[fic] Vines of a Different Kind Wrapped Around My Heart
Title: Vines of a Different Kind Wrapped Around My Heart
Genre: Drama/Romance
Fandom: BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!
Characters/Pairings: Vincent/Teddy
Rating: G
Summary: The one wherein Teddy is very aware but only to a point that confuses him, and muses late at night. Wherein Vincent is, as always, very conflicted, and sleeps wrapped around and away from Teddy. And wherein virtually nothing happens. At all. [Sometimes he can’t breathe with Vincent and without Vincent and sometimes he can smile at the way the interest for a girl comes easy (comes in multitude) for Vincent.]
Word Count: 1,359
This fic is based and inspired by my work :/
--
Even as he sleeps, Vincent’s face is guarded and creased with fear.
Teddy can see it as they lay tangled on Teddy’s bed. (Well, they’re not tangled, per se. Even dead to the world, Vincent still manages to keep his distance like when he’s awake. Except for the times he doesn’t and no one talks about that.)
The cautiousness isn’t at all obvious, the fear even less so. But Teddy looks for it sometimes and he’s seen so much of Vincent already, so so so much, that he can’t help it. (Sometime in the future, his father will tell him that one reason Vincent hangs on to him so much is because he knows Vincent, knows him enough to know him, even if Vincent is too scared to truly show him.)
(This sometime will happen when everything is near tangible and they don’t know what to do and his father will only look at him knowingly and expectantly.)
His hands remain in the space between their bodies, open but stiff, as he watches the emotions flit across Vincent’s face. The movements of his lips and brows are minute and nearly indistinguishable in the darkness of the night and the fingers fisted on Teddy’s sides clench and unclench in tandem.
Even unconscious, Vincent doesn’t want to let Teddy go. Teddy can hear the wrinkling of his shirt under the firm, if not the littlest bit wary, hold of Vincent’s palms, pressing into the skin of his waist but not really. His legs are tangled with Teddy’s and everything about Vincent is contradicting. He is so unbelievably close to the dark skin and warm body but he’s so far not close enough too much space (and no one knows, especially Teddy and Vincent, if these are Teddy’s thoughts or Vincent’s, so carefully intertwined that Vincent is Teddy and Teddy is Vincent and yet they’re not yet there, not even close). He holds him possessively, and yet, his bodyandhandsandface are stiff and the reluctance makes Teddy’s head hurt. Teddy’s hands slide down slowly, barely, and the legs wrapped around his, the feet warm around his make him feel safe, but he can’t even focus on that, not really, not when above that, Vincent is tilted farther from him as if he wants to let go.
(But he can’t let go, and Teddy’s not willing to ever let go, so it’s all dopey smiles and pained eyes.)
Teddy doesn’t know where they stand. He loves him, he knows that wholly, and Vincent loves him, all hard-edged and rough, but he doesn’t know what kind of love it is anymore (and Vincent does, he does know, somewhere at the back of his head, but he’s not ready to accept it yet.)
(Vincent’s always been the one unable to separate attraction from platonic feelings. (But it can’t count because Teddy’s a boy not a girl it’s not by his rules.))
Lines have blurred and Teddy can’t pinpoint when emotions started becoming weird and not normal, or when touches started feeling different, or when things started having double meanings and hugs and looks weren’t allowed anymore because of those double meanings, or when Vincent’s smile wasn’t just a smile to him anymore but Vincent’s smile, or when Vincent’s hands started becoming warm and safe and right. Sometimes he thinks that Vincent’s become more than a friend, more than a brother, but sometimes he can look at Vincent and say that he sees him as a friend and not-not feel wrong. Sometimes he can’t breathe with Vincent and without Vincent and sometimes he can smile at the way the interest for a girl comes easy (comes in multitude) for Vincent.
