Who Took the Ram From the Ramalamadingdong?
Okay...here it goes.
This is my entry for the Two Line Challenge (it's kind of late but Word was being stupid and kept closing when I opened it) and before I send it in, I want your guys opinions because I don't want it to suck.
Title: The Beauty Above
Author: consecutive_
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 846
Summary: The rain becomes a rhythmic beat. House and Cameron are falling and neither is prepared for the impact.
A/N: Not to mcuh to say. THis may not make sense but I thought it fit the lyrics pretty well. Just read and comment. Thanks!
--
i'm a rocket ship on my way to mars
on a collision course
-queen, don't stop me now
--
She stares at her hands and tries to pretend that she doesn’t realize he is looking at her while he speaks. She pretends that she doesn’t mind when he directs a question in her direction. She pretends that this doesn’t bother her. She pretends that she is perfectly alright while in reality, she wants to go home and crawl under the covers of her bed and pretend as if it was his fault. That all of it was his fault.
She pretends that she isn’t falling apart.
--
They’re sweating and panting and she wants to scream at him for being such an asshole. Instead, she takes his lips in a passionate fury that leaves her lips looking like a swollen tomato.
"I hate you," she hisses as he bites her neck gently.
This is what it has come down too. Harsh words and acts that both of them will deny tomorrow. They're a trainwreck waiting to happen yet neither of them can come to give up the other. Neither of them could sacrifice the angry kisses and the fury of ripping clothes in the bathroom on the second floor that's been out of order for weeks. Neither could admit that they needed each the other. It's a world full of 'neithers' and 'never going'.
It's the world they've become accustomed to.
"I know," he replies just as she bites her lip to muffle a scream.
--
He sits in his office and tosses a ball into the air, catching it without any thought at all. Throw and catch, throw and catch; up and down. It’s a simple pattern that repeats itself over and over again until the ball manages to escape his grasp and fall to the floor, rolling innocently towards the door.
Towards a pair of shoes.
He glances up and meets her gaze. She looks so small, so vulnerable, like a small child or some other innocent thing. He doesn’t say anything and simply stares at her, an amused expression on his face. He waits for her to speak.
She stands there.
He knows that this is going to end up blowing up in the end. He knows that one of them is going to walk out of here, maybe even stomp, in a frustrated rage. He knows this and doesn’t say anything. He simply waits. And waits. And waits.
Her shoulders straighten and she pulls herself up to her full height, trying to look intimidating and failing horribly. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and opens her mouth.
“We need to talk.”
Those four words send his mind into a panic. He’s seen enough episodes of the OC to know that when someone says ‘we need to talk’ it’s never a good sign. He sighs and stands up, groping for his cane which is resting on the desk to prevent himself from falling from the pain.
“‘We’ don’t need to do anything,” he states and brushes past her with such ease it makes her think that he’s done it before.
Before she can say a word, he’s halfway to the elevators.
--
She's sitting on his piano bench and he's drinking a glass of god-knows-what. It's raining and both of them are staring at the floor; his shirt rumpled, her skirt a good inch higher then it should be.
She looks up just as he finishes downing the last of his drink. He avoids her gaze and limps over to the other side of the piano, making her turn around just to see his face. He sits and plays an unknown tune full of awkward sadness that makes her turn away slightly.
"We can't keep doing this," she whispers when he finishes.
He merely nods and continues to play. She's getting frustrated and he doesn't notice. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, just as her mother taught her to do when her temper was about to flare up. 'Just breathe, honey,' her mother would say and she would comply, seeing that it truly helped things. But never as much as you wanted it to.
He continues his haunting melody and she's losing her patience.
"How can you just act like that?" she asks and he looks at her, his tune never wavering.
"Like what? A jerk? It's my nature," he replies and she's silent.
The rain becomes a rhythmic beat.
--
"Cameron!"
She looks up and sees Foreman, Chase, and him looking at her, waiting for her to answer. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times and she's not sure what's been going on for the past ten minutes.
"Pay attention and stop staring at your shoes," he tells her, "They're not that fascinating."
He turns back to the whiteboard. Chase stiffles a laugh and Foreman just looks at her with deep sympathy. She looks away and focuses on what he has to say, pretending that she doesn't see their looks and can hear their sniggers. She just gazes at the him and he goes on, as if he didn't even address her in the first place.
This is what they have become.
fin.
Well, there it is! Kind of short but I like it like that. Comment please!
(And yes, I'm listening to Kanye West. He's the only rapper I can actually stand. Plus, it's a good song.)
