Chapter Text
I find myself in a warmly lit, copper coloured bistro in the city at night, where I'm sitting alone at my table with a large coffee in my hands. Music's playing softly, it's fairly busy and there's a constant hum of happy chatter.
Through the large windows I gaze into the rainy darkness outside. Reflections of the glowing bistro lights mingle with the streetlights and headlights, which in turn are reflected in the water running down the street.
I relax into my seat and sip my hot coffee. As I do, a low rumble of thunder sounds above the noise of the voices, which quiet a little and I take a look around the room to see peoples’ reactions to the storm.
There's a general acknowledgement of the worsening weather, especially after the first flash of lightning and the following rumble, which is louder than before, but soon the buzz of conversation returns to normal.
As my gaze drifts around I notice one person in particular, a man, sitting alone at a table on the other side of the room, who's looking straight at me.
My eyes immediately drop to the table in front of me. I take a sly glance back up to him and see that he's tall, at least he seems tall as I can see him above the heads of the people in the room between us. He looks to be in his mid twenties like me, with short, blondish brown hair.
He's handsome, and his eyes are still fixed on mine, holding my gaze and I can't look away.
He tilts his head to one side slightly, raises his eyebrows and as the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a small smile, his eyes smile as well.
As he does there's a flash of lightning followed quickly by a larger crack of thunder.
Thunderstorms scare me, always have, and I jump at the sound. I look back over at him and as I do I recognise him and realise he's Bo Burnham.
He glances down and back up again and I see that he is laughing sympathetically at my reaction.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a huge fan or anything, I know who he is and I'm aware of his work, I wouldn’t go any further than that though. I'm mostly surprised to see him, of all people, and actually there's something about him that's really attractive….
His smile is infectious, and I roll my eyes and grin back at him.
I'm beginning to enjoy this little interaction, that's as long as he stays over there and I don't have to actually talk to him, that would be way too intimidating.
Suddenly the rushing sound of the rain outside grows insistent in my ears until it's the only thing I can hear. I can still see him though and I hold his steady gaze, focusing on him, until another flash of lightning coincides with a crack of thunder which detonates in my head, and he disappears as everything turns black.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I open my eyes to find myself in the cool, quiet darkness of my room.
Beneath the covers of my bed I stretch as my alarm goes off. Quickly I silence it and exhale.
Another day.
There it is again, the dull sinking feeling in my stomach. I tell myself it's not because I feel nervous or apprehensive but it is. I try to deny everything, and end up feeling nothing.
I turn on the light and pad around my small flat getting ready for work. I live alone and have a basic routine, which I follow as usual, and set off on my walk to work through the grey damp morning.
Piece by piece I remember the dream that I'd had of the bistro and of Bo. Where the hell had that come from?
It's unusual for me to remember any dreams I might have, because I haven't been sleeping well at all lately. When I do finally succumb, it seems that I sleep briefly but too deeply for dreams. Which reminds me, I have to pick up a prescription for sleeping tablets on the way home.
My job should be enough to put me to sleep really. I work as a data entry clerk for a small branch of local government. Just saying it is boring. It's as sleep inducingly boring as counting sheep, but without the sheep which frankly would make it much better.
It's later in the evening and I'm standing barefoot in the tiny bathroom of my flat, with the sleeping tablet in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I'm not sure if it's too early to attempt to sleep, but to be honest with myself, I can't think of a reason to stay awake any longer.
The day at work was long, dull and grey, and I just got on with it as I usually do, in the same way that I just get on with the people I work with. They're okay, nice even, but I never really know what to say to them or feel able to connect with anybody. What are people supposed to talk about anyway? I don't feel like I have anything interesting to say, so I usually say nothing.
As a result of my inability to make any real friends, this evening has been spent in the same way that I spend all my evenings, by myself and largely bored. I watched a film and when it ended I turned off the TV and got ready for bed.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My hazel eyes are not exactly enhanced by the dark circles underneath them, and my dark brown shoulder length hair is tied up away from my face. Definitely room for improvement and a good night's sleep would be a start.
"Okay, here goes nothing," I say to the pale girl in the mirror and swallow the tablet. I lay in bed reading for a short while then make myself as comfortable as possible and close my eyes.
************************************
It's daytime and I'm travelling on a train. Looking out of the window I can see wide open skies, azure blue with huge clouds towering like mountains in the distance, and large expanses of grassland flying by that seem to stretch on forever.
I relax and lean back, my feet resting on the seat facing me. There's no one to mind as far as I can see, the carriage is quiet and empty.
Actually, the quietness is strange, I now notice consciously. The train is moving silently, and so smoothly that if it wasn't for the scenery passing by outside I wouldn't think that it was moving at all.
