Time Warp
**Edit: I looked over this quickly to make sure I hadn't screwed up any html, and realized I had posted the un-betad version. >.< It's fixed now.**
Thank you to peak_in_darien for being my lovely beta! It would be better, actually, except I didn't fix the last things she pointed out to me. I've read this thing over too many times to count, and I'm done with it. If I read it one more time, my head shall explode from the repetition.
First, just a warning so you don't get confused. It starts out in one time period and kind of melts into the next. There's really nothing to mark when the time changes, so you only realize it when the action/dialogue doesn't match the situation anymore. That was the basis of this whole fic, the idea of trying that out.
TITLE: Time Warp
AUTHOR: Cuddlyfruit
FANDOM: Real life!
PAIRING: Hugh/Stephen
RATING: R
WARNINGS: Character death! Angst! Also fluff. Inbetween deaths… Yes.
SUMMARY: First meetings, puppies, kinky sex, marriage, children, cheating, and how they're linked together. An experiment in style.
DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, it never happened. Thankfully. I don't own Hugh Laurie or Stephen Fry, though I'd love it if I did. Never even met them.
NOTES: 2,311 words. This and my other fics can be found in my journal. I blame this on Oliver Twist because of all the death. Blame Dickens! Blame Dickens! …I'm still horrible for writing this. (Also. Don't actually blame Dickens.) Oh, also, this belongs in some universe I've never created before… I'm not sure what universe it is, though. And hopefully it never becomes real.
Stephen stands still and quiet, the door's shadow draped around him like a cloak.
It isn't possible.
*****
"You're perfect for each other," Emma explained, flinging her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers. "Similar humor, but different enough that anything you join together to write will end up a masterpiece. I promise you."
A small group of girls called to Emma. Stephen took the chance to look this boy over. He was tall, slim, and slightly gangly. Bright blue eyes. Short, messy hair. An awkward stance. He wore a brightly colored, flower print shirt, tucked into his tight, very tight, black pants. Very tight. Stephen wrenched his eyes upwards, peering innocently into the bright blue eyes. Hugh looked as if he wasn't sure whether to cower or laugh.
"Well, Hugh Laurie, it's a great pleasure to meet you." A very great pleasure, Stephen thought, shaking Hugh's hand and pondering the pleasing idea of licking those long fingers.
Hugh smiled softly and peered down at his toes, squeezing Stephen's hand gently before pulling it away. "Come in, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you," Stephen followed him in, eyes roaming that firm, leanly muscled back through the shirt. "What did you think of the ideas I had?"
"Oh, I looked them over and they're very good!"
Stephen started and guiltily lifted his eyes upwards when Hugh spun suddenly around. The boy was smiling in a way he rarely did in public, a smile that livened his whole being. Almost every other smile he had seen on Hugh had been slight and weak, uncomfortable. Stephen felt pleased to have been the cause, but slightly worried for himself. He hoped he wasn't falling for this boy. That would be disastrous.
"I actually had an idea," Hugh said, motioning wildly with his hands. "It was similar to yours, but different. I think if we combined them together, they could be very funny."
"Would you like to show me this idea?" Stephen took a step forward, smiling and forcing his eyes to remain above Hugh's stomach.
"Yes, yes," Hugh strode to the desk and began searching through papers. "Here they are."
Stephen loomed up close behind him, so close he barely dared to breathe for fear of brushing against Hugh and losing control. Hugh straightened up from over the desk and turned his head in surprise when he bumped against Stephen's front. He blinked, mouth open, and looked at Stephen's eyes, then down to where they were pressed together. Cheeks coloring, he quickly turned to face the desk again, fidgeting with the papers in front of him.
"Mm, yes, very interesting, Hugh," Stephen said, moving his head forward slightly to kiss gently at the nape of his neck.
