A Foray into Obscurity (Single Prompt, MxF)

[ObscureObscenities]

So, when I get my ideas, I just kind of go with writing a start to them, give people an introduction right into the idea off the bat, so without further ado.

Introduction

   It was raining again, not a thundering storm with pelting fat droplets of rain that soaks you through in seconds, but the continual light misting of rain that settled on your head and shoulders and made everything feel vaguely damp without being truly soaked, a cool numbness that settled in slowly and tricked you into accepting it without complaint. As it was, people on the streets didn't hurry, far too used to the dampness that shrouded them now to be overtly concerned with hurrying inside, or pulling out umbrellas to protect their clothes. No, in a city like this, where overcast skies were more common than blue, and as likely to be gently raining on you than pouring, people did tend to just shrug on another layer, something perhaps a little water resistant, easy to toss off and dry out between forays from the sheltered safety of home and work. Tom was not so different from any other out on the street that day, a hood drawn up over his head and tugged forward enough that the pitiful rain that fell, did not fall directly onto his face. With both hands buried into the deep pockets at the front of his hoodie, he rounded a corner at the end of the block, the polished surface of the metal building next to him like a dark mirror reflecting him out of the corner of his eye. Another dark soul between the buildings, his black hoodie, dark jeans, and black boots did nothing to draw notice to him, he preferred it that way.
   
   As if in a world of his own, he walked, seemingly unconcerned with anyone else around him, which was par, considering nobody else nearby gave him any more concern than he seemed willing to show. One of the side effects of the lazy drizzle was that people didn't tend to linger to have a chat out on the sidewalks, nobody was running for cover it wasn't actually raining after all, but their steps were decisive and anybody out in the rain had a clear direction of where they wanted to be going, so that they could get out of it as soon as possible. Unlike Tom, Tom didn't have any real idea where he was heading at the time, letting his feet carry him along the sidewalk without a defined purpose was one of his more quirk some habits, traveling wasn't a strange thing to Tom though, so meandering aimlessly was far from unusual for him, not that there was anyone to keep track of his usual or unusual habits.
   
   A car horn sounded right next to him, and he jerked to a stop, one of his boots hovering over the edge of the sidewalk, an intention to spill himself out into the street stopped just short by the blast of noise as a Jetta surged through the lane he had about stepped into. His head had come up a fraction at the demanding sound, and he caught just for a moment as the tinted windows of the white jetta bore passed a reflection in the dark glass. A white face hooded figured, no, not faced, a white skull shadowed beneath the edge of a dark hood passing him in that dark trim, before the jetta had left him behind, continuing down the asphalt towards the next intersection and the glow of the street lights. His head turned, following the passage and looking after the vehicle and the reflection he was sure he had caught. His head had lifted in the motion, and light from the closest street lamp illuminated a narrow, somewhat sharp face, a dense but short grey beard getting damp in the drizzle, and dark black eyes beneath dark brows staring in the direction of the retreating Jetta.
   
   Standing there for a long minute, perhaps longer than was normal, Tom watched the tail lights vanish into the distance, before he finally stole his gaze back away from the street and reached up a pale hand to wipe some of the rain off his face and bent his head low once again. Resuming his walk he stepped out into the street and crossed it, this time without any blaring warning or encroachment on his passage, he ascended the far sidewalk once again and passed further down the street. Before he had been walking without any aim, merely travelling down the street, but now he had been snapped out of his mindless reprieve, brought back to reality in such an abrupt and unsatisfying manner, he was forced to accept an intention in his wandering. Something warm, a bit of shelter, a warm drink, get out of this drizzle and let himself dry out a little, it was a simple desire, but it still defined a goal for him, something to walk towards rather than just...walk.
   
