PROMPT ME. (please.)
I'm bored. I had a bad day at work. (Okay. I had a stressful day at work.) I've forgotten how to write. Aaaannnnd I've been doing nothing but looking up Jeff Bryan Davis clips on YouTube. (Which, by the by, I totally recommend doing. He's ADORABLE. And one day, we will marry. True stuff
( Read more... )
He hallucinates backwards on days like this.
“Peter, this never happened.”
Maybe. But it could have. It could have happened just like this. Right?
He puts his thumb on the corner of her mouth, tucks his knuckles beneath her chin, and says, mean and baiting, “Listen, we all love someone who’s dying. You got that, sweetheart?”
“Yeah. Got it.” She nods, eyes sad. And then, “You’re such a fucking coward.”
“Me and the rest of the world.”
“Worlds,” she says.
And he doesn’t understand.
“Do you remember, Peter?”
He remembers. He remembers everything. He just remembers wrong.
“You’re not alone in this. You know that, right?”
She touches her fingers to the outside of his wrist, says, “I came back for you.”
Two universes collide. It’s not as bad as it sounds. (It’s worse.)
“You can’t stay here,” she says. She grabs onto the sleeve of his shirt and pulls, hard. “You have to come back. You belong with me.”
He frowns, forehead drawn down in confusion. “I don’t belong anywhere.”
“Peter,” she says, desperate. “Peter, please.”
And then she kisses him. Her mouth presses hard against his, frantic and urgent and messy, with her hands on his neck and her fingers curling up into his hair. He pushes her away, holds her at arm’s length.
“Please.”
He’s seen how the two of them look like together. It’s beautiful.
He holds her hips in his hands, keeps her steady as she moves on top of him. Her cheeks flush pink and she ducks her head down, hides behind her hair, and he shapes a kiss on her shoulder.
This never happened.
“Peter Bishop? I’m Olivia Dunham,” she says.
He smiles, shakes her outstretched hand and says, “Nice to meet you Ms. Dunham.”
“Agent,” she corrects.
“Conman,” he replies. “And occasional pianist, when the mood strikes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh,” he says, smiling even wider now, “I thought we were stating our professions. My apologies.”
Agent Dunham laughs and says, “You’re going to make my job difficult, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Reply
I'm not completely sure I understand it, but I love it!
Reply
Leave a comment