Thursday: Magical Realism
Hello my friends! As you may already know, it's Thursday and I am your host mahmfic. Today's theme is Magical Realism. It's a personal favorite of mine so I couldn't resist.
What is magical realism? In very basic terms it is magic in the real world... but even though there is magic everything is still normal even though it's not. Yeah, I know I'm ( Read more... )
What is magical realism? In very basic terms it is magic in the real world... but even though there is magic everything is still normal even though it's not. Yeah, I know I'm ( Read more... )
Except, tonight, he doesn’t. Unless they're planning on postponing sleep for a while, Jack always blows out the candle, then lays down and kisses Ianto, pulling him into his arms until Ianto squirms and forces him to let go so he can get comfortable. Tonight that quick, easy breath never comes, the bed never shifts as Jack’s tall form settles into the horizontal.
Ianto feels a quick frisson of fear: Jack never leaves a light on.
“What is it?” Ianto whispers. Something’s been wrong since he got home, just the slightest change in Jack’s tone of voice, a difference in the way he touched Ianto to let him know where he was and in the tightness of his hand as he led Ianto from the kitchen to the sitting room. It was in the muscles of his face when he got home, the miniscule flinch when Ianto touched him. And now the candle is unnecessarily lit.
Jack remains silent for a long time. Ianto’s face is turned toward him, toward where he imagines Jack’s face to be. He touches Jack’s chest, his neck, searching for and finding tension. He squeezes Jack’s hand when it takes his. “You know why we do this,” Jack says at last, his voice rough and deep. “The blindfold, the candles.”
“If I see your face, you’ll die,” Ianto replies quietly. He knows why they do this. It’s what he tells himself every day when anyone asks about the giver of the ring on his finger, what he tells himself when he wakes up at night after dreaming of a beloved yet blurry face. It’s what he says to himself when he questions whether he would rather love someone he can never see, or lose his husband forever.
“That’s not the whole truth.”
Almost instantly, Ianto feels sick to his stomach. He can’t speak for a few seconds from the explosion of emotions. “It’s not true?” he whispers.
“Not completely,” Jack says, and Ianto knows his voice by heart, can read every defensive nuance, can read the hint of guilt and shame and it’s not nearly enough.
“Then what has this all been for?” His voice raises as he sits up, until he’s raging at the blackness all around him. “The candles, the darkness, the secrets? What is this for?” he scrabbles at the blindfold and finds his fingers clenched in iron grips and held to his sides.
“Don’t.”
He’s never heard his husband sound like that, and Ianto stops struggling. The pain in his fingers makes his eyes burn, and he gasps. “Why? Do you know how hard it's been, Jack? To do this every day? And it's all a lie?”
“If you see me, I will die. Just… not immediately.” Jack is trying to keep control of his voice. Only Ianto, who has studied it for so long, would be able to recognize the fear in it. “I’m immortal, Ianto. But if you saw me, I’d be able to die.”
Ianto shakes his head helplessly, but he accepted Jack’s curse years ago and somehow, this isn’t any harder to believe. “Does that make you Adam, then?” he jokes out of shock. “And seeing you is my sin?”
Jack doesn’t move an inch, though he relaxes his grip on Ianto’s fingers. Ianto takes a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I want you to see me.”
Reply
Ianto recoils on instinct, slapping a hand over his blindfold. “No!”
“I’ve lost lovers before, Ianto,” Jack says quietly, and there is so much pain in his voice, pain Ianto’s hear only echoes of before. “I’ve lost wives. I’ve left them, or I’ve watched them die, and I just… I can’t do that with you. If I have to grow old and die with someone, I want it to be you.”
“I don’t…” Ianto’s voice shakes. “Have you thought about this, Jack?”
“For months,” his husband answers. “Years, even. I want this,” he whispers, and his fingers curl under the blindfold.It slips off, and Ianto can feel his tears evaporating, can see the dim light of the candle beyond his eyelids, but he can't open them. His eyes are squeezed shut, years of fear and taboo impossible to ignore. Jack's familiar fingers stroke his cheeks, then his eyelids, new territory. Ianto's breath shakes and Jack whispers, "Look at me."
He opens his eyes and blinks as his pupils contract. Jack's face sharpens, and Ianto stares in awe. "You look exactly as I pictured you," he murmurs, and Jack smiles and it's even better than he's imagined.
"Think you can live with it?" Jack gestures at himself.
Ianto glances down at the body he's touched a thousand times, relearning it again with this latest sense. Then he looks back into Jack's eyes. They're blue.
"I couldn't live without it."
Reply
I love all the candles. Gave me really great mental pictures when I was reading.
Ianto’s smile drops a hair and he touches Jack’s forehead, then his chin. There’s a tightness in his husband’s face that he has come to recognize. “Has something happened at work?”
Oh, that's fantastic. Touching his face ... *wibbles*
sometimes they watch movies using the contraption Jack rigged up that splits the couch in two with a curtain. They always hold hands underneath it, or lean against each other so they’re separated only by the bolt of fabric.
Auuuuuuuuuuw!
He closes his eyes and remembers the shape of Jack’s face, traced out his Ianto’s fingers and his cheeks and occasionally his tongue, and then opens his eyes and tries to imagine what that face would look like next to his.
Right there, almost in tears ... *sniffles*
“If I see your face, you’ll die,” Ianto replies quietly. He knows why they do this. It’s what he tells himself every day when anyone asks about the giver of the ring on his finger, what he tells himself when he wakes up at night after dreaming of a beloved yet blurry face. It’s what he says to himself when he questions whether he would rather love someone he can never see, or lose his husband forever.
I just adore your take on the myth.
“I’m immortal, Ianto. But if you saw me, I’d be able to die.”
Ooooooo ...
He opens his eyes and blinks as his pupils contract. Jack's face sharpens, and Ianto stares in awe. "You look exactly as I pictured you," he murmurs, and Jack smiles and it's even better than he's imagined.
*squeaks*
So ... yeah, this was fantastic and I kind of love you right now? *hugs through the internet*
Reply
Reply
Of course, I had to make it as fluffy as possible, which fit rather strangely with all the angst of the premise.
It really did. It's an angsty premise, but it's also very touching because they're staying together for years like this, they'd have to be a very loving and devoted couple to make something like that work, so that's what makes it fluffy.
I'd love to take credit for the resulting bittersweet, but these characters just come pre-packaged with bittersweet.
They really do. *wibbles*
So glad you liked it!
Loved it! Thank you so much for writing it! Hope I can fill one of your prompts someday!
Reply
Leave a comment