   Perhaps because it happened constantly, perhaps because he knew precisely why it happened, but Tom had long since stopped noticing the way that he never had to brush shoulders with anyone walking down the sidewalk. He never had to step out of someone's way who was hurrying along, trying to get out of the rain, never had to avoid someone standing blithely in the middle of the sidewalk chatting on their phone. Anytime he approached anyone on the sidewalk, which was far from crowded, they drifted out of his path, avoiding the barest chance of coming into contact with him. Stationary figures would almost idly drift steps back, or forward to position themselves more out of his way, those coming his direction walking in twos or threes would part easily, perhaps without even conscious effort on the part, so that he passed, path uninterrupted, between them without the barest elbow or sleeve rustling to bare evidence of his passage. Tom did not take notice at the way those very same people would pull their coats, hoodies, or scarves a little closer, how they would shiver faintly, and glance around as if looking for what might have caused their chill, only to find nothing to notice, Tom's steps having already carried them out of their limited perception. It was just the way, the way it always had been.
   
   Around another corner, and the sidewalk, and street itself, took on another light, brightness pouring out of one of the glass walls of the nearest building. The windows of this store were still open and inviting, the brightness of bulbs, and even a burning fire inside almost more of an advertisement than the name of the coffee place scrawled across the glass. When all the other businesses on the street had already closed for the day, Dukes remained lit and enticing, inviting those lingering stragglers out of the drizzle, into the warmth and light. This was where his feet had begun to bring him after his walk had been interrupted, when he had decided that warmth and light was preferable tonight, than the persistent and growing chill of the drizzling rain and the waning sunlight that had been progressively darkening the sky, and the city, as a whole. He rested a hand on the door handle and paused in the motion to push the door forward catching out of the corner of his eyes his reflection again in the glass next to him. Empty hollows stared back at him from a skull, devoid of flesh of any possible expression, for just a heartbeat, before someone passed the window inside and the his eyes focused through, rather than on the surface and then when he refocused, he saw his own face once again, dower, but fleshed and featuring those dark eyes.
   
   With a low sigh, he continued his motion, pushing the door open, and was broken onto by the sound of voices, merrily chatting in a low murmur with one another, Dukes was a popular place, and even in the waning hour in this part of town, the squished seating, and low coffee tables had a fair few occupants, mixed with the onset of the sound, was the abrupt wave of heat that pressed over him, swallowing him up and making him feel for a second all that colder for the drastic difference to outside. But it lasted briefly as he acclimated to the warmth made by the crackling fire in one corner, surrounded by even more people enjoying the lounge chairs closest to the welcome heat. Relieving the slight crick in his neck that came from walking with it bent like it always seemed to be, his posture straightened some, and revealed that he was actually quite tall, when he wasn't bent and stopped by the rain coming down on him. A hand lifted to push back the hood on his head, fingers coursing through slightly damp dark brown hair, a medium length, tousled with the rain, he made no attempt to tame the messiness of the locks as he feet carried him towards the counter.
   
   When he reached it, it took a moment for the girl behind the counter to notice him, despite his height, it seemed as if it took an actual effort for the girl's eyes to stop from sliding past him without stopping. And when she did, she gave a hint of a flinch, just a startled seeming jump and her eyes widened a fraction, for just a second, as if she saw something there that wasn't, or couldn't be there. In a heartbeat it was gone, and she seemed to be blushing a little, as if ashamed of her momentary scare and she set her face in that congenial customer service mask, a plastered insincere smile curling full lips, and showing white teeth as she bounced forward with feigned enthusiasm. "Welcome to Dukes, what can i get you?" Her forced cheerfulness distilled and served up much like the many warm drinks around the shop, on demand, and for payment.
   
   "Chai, please." Tom's voice was soft, one of those voices that made listeners have to stop and pay attention to fully hear, but seemed to be all that there was to hear when done. Like normal, the girl's reaction was much like any others when he spoke, and he witnessed her shoulders stiffen with the visible chill that would be stroking up her spine. He could even see the faint blonde hair on her arms lift, and the pebbling of goose bumps running up her flesh, but didn't bother paying much attention to it. As she seemed to fight the sudden uncomfortable chill she'd received she shook her head lightly as if she didn't hear him, before finally parting her lips. "Chai?" She asked as if she didn't understand him, for a second, before she gave her head another small shake. "I mean, what kind, we have.." She started to turn away from him, her discomfort more evident by the moment as more of her customer service composure seemed to leak away, but Tom didn't let her finish.
   
