Drabble: "Mismatched Frames" (Lost;Sawyer)
Title: Mismatched Frames
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 293
Summary: Sawyer reflects on his glasses and Harry Potter
Rating: G
Characters: Sawyer
Author’s Notes: Well, if you haven't read Order of the Phoenix, 1)what the hell's stopping you? and 2)there's a spoiler in the story. In case you hadn't figured it out, there are also spoilers for "Deus Ex Machina"
He’s taken to walking with his head ducked, shoulders slumped a little more than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair falls down over his face, hiding his mismatched frames, and he thinks bad posture is a small price to pay for the humiliation he’s avoiding.
He’d never admit it, but he had read all of the Harry Potter books; before the island, he checked them out of the library, claiming they were for his nephew. He knew they were kids’ books, knew that his reputation demanded that he shouldn’t read them, but damned if they weren’t well written kids’ books. Hurley’s comment makes him remember; he remembers waiting for the library to get their copy of the latest one, remembers hiding the book behind the newspaper when he read in the park, remembers his disappointment, his shock when Sirius died.
Why couldn’t someone on the plane have been reading those books, instead of the high school English “classics”?
He sneaks into the caves a few days later, when Doc and Freckles aren’t around, and looks at himself in the small, broken mirror that’s hung on a tree. Half Poindexter, half granny, he feels like an idiot. He remembers that Harry Potter’s glasses were perpetually broken before he got to Hogwarts. He wonders if Harry ever felt like an idiot in broken glasses. He wonders why he even bothers to wear the damn things.
He feels like a fool.
But he’s a fool without headaches.
He shrugs and stands taller, pushes hair away from his face. He walks down the beach with his back straight, swaggers past the snickers, and nudges the frames back into place when they slide down his nose.
At least the crash didn’t leave him with a lightning-bolt scar.
Author: corellianjedi
Disclaimer: Not mine, I wish.
Words: 293
Summary: Sawyer reflects on his glasses and Harry Potter
Rating: G
Characters: Sawyer
Author’s Notes: Well, if you haven't read Order of the Phoenix, 1)what the hell's stopping you? and 2)there's a spoiler in the story. In case you hadn't figured it out, there are also spoilers for "Deus Ex Machina"
He’s taken to walking with his head ducked, shoulders slumped a little more than usual, hands stuffed in his pockets. His hair falls down over his face, hiding his mismatched frames, and he thinks bad posture is a small price to pay for the humiliation he’s avoiding.
He’d never admit it, but he had read all of the Harry Potter books; before the island, he checked them out of the library, claiming they were for his nephew. He knew they were kids’ books, knew that his reputation demanded that he shouldn’t read them, but damned if they weren’t well written kids’ books. Hurley’s comment makes him remember; he remembers waiting for the library to get their copy of the latest one, remembers hiding the book behind the newspaper when he read in the park, remembers his disappointment, his shock when Sirius died.
Why couldn’t someone on the plane have been reading those books, instead of the high school English “classics”?
He sneaks into the caves a few days later, when Doc and Freckles aren’t around, and looks at himself in the small, broken mirror that’s hung on a tree. Half Poindexter, half granny, he feels like an idiot. He remembers that Harry Potter’s glasses were perpetually broken before he got to Hogwarts. He wonders if Harry ever felt like an idiot in broken glasses. He wonders why he even bothers to wear the damn things.
He feels like a fool.
But he’s a fool without headaches.
He shrugs and stands taller, pushes hair away from his face. He walks down the beach with his back straight, swaggers past the snickers, and nudges the frames back into place when they slide down his nose.
At least the crash didn’t leave him with a lightning-bolt scar.