"Again, Stephen??" Hugh sighed dramatically, turning around and wrapping his arms around Stephen's waist, pulling them close together. "We've only just recovered from the last bout of wild sex, and we really do need to work on these skits. We're too far behind. The show won't have enough to fill it up completely."
"We could kiss," Stephen suggested, smirking. "They'd find that hilarious. We could even have sex."
"It might work for the first minute or so, but I don't think they're that gullible." Hugh slipped a hand up Stephen's shirt and began gently touching up his side. "They'd soon realize that it was real. They'd all walk out and we'd be out of business."
"Most of them would walk out, yes," Stephen agreed mildly, leaning over to nibble softly at Hugh's neck. "But I'm sure there'd be some that stayed to watch the rest of the show. I would if I were them." Stephen traced a hand down Hugh's stomach, down, down, down, gold.
"Stephen!" Hugh frowned at him. "Please, please, please? I really want one."
"But Hugh," Stephen frowned back at him. "We don't have time for a puppy."
"You mean you don't have time for a puppy." Hugh turned, pouting, back to petting the black, mop-haired puppy. "You're always away, busy, and I'm always left alone."
"Hugh, dearest," he tenderly stroked a finger against the back of his neck. "You know I'm around as much as I can be. It's not my fault you won't take the jobs offered to you."
"You mean the jobs you offer to me," Hugh replied bitterly. "None of them actually want me on there. They only offer because you convince them. They know they have a better chance of keeping you if they give in and let me join in as well."
"Well, is there anything wrong with that?" he asked, drawing his hand away.
"Did you ever think, Stephen," Hugh began quietly, stroking his thumb from the tip of the puppy's nose all the way back to its shoulder blades, "that maybe I'd like to be wanted for myself?"
Stephen wondered if there was more meaning to that than the obvious.
"Everybody loves you, Hugh." He turned away. "So this was inevitable. I knew it was going to happen."
"Stephen, please. Don't be this way," Hugh pleaded, reaching out a hand to stroke his shoulder blade. "Please understand. I was so lonely. You were always gone, too busy for me. I slept in bed alone. I ate my meals alone. I played my piano alone. I was always alone, Stephen."
"And then she came along," Stephen said, turning to look at him again.
"Yes," Hugh said, barely audible. "And then she came along. She would take me out for breakfast. She sat beside me while I played piano. Sometimes she tried to play along with me, even though she didn't know the songs." Hugh smiled slightly. Stephen turned back around so he wouldn't see it. "She started staying over at night. She slept in my bed, Stephen. I wasn't alone any more. I began to love her."
"And I'm sure you'll love her in marriage as well."
"I will love her very much." Hugh's voice cracked slightly. "And my child as well."
Stephen spun around. "What did you just say?"
"She's pregnant, Stephen." Hugh smiled weakly, then turned his gaze to the bed. "We've been married two years, she's carrying my second child, and yet all I really want to do is curl up in bed with you. Does that make me bad? What would my son think? He's only two, Stephen. What would he think?"
"Shh." Stephen pulled Hugh close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "It's alright, Hugh."
"What am I supposed to do, Stephen?" Hugh asked, breath hitching. "I don't know what to do."
"You should…" Stephen paused, unsure what to say. He could feel his shirt becoming damp with Hugh's tears.
"Tell me, Stephen," Hugh whispered. "Tell me what to do, because I really don't know."
"I think you should take the role."
"I don't know, Stephen."
"Please, Hugh?" He stuck his bottom lip out and widened his eyes. "Pretty please with kinky sex on top?"
"How kinky?" Hugh asked, grinning. "If it's full-on bondage, whipping, and blood-play kinky, then count me in. Otherwise there's no deal."
"Any amount of kinky you'd like, dearest," Stephen said, reaching over to twist his fingers in Hugh's belt loops and tugging him closer. "We could even try it on the set. I hear there's a scene in which my character is in a bed." Stephen didn't mention the woman in bed with him, but he wasn't having sex with her, so there was no reason to feel guilty.