As I look around, trying to process everything, I notice something else. A short distance down from me on the other side of the wide aisle, a tuft of light brown fluffy hair is sticking up from behind the low back of the seat. Presumably something to do with the large dirty white converse which are resting on the back of the seat opposite.
How hadn't I noticed that someone else was there before?
The converse disappear downwards and the head rises upwards, until the person is sitting up properly, and turns around.
He's younger than the last time I saw him, a little younger than me. His hair is tousled and fluffy and he's wearing metal framed glasses. A denim shirt hangs on his thin frame, with the sleeves rolled up.
Bo Burnham, again?
What the hell?
"Hey"
His smile is open and friendly and I give him a small reserved one in return,
"Hi."
He kneels backwards on his seat so that he's facing me, and gestures broadly around the carriage we're in.
"Looks like it's just us on here." His voice is soft and has a pleasant soothing tone.
"Yeah," I agree cautiously. Oh God, I think, here comes another awkward conversation.
"Where are you heading to?"
That's a very good question, and I have no idea.
"Erm - " I frown, "I don't think I know."
He leans forward and narrows his eyes, amused.
"That's not very helpful, maybe you just like trains…" His expression brightens. "Where would you like to go? It might make a difference."
It takes me a few seconds to think about that and then I get caught up in thinking how attractive he is. He has a beautiful smile. His eyes meet mine and I notice how blue they are. They're very blue indeed. I completely forget that I'm supposed to answer him, and he gives up waiting.
"Okay, well," he shrugs, "wherever you're going, looks like we're going together. Is it okay if I come sit with you?"
As he says it he stands up. He is tall, I mean really, really tall and he starts to head towards the seats where I'm sitting. I'm not sure how to feel about it and I must pull back, my body language defensive, because he notices and stops moving immediately.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he holds up a hand, "If you rather I stayed over there I will, I was thinking we could keep each other company, but if not it's totally fine, I get it."
He stands still and runs the same hand through his hair, looking unsure of himself. "I'll go back."
I soften. That not knowing how to be is something I can relate to.
"It's fine."
He studies my face, unsure.
"No, really?"
I smile, offering him the seat next to the one facing me and I squidge a little closer to the window.
"It's fine, really," I raise an eyebrow. "just don't murder me."
He huffs a quiet laugh and grins as he comes over and folds himself into the seat, putting his feet on the seat opposite him, which is next to mine.
"It's nice to have someone to talk to," he says. "I'll hold off on the murdering, I promise. I'm Bo, by the way, hi."
An extremely large hand is held out to me which dwarfs mine when I take it.
"Hi, Hannah."
"Are you always Hannah or sometimes Han?" He asks, settling in and pushing his glasses further up on his nose.
"Either really, however the mood takes you. Do you often travel by silent floaty train?"
He considers the question briefly.
"Well, I am today…" he seems to drift for a moment, confused.
Bo's knee begins bouncing rapidly, powered by the foot nearest me and he strokes his forearm, repeatedly tracing circles with the tips of his fingers, unconsciously, in what I recognise to be a self soothing action. As he gazes out of the window, his eyes are extra blue in the light.
Not good at small talk, I sit with him in his silence and watch him while he seems as far away as the horizon. My eyes are drawn to his foot which is making my seat move as he pushes against it. He notices and stops the bouncing.
"Hey" he announces brightly, suddenly back with me, "you wanna see a magic trick?"
I can't help laughing, this guy is all over the place, and I like it.
I like him.
I begin to relax in his company.
"Yeah sure, impress me!"
"Really? Not too much pressure then," he says, smiling, "I'm not sure what you're expecting now"
He shuffles forward in his seat as he rummages in the pocket of his shirt and brings out a small red ball.
Leaning towards me, his expression becomes serious, his mouth pressed into a straight line, eyes hooded. I really hope this is going to be good.
"Now I need you to hold your hands out like this." He holds two large hands out towards me, with closed fists.
As I do as I'm asked, I realise how little distance there is between us, and a small knot ties itself slowly in my stomach. I have a sudden irrational impulse to hold his hand and stroke the soft skin of his forearm with my fingers, the same way I'd seen him do minutes before.
Bo takes one of my hands in his, turning it over and uncurls my fingers. My heart beats faster at this contact which although small feels incredibly intimate. I look up at him, thinking that somehow I might have given myself away and he's noticed my reaction, but he keeps his eyes on my hand as he places the ball into it and recloses my fist.
"Okay!" He says and sits back with a cautious smile, "I hope this works"
The scenery continues to fly by pretty much unchanged and the sunlight shines in his hair as he waves his hands around above mine.
"Now for the magic word…"Catholicism!!"
He obviously finds this amusing as a smirk plays about his lips. A quick tap on my hand tells me to open it and take a look.
My hand is empty.
"Aaaaand.." he taps the other.
In my other hand is a blue ball. I seriously have no idea that it was there or how it got there.
