[FIC] Airbag

Title: Airbag
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 980
Summary: Driving a taxi on his way to something, he wonders.
A/N: I wrote this for a Tablo fanproject in which I filmed myself typing this out. It's a story based on the lyrics of Tablo's song Airbag obviously and I'm posting it here because I can. ^____^

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Seven am, on his way to this or that, he can’t really remember what exactly he has gotten up so early for. In fact, he can’t really be bothered to remember either. Dragging himself out of bed had been the hardest part, but from there on everything happened as if on its own. He just went with the flow, getting himself a bowl of cereal and then leaving the house. He barely managed to remember to change into a set of decent clothes before he could walk out onto the street in his pyjamas.

The first taxi that came by was stopped in order to have a means of transport. Stating the street name he knew by heart because he went there every day, he settled into the back seat, buckling his seatbelt and closing his eyes with a sigh. That’s where he still is now, listening to the sounds of life in the early morning. Opening his eyes after some peaceful moments, he stares out of his window, watching the other cars make their way through the morning traffic.

There isn’t much interesting going on in the mornings, really, yet at the same time that’s when you see the most things happen. The loud honking of a car startles him as if proving his point, the driver trying to warn a biker that crossed without looking. They barely avoid each other, back wheel slipping past front bumper with but a hair’s width. What the driver didn’t see was the cat crossing the road, but no one stops to look at that. It is but a stray animal less in the world.

Soon voices fill the taxi, the radio broadcasts some few guests currently in the studio with the DJ that apparently have a lot to say. He hears but doesn’t listen, the conversation going past him as he stares out of the car window without seeing. At one point the taxi driver starts to laugh and he figures they must have said something funny. He didn’t hear what it was. It doesn’t matter, he wouldn’t have laughed anyway. The voices fade away not long after and music starts to play. Perhaps the radio knows his feelings, because they play a song he used to know all the lyrics to. Not that he cares much anymore now, about anything really.

Going over his plans for the week in his mind, he finds there’s still a lot he needs to do before the weekend will come and save him from the dull, boring working days. He’d plan out his work throughout the week if only he would actually keep to such a planning. But even though there isn’t really time to go out, he still accepts the invites from friends to do so, ignoring the amounts of work he still has. He pretends to have fun, but at some point it all becomes void and useless anyway. It doesn’t matter. It’s something to keep the loneliness at bay with. Or perhaps he just hopes that they all see how lonely he really is when he shows up all by himself.

The taxi driver’s gruff voice pulls him out of his reveries and he looks up only to see the man ending his conversation and putting the phone away with a frown. Perhaps the evening drinking plans got cancelled. His eyes wander on to a picture of what he assumes to be the man’s wife and children and he wonders if maybe this man doesn’t go drinking as he can go home to something like that. He thinks back to his own family; his mother and father who had always loved him unconditionally, being the sole people to do so.

He can’t help but wonder whether life would be better if going back to his house actually meant anything. He wonders if maybe he needs a decent place, something to call home. Or would it be better if there were people waiting for him, smiling up at him as they saw him enter and greeting him with love and warmth? He wonders, but doesn’t know the answer to that and when he turns to look out of the window again, the seemingly sudden downpour surprises him.

They come to a halt in front of a street light and he looks at one of the huge billboards through the puddles rippling and growing on the ground. It has something to do with traffic accidents, one person dying. He remembers the cat that died earlier that morning because of an ignorant driver and feels a sigh leave him before he can stop it. Would he end up like that cat, thrown aside by someone who couldn’t care less about his existence?

Another sigh and he remembers the things he thought he put behind him; the warm touch of a loving hand, the happy smile on a frail face, blazing life in sparkling eyes. The pain clutches at his chest and he turns his face away from the street outside to stare at the back of the driver’s chair but it’s useless anyway. His mind pieces the separate memories together easily and he remembers what used to be the light of his life. He draws the face in the air with his eyes and stares at it until the abrupt halt of the taxi tells him he has arrived at his destination.

Slipping the driver the right amount of bills, he mindlessly thanks the man for the service before getting out. As he steps out of the car, feet dipping into some of the puddles he had been staring at just before, he leaves behind the mental drawing he made in the taxi’s interior, with it also forgetting the rest of the memories that go along with it.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself every single day.

It hasn’t worked yet so far.