"Hm, well, that sounds nice," Hugh said, studying Stephen.
"What sounds even nicer is the idea of secretly ravishing you on every table, chair, and bed on the set." Stephen kissed him gently. "I'd especially love to do it on the director's chair."
"We still haven't done anything on the set of Jeeves and Wooster," he said, breathing in deeply as Stephen pressed his lower body against him. "Other than in the bathtub. Which was a bit creepy, by the way, with that little rubber duck watching us the whole time…"
"Mm, but it was fun," Stephen laughed, fingering the top button of Hugh's jeans. "Hugh, dearest, I wish you would wear your kilt on days like these."
"What do you mean, days like these?" Hugh rolled his eyes, letting himself be propelled backwards to the sofa. "This is exactly like any other day. I'm sorry if I can't predict the days of unceasing sex, Stephen."
"As you should be. Now stay still a moment."
Stephen pressed Hugh backwards until he hit the arm of the sofa and toppled easily backwards, legs hanging off. He let his eyes wander over that long body, still but for heaving chest. Hugh was so obedient sometimes. He placed his hand on Hugh's hipbones and gently slid his fingers upwards. Up and up, taking the hem of the shirt with him, until a long expanse of pale skin was revealed. He watched Hugh's chest rise and fall with breath.
Leaning over, he placed several tiny kisses in his favorite places. The belly button, of course. Both nipples, which had Hugh squirming slightly. The bottom of Hugh's ribs, where he could feel the bones sloping apart, leaving behind soft flesh. The right side, where lived a tiny, almost invisible scar.
"You're always so gentle with me," Hugh murmured softly.
"Do you not like this?" Stephen asked, pausing in the middle of a knot.
"It's not that." Hugh said.
"Then what?" He asked, shivering slightly as Hugh leaned upwards and pressed his lips to Stephen's ribs, breathing softly in and out.
"I just don't see how this will work," Hugh said, letting himself drop back down and tugging experimentally at the bonds. "You're too cautious. You worry about me too much. The ties will press into my skin and you'll take them off."
"I won't," Stephen replied, staunchly continuing to knot. "At least not that easily."
"Of course not." Hugh's lips twitched.
"Right, your hands are bound," Stephen said, backing nervously up. "Now what?"
"Now you do what you want with me." Hugh arched provocatively.
Stephen climbed gently to straddle Hugh's waist. He stroked his fingers over Hugh's chest and stomach, reveling in the movement beneath his fingertips, the warmth.
"Tell me if I hurt you," Stephen whispered, reaching down to stroke himself, then Hugh. "Tell me if you want to stop."
"I will, Stephen." Hugh drew in a shuddering breath, eyes closing.
"I don't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Never."
"I know, Stephen." Hugh moved a few steps away. "But you have."
"I'm sorry, Hugh." Stephen tried to catch Hugh's eye. "Please look at me, dearest."
"Did you call him that?" Hugh asked, drawing further away. "Did you call him dearest? Did you stroke your fingers over his ribs after sex? Did you kiss his sides? Did you tell him that he was beautiful?"
"Hugh, please, stop," Stephen begged softly, wanting to look away from the shattered blue eyes but afraid to. Afraid to lose Hugh to something he couldn't identify.
"I don't understand, Stephen." Hugh turned away, resting his palms against the tabletop. "I don't understand how you could… With him. I just don't understand."
"You were away." Stephen stepped tentatively forward, again, again, again, until he was softly touching Hugh's shoulder blade. "You were in America and I was lonely. I needed someone to be there, and you were so far away."
"I have to go, Stephen." Hugh wrenched himself away and stumbled towards the door. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Hugh."
Stephen watched, helplessly, as the door swung shut. It was opening, that door. Slowly, creaking, to reveal pitch black. He just needed to talk to Hugh before he left again. Apologize one more time. Beg for forgiveness one more time.
