from his.
Something is slurred, probably meant as an insult, but it’s not really possible to make out any words. Steve turns his face away and gazes out the window. Still five more stops to go.
The drunk at his side simply won’t give up, and he’s kinda trapped against the window now. Just ignoring him won’t do for much longer.
”Look mate,” he finally snaps. ”I can’t make out a bloody word yer sayin’, why don’t you go bother someone else?”
It actually works. He’s amazed. Relieved.
Turning his head against the window, he relaxes slightly again. Just two more stops.
Someone sits down next to him, and he doesn’t bother looking, not until he hears an all too familiar voice.
”Aren’t you going to say hello to an old friend?”
Jack.
”What the fuck...” he begins, but is interrupted.
”Manners. Aren’t you ever going to change?”
Steve has never quite understood this idea of Jack’s about his manners. But there’s not a lot he’s really managed to understand about him at all yet, so maybe he shouldn’t bother.
”I was on my way home,” he grumbles, and adds ”to sleep” to make it clear that he doesn’t want any visitors.
”Now you’re not.”
”What?”
”We’re going on an adventure.”
Steve groans. ”Oh don’t you bloody start...” He needs sleep not an adventure, but Jack just grins.
He should have walked home.