Original fic. Woohoo!
Title: Untitled
Author: ardvari
Rating: PG
Pairing: Original
A/N: If I ever wanted to write a book I'd have to stop wanting to kill my characters.
Un-betaed, which is as it should be for this one.
He was a little worried when he found her. She was asleep at her desk, hands in her lap, head resting on the closed laptop and he wondered if it had been the lingering warmth that had invited her to rest her head there.
Her lips squished and pouty, he counted the knobs of her spine through her shirt and shivered because she was too damn skinny. One, two three, he remembered his fingers counting her ribs, one after the other, one hard bump after the other. One after the other. One. After the other.
She reminded him of the first few raindrops of any good summer rain. The ones that are forgotten as the others fall, the others that are bigger and less tentative and surer of themselves. She was like the light ones, the ones that made people look up, squint towards the dark clouds before they ran for cover.
He walked closer, leaned over her, looked at her profile against the dark plastic she was sleeping on. Slowly he traced her spine, ran his index finger over each knob while he stared at her cheekbones, just a little too sharp under skin she kept out of the sunlight for all she was worth.
Carefully he put his hand behind her head, tried to feel if the laptop was still warm, wanted to feel what she felt and was a little appalled to feel that it was cold. No warmth was lingering behind, the plastic was cold, inanimate and his hand crept closer to her head. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her hair.
It seemed as if, these days, he could only bring himself to touch and marvel at her bones. At the bare skeleton showing through her skin, showing how unhealthy she was, how unhappy. How much she didn’t wanna be here.
Sometimes he was scared she would climb into her car and leave again, the way she had left years ago. Without a word, without notice, without much of anything. Someone that left like that was never really at home anywhere. Someone that left like that knew the freedom of the road, would never forget what it felt like to be alone and free and happy.
He turned the desk light off, watched how her features changed in the light shining in from the hallway. Once again, like so many nights before, he wondered what he would have to do to keep her here. What it would take to make her stay, keep her here and have her pretend to herself and everybody else that she was okay.
With a sigh he carefully pulled a blanket around her thin shoulders and listened as a deep breath escaped her, fogged up the plastic in front of her mouth for a moment. He didn’t touch her, didn’t kiss her cheek just underneath that startlingly sharp cheekbone but stared at her a moment longer before he wrestled himself away.
And he knew what he’d have to do to make her stay.
He’d have to kill her.
Author: ardvari
Rating: PG
Pairing: Original
A/N: If I ever wanted to write a book I'd have to stop wanting to kill my characters.
Un-betaed, which is as it should be for this one.
He was a little worried when he found her. She was asleep at her desk, hands in her lap, head resting on the closed laptop and he wondered if it had been the lingering warmth that had invited her to rest her head there.
Her lips squished and pouty, he counted the knobs of her spine through her shirt and shivered because she was too damn skinny. One, two three, he remembered his fingers counting her ribs, one after the other, one hard bump after the other. One after the other. One. After the other.
She reminded him of the first few raindrops of any good summer rain. The ones that are forgotten as the others fall, the others that are bigger and less tentative and surer of themselves. She was like the light ones, the ones that made people look up, squint towards the dark clouds before they ran for cover.
He walked closer, leaned over her, looked at her profile against the dark plastic she was sleeping on. Slowly he traced her spine, ran his index finger over each knob while he stared at her cheekbones, just a little too sharp under skin she kept out of the sunlight for all she was worth.
Carefully he put his hand behind her head, tried to feel if the laptop was still warm, wanted to feel what she felt and was a little appalled to feel that it was cold. No warmth was lingering behind, the plastic was cold, inanimate and his hand crept closer to her head. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her hair.
It seemed as if, these days, he could only bring himself to touch and marvel at her bones. At the bare skeleton showing through her skin, showing how unhealthy she was, how unhappy. How much she didn’t wanna be here.
Sometimes he was scared she would climb into her car and leave again, the way she had left years ago. Without a word, without notice, without much of anything. Someone that left like that was never really at home anywhere. Someone that left like that knew the freedom of the road, would never forget what it felt like to be alone and free and happy.
He turned the desk light off, watched how her features changed in the light shining in from the hallway. Once again, like so many nights before, he wondered what he would have to do to keep her here. What it would take to make her stay, keep her here and have her pretend to herself and everybody else that she was okay.
With a sigh he carefully pulled a blanket around her thin shoulders and listened as a deep breath escaped her, fogged up the plastic in front of her mouth for a moment. He didn’t touch her, didn’t kiss her cheek just underneath that startlingly sharp cheekbone but stared at her a moment longer before he wrestled himself away.
And he knew what he’d have to do to make her stay.
He’d have to kill her.