by Audra Red
As impolite as it was, Daniel couldn’t keep his eyes from the man’s slightly hunched form. There was something there, something off, something twisted and obscene. Daniel looked away, focusing on the drab men and women who shared the train. They sat perfectly upright, eyes ahead, hands jammed in pockets or occupied with cell phones, pagers, papers.
The stranger beside him shifted, and Daniel’s eyes fell back onto him. Peeking out beneath the man’s dark jacket, just at the base of the throat, was a bright splash of red fabric. Daniel thought of autumnal leaves, and crisp, biting air. This time he didn’t look away.
The younger man hugged his chest, long arms over a lean torso, forehead pressed against the cool glass; his breath fogging up the window. He sat still enough, on the whole, but as Daniel looked closer, he noticed that the man was fidgeting slightly, eyes squinting, legs bouncing against the seat.
Somewhere in Daniel’s right hand, between his thumb and forefinger, trapped behind the knuckle, was the feel of a paintbrush. It was an old and worn feeling, one of splintering wood. Daniel hadn’t painted in months, though it had been a true passion of his earlier years. He didn't mourn the loss of his youthful ambition; he'd let it slowly fade out of his life so gradually that it left no painful nostalgia behind.
It was simple to look at the young man as an incomplete composition, to first focus on the area, and then the detail. He often saw people this way, as the lines that tethered them together, created their movement and energy.
The man’s slender arms were two fluid lines, and his proud jaw, one dark mark. A light plum line cut down his form, keeping him grounded. He was shape, and Daniel watched, fascinated in how he came together.
Alexander, gazing out at the dim city through the chilled, thick glass, was oblivious to Daniel’s blatant appraisal, of how the older man connected lines and formed beautiful shapes. Alexander was thinking of the day ahead; the train stop, the walk to the library and the trip up the concrete steps.
It was easy to become overwhelmed, but if Alexander planned everything out beforehand, if knew precisely what lay ahead, his distress could be managed.
Of course Daniel hadn’t a clue that he’d be the most unplanned turn in Alexander’s way.
“A little bumpy isn’t it?”
Alexander snapped his head back, immediately stolen from his reverie, a flushed look creeping across his face.
“I’m sorry?” he asked quietly. He met the warm gaze of the stranger sitting beside him.
Daniel smiled and tipped his head in toward Alexander. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he heard a hint of British accent in the young man’s voice, and now he was doubly intrigued.
“I said this track is a little bumpy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, um… yes it is,” Alexander replied, not finding his voice in the noisy train car. Silence endured between the for a few moments and Alexander got the distinct impression that the inquisitive stranger was waiting for more of a response. “But it always is,” Alexander said. “Um, you don’t ride much, do you?”
“Why would you say that?” Daniel asked. He quirked an eyebrow and watched the young man slowly uncoil himself, finding nothing obscene in the new shape he took on.
Alexander bit his lip and swallowed a little too hard, feeling rushed to speak. “Well, it’s just, most men, or um, people in general, I guess, usually don’t start conversations with total strangers on the subway.” He lifted his head and upon finding the older man’s gaze directed toward him, dropped his eyes once more. “Sorry, that was blunt…”
“Ah, I see,” Daniel replied, the corners of his lips curling up. He could see the man’s jaw tense, the muscles working under the skin and against the teeth. The apprehension in the younger man was almost tangible, and Daniel, feeling somewhat responsible for the discomfort, set about erasing it. He was quite good at managing people and manipulating them into the right shapes. It was part of his job and a well loved hobby.
Daniel’s smile warmed Alexander’s belly for a moment, stifling the uneasy turning in his gut, and Daniel could sense his demeanor softening.
“Subway etiquette, is it?” Daniel asked, seeming to mull over the idea in his head, his eyes never leaving Alexander. “Then how do people meet if we’re all supposed to keep our eyes to the floor and our mouths shut? I ask you that, and while I’m lecturing on the subject, I can’t believe that someone such as yourself doesn’t receive countless inappropriate and etiquette breaking conversation starters on a daily basis. It’s very silly.” He took a short breath, smirking. “And that’s a mouthful.”
Alexander flushed deeper, eyes flickering to his feet, and then back to the stranger’s smiling eyes.
“It is,” Alexander finally replied, voice barely above a whisper.
“Strangers soliciting you on the subway, or the mouthful bit? I thought it was a little much myself,” Daniel admitted. He leaned an elbow back against the seat top, shifting into Alexander’s personal space unintentionally.
“It would depend on what’s being solicited,” Alexander said. He slid back in the seat, watching Daniel’s forearm and being careful not to trip over his own words. “I mean, I doubt that’s what you meant, but I give up a few quarters every morning to the squatters outside the station. I like to think maybe it helps. But in the long run they’re probably not spending it on anything healthy. Oh bollocks, what am I talking about? I…” His tongue was proving itself useless again, heavy and clumsy in his mouth.