He stepped forward, carefully maneuvering around vague black shapes. There was a soft yellow light emanating from the space beneath a door. The bedroom. He stepped quietly forward and pushed with the tips of his fingers. Gently, it revealed.
It isn't possible.
Stephen took a stumbling step forward, choking, falling to his knees. He scrabbled desperately forward, struggling to reach… If he could only… It wasn't… He would be okay. Hugh would be okay. He just had to touch him. To hug him. To kiss him.
Too much blood.
He ignored that voice, finally reaching Hugh. He was lying beside the wall, eyes closed and body still. Blood spattered the wall behind him. Blood spattered that beautiful face. He refused to look at the gaping, gruesome hole, or the black, glistening gun clutched in hand.
"Hugh," Stephen whispered. "Dearest. Hugh. Please. Open your eyes. Wake up. Please. I've come to apologize."
Stephen gently reached out and touched Hugh's cheek. Cold. He pulled back, hand shaking, to find smears of blood on his fingertips. He scooted gently forward and pressed a hand against that cold, still chest. The ribs were hard and steadfast. He lifted the hem of Hugh's shirt, leaning gently down to press a kiss against the scar on his side. Still no movement.
Shaking, confused, hurting. Stephen stood slowly, then reached down and wrapped his arms around Hugh's chest. Gently, careful not to grasp too tightly lest he prevent invisible breathing, he hefted him up and gently propelled him towards the bed. The gun dropped to the floor, halfway between the wall and the bed. Hugh was soon settled beneath the covers.
Stephen retrieved the gun, holding the cold, still metal. He climbed into bed on Hugh's right, suddenly shivering. Perhaps one more try… One last attempt…
"One kiss, and you'll awaken," Stephen whispered.
He pressed his lips to Hugh's. When he pulled back, he could taste the tang of blood. Hugh did not move.
Choking back a sob, Stephen lied back. He wrapped his left arm under Hugh's waist and pulled him closer. He brought the gun up. He looked at Hugh and pressed the trigger.
*****
Also posted:
http://www.livejournal.com/community/fryandorlaurie/91893.html
Thank you to peak_in_darien for being my lovely beta! It would be better, actually, except I didn't fix the last things she pointed out to me. I've read this thing over too many times to count, and I'm done with it. If I read it one more time, my head shall explode from the repetition.
First, just a warning so you don't get confused. It starts out in one time period and kind of melts into the next. There's really nothing to mark when the time changes, so you only realize it when the action/dialogue doesn't match the situation anymore. That was the basis of this whole fic, the idea of trying that out.
TITLE: Time Warp
AUTHOR: Cuddlyfruit
FANDOM: Real life!
PAIRING: Hugh/Stephen
RATING: R
WARNINGS: Character death! Angst! Also fluff. Inbetween deaths… Yes.
SUMMARY: First meetings, puppies, kinky sex, marriage, children, cheating, and how they're linked together. An experiment in style.
DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, it never happened. Thankfully. I don't own Hugh Laurie or Stephen Fry, though I'd love it if I did. Never even met them.
NOTES: 2,311 words. This and my other fics can be found in my journal. I blame this on Oliver Twist because of all the death. Blame Dickens! Blame Dickens! …I'm still horrible for writing this. (Also. Don't actually blame Dickens.) Oh, also, this belongs in some universe I've never created before… I'm not sure what universe it is, though. And hopefully it never becomes real.
Stephen stands still and quiet, the door's shadow draped around him like a cloak.
It isn't possible.
*****
"You're perfect for each other," Emma explained, flinging her hands in the air and wiggling her fingers. "Similar humor, but different enough that anything you join together to write will end up a masterpiece. I promise you."
A small group of girls called to Emma. Stephen took the chance to look this boy over. He was tall, slim, and slightly gangly. Bright blue eyes. Short, messy hair. An awkward stance. He wore a brightly colored, flower print shirt, tucked into his tight, very tight, black pants. Very tight. Stephen wrenched his eyes upwards, peering innocently into the bright blue eyes. Hugh looked as if he wasn't sure whether to cower or laugh.
