And more.
Light
"... How long is it to home?" His head ached, the headlights flashing and the white and yellow blurs in the darkness.
"Don't you take the bus? You should know the distance." Lucie honked the horn sharply after a particularly bright set of headlights.
"Backroads are different." Maeryn shifted glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"You can nap, if you want. Rest up before dealing with Karol, you know your tempers grate even after a normal day. Add that you were grading tests all day and the fireworks should start before you're out of the car." He didn't quite like that his elder brother sounded so amused, but couldn't deny the truth.
"... I would hit you, Luc, but you are driving." But he did find that lever on the side of the seat, closing his eyes.
"Ahh, I'll have to drive you more often." A short laugh from Lucie, and Maeryn shifted the seatbelt so it wasn't cutting oddly. Tucking his glasses into the front of his shirt, settling back.
"Duck a little more,-" That was said a little too late and he clipped his head on the edge of the car, knocking his glasses loose. Maeryn stopped moving, hands searching. The world became a bright blur without his glasses on. Shapes of white mixed with the blue and black, green and leather brown, and a pair of peach moved. Then he saw his brother's hands, moving back as the world darkened to colors and shapes he could make out. "Are you so farsighted that you can't see the car frame? Need help with the buckle?" The first was amused, the second teasing. He grumbled wordlessly, shoving Lucie lightly. His brother laughed, and he shifted into the car.
"Are you wearing your old glasses?" Lucie was in the driver's seat and buckled before him, despite having to walk around. The focus and dimness was stolen from his world, and the peach with green, shifted. Maeryn shut his eyes against the brightness.
"... Give them back." He found shirt sleeve
"You are, aren't you." And contact to his nose, the backs of his ears. "It's not good for your sight."
"These are darker." He blinked and shifted the seatbelt.
"You have it backwards." And his brother corrected that for him. A key turn. And away. "So, why'd you miss the bus?"
"... Tests. Not everyone listened to black ink."
"And this is why you should wear the newer glasses. Don't those help you with color?"
"No."
"Yes." Lucie sing-songed it back. "Those have a brown-tint, don't they?"
"I take your silence for a yes."
"Are we there already?" He blinked against the steadily growing light which had woken him, searching for his glasses. How had they gotten out of his shirt... "... did you leave the lights on?" Lucie swore, words that their mother would have sought to scrub his mouth with soap for, despite his thirty some years. Tires screeched, and his glasses nearly jabbed him in the eye. Light filled his vision, smeared it, and then there was darkness. "Lucie?" A shrieking metal noise, a crunch.