“You ought to be solicited more often, then,” Daniel said.
Alexander’s brows furrowed, and Daniel grinned, sliding in closer-- wanting to see the flush of Alexander’s cheeks close up. It was a few terrifying inches for Alexander, though there was still a sizable space between them.
“Maybe your quarters will end New York City hunger, or at least thirst for spirits,” Daniel continued, removing his gloves and folding them up inside his jacket pocket. “And that’s a yes to your first question. I’m a first timer on this track. Insane traffic this morning, I usually drive into the city. My name’s Daniel Sommer.” Daniel extended his hand, but Alexander’s own hands stayed folded neatly in his lap.
“I’m Alexander Price,” Alexander said politely. Daniel dropped his hand back, realizing the gesture wasn’t going to be reciprocated. Surprisingly, Alexander not only found Daniel genuinely interesting, but also rather unpredictable— though, if he admitted it to himself, that was the interesting part. The realization unnerved him.
It was, however, no surprise to Alexander that he found the man attractive. He’d always known of his preference, and never worried over the stigmas that might attach themselves to him because of his sexuality. He’d grown up in a liberal London and had learned to be grateful for everyday and every moment.
And he was.
He wouldn’t let the workings of his heart plague him, he’d promised himself that, and it had thus far been a fairly easy promise to keep. Intimate relationships were never a real factor in his life; people shied away from the dark eyed beauty, afraid of breaking the delicate man. Or at least that’s what he liked to tell himself. He didn’t want to admit that maybe he was the one who shied away from others.
Alexander even had a difficult time maintaining friendships, as he tended to brush people off, afraid of the stinging rejection. Meeting Elijah had been an astounding exception; they had immediately bonded after Alexander had been hired at the library.
Subtly, Alexander shifted away from Daniel, watching the building tops roll back into the distance, eyes slowly making the journey back to the intriguing man beside him.
Just from a glance he knew that the man was quite a bit older than himself; the light lines that formed around the pale blue smiling eyes and soft mouth were telling signs, a map of years. A touch of grey could be seen along the man’s temples, peppering the dark honey colored hair. Alexander guessed Daniel was in his early forties, and while the age gap was slightly intimidating, it was doubly intriguing.
&n
bsp; The man was well put together, that was for certain. Alexander reddened as he appraised Daniel; his strikingly handsome face, the solid body well defined even under the bulky clothing.
Looking up and meeting Daniel’s eyes once more, Alexander found himself at a loss for words. “Oh, um… you drive in? How on earth do you find a place to park in the city?” he asked.
Alexander was not the most adept at unplanned conversation, as most of his social interactions were with Elijah and the children at the library, but he wasn't always at a complete loss. He simply found it easiest to speak with children; it was his job but it also fulfilled him more than any other aspect of his life. Children, it seemed to Alexander, weren't judgmental creatures, they were merely insatiably inquisitive.
If they had a question about Alexander's bandages or his abrasions, they would ask outright, and he was always happy to answer.
Once their curiosities were satisfied, they became blind to differences. Most people, on the other hand, usually didn't approach Alexander when his bandages were in plain view. Instead they stole questioning glances and whispered amongst themselves as if he couldn't possibly notice. It was now habit for him to wear gloves whenever he wrapped or had visible abrasions, even in warmer weather.
“I have a reserved space outside my building,” Daniel said, jolting Alexander out of his own thoughts. Daniel stopped short, watching Alexander expectantly. He really didn’t wish to delve into the topic much deeper.
“Oh?” was all Alexander could muster.
“Yeah. You don’t talk much, do you?” Daniel shot back with a large grin. Alexander blushed hotly. The man had a knack for saying all the wrong things the right way, Alexander could tell.
“Um…”
“Sorry,” Daniel said. “I automatically assume everyone’s aching to talk with me. Kind of an egocentric problem of mine, pops up every now and again. Please, feel free to ignore me in full.” He still grinned, and Alexander found it oddly contagious. “No? Still smiling? Well, I’m cured.”
“I think you’re recovering fine,” Alexander replied.
Daniel had to lean in to catch the soft, sweet sounds of Alexander’s voice. He found himself oddly drawn to the younger man, though they'd hardly spoken in depth. Perhaps it was something about the way the man was assembled, long and quiet.
‘But quiet’s not really a way to describe someone physically,’ Daniel thought, still smiling. That was a first— grinning before nine AM.
“Thank you, it’s been a traumatic experience, but you cured me. I am in debt to you, Alexander.”
“No, no.” Alexander laughed, and he was surprised at the rich chuckle escaping his throat. “Clearly, it was a lone effort. I just sat here, nearly had a kip, really.”
Daniel feigned indignation, and Alexander couldn’t help but marvel at the ease in which the smiling stranger spoke with him. Alexander leaned forward and relaxed his tensed hands. Maybe whatever confidence Daniel had was contagious.