"Bo! That's actually pretty amazing!"
He looks genuinely surprised and pleased with himself, shuffling around in his seat with pride.
"I know, right? I could probably do just about anything." He gazes at me thoughtfully and I can see a hint of confusion in the uplift of his brows.
He looks down to his lap where his fingers play aimlessly with each other.
As I watch the constant movement of his hands two things occur to me. One is how sweet, kind and engaging he's been, although he is obviously shy and anxious himself. The other is that I have stopped being in my head, where a small voice usually critiques everything I say and do in real time.
Instead I'm just enjoying being with him. He fascinates me. He's so animated and expressive, with a nervous energy about him, yet he's so calming and gentle.
His hands have stilled.
I realise I have been staring and look up to find him smiling at me with a soft look in his eyes that I can't fathom.
"Come on Hannah," standing up suddenly and reminding me of the difference in our heights, he reaches out towards me.
"Let's go find a coffee."
I follow him through the empty carriages until we find a large unmanned buffet car. The only coffee is from a vending machine but as well as that there are tables with seats so we make do, and take a seat each.
His long legs take up a lot of space beneath the table and I become hyper aware of the way they're pressed against mine. I can feel the warmth of him through the fabric of his jeans. Jesus, what is going on with me?
I haven't felt like this for some time, my last relationship was pretty intense but ended over a year ago, together with any interest in repeating any part of it.
So what the hell is happening?
Suddenly everything feels like it's too much.
I rest my elbows on the table in front of me and press the palms of my hands into my eyes.
"Hannah?"
I hear Bo's voice and feel his touch, lightly on my shoulder, "are you okay?" - "Han?"
I glance at his kind, concerned face.
"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here," I almost groan. "this is all so weird, I must be dreaming again, I have to be."
Bo's face clouds over with confusion.
"Really?" His brows pull upwards as, grimacing, he looks around him as if searching for an answer.
"Bo, listen." I try to pull his attention back again, "I think I'm dreaming, right now, this is all happening in my dream."
He looks at me sideways, disbelieving.
"Shut the fuck up" he grins, as if I'm joking but then the grin fades as his face falls into thoughtfulness.
He looks pained and anxious. Could this be difficult for him? Is that possible?
I feel a sudden instinctive need to lighten things up for him, and my mouth twists into a smile.
"Unless maybe this is the afterlife - maybe I'm actually dead right now? Tell me I'm not dead because this is not what I'd imagined.
You're lovely Bo, but I'd expected some deceased family members, at least, maybe my cat. l don't know, but if this is the afterlife then something bad happened to you too…."
As I see his amused expression I realise,
Oh fuck I'm rambling.
I just said he was lovely…
quickly
distract him.
I take a gulp of my coffee and pull a sour face.
"Ugh and this can't be heaven, because the coffee is really SHIT."
That makes him actually laugh, a lovely wheezy laugh with crinkled eyes and a wide smile, head thrown back and nodding.
"It really is, it's fucking disgusting!"
We both put down our paper cups and he turns to face me.
His eyes hold mine for longer than they need to and I am reminded of him in the bistro and the way he'd looked at me then.
"I really mean it though," I say gently, watching his eyes for any reaction, "I do think we're in my dream right now. You were in my dream once before as well, in a bistro - we saw each other…."
I stop myself from going any further though because it's all too confusing. Besides, he wouldn't remember, he was different there, it wasn't even the same him.
"I remember.
There was a storm."
He is looking at me with an intensity I haven't seen before. I'm so blindsided by it that all I can do is hold his gaze, mesmerized.
Then once again, he flips it.
"Let's try and find out where we're going."
Suddenly he stands up and moves away, pulling me by the hand so quickly I don't have any time to question what is happening. I leave my seat and with my hand in his I follow him out of the buffet car and onwards down the wide aisle.
Our walking becomes running as he pulls me along, the scenery flying past outside the train and the seats flying past inside as we go faster and faster, laughing like kids as we run. It seems like the train will never end as more and more carriages open up to us.
After a short while I begin to tire and I shout, out of breath,
"Bo! Stop, please, I need to stop"
He comes to a halt so quickly that I stumble into him as he spins around to catch me. His hands first grab my arms and then travel up to my shoulders as he steadies me, grinning.
"Well, we're none the wiser, it all looks the same and never ends. Maybe you're right about the dream thing."
The smile fades on his lips as he takes a hand from one of my shoulders. There's a stray lock of hair which has fallen over my eyes and he gently pushes it back from my face with his fingers, as his expression softens.
"I remember you from before because I thought you were lovely too."
He glances down at my lips and I'm holding my breath when I notice the scenery outside the train is fading out to a bright white, a white which shines into the carriage, until I can't see anything around us at all.
Bo and I look at each other with wide eyes, his mouth opens to speak but he disappears into the brightness and is gone.