Darren groaned as he sat up.
He took a quick shower in the gym showers.
"Ah fuck!" He yelped as the water hit him. Freezing. As usual. Charlie had been promising to fix the hot water since fuckin forever. At this point Darren was sure he was doing it on purpose.
Probably some kind of character building thing or something
After the shower he packed up his stuff, did a quick mop of his sweat with one of the old rags and some spray, turned off all the lights and the heaters and all that jazz, then locked everything up the way Charlie taught him.
The cold night air bit at his cheeks the second he stepped outside. The ground was still damp from the rain earlier. The stars like a salt shaker spilled across a black page.
He stopped for a second.
Wtf is that?
On the wall opposite the gym. Fresh paint. Black. Some kind of symbol he'd never seen before. Angular. Geometric. Deliberate. Not the usual "DAMO WUZ ERE" shit. This was clean.
Did they use a stencil or something?
Huh.
He took a quick photo and kept walking.
I'll deal with it tomorrow
Headphones on. Hood up. Press play.
Chasing Cars.
The guitar came in and the whole world seemed to slow down and the lights softened.
[We'll do it all, everything, on our own]
He passed the Corrib while walking through the spanish arch. The water was black. like my soul lol. The trees hung over it and the lights from the other side made long wobbly lines across the surface.
[If I lay here, if I just lay here]
The cobblestones that were a nightmare during the day were so much more manageable at night. No buskers. No tourists. Just a couple drunk guys on the way home from the pub and the smell of old grease from the chippers.
[Would you lie with me and just forget the world?]
The world is so much more peaceful at night. So calming. Sadly though, his hoodie was damp. His hair was damp. Everything was damp. Ireland.
[Forget what we're told, before we get too old]
A puddle glowed like lava in the lamplight. Gone in a step.
[Show me a garden that's bursting into life]
He reached the 409 stop and plonked himself down on the wooden bench. He just kept bobbing his head alongside the music.
[All that I am, all that I ever was]
His breath clouded in front of him and dissolved. The bus stop was empty and eyre square was eerily quiet.
[Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see]
Headlights. The bus. He tapped his card and found a seat near the back.
The bus was nearly empty. A guy asleep against the window three rows up from him. And an old woman with shopping bags who probably shouldn't be on a bus this late alone but there she is.
And a couple. Sitting in the middle. Her head on his shoulder. His arm around her. No talking just chilling. She was half asleep and he was staring out the window.
He looked away. Tried not to think about it.
I'm not jealous. Nope nope it's just uh it's uh ok maybe I'm a tiny bit jealous.
Yeah. He was a little bit jealous. Sue me. Must be nice having someone who actually wants to be around you at midnight on a Tuesday. Must be nice having someone who actually wants to be around you full stop.
He stared out his own window at the streetlights blurring past.
Oh shut up. Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself you stupid bitch you'll get there eventually probably maybe just stare out the window and shut up.
He stared out the window
[I don't know where, confused about how as well]
His stop. He got up, pressed the button and got off. Ah back out in the cold air again.
[Just know that these things will never change for us at all]
His building. His door. Key in the lock. That familiar click. Up the stairs. Second floor. The landing that always smelled like someone else's dinner.
Into the flat. Cold and dark and the laundry from 3 days ago still sitting on the chair.
He didn't turn the light on. Just stood in the doorway. Headphones still in. The last notes of the song hanging in the air like they didn't want to leave either.
Then silence.
He pulled the headphones off. Dropped his bag by the door. Kicked off his shoes. One hit the wall the other dove under the bed.
Tomorrows problem
He sat on the edge of the bed. Pulled the notepad off the bedside cabinet.
Flipped it open. Clicked the pen.
New gang sign?
Underlined it.
Stared at it for a second. Then closed the notepad and tossed it back on the cabinet.
He got into bed without changing. Some battles aren't worth fighting.
Sleep came slow.