"Well, Hugh Laurie, it's a great pleasure to meet you." A very great pleasure, Stephen thought, shaking Hugh's hand and pondering the pleasing idea of licking those long fingers.
Hugh smiled softly and peered down at his toes, squeezing Stephen's hand gently before pulling it away. "Come in, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you," Stephen followed him in, eyes roaming that firm, leanly muscled back through the shirt. "What did you think of the ideas I had?"
"Oh, I looked them over and they're very good!"
Stephen started and guiltily lifted his eyes upwards when Hugh spun suddenly around. The boy was smiling in a way he rarely did in public, a smile that livened his whole being. Almost every other smile he had seen on Hugh had been slight and weak, uncomfortable. Stephen felt pleased to have been the cause, but slightly worried for himself. He hoped he wasn't falling for this boy. That would be disastrous.
"I actually had an idea," Hugh said, motioning wildly with his hands. "It was similar to yours, but different. I think if we combined them together, they could be very funny."
"Would you like to show me this idea?" Stephen took a step forward, smiling and forcing his eyes to remain above Hugh's stomach.
"Yes, yes," Hugh strode to the desk and began searching through papers. "Here they are."
Stephen loomed up close behind him, so close he barely dared to breathe for fear of brushing against Hugh and losing control. Hugh straightened up from over the desk and turned his head in surprise when he bumped against Stephen's front. He blinked, mouth open, and looked at Stephen's eyes, then down to where they were pressed together. Cheeks coloring, he quickly turned to face the desk again, fidgeting with the papers in front of him.
"Mm, yes, very interesting, Hugh," Stephen said, moving his head forward slightly to kiss gently at the nape of his neck.
"Again, Stephen??" Hugh sighed dramatically, turning around and wrapping his arms around Stephen's waist, pulling them close together. "We've only just recovered from the last bout of wild sex, and we really do need to work on these skits. We're too far behind. The show won't have enough to fill it up completely."
"We could kiss," Stephen suggested, smirking. "They'd find that hilarious. We could even have sex."
"It might work for the first minute or so, but I don't think they're that gullible." Hugh slipped a hand up Stephen's shirt and began gently touching up his side. "They'd soon realize that it was real. They'd all walk out and we'd be out of business."
"Most of them would walk out, yes," Stephen agreed mildly, leaning over to nibble softly at Hugh's neck. "But I'm sure there'd be some that stayed to watch the rest of the show. I would if I were them." Stephen traced a hand down Hugh's stomach, down, down, down, gold.
"Stephen!" Hugh frowned at him. "Please, please, please? I really want one."
"But Hugh," Stephen frowned back at him. "We don't have time for a puppy."
"You mean you don't have time for a puppy." Hugh turned, pouting, back to petting the black, mop-haired puppy. "You're always away, busy, and I'm always left alone."
"Hugh, dearest," he tenderly stroked a finger against the back of his neck. "You know I'm around as much as I can be. It's not my fault you won't take the jobs offered to you."
"You mean the jobs you offer to me," Hugh replied bitterly. "None of them actually want me on there. They only offer because you convince them. They know they have a better chance of keeping you if they give in and let me join in as well."
"Well, is there anything wrong with that?" he asked, drawing his hand away.
"Did you ever think, Stephen," Hugh began quietly, stroking his thumb from the tip of the puppy's nose all the way back to its shoulder blades, "that maybe I'd like to be wanted for myself?"
Stephen wondered if there was more meaning to that than the obvious.
"Everybody loves you, Hugh." He turned away. "So this was inevitable. I knew it was going to happen."
"Stephen, please. Don't be this way," Hugh pleaded, reaching out a hand to stroke his shoulder blade. "Please understand. I was so lonely. You were always gone, too busy for me. I slept in bed alone. I ate my meals alone. I played my piano alone. I was always alone, Stephen."