Vincent's sudden grunt pulls him from his thoughts and he can see the way the blonde's jaw tightens. The fingers on his shirt clench and unclench as if Vincent doesn't know what to do and it makes Teddy's throat go dry. He stares hard at his best friend but nothing else gives away his distress. He thinks that maybe his body stiffens but, really, he can't tell anymore, Vincent's body already wound tight by the metaphorical hand of Miss America and her indecisiveness.
He doesn't know what he should do and he watches as Vincent grunts again and this time, the football player curls into himself. Teddy sees his body bending and his head drops, just barely. Everything about his best friend screams defensiveness.
He doesn’t notice it until he’s moved but he’s suddenly aware of the inches lost between them. His eyes flicker across Vincent’s face, searching and searching, and he notices that Vincent’s lips move. He wonders if he’ll lean close enough, he’ll hear his own name from that mouth. Except. It’s not really wondering, is it? He’s almost sure there’s no other name but his-it makes his mouth taste like bile. His palm, the closest one to the other’s face of course, lift, slowly and gradually, as if it’s made of metal, and the truth is, his whole body does, to reach the cheek of Vincent’s hard face, hovering and almost there. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but he can feel the warmth of the sun-kissed skin roll off in waves on his fingers.
He looks at Vincent’s eyelids, as if they have the answers, as if his eyes are open and showing him if he’s going too far.
This-all of it-scares him because he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, especially when everything is changing around them. It's not them against the world anymore (or, at the least, them against the other high school students, or their batchmates, whatever, Teddy's not exactly sure about the rules about being a school pariah) and Vincent has people flocking all over him. Vincent finally has things going for him and these things (feelings, or thoughts, or whatever) are appearing out of nowhere.
He sighs, and he wonders if Vincent can feel the coolness of his breath, because it’s like Vincent is searching for more, more Teddy maybe. His palm finally grazes the roughness of Vincent’s jaw and he wonders if he’s overstepped the boundaries. Vincent face stiffens (and it’s as if it’s indecision, because he neither hardens nor relaxes, caught in between in a moment of vulnerability) and Teddy keeps his palm on him, except it’s light and ready to leave as soon as he sees the fear on his features.
He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, acting like Vincent is awake and fully conscious of everything Teddy is showing him. Something in him tells him to let it go, just try to sleep and leave him alone. This is not going to become some sort of breakthrough, and Teddy’s already aware of that, never even expected that. It tells him to put his arm back on the space between their bodies and try to be comforted by everything Vincent.
Except he can’t let it go now. Nothing will really come off it, but he needs to see if Vincent will flinch away from the overheated warmth of Teddy’s fingers or if he’ll lean into it. He doesn’t know if it’ll lead him to a stone, take an inch forward, or take a mile backward. He doesn’t know if it’ll be what will make him sleep tonight. He doesn’t know if it’ll give him to peace of mind, or at least an escape from his thoughts before he can finally find it in him to completely arrange them.
He waits anyway.
And Vincent moves neither towards his hand or away from it, but he bends his head forward and says Teddy as if the name is his salvation.
At this moment, Teddy feels like maybe Vincent might be his salvation, too, and he presses his hand into Vincent. He moves forward, a thousand inches away from Vincent’s skin, and it’s as if he’s kissing the warmth Vincent is willing to give him.
(When he wakes up, he’ll reorganize his feelings and thoughts, everything under the folder labeled ‘Vincent’ that is only slightly bursting at the tips.)
(He’ll find out that Vincent really might be his salvation. And his downfall.)
~*~This was supposed to be a sequel of sorts, or at least a companion, to Indulge Me Away but then it just sort of stirred into a different direction.
And by direction, I mean more of a study of Teddy and his 'relationship' with Vincent at the, err...'starting' stages of their friendship. I always figured that Teddy, while self-aware, cannot be called incredibly self-aware. I dunno. I just wanted him to be not totally sure of himself even from the start. Eh just an opinion, basically.
Also, one of the most uneventful things I've ever written. No action at all. No interaction even. Except for the last part. Which was...as uneventful as they come so.
Also, sorry if come out OOC. Especially Teddy. I feel I made Teddy different here. I kind of figured this was an...AU of sorts more than anything /sigh.
