An Open Sky Of Redemption [PG-13]
[title] An Open Sky Of Redemption
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] None. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/Kyle Peek
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 375
[summary] He can't look at it anymore, though his mind is going constantly back to the words imprinted on the fine paper sheet, right under the flowers and the rings and the birds flying in perfect formation.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook, Neal Tiemann nor Andy Skib. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst.
[author's notes] Written for ficforhope and for prompt #97 ~ writer's choice ~ invitation from my 100_prompts prompt table.
The invitation lies open on the table. He can't look at it anymore, though his mind is going constantly back to the words imprinted on the fine paper sheet, right under the flowers and the rings and the birds flying in perfect formation.
His thoughts are a mess, they scream at him and whisper at him at the same time, a choir of voices confusing him as he stands still in the middle of the kitchen. The clock ticks away the time, slowly but surely making it pass right by his side as he remains quiet and motionless.
The sun that filters through the window pane pains him. It hits him right in the eyes, blinding him, but he doesn't mind. He stopped feeling anything when he realized how impossible his dreams were.
He's been told that one single person can't have everything, that success comes holding failure by the hand. He never believed it - for him, life had been a succession of failures until one big success changed it all and made the road less bumpy. But now, now, he believes, because this same success that gave him so much happiness has already taken the only thing he swore he would never let go of. If this is the price to pay for falling in love, he's ready to give up. The hurt and the ache aren't worth all the fuss. The grief is too much to bear.
He finally moves toward the fridge. Upon opening its door, he finds his stack of beers. He reaches out, picks one, and closes the fridge again. He doesn't care about it bring only ten in the morning. He just wants to forget - he wants to stop recalling the sound of that voice calling his name, the way those fingers mapped out his body, the way that heart beat against his in perfect synch.
He swallows down his pain and his heartache along with the alcohol. And on the table, torn and wrinkled and cried on, still lies the same invitation, as the clock announces its time obliviously.
Hayden Peek would like to invite you to the wedding of his parents, Kyle and Nicole, that will take place in our back yard next June 4th at 11.
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] None. Any mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/Kyle Peek
[rating] PG-13
[word count] 375
[summary] He can't look at it anymore, though his mind is going constantly back to the words imprinted on the fine paper sheet, right under the flowers and the rings and the birds flying in perfect formation.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook, Neal Tiemann nor Andy Skib. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst.
[author's notes] Written for ficforhope and for prompt #97 ~ writer's choice ~ invitation from my 100_prompts prompt table.
The invitation lies open on the table. He can't look at it anymore, though his mind is going constantly back to the words imprinted on the fine paper sheet, right under the flowers and the rings and the birds flying in perfect formation.
His thoughts are a mess, they scream at him and whisper at him at the same time, a choir of voices confusing him as he stands still in the middle of the kitchen. The clock ticks away the time, slowly but surely making it pass right by his side as he remains quiet and motionless.
The sun that filters through the window pane pains him. It hits him right in the eyes, blinding him, but he doesn't mind. He stopped feeling anything when he realized how impossible his dreams were.
He's been told that one single person can't have everything, that success comes holding failure by the hand. He never believed it - for him, life had been a succession of failures until one big success changed it all and made the road less bumpy. But now, now, he believes, because this same success that gave him so much happiness has already taken the only thing he swore he would never let go of. If this is the price to pay for falling in love, he's ready to give up. The hurt and the ache aren't worth all the fuss. The grief is too much to bear.
He finally moves toward the fridge. Upon opening its door, he finds his stack of beers. He reaches out, picks one, and closes the fridge again. He doesn't care about it bring only ten in the morning. He just wants to forget - he wants to stop recalling the sound of that voice calling his name, the way those fingers mapped out his body, the way that heart beat against his in perfect synch.
He swallows down his pain and his heartache along with the alcohol. And on the table, torn and wrinkled and cried on, still lies the same invitation, as the clock announces its time obliviously.
Hayden Peek would like to invite you to the wedding of his parents, Kyle and Nicole, that will take place in our back yard next June 4th at 11.