   "Honey vanilla, hot, regular milk." He interrupted her explanation, he had been here before, and did not need the expansive list of options, especially seeing how progressively uncomfortable she was becoming in his presence. "Thank you." He added, and before she could give him a price, he'd already pulled a ten dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter, pushing it forward with long pale fingers that slid the not forward, before retreating and vanishing beneath the long covers of his sleeves again. He caught the note of relief in her face, as he turned away from her and walked towards a high table in the corner, near the window to the street, and away from most of the other guests in the cafe. Knowing better than to linger at the counter and wait for his drink he settled into one of the equally high chairs, putting his elbows against the table top and leaning against it slightly, his head bowing once again, but not as far. He looked with eyes lidded, and brows pressing into a furrow at the other people milling around the cafe. Already some of those who had been closer to his side of the shop had stood up and returned their cups, seemingly chilled suddenly and either moving neared to the fire on the far side of the room, or going for coats hung on the wall and aiming to be on their way, their pleasant atmosphere disturbed, though not one would understand why.
   
   Black eyes trailed a couple as they stepped back out into the rain, pulling hoods up and joining hands to begin walking down the sidewalk, the drizzle doing little to slow them or ruin their mood, he caught a glimpse of their faces as they walked closer to pass him. They were talking, heads turned towards each other to see past their hoods, and a smile curved pretty pink lips as the girl responded to her girlfriend, forming a small laugh on the lips. And then her blue eyes caught sight of something that made her face whiten, and her lips stopped, her feet stopped too, abruptly halting in the middle of the sidewalk, the woman with her taking another couple steps before noticing the halt. It lasted a heartbeat, with those blue eyes meeting and holding his black, the shock, fear, and awe reflected into those sweet features, and then she blinked and it was replaced by confusion. Tom didn't offer a smile, or any other sort of acknowledgment as the girl flushed slightly, and she glanced at her partner who seemed to be asking what was wrong. He saw the word nothing mouthed as much as spoken, and the girl with pretty blue eyes shook her head a little, reaching for the hand she had dropped and squeezing it, before beginning to walk again, this time more briskly, towing her girlfriend with her away.
   
   "Your chai." Tom turned his head to the voice, it was the girl from the counter, carrying his drink which she set on the edge of the table, as far from him as she could reasonably set it, allowing her to remain as distant as possible. SHe didn't wait for a thank you, which was forming on Tom's lips, but turned on the spot and hurried herself away, not to the counter, but to the far side of the room, towards the light, the warmth, the live of the room and the people there that didn't make her feel quite so uncomfortable. Tom's eyes watched her flee, and almost lazily reached out pale fingers to take the large mug and drag it closer over the table back to himself, positioning it in front of him then reaching for the zipper on his hoodie and pulling it open. He shrugged the damp covering off of his shoulders and extracted his arms from the moist sleeves, the black button down dress shirt beneath neat and clean, even mostly dry, the hoodie doing its job. He let his hoodie fall over the back of the chair, hanging where it might dry out a little, and dropped his hands to cup around either side of the large mug, feeling the piping hot chai through the porcelain.
   
   Looking down into the steaming tan liquid he let out a breath, and low sigh to himself and tapped the tips of his finger against the mug. Preparing to lift the mug up and take a sip of the liquid, everything seemed to shift suddenly in his vision. One second he was staring down into what would be his warm drink, and the next he was looking at wet, black asphalt glistening beneath him. He was standing, not sitting, and the low murmur of voices had disappeared, instead it was replaced with the splattering patter of rain, a ticking sound repeating, and a strange hissing sound. The warmth that had just been beginning to penetrate his flesh and temper his bones, was suddenly stripped away, and a numbing cold replaced it, biting at his flesh which was wet with the falling rain. He breathed in slowly and brought his head up surveying where he suddenly was. Outside again, still in the city it seemed, he was standing in the middle of the street though, and his black eyes took in the scene. He noted the white jetta, it was overturned on the far sidewalk, yellow blinker flashing pointlessly as something from the front of the smashed nose of the car hissed loudly, a street lamp was bent, yet still upright and embedded midway into the center of the jetta's engine compartment.
   
