The Storm

The Wind pt. 1

Oliver swept through the hallways in his apartment building; he couldn't be late not again. He'd get written up and he wasn't sure how many more until he got fired. Once he reached the door his head was moving so fast too fast, he forgot it was storming outside, the moment he stepped out he was instantly soaked. Oliver was livid "great I'm wet and I'm freezing and I'm LATE!!!!!!!!" he hollered not troubling to check if anyone could hear him. He took out his umbrella and continued his commute. "Dammit I've missed the train", Oliver bellowed then looked around "ain't no cabbies out at this hour ", this comment had come from a shrill almost squeaky voice that was definitely from the country "learned that my first night here" spoke the stranger once more. "Yeah I know", Oliver stated with a little more force than he intended "Now there's need to be rude I'm only tryna' help" the stranger exclaimed so shrilly it was almost a hiss. "HELP ME?" Oliver started to yell "HOWS BABBLING ABOUT CABS SUPPOSED TO HELP?" Oliver's rage was building up to his throat leaving a burning sensation as he screeched at the stranger. He didn't have time for this not now he was late to work and he missed the train.

Oliver's rage was already at the surface and it was even noon, He didn't know how much more he could take of this. How was it that not even an hour ago he had woken up but now he felt like he hadn't slept in days. "No," he told himself as he started to walk to the next station that was halfway across town. He was dreading this walk from the moment he saw that he had missed the train, he did not have the energy to deal with street vendors and newspaper salesmen but maybe just maybe if he kept his head down they wouldn't bother him. Then the wind started the cold harsh whipping on his skin that had arisen out of nowhere, leaving a cold-burn sensation on Oliver's cheeks and hands. "NO" Oliver bellowed "this can't be happening" he had forgotten his scarf in his haste to leave his apartment.

After a few more minutes of walking he had, reached the station "finally", he thought once he could see the ticket stand. Once he approached the stand and bought a ticket for eight o'clock. He checked his pocket watch "Dammit" work started in thirty minutes, he wasn't sure if he would make it on time. "well complaining isn't gonna get me there on time", Oliver thought as he trotted over to the platform and sat on the bench. Not long after Oliver took his seat a man sat next to him, he was very attractive Oliver thought then cringed inwardly at himself for thinking such an inappropriate thought toward another man. Oliver's stomach lurched when an image of his father scowling at a news story rose to the top of his mind, Oliver could remember the anchorman describing the riots happening to gain pro-queer rights. He could still hear his father telling him that "no son of his would end up a twink", and he remembered his mother coming to scoop him up off the rug where he was sitting, scowlings at his father, and yelling at him not "to talk to her baby like that". Then a landslide of memories from his childhood cascaded to the front of his mind: his mother's home cooking, going on the roof on the apartment he lived in with other children, and playing games like tag or monkey in the middle.

Then he was interrupted by the man sitting next to him, he was tall, at least a few inches taller than Oliver while sitting down, he had deep grey eyes, thick curly raven hair, he looked just about the same age as Oliver and when he spoke it was in a deep country-boy accent that said, "Excuse me but do you know which route will get me to Cherrywood station?" the grey-eyed stranger asked with uncertainty as he clutched onto his map. "S-sure" Oliver stuttered flustered by he didn't know what "that's over by my mother's house" Oliver continued "just take the number seven to Pinecrest then get on the number five to Cherrywood". The stranger smiled, "thanks, this map looks completely foreign to me". Oliver smiled back "no problem I've been riding these trains since I was young, but my mom got tired of city life so she moved to Cherrywood after my dad passed". The grey-eyed stranger turned"Thank you, I"m headed down to see my folks" then he sighed and looked nervous, "I'm Dean" he reached out his hand and smiled wobbly. Oliver's palms were sweaty as he reached out, why was he so damn nervous he'd met plenty of new people every day, he lived in the city after all but none of them ever made his heart beat a mile a minute. At that moment the train pulled in through the tracks, it was the number seven. Before Oliver could register what was happening the grey-eyed stranger was up, walking to the train door and was waving goodbye.

Oliver sat in silence for a few moments after the stranger left, he was trying to make sense of what just happened. Why had the stranger made him so nervous he was no different than any other man he had seen before, except for those brilliantly bright grey eyes that were so wide yet so cryptic.