Genre: Drama/Romance
Fandom: BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!
Characters/Pairings: Vincent/Teddy
Rating: G
Summary: The one wherein Teddy is very aware but only to a point that confuses him, and muses late at night. Wherein Vincent is, as always, very conflicted, and sleeps wrapped around and away from Teddy. And wherein virtually nothing happens. At all. [Sometimes he can’t breathe with Vincent and without Vincent and sometimes he can smile at the way the interest for a girl comes easy (comes in multitude) for Vincent.]
Word Count: 1,359
This fic is based and inspired by my work :/
--
Even as he sleeps, Vincent’s face is guarded and creased with fear.
Teddy can see it as they lay tangled on Teddy’s bed. (Well, they’re not tangled, per se. Even dead to the world, Vincent still manages to keep his distance like when he’s awake. Except for the times he doesn’t and no one talks about that.)
The cautiousness isn’t at all obvious, the fear even less so. But Teddy looks for it sometimes and he’s seen so much of Vincent already, so so so much, that he can’t help it. (Sometime in the future, his father will tell him that one reason Vincent hangs on to him so much is because he knows Vincent, knows him enough to know him, even if Vincent is too scared to truly show him.)
(This sometime will happen when everything is near tangible and they don’t know what to do and his father will only look at him knowingly and expectantly.)
His hands remain in the space between their bodies, open but stiff, as he watches the emotions flit across Vincent’s face. The movements of his lips and brows are minute and nearly indistinguishable in the darkness of the night and the fingers fisted on Teddy’s sides clench and unclench in tandem.
Even unconscious, Vincent doesn’t want to let Teddy go. Teddy can hear the wrinkling of his shirt under the firm, if not the littlest bit wary, hold of Vincent’s palms, pressing into the skin of his waist but not really. His legs are tangled with Teddy’s and everything about Vincent is contradicting. He is so unbelievably close to the dark skin and warm body but he’s so far not close enough too much space (and no one knows, especially Teddy and Vincent, if these are Teddy’s thoughts or Vincent’s, so carefully intertwined that Vincent is Teddy and Teddy is Vincent and yet they’re not yet there, not even close). He holds him possessively, and yet, his bodyandhandsandface are stiff and the reluctance makes Teddy’s head hurt. Teddy’s hands slide down slowly, barely, and the legs wrapped around his, the feet warm around his make him feel safe, but he can’t even focus on that, not really, not when above that, Vincent is tilted farther from him as if he wants to let go.
(But he can’t let go, and Teddy’s not willing to ever let go, so it’s all dopey smiles and pained eyes.)
Teddy doesn’t know where they stand. He loves him, he knows that wholly, and Vincent loves him, all hard-edged and rough, but he doesn’t know what kind of love it is anymore (and Vincent does, he does know, somewhere at the back of his head, but he’s not ready to accept it yet.)
(Vincent’s always been the one unable to separate attraction from platonic feelings. (But it can’t count because Teddy’s a boy not a girl it’s not by his rules.))
Lines have blurred and Teddy can’t pinpoint when emotions started becoming weird and not normal, or when touches started feeling different, or when things started having double meanings and hugs and looks weren’t allowed anymore because of those double meanings, or when Vincent’s smile wasn’t just a smile to him anymore but Vincent’s smile, or when Vincent’s hands started becoming warm and safe and right. Sometimes he thinks that Vincent’s become more than a friend, more than a brother, but sometimes he can look at Vincent and say that he sees him as a friend and not-not feel wrong. Sometimes he can’t breathe with Vincent and without Vincent and sometimes he can smile at the way the interest for a girl comes easy (comes in multitude) for Vincent.
Vincent's sudden grunt pulls him from his thoughts and he can see the way the blonde's jaw tightens. The fingers on his shirt clench and unclench as if Vincent doesn't know what to do and it makes Teddy's throat go dry. He stares hard at his best friend but nothing else gives away his distress. He thinks that maybe his body stiffens but, really, he can't tell anymore, Vincent's body already wound tight by the metaphorical hand of Miss America and her indecisiveness.