   Inhaling he could smell even through the rain, the scent of burnt breaks, of gasoline, of burning oil, but beneath it all, was a more sinister scent, familiar. He glanced to his left and saw the source of the smell then, a diluting puddle of blood, the rain attempting to wash it away, but not quite strong enough to completely do so, it spread it thinner by the second, but the smear of it was still clear, staining from the intersection, at the crosswalk, out across the street in a fan, and to meet with the back end of the Jetta on the far side. Tom observed it for a moment longer, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them next the rain was still in the air, but it was not moving any longer, droplets hung suspended, the motion of falling interrupted, the yellow blinker on the car was just igniting, not at full brightness, but almost seeming to surge toward it, straining, but not growing in any intensity, a low glow. It had become silent, completely, utterly silent, and Tom began to walk through the street, he took a wide path, avoiding trodding through the spillage of blood on the ground, behind him a trail of empty air, the droplets he passed pushed out of his way to either side, not soaking into him now, but being disturbed by his movement nonetheless.
   
   Almost lazily he approached the overturned Jetta, coming to the drivers side, he crouched down, the tinted glass had already broken and he could see into the car where the driver hung suspended by their seat belt. It was a young man, blonde, blue eyes staring dead into Tom's black, blood was in mid drip from the side of his head, arms hung limp and resting against the collapsed ceiling of the vehicle. "Not this one." Tom's cool, low voice sounded aloud, though he was only talking to himself, rising out of the crouch, he moved then around the front of the car looking at the damage the pole had caused to the vehicle but searching for something else. There he saw it, sticking out from beneath the front corner, was pale fingers. Watching them, for just a second longer, when everything else in the world was suddenly still, he saw them twitch, just slightly, and knew. He knelt down, feeling the cold sidewalk against his knees through his pants, he reached out and touched that extended hand, long ghostly fingers touching the slightly twitching points. As suddenly as he touched them, the twitching stopped, and when Tom straightened himself up, drawing his hand from the one on the ground, something came way with it, something gossamer, shining, and yet transparent, it stuck to his hand like a cobweb would, and pulled away from the someone trapped beneath the vehicle.
   
   Straightening up, Tom held his hand extended out, the film whispering something waving slightly on a wind that didn't exist for a few seconds, before it seemed to solidify some, strengthening, perhaps, or perhaps just adjusting. He blinked, and one moment he stood with that film there, and the next he was holding the hand of a teenage girl standing in front of him. She was perhaps fifteen, dark hair wet and sticking to her, her clothes which had been jeans and a hoodie were already becoming indistinct, a blur around her form, more than an actual visual. Her face though, unlike her clothes, sharpened in those moments, till she seemed almost real. Green eyes, sweet youthful green eyes looked up at his black, and were afraid. "I'm hurt..." She said, her voice more an inflection, as if she wasn't sure.
   
   "Not any longer." Tom replied to her, his words low but kindly, he held the hand still, making no efforts to shift his grip away from it. "You will feel no more pain, now that I have come." As if his cool words were a balm for her pain, a flash of relief, then fear filtered across her features, still fixed upon Tom. "I...I know....You.....I'm.." She began, processing what she saw before her, and just beginning to take her eyes off of him, as if she meant to turn and looked back at the scene behind her. Tom though lifted his other hand, catching her attention with it, and holding her focus rather than allowing her to turn back to the scene. "You are, but do not gaze upon it once more, the memory becomes real if you do, and your pain will return." He cautioned, steering her attention to him even as he took a slow step back, drawing the girl with his hand holding hers, drawing her away from the scene, first one step, then another, until they were a dozen paces away from what happened. "You have a choice now." Tom told the girl, and he brought his other hand out in front of her still holding one.
   