"And then she came along," Stephen said, turning to look at him again.
"Yes," Hugh said, barely audible. "And then she came along. She would take me out for breakfast. She sat beside me while I played piano. Sometimes she tried to play along with me, even though she didn't know the songs." Hugh smiled slightly. Stephen turned back around so he wouldn't see it. "She started staying over at night. She slept in my bed, Stephen. I wasn't alone any more. I began to love her."
"And I'm sure you'll love her in marriage as well."
"I will love her very much." Hugh's voice cracked slightly. "And my child as well."
Stephen spun around. "What did you just say?"
"She's pregnant, Stephen." Hugh smiled weakly, then turned his gaze to the bed. "We've been married two years, she's carrying my second child, and yet all I really want to do is curl up in bed with you. Does that make me bad? What would my son think? He's only two, Stephen. What would he think?"
"Shh." Stephen pulled Hugh close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "It's alright, Hugh."
"What am I supposed to do, Stephen?" Hugh asked, breath hitching. "I don't know what to do."
"You should…" Stephen paused, unsure what to say. He could feel his shirt becoming damp with Hugh's tears.
"Tell me, Stephen," Hugh whispered. "Tell me what to do, because I really don't know."
"I think you should take the role."
"I don't know, Stephen."
"Please, Hugh?" He stuck his bottom lip out and widened his eyes. "Pretty please with kinky sex on top?"
"How kinky?" Hugh asked, grinning. "If it's full-on bondage, whipping, and blood-play kinky, then count me in. Otherwise there's no deal."
"Any amount of kinky you'd like, dearest," Stephen said, reaching over to twist his fingers in Hugh's belt loops and tugging him closer. "We could even try it on the set. I hear there's a scene in which my character is in a bed." Stephen didn't mention the woman in bed with him, but he wasn't having sex with her, so there was no reason to feel guilty.
"Hm, well, that sounds nice," Hugh said, studying Stephen.
"What sounds even nicer is the idea of secretly ravishing you on every table, chair, and bed on the set." Stephen kissed him gently. "I'd especially love to do it on the director's chair."
"We still haven't done anything on the set of Jeeves and Wooster," he said, breathing in deeply as Stephen pressed his lower body against him. "Other than in the bathtub. Which was a bit creepy, by the way, with that little rubber duck watching us the whole time…"
"Mm, but it was fun," Stephen laughed, fingering the top button of Hugh's jeans. "Hugh, dearest, I wish you would wear your kilt on days like these."
"What do you mean, days like these?" Hugh rolled his eyes, letting himself be propelled backwards to the sofa. "This is exactly like any other day. I'm sorry if I can't predict the days of unceasing sex, Stephen."
"As you should be. Now stay still a moment."
Stephen pressed Hugh backwards until he hit the arm of the sofa and toppled easily backwards, legs hanging off. He let his eyes wander over that long body, still but for heaving chest. Hugh was so obedient sometimes. He placed his hand on Hugh's hipbones and gently slid his fingers upwards. Up and up, taking the hem of the shirt with him, until a long expanse of pale skin was revealed. He watched Hugh's chest rise and fall with breath.
Leaning over, he placed several tiny kisses in his favorite places. The belly button, of course. Both nipples, which had Hugh squirming slightly. The bottom of Hugh's ribs, where he could feel the bones sloping apart, leaving behind soft flesh. The right side, where lived a tiny, almost invisible scar.
"You're always so gentle with me," Hugh murmured softly.
"Do you not like this?" Stephen asked, pausing in the middle of a knot.
"It's not that." Hugh said.
"Then what?" He asked, shivering slightly as Hugh leaned upwards and pressed his lips to Stephen's ribs, breathing softly in and out.
"I just don't see how this will work," Hugh said, letting himself drop back down and tugging experimentally at the bonds. "You're too cautious. You worry about me too much. The ties will press into my skin and you'll take them off."