“So, you had a kip?” Daniel asked, shifting. “You’re British, I suppose, though I had trouble placing your accent. So many of us in Chelsea have our noses held up so high, you’d swear it did something to the vocal chords. It’s like we’re all stuffy, sophisticated aristocrats from across the pond. Oh, I take that back, we’re too flighty to be aristocrats. Maybe gentry. So, Brit?”
“Yes.” Alexander ducked his head, hoping to dodge more questions on the subject as the train rolled to a shaky stop. A few passengers exited, and Alexander looked back up at Daniel, who still watched him.
“What, may I ask, are you doing in New York City? Vacationing?” The train started up again and Alexander braced himself gently in the seat with his right hand, ignoring the sharp stab of pain that ran up his palm. He usually didn’t have to be so careful with what he did with his hands and he found himself learning to be cautious the hard way all over again.
“No, I live here. Well, not here, you see. In the train cart, I mean. Yes, I don’t talk much.” Alexander snapped his mouth shut and looked away.
“I’m sure you’re usually quite articulate,” Daniel said. “I’m overwhelming, dark and brooding, you know the type. Very distracting. Ah, ego not cured after all, I see.”
“It’s a sad case, then,” Alexander found himself saying. “Dark, and brooding-- an egomaniac. Maybe I shouldn’t be talking with you at all.” His slight smile and the way he leaned closer into Daniel’s shoulder, betrayed the aloof coolness in his voice.
“Oh, you don’t like brooding? I swear, that’s a first. What about dark and slightly incomprehensible? I think I do that well. Is that your type?” Daniel’s voice lowered slightly, a little more intimate.
“I don’t have a type,” Alexander said.
“Come now. What’s she like?”
The train began rolling to the next stop. “I… fuck!” Alexander yelped, turning sharply in his seat as the passengers began lining up at the door.
“Oh?”
"No, I missed my stop. Fuck, sorry. I mean...um." Alexander twisted further in his seat, careful of his sore hand, and watched the train pull into the stop after his own. "Oh, no…"
"Where did you mean to get off?" Daniel asked. He pulled a subway map from his breast pocket and gently knocked Alexander against the shoulder. Alexander’s grip on the window ledge slipped as he steadied himself, his hand burning with the friction. He gasped and pulled his hand away, biting back the cry that wished to escape. It was hardly a bump, but the pain was intense. Alexander could feel the tears welling in his eyes.
“Soh…Soho,” he managed. He felt relieved that Daniel was involved with fighting the large map and hadn’t noticed his tiny accident. ‘Breathe,’ he told himself, ‘don’t lose it now.’
“This map… is impossible,” Daniel continued, mumbling to himself. “I don’t understand…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Alexander gritted out, raising his left arm to wipe at his eyes carefully. The large tears smeared down his cheeks, reddening the already rosy skin. “I’ll have to exit now and board the train back in twenty,” he said evenly. He kept his hand very still, his legs shaking a bit as the pain endured. “So, this is my stop…” He stood weakly, and nodded to Daniel. All he wanted to do was get to off the train, find a restroom where he could have a good, proper cry and then call Elijah. Daniel looked up at him and smiled, completely unaware.
“Alright,” Daniel replied, obviously conceding to the map as he shoved it into his jacket pocket with a comical scowl of defeat. “Want to get some coffee while you wait?”
“But…” Alexander bumbled, waiting for the line of passengers to exit before he began to make his way to the door. He desperately wanted out of Daniel’s sight; needed to compose himself and shake all the mutinous butterflies out of his stomach. “Is this your stop?”
“Sure,” Daniel said. He pressed a hand against Alexander’s back, right between the shoulder blades. Alexander couldn’t argue with the forward nudge, the soft pressure, and he let Daniel lead him out onto the busy platform.
“I need to use the loo,” Alexander said. He pulled away into the shifting crowd. “Excuse me.” Daniel’s hand dropped, and Alexander slipped out of sight.
“Wait,” came Daniel’s searching voice. Alexander turned back against the flow of the moving mass of people. “You’ve dropped something!” Alexander swallowed, struggling to step forward, closer to Daniel. A large man, clutching at a heavy black briefcase, bumped Alexander on the shoulder, and the younger man jolted uneasily to the left.
“Hey, watch it,” Daniel said. He frowned at the scowling man, and swiftly removed Alexander from the center of the crowd. He pulled the younger man to the side of the platform, behind a set of worn iron benches.
“I… what?” Alexander asked, wincing
“Here,” Daniel said. He raised his hand slowly, carefully as if not to startle, and held up something that was paper thin, tucked between two fingers. Alexander could only nod, extending his covered hand when much to
his surprise, Daniel’s own hand turned palm up, and his calloused thumb pressed across the younger man’s cheek. “Just a second…” he mumbled, and Alexander’s eyes continued staring downward, unable to meet Daniel’s. Alexander felt Daniel’s warm hand wipe away a fat tear from his cheek. “Wind’s a bitch this morning,” Daniel said, and Alexander nodded again.