and thing.
from, I believe, accede -
name three fic ideas you think i will never, ever, ever write. in return, i will attempt to write a snippet of (at least) one of them.
aka: prompt me things that are prompt-like, and i will try to write things which are hopefully fic-like. RUN, DON'T WALK.
gimme! I am all grabby hands. ♥
merlin/skins crossover: rolling ( Read more... )
name three fic ideas you think i will never, ever, ever write. in return, i will attempt to write a snippet of (at least) one of them.
aka: prompt me things that are prompt-like, and i will try to write things which are hopefully fic-like. RUN, DON'T WALK.
gimme! I am all grabby hands. ♥
merlin/skins crossover: rolling ( Read more... )
Every morning, Robert receives a letter by owl. His friends think it's from his father, and he prefers to maintain that illusion. In reality, it is from his Uncle Peter, who first summarizes what's going on at the company before rambling about his grandchildren and then fretting over Robert's wellbeing.
The last paragraph is always the shortest; it is the one he uses to explain that Robert's father is thinking of him and is very proud of his scholastic accomplishments. Sometimes, it is one sentence. Sometimes, it's two.
When Robert writes back, he always addresses it to Father; but Uncle Peter is the one who responds.
-
It's February when Robert gets a quick, scribbled note in the middle of the day.
Your father has taken ill, is all it says.
He spends the next two hours with the scrap of parchment clutched in his hand, staring blankly out of the window in the Owlery.
-
He only starts when he hears footsteps on the stairwell, but by then, it's too late to make a graceful escape.
When Saito strolls in, he pauses at the sight of him and raises an eyebrow. Robert clears his throat and tilts his head up, because out of all the people who cannot see him vulnerable, Saito is at the absolute top of that list.
Saito seems to know anyway, though, because he gives Robert a quiet smirk and a polite but mocking bow.
"You were not in Charms today," he remarks, raising an arm for his great horned owl to perch on. Her name is Shuurai, because of course Saito would name her something aggressive like "lightning strike," and as far as he knows, great horned owls areâ”of courseâ”not indigenous to either Japan or the British Isles.
Robert takes a moment to shutter away the treacherous surge of envy that wells up at how indulgent Saito's parents must be, how much they must adore him, to let him get away with murder. It's part of why he's never been able to stand Saito, who strides around the school like he owns everything or could at least buy it if he wanted to. It's in his casual extravagance; how he always says "my money" instead of "my father's money," as if his allowance was earned instead of given, built by decades of his ancestors' sweat and tears (a fact Robert's own father has never let him forget). There's something carelessly dishonest about Saito's entire lifestyle, and Robert has no need to play at acceptance the way everyone else seems to.
"No, I wasn't," he says finally, fists curling of their own accord, parchment crumpling into his right hand. "Top marks for observational skills, Mr. Saito."
Saito smoothes Shuurai's feathers with a finger and coos at her for a minute before turning back to him. "I never figured you for a delinquent, Mr. Fischer," he says, smile slowly widening with the soft edge of cruelty. "What would your father say, hmm?"
Something snaps in him; something tenuous and fragile and numb. Robert is blinded, for a moment, by the sheer crushing weight of desperation and panic, buoyed by the abiding childish adoration he has tried so hard to put aside and ignore, the wounded, bleeding love he can't help but harbor, even though he has long resigned himself to the knowledge that it will never be returned.
"Shut up," he is saying, voice loud and echoing in the tower with a power he doesn't feel, with air he doesn't remember breathing. "Shut the fuck up, Saito, shut up-"
And then before he knows it, his fist is swinging towards Saito's surprised face, Shuurai's alarmed screeching ringing in his ears.
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