Breakin' Out The Angst Bunnies
So, here's my response finally to halfdutch's version of the 50-Day Fandom Challenge meme.
Title: The Used
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Notes: Non-smut Boone/Shannon that's basically from Boone's POV. Based on these song lyrics-
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I want to play the game
I want the friction
She’s a bitch.
He’s known that since they were just little kids, since the very first day they met. He’s known it since before he even knew the word “bitch”.
When things had started to get serious between his mom and her dad, their parents had figured it was high time they met. He really didn’t know what to expect. He liked his mom’s boyfriend; he was pretty cool. He asked him about school and stuff, and he bought him ice cream that one time they went to the park together. Maybe the ice cream was just to keep him distracted while his mom and the man sat down on the park bench and kissed so deep that he thought they were trying to eat each other, but he didn’t care. He went over by the sandbox and slowly ate his cone, making sure it didn’t drip on his face and make a mess. His mom hated that.
But one Saturday afternoon the boyfriend had come over, and he wasn’t alone. He had her with him. They brought her up to his room, and he looked up from where he had been playing with his Matchbox cars to see his mom’s boyfriend standing in the doorway, holding her hand. She was wearing a light pink dress and white socks with pink patent leathers. There was a silver butterfly necklace on her throat, and a pink sparkly butterfly clip in her blonde hair just above her ear, keeping it out of her eyes.
Even at eight years old, she’d been a fashion diva.
“Boone, this is Shannon,” his mom’s boyfriend had said. “She’s my daughter.” Boone didn’t say anything, not knowing what he was supposed to say. It never occurred to him that mother’s boyfriends might have kids of their own too. It seemed surreal somehow. “I want you two to play nice together, okay? Us grownups are gonna be downstairs.”
“Okay,” Boone said indifferently. He was used to being left alone while his mom and her boyfriend stayed downstairs, doing whatever it was they did. Probably more kissing. The boyfriend left, and Shannon just stood there, looking around his room. There was a funny sparkle in her blue eyes. Eventually, he would learn it was the look you had when you were special and you knew it. For some reason, Boone couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“You wanna play with my trucks?” Boone offered. Immediately, she scowled in distaste.
“I hate trucks,” Shannon announced. “Trucks are stupid.” Boone looked down at his toy cars and suddenly wanted to toss them out the window. He didn’t feel very good anymore. Kind of like a clod of mud, or a wadded-up piece of gum.
And then Shannon had asked him to help her with something she had to do for school. She was supposed to finger-paint something, only she hated finger-painting. So Boone got out his paints and made a butterfly for her on a piece of paper. It was a kind of wobbly butterfly, with antenna that were too thick and short, and one wing bigger than the other, but it was the best he could do. He knew it was his best too, because he worked really hard on it. Shannon had just made fun of him, but he wanted to please her, wanted to make her happy. Maybe he thought if he did, she would be nice to him instead of mean.
He should have known better. She didn’t do “nice”.
All those years had passed and things had come and gone, but that never really changed. They never really changed. She would put him down one minute and ask for something the next. He would do it, because he wanted to make her happy. And because there was still some part of him that was desperate for her approval, the one thing he would probably never have.
She's too good for him, too good for anybody. She knows it, and she revels in it.
When she has a new boyfriend, Boone feels sorry for him. Or at least, he tells himself he feels sorry for him. He’s seen it a million times before. She uses him and uses him for all he’s worth, and then trades him in for the upgraded model when she gets tired of his face. Boone acts like he feels pity for her poor, used little toys.
But what he really feels is jealousy. Used or not, they get to be close to her. They get to pretend, just for a little while, that Shannon is theirs and she loves them and feels grateful for all that they do. Boone has never had that luxury. He gets to see through the illusion, to the bare truth that he’s being sucked dry for all he’s worth. Shannon doesn’t pretend for him.
So he pretends to himself. He’s gotten really good at it over the years. Sometimes, he almost believes it.
She’s so beautiful. She looks like an angel, a princess. Even when she’s smirking or sneering or giving a look of cold disdain, there’s an aura about her that just takes his breath away. Even knowing the ugliness that lurks behind that beautiful face can’t seem to mar it. In a way, it only makes her more exotic, more intriguing.
