Work Text:
He laughs at you when you stumble on your way into the carriage. It's a sharp, quick sound like a bird's cry. But it's familiar sound already, less tinny now that it isn't filtered through two poor internet connections and crappy laptop speakers. You release a silly guffaw in response, some bubble of pure joy that rises up from some place deep inside you that you didn't know existed until quite recently.
The compartment is hot, a close, dusty scent to it that's also both familiar and not.
"Don't sit there, you dolt!"
He pulls on your arm, directs you to the other side of the carriage. You go, bewildered, falling into your seat with a dazed feeling buzzing between your ears. This isn't even the first time today he's scolded you. It certainly won't be the last. They hold no malice, these words, not an ounce of disdain anywhere in them. You are drawn to them like a moth to a flame.
Gesturing at whatever is on the other side of the glass, he says, "Won't be able to see you."
A reply sticks in your throat.
Outside the sun has come out from behind its cloud covering. It bears sharply into your little fishtank, which is about to be suspended high in the air. You aren't moving yet but your stomach swoops with premonition.
"But we'll be going backwards," you mumble sadly.
His face comes in close to yours, then, impossibly close. Brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold in them.
"Phil!"
"What?"
"We're going 'round!"
His lips are pink and slightly chapped.
"Oh right," you say weakly.
The cart jolts with the force of him throwing himself backwards on the bench, laughing uproariously. It's not that funny. You're not that funny. Still, the sound goes to your head, or maybe it's the heat, the light coming off every surface, sun glinting from a million different angles.
He goes oddly quiet then, staring out the window as the wheel begins to turn. You've seen that profile before already. You have a secret snapshot of it on your phone. The first of thousands. You want to take your phone out again and take one more, lens flare ruining the shot, surely.
But then he turns and puts his arm around your shoulders and your heart does something funny.
His lips are soft. You think the future is as bright as the sun.