   "You may choose to go forward, turn your back on everything, and be released forever." He described as a light appeared above his free hand, a little glowing ball of light hovering even after he moved his hand over a little. There another little ball would for, of swirling darkness, though brief flashes of light shown through that ball too, but like sunlight winking through clouds. "Or you may choose to begin again, to start over, forget everything, and live another hand. You will not remember this, or anything, but you will remain." The choice was not given to all, many passed without any intervention at all, and others were offered no option, given only to move forward. Tom offered the choice to this girl though, she was so young.
   
   "....And if I don't want either?" The question wasn't a surprise to Tom, he'd heard it before, so many times, and he leveled his black gaze on those green eyes, devoid of anger or any other over emotion and spoke. "To remain, will be to exist only like this, to be trapped, to never change, never grow, never live another day." His warning came with a chill to his tone, abandoning a soul to a single moment in time, unable to be free of it, to move on, or even dissipate, was not something he had ever had to do. Nobody made that choice. "I....will go back." The girl said finally, understanding that the third option, was no option at all, but she hesitated despite making her choice. "My mother..." But Tom was already shaking his head. "Nothing, child, a new beginning." He saw the tears then, and ignored them. "This world, this time, does not matter for you anymore, child, you will begin anew." Already the original ball of light was winking out, and the second stormy ball was beginning to swell in size growing bigger and flattening out, turning from a ball, to a disc, then widening until it was a portal beside him, a doorway with no door, mirky swirling darkness and blinks of light flashing across the girls face.
   
   "It isn't fair..." She murmured, to which Tom could only give a nod of his head. "Goodbye." He said to her, and watched as she seemed to steel herself, then she stepped forward, wisely not looking back, and stepped into the uncertain chaos in front of her. Tom released her hand as she, and the portal vanished. In fact, he exhaled and blinked, his vision refocusing on the chai between his hands, having not moved even an inch from where he had been before. Except the once steaming beverage now has a golf ball size lump of brown ice solidified in it, all warmth from the chai sapped completely away. With a sniff of displeasure he brought his head up, to survey the room again, the voices that murmured before had almost died, the room far more silent, though nobody looked at him, it was as if the atmosphere of the place had been sapped away, the heat from the fire unfelt as the room seemed suddenly chill. Nobody noticed the frosting beginning to melt off the window next to him, but everyone seemed to exhale in relief as the warm surging from the fire began to finally replace the strange sense of stillness and cold.
   
   Tom pushed his mug away from him a little, all thoughts of warming himself with it gone, and sat up a little straighter in his chair again, another defeated sigh slipping his lips. He lifted his hand and singled towards the counter, where it took too long for one of the girls to catch his gesture, and he noted the one who had served him balked, and finally nudged her partner to come over, rather than making the trip to his side once more. "Can you reheat my tea please." He asked, to which the woman gaped at him for a moment, knowing he had just taken it, but when she glanced to the cup she jumped a bit, noticing the ice bobbing in the middle of the cup. "Uhm....I....ah...yes." She finally managed, and reluctantly took the cup from the table, heading back to do as he requested. Tom had already looked away again, back out towards the street, thinking about the girl in the accident. It was unfair, even those given a choice, could not choose what they truly wished...one more day, one more love you, or one more good bye to those whom they held dearest. The guilt that caused weighed on him, as he watched the rain begin to fall in thicker droplets, splashing the window as they crashed into it, like the many souls he tended to, crashing to their inevitable ends. "How many more today?" He mused, to himself of course, waiting for his tea to return.

TLDR

Frankly it goes without saying that if you didn't want to read what's above, its unlikely this'll kick off with you a all. For everyone else who clicked on this out of curiosity rather than a sense of impatience, the gist of the story is Tom lives both his lives, but his normal life is effected by his main job. My idea for the counter part to Tom, is someone whom doesn't have the natural aversion to what he is, they either don't notice it, or notice it and don't care. Perhaps they had a traumatic accident when young, near death experience, perhaps they've actually seen him, and don't remember it? Whatever the reason, her approach, attention, and willingness to be in his proximity is going to be intriguing, confounding, and much of the development of the story. Please see my O/O's and standard seeking thread for more about me, but i'll be blunt I am quite close to a 90% Plot to 10% smut ratio. If you are here to get rocks off essentially I'm not the fish for you, the story is my beans and mash.