Work Text:
His eyes open from a fitful nap to a new landscape outside the train window. A marsh passes in a sea of pale greens and brownish-yellow reeds, the train turning the scenery into a blur of autumn colors that barely register in his mind. The sky is nothing more than gray mist behind an ocean of clouds and the little water he can see is streaked with rust-colored algae and the ripples of time.
They shouldn't be taking this trip. Not now, not yet. He should be much older, maybe even with the possibility of grandchildren on the horizon, before having to let go of the ones who raised him. He's too young, still in need of guidance, to be forced to say goodbye. He feels like an orphan, abandoned, pushed from the nest before he's ready to fly.
The scene has changed to sickly looking thickets, all angular limbs and sparse foliage. It speeds through his vision like the rush of a second hand. He feels every year in his bones, every mile on his heart.
He shuts his eyes tight to squeeze out the sadness, turns away from the window with a sigh. His partner's head is bowed, and he smiles watching his restful sleep. He moves his hand to rest lightly on his beloved's knee, absently follows the floating, wayward strands of hair that stick out from his temple at odd, charming angles.
They'll make this trip, see his father laid to rest beside his lifelong love, tie up loose ends and make final plans. And the man beside him will keep him afloat, constant strength and balance when everything seems unstable and out of control.
He takes another glance out the window just as a calloused hand closes over his own. For now he'll accept the washed out stain his eyes have cast over the world. In time the colors will come back into sharper focus, vibrant saffrons and russets and crisp ruby reds. Together they'll remix the palette, and today's dark shades will slowly become a cherished undertone to life's composition.