Before the fading
There was a fickle sense of authority looming in during that night he took the evening underground tube. Something was amiss, a sinister being of gloom lurking beneath the shadows in the tunnels. The reptilian mechanism zoomed in for the kill as he stood patiently on the side of the tracks where a yellow line in his feet signals him not to cross boundaries or suffer major consequences in the long run. When it came to a halt, he greeted the hostile air with mildly confident trepidation, walked in hoping to sit down only to be pushed back and forth by unruly stench of showerless blokes. He snarled to himself while he grabs hold of the bar. There was no way he could bow down to obscurity in such tainted fashion. This night will not bring him down. Only thing worth dragging down is a Northern bitch of snow and slaughter, the blissful tearing of disappointment, the suspect of heartache, who went down crawling from the tundras to greet the unwilling with despair and depression. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Not if you stepped in his shoes, you'd wager.
It took him quite awhile to get to the intended destination. The place was a lively, but seemingly haunting, place for his in memory, for it was a place held with very low regard in terms of stupor and drunkenness. Sobriety is never an option where he's going.
He crawled out of the underground and climbed up to civilization only to be greeted with ignorance. On the contrary, his bewilderment heightened his senses even more so than he ever imagined. He spoke not a single word with his mouth but the soliloquy never rested. To others, it would have had severe complications to their sanity. To him, it was a lifesaver.
He sent messages beforehand to people he barely even liked or admired. That was before he jumped into the transport. After awhile, he began receiving unflattering replies from those same people, the kind of which people would pull their hairs off their head for. It pissed him off to receive not a single respect from the people he tried so much to beg geniality from. These were the same people that demanded so little from him even though he could provide them with so much. Some people are just a tad bit hard to please, and fuck them for all their worth (or worthlessness, for that matter).
So he met the girl from before. Not a single spark. Bad idea, he thought. They kiss hello and off they go, walking towards the night sky where dreams are usually made of.