He doesn't know what he should do and he watches as Vincent grunts again and this time, the football player curls into himself. Teddy sees his body bending and his head drops, just barely. Everything about his best friend screams defensiveness.
He doesn’t notice it until he’s moved but he’s suddenly aware of the inches lost between them. His eyes flicker across Vincent’s face, searching and searching, and he notices that Vincent’s lips move. He wonders if he’ll lean close enough, he’ll hear his own name from that mouth. Except. It’s not really wondering, is it? He’s almost sure there’s no other name but his-it makes his mouth taste like bile. His palm, the closest one to the other’s face of course, lift, slowly and gradually, as if it’s made of metal, and the truth is, his whole body does, to reach the cheek of Vincent’s hard face, hovering and almost there. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but he can feel the warmth of the sun-kissed skin roll off in waves on his fingers.
He looks at Vincent’s eyelids, as if they have the answers, as if his eyes are open and showing him if he’s going too far.
This-all of it-scares him because he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, especially when everything is changing around them. It's not them against the world anymore (or, at the least, them against the other high school students, or their batchmates, whatever, Teddy's not exactly sure about the rules about being a school pariah) and Vincent has people flocking all over him. Vincent finally has things going for him and these things (feelings, or thoughts, or whatever) are appearing out of nowhere.
He sighs, and he wonders if Vincent can feel the coolness of his breath, because it’s like Vincent is searching for more, more Teddy maybe. His palm finally grazes the roughness of Vincent’s jaw and he wonders if he’s overstepped the boundaries. Vincent face stiffens (and it’s as if it’s indecision, because he neither hardens nor relaxes, caught in between in a moment of vulnerability) and Teddy keeps his palm on him, except it’s light and ready to leave as soon as he sees the fear on his features.
He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, acting like Vincent is awake and fully conscious of everything Teddy is showing him. Something in him tells him to let it go, just try to sleep and leave him alone. This is not going to become some sort of breakthrough, and Teddy’s already aware of that, never even expected that. It tells him to put his arm back on the space between their bodies and try to be comforted by everything Vincent.
Except he can’t let it go now. Nothing will really come off it, but he needs to see if Vincent will flinch away from the overheated warmth of Teddy’s fingers or if he’ll lean into it. He doesn’t know if it’ll lead him to a stone, take an inch forward, or take a mile backward. He doesn’t know if it’ll be what will make him sleep tonight. He doesn’t know if it’ll give him to peace of mind, or at least an escape from his thoughts before he can finally find it in him to completely arrange them.
He waits anyway.
And Vincent moves neither towards his hand or away from it, but he bends his head forward and says Teddy as if the name is his salvation.
At this moment, Teddy feels like maybe Vincent might be his salvation, too, and he presses his hand into Vincent. He moves forward, a thousand inches away from Vincent’s skin, and it’s as if he’s kissing the warmth Vincent is willing to give him.
(When he wakes up, he’ll reorganize his feelings and thoughts, everything under the folder labeled ‘Vincent’ that is only slightly bursting at the tips.)
(He’ll find out that Vincent really might be his salvation. And his downfall.)
~*~This was supposed to be a sequel of sorts, or at least a companion, to Indulge Me Away but then it just sort of stirred into a different direction.
And by direction, I mean more of a study of Teddy and his 'relationship' with Vincent at the, err...'starting' stages of their friendship. I always figured that Teddy, while self-aware, cannot be called incredibly self-aware. I dunno. I just wanted him to be not totally sure of himself even from the start. Eh just an opinion, basically.
Also, one of the most uneventful things I've ever written. No action at all. No interaction even. Except for the last part. Which was...as uneventful as they come so.
Also, sorry if come out OOC. Especially Teddy. I feel I made Teddy different here. I kind of figured this was an...AU of sorts more than anything /sigh.