[Fic] haven't you ever loved some boy?
Title: haven’t you ever loved some boy?
Author: cs_whitewolf
Team: angst
Prompt: balcony
Word count: 416
Rating: PG/13
Warnings: implied abuse and suicidal tendencies.
It is cold out; the smell of winter sharp in the air. Frost nips at his exposed skin, coating his tongue with a chilly caress as he breaths deeply of the frigid air. He shouldn’t be out he knows, clad as he is in only the thin and silken material of his dress shirt. He feels the cold tendrils that touch at his numbed feet, creeping up his legs, his thighs, nipping at his skin like the stinging hands of a cruel lover.
Arthur does not shiver, though inside he quivers with stomach-clenching expectation. He leans too-casually, half-draped in despairing elegance upon the balcony, waiting. He is still a long moment; the only sign of life from him comes in the little puffs of air he exhales, his breath hanging in suspense much like he himself is. He leans a little too far over the edge, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines, just for a moment…
But no. He straightens and with slight of hand he reveals the cigarette he holds in his slender, long-fingered grip. Poised between index and middle he brings the butt to his lips, the minute glow of burning tobacco brought to life with an inhale; highlighting his bruised face for but a second. Exhale.
Arthur waits. Another drag on the cigarette, lips closing about the butt- breathe deep, hold, exhale- grey smoke drifting away, up, up into the night. He does not start as warm fingers close about his wrist, drawing his hand from his mouth. His skin smarts and burns, bones crunching together as the grip tightens, controls.
He remains still; staring ahead- always ahead- as the barely-smoked cigarette is lifted from between his fingers, lifted to another’s mouth and sucked upon. Arthur imagines he can hear the burn of tobacco. He closes his eyes as hands move to wrap about his upper arms, rubbing at his cold skin- hair prickling up at the touch.
“Darling,” the word is breathed against the shell of his ear.
He shivers now.
Arthur knows the instant the cigarette is dropped to the floor, though he does not see it. He hears the booted heel that steps down upon the burning end and kills the glow. He opens his eyes once more, and for a moment- one blissfully free moment- he imagines leaning just a little too far forward.
The hands tighten then and he forces his body to relax, falling pliant and willing to their rough touch as he is pulled back inside.
fin.
Author: cs_whitewolf
Team: angst
Prompt: balcony
Word count: 416
Rating: PG/13
Warnings: implied abuse and suicidal tendencies.
It is cold out; the smell of winter sharp in the air. Frost nips at his exposed skin, coating his tongue with a chilly caress as he breaths deeply of the frigid air. He shouldn’t be out he knows, clad as he is in only the thin and silken material of his dress shirt. He feels the cold tendrils that touch at his numbed feet, creeping up his legs, his thighs, nipping at his skin like the stinging hands of a cruel lover.
Arthur does not shiver, though inside he quivers with stomach-clenching expectation. He leans too-casually, half-draped in despairing elegance upon the balcony, waiting. He is still a long moment; the only sign of life from him comes in the little puffs of air he exhales, his breath hanging in suspense much like he himself is. He leans a little too far over the edge, eyes fluttering shut as he imagines, just for a moment…
But no. He straightens and with slight of hand he reveals the cigarette he holds in his slender, long-fingered grip. Poised between index and middle he brings the butt to his lips, the minute glow of burning tobacco brought to life with an inhale; highlighting his bruised face for but a second. Exhale.
Arthur waits. Another drag on the cigarette, lips closing about the butt- breathe deep, hold, exhale- grey smoke drifting away, up, up into the night. He does not start as warm fingers close about his wrist, drawing his hand from his mouth. His skin smarts and burns, bones crunching together as the grip tightens, controls.
He remains still; staring ahead- always ahead- as the barely-smoked cigarette is lifted from between his fingers, lifted to another’s mouth and sucked upon. Arthur imagines he can hear the burn of tobacco. He closes his eyes as hands move to wrap about his upper arms, rubbing at his cold skin- hair prickling up at the touch.
“Darling,” the word is breathed against the shell of his ear.
He shivers now.
Arthur knows the instant the cigarette is dropped to the floor, though he does not see it. He hears the booted heel that steps down upon the burning end and kills the glow. He opens his eyes once more, and for a moment- one blissfully free moment- he imagines leaning just a little too far forward.
The hands tighten then and he forces his body to relax, falling pliant and willing to their rough touch as he is pulled back inside.
fin.