"I won't," Stephen replied, staunchly continuing to knot. "At least not that easily."
"Of course not." Hugh's lips twitched.
"Right, your hands are bound," Stephen said, backing nervously up. "Now what?"
"Now you do what you want with me." Hugh arched provocatively.
Stephen climbed gently to straddle Hugh's waist. He stroked his fingers over Hugh's chest and stomach, reveling in the movement beneath his fingertips, the warmth.
"Tell me if I hurt you," Stephen whispered, reaching down to stroke himself, then Hugh. "Tell me if you want to stop."
"I will, Stephen." Hugh drew in a shuddering breath, eyes closing.
"I don't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt you. Never."
"I know, Stephen." Hugh moved a few steps away. "But you have."
"I'm sorry, Hugh." Stephen tried to catch Hugh's eye. "Please look at me, dearest."
"Did you call him that?" Hugh asked, drawing further away. "Did you call him dearest? Did you stroke your fingers over his ribs after sex? Did you kiss his sides? Did you tell him that he was beautiful?"
"Hugh, please, stop," Stephen begged softly, wanting to look away from the shattered blue eyes but afraid to. Afraid to lose Hugh to something he couldn't identify.
"I don't understand, Stephen." Hugh turned away, resting his palms against the tabletop. "I don't understand how you could… With him. I just don't understand."
"You were away." Stephen stepped tentatively forward, again, again, again, until he was softly touching Hugh's shoulder blade. "You were in America and I was lonely. I needed someone to be there, and you were so far away."
"I have to go, Stephen." Hugh wrenched himself away and stumbled towards the door. "Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Hugh."
Stephen watched, helplessly, as the door swung shut. It was opening, that door. Slowly, creaking, to reveal pitch black. He just needed to talk to Hugh before he left again. Apologize one more time. Beg for forgiveness one more time.
He stepped forward, carefully maneuvering around vague black shapes. There was a soft yellow light emanating from the space beneath a door. The bedroom. He stepped quietly forward and pushed with the tips of his fingers. Gently, it revealed.
It isn't possible.
Stephen took a stumbling step forward, choking, falling to his knees. He scrabbled desperately forward, struggling to reach… If he could only… It wasn't… He would be okay. Hugh would be okay. He just had to touch him. To hug him. To kiss him.
Too much blood.
He ignored that voice, finally reaching Hugh. He was lying beside the wall, eyes closed and body still. Blood spattered the wall behind him. Blood spattered that beautiful face. He refused to look at the gaping, gruesome hole, or the black, glistening gun clutched in hand.
"Hugh," Stephen whispered. "Dearest. Hugh. Please. Open your eyes. Wake up. Please. I've come to apologize."
Stephen gently reached out and touched Hugh's cheek. Cold. He pulled back, hand shaking, to find smears of blood on his fingertips. He scooted gently forward and pressed a hand against that cold, still chest. The ribs were hard and steadfast. He lifted the hem of Hugh's shirt, leaning gently down to press a kiss against the scar on his side. Still no movement.
Shaking, confused, hurting. Stephen stood slowly, then reached down and wrapped his arms around Hugh's chest. Gently, careful not to grasp too tightly lest he prevent invisible breathing, he hefted him up and gently propelled him towards the bed. The gun dropped to the floor, halfway between the wall and the bed. Hugh was soon settled beneath the covers.
Stephen retrieved the gun, holding the cold, still metal. He climbed into bed on Hugh's right, suddenly shivering. Perhaps one more try… One last attempt…
"One kiss, and you'll awaken," Stephen whispered.
He pressed his lips to Hugh's. When he pulled back, he could taste the tang of blood. Hugh did not move.
Choking back a sob, Stephen lied back. He wrapped his left arm under Hugh's waist and pulled him closer. He brought the gun up. He looked at Hugh and pressed the trigger.
*****
Also posted:
http://www.livejournal.com/community/fryandorlaurie/91893.html