004
It’s the end of a long day working at his job, a long day filled with family disputes and rivalries between brothers (yeah, try being in his family before you complain) and parents hating their children, and Gaheris is exaughsted as he takes the final step down to the platform. He’s surprised he got here in time, actually - at the rate he was going he expected to see the train disappearing down the tunnel and any chances of a mildly acceptable night going with it.
But, no - it’s obviously a little late and so he can afford to stand there and rub the back of his neck instead. Not glancing around the platform, definitely not glancing right along it (it’s too blocked by other people, after all, there’s no point in looking over at a place that he can’t get to.)
On most occasions, Agravaine hates taking the subway to get anywhere, not because of the amount of people, but the amount of people who don't shut up on the cars. Yappy teenagers are especially irritating, and while he hates the idea of being there, driving to work in Chelsea is a pain in the ass, so subway it is.
His fingers itch for a cigarette, so he stuffs both hands into his work pants, kicking a takeout wrapper about two feet further from him, nearly right off the platform.
And on the other side of both tracks, Lot's second eldest spots Gaheris, just close enough to make out that dark face.
Finally Gaheris glances up, still with his hand rubbing the back of his neck (bending over a lot of the time after a few months of leave is harder than it used to be), and idly watches the other side of the platform. Not really searching for anybody, not really perusing intently - just giving a quiet glance as he waits for his train.
You can tell the moment he spots Agravaine, his eyes widen slightly at the sight - not a big widen, not a comedy gawp. But a look of surprise, certainly, a look of faint shock to see his brother again after all this time.
He has only a moment to look so shocked, for then the train finally sweeps in and Agravaine is firmly blocked from his eyes.
All it takes is one look at his younger brother for the rage to surge, for his jaw to tighten and his fingers to want to curl up into fists. Though it was only a few seconds, Agravaine can still picture Gaheris' expression, and suddenly he's wishing he had that cigarette.
His own train flies by, fast before slowing down.
The crowd slip by him to enter through the doors, and anger propels him forward just after, his hand curling around a metal bar as he loses himself in quiet anger and tunes out the others around.
New York suddenly feels about ten times too fucking small.
Gaheris isn’t precisely afraid as he clambers into his train. Or angry, or regretful, or particularly sad… In fact he’s not quite sure how to feel, as he somehow manages to grab a seat and gratefully sink into it. There might be a sense of regret, there might be a sense of adrenaline - he’s too tired to think about it right now, as the doors shut and the train swiftly slides away.
His brother definitely still wants to murder him, there’s no room for doubt considering the way his fists clenched.
He almost feels sad about it, in one way.
…He almost feels ready for it in another way. As he trundles his way slowly home, hopeful that Agravaine knows nothing more than the direction he’s going in.