Author's Note: Just a drabble. To get back into writing again. I was getting rusty while laid up. But like everything else, I just gotta keep staying on my feet. Trying a new playground. These are just timed exercises for myself. Not much plot or substance, I'm afraid. Sorry. Just trying writing in new fandoms, see how it fits. Comment, review, or ignore. Your choice. Thank you for reading.
Title: The Impala
He couldn't sleep; the rain dropping on top of the car were like tiny drums. He felt melancholy settle over him like a heavy jacket. The thin pings striking the roof of his car were surprisingly hard to hear. They always rang hollow despite its occupant. Here the rain rung with emptiness, echoing something he would never admit. Full blast Metallica couldn't drown it out.
Fidgeting in his seat—maneuvering seems to be harder nowadays—he wearily turned to his right and smile to himself. Sam dozed in the passenger sear, slumped sideways toward him. Mouth partially open like Sam wanted to tell him something, but fell asleep before he could.
He settled back in deeper, sinking but not quite in the padded faux leather seating until his head rested on the top edge. He turned, looking at Sammy as if he was willing to listen what Sam wanted to say. Cause he normally would; even if it's something he didn't want to hear, because he's so been attuned to the deep, sorrowful timber ever since Sammy could speak his name before he could walk. He was deaf for over three years and now it's a rush of syllables again so full of non-emptiness when it filled the car that it was almost intoxicating.
He would reach over and brush back the bangs off his brother's face but that would be admitting more than he's willing to admit. He'll be damned if he lets his little brother know how painful it was to be deaf so he just settled his arms across his chest and listened to the soft breathing until he couldn't hear the rain anymore.