This is my entry for the Two Line Challenge (it's kind of late but Word was being stupid and kept closing when I opened it) and before I send it in, I want your guys opinions because I don't want it to suck.
Title: The Beauty Above
Author: consecutive_
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 846
Summary: The rain becomes a rhythmic beat. House and Cameron are falling and neither is prepared for the impact.
A/N: Not to mcuh to say. THis may not make sense but I thought it fit the lyrics pretty well. Just read and comment. Thanks!
--
i'm a rocket ship on my way to mars
on a collision course
-queen, don't stop me now
--
She stares at her hands and tries to pretend that she doesn’t realize he is looking at her while he speaks. She pretends that she doesn’t mind when he directs a question in her direction. She pretends that this doesn’t bother her. She pretends that she is perfectly alright while in reality, she wants to go home and crawl under the covers of her bed and pretend as if it was his fault. That all of it was his fault.
She pretends that she isn’t falling apart.
--
They’re sweating and panting and she wants to scream at him for being such an asshole. Instead, she takes his lips in a passionate fury that leaves her lips looking like a swollen tomato.
"I hate you," she hisses as he bites her neck gently.
This is what it has come down too. Harsh words and acts that both of them will deny tomorrow. They're a trainwreck waiting to happen yet neither of them can come to give up the other. Neither of them could sacrifice the angry kisses and the fury of ripping clothes in the bathroom on the second floor that's been out of order for weeks. Neither could admit that they needed each the other. It's a world full of 'neithers' and 'never going'.
It's the world they've become accustomed to.
"I know," he replies just as she bites her lip to muffle a scream.
--
He sits in his office and tosses a ball into the air, catching it without any thought at all. Throw and catch, throw and catch; up and down. It’s a simple pattern that repeats itself over and over again until the ball manages to escape his grasp and fall to the floor, rolling innocently towards the door.
Towards a pair of shoes.
He glances up and meets her gaze. She looks so small, so vulnerable, like a small child or some other innocent thing. He doesn’t say anything and simply stares at her, an amused expression on his face. He waits for her to speak.
She stands there.
He knows that this is going to end up blowing up in the end. He knows that one of them is going to walk out of here, maybe even stomp, in a frustrated rage. He knows this and doesn’t say anything. He simply waits. And waits. And waits.
Her shoulders straighten and she pulls herself up to her full height, trying to look intimidating and failing horribly. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and opens her mouth.
“We need to talk.”
Those four words send his mind into a panic. He’s seen enough episodes of the OC to know that when someone says ‘we need to talk’ it’s never a good sign. He sighs and stands up, groping for his cane which is resting on the desk to prevent himself from falling from the pain.
“‘We’ don’t need to do anything,” he states and brushes past her with such ease it makes her think that he’s done it before.
Before she can say a word, he’s halfway to the elevators.
--
She's sitting on his piano bench and he's drinking a glass of god-knows-what. It's raining and both of them are staring at the floor; his shirt rumpled, her skirt a good inch higher then it should be.
She looks up just as he finishes downing the last of his drink. He avoids her gaze and limps over to the other side of the piano, making her turn around just to see his face. He sits and plays an unknown tune full of awkward sadness that makes her turn away slightly.
"We can't keep doing this," she whispers when he finishes.
He merely nods and continues to play. She's getting frustrated and he doesn't notice. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, just as her mother taught her to do when her temper was about to flare up. 'Just breathe, honey,' her mother would say and she would comply, seeing that it truly helped things. But never as much as you wanted it to.
He continues his haunting melody and she's losing her patience.
"How can you just act like that?" she asks and he looks at her, his tune never wavering.
"Like what? A jerk? It's my nature," he replies and she's silent.
The rain becomes a rhythmic beat.
--
"Cameron!"
She looks up and sees Foreman, Chase, and him looking at her, waiting for her to answer. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times and she's not sure what's been going on for the past ten minutes.
"Pay attention and stop staring at your shoes," he tells her, "They're not that fascinating."
He turns back to the whiteboard. Chase stiffles a laugh and Foreman just looks at her with deep sympathy. She looks away and focuses on what he has to say, pretending that she doesn't see their looks and can hear their sniggers. She just gazes at the him and he goes on, as if he didn't even address her in the first place.
This is what they have become.
fin.
Well, there it is! Kind of short but I like it like that. Comment please!
(And yes, I'm listening to Kanye West. He's the only rapper I can actually stand. Plus, it's a good song.)