So close, yet so far away. It would probably hurt less if he wasn’t around her all the time, if he just left and went somewhere else, but he can’t do that. He can’t get away from her. He just can’t bear to put any more distance between him and her.
Besides, what if Shannon needs him for something?
He knows it’s wrong. It’s wrong to want her so bad, to need her so bad, to love her so bad. It’s not because of the stepsibling thing, though. Oh, that’s what he tells himself is wrong about it, sure. He tells himself it’s sick and that he shouldn’t love a girl who’s been his sister for twelve years, but, really? He doesn’t care.
The real reason he knows it’s wrong is because he knows he’s being used. He’s being put through paces for her, made to do things for her, and all for nothing. All he’ll ever get from her is an empty feeling in his gut, because she’ll never love him back. She’ll probably never love anyone, and even if she can it won’t be him. She looks down on him. She probably thinks he’s lucky that she lets him be her lacky.
And Boone can’t help but feel that he is.
Sometimes he remembers the butterfly he made for her out of paint that one day so long ago. The first thing he ever did for her, knowing even then that it would hardly be the last. He tried so hard to make it beautiful, because it was for her. Because in a way, it was her. Or at least that’s what he thought at the time. But in the years since, he’s learned that he had it wrong.
He had it backward. Because butterflies wind up pinned to cards on display, trapped under glass with wings they can never use to escape. Boone’s the butterfly. He’s trapped, the centerpiece of Shannon’s little collection of things she owns but never even looks at it until she needs them again.
He should hate her for it. He should be sickened by her and how she treats him, how she uses his feelings against him. But all he can do is love her, want her, need her.
And somewhere deep inside him, he still hopes she’ll smile at him in approval one day and make this all worthwhile.
Title: The Used
Fandom: Lost
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Notes: Non-smut Boone/Shannon that's basically from Boone's POV. Based on these song lyrics-
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I want to play the game
I want the friction
She’s a bitch.
He’s known that since they were just little kids, since the very first day they met. He’s known it since before he even knew the word “bitch”.
When things had started to get serious between his mom and her dad, their parents had figured it was high time they met. He really didn’t know what to expect. He liked his mom’s boyfriend; he was pretty cool. He asked him about school and stuff, and he bought him ice cream that one time they went to the park together. Maybe the ice cream was just to keep him distracted while his mom and the man sat down on the park bench and kissed so deep that he thought they were trying to eat each other, but he didn’t care. He went over by the sandbox and slowly ate his cone, making sure it didn’t drip on his face and make a mess. His mom hated that.
But one Saturday afternoon the boyfriend had come over, and he wasn’t alone. He had her with him. They brought her up to his room, and he looked up from where he had been playing with his Matchbox cars to see his mom’s boyfriend standing in the doorway, holding her hand. She was wearing a light pink dress and white socks with pink patent leathers. There was a silver butterfly necklace on her throat, and a pink sparkly butterfly clip in her blonde hair just above her ear, keeping it out of her eyes.
Even at eight years old, she’d been a fashion diva.
“Boone, this is Shannon,” his mom’s boyfriend had said. “She’s my daughter.” Boone didn’t say anything, not knowing what he was supposed to say. It never occurred to him that mother’s boyfriends might have kids of their own too. It seemed surreal somehow. “I want you two to play nice together, okay? Us grownups are gonna be downstairs.”
“Okay,” Boone said indifferently. He was used to being left alone while his mom and her boyfriend stayed downstairs, doing whatever it was they did. Probably more kissing. The boyfriend left, and Shannon just stood there, looking around his room. There was a funny sparkle in her blue eyes. Eventually, he would learn it was the look you had when you were special and you knew it. For some reason, Boone couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“You wanna play with my trucks?” Boone offered. Immediately, she scowled in distaste.
“I hate trucks,” Shannon announced. “Trucks are stupid.” Boone looked down at his toy cars and suddenly wanted to toss them out the window. He didn’t feel very good anymore. Kind of like a clod of mud, or a wadded-up piece of gum.
And then Shannon had asked him to help her with something she had to do for school. She was supposed to finger-paint something, only she hated finger-painting. So Boone got out his paints and made a butterfly for her on a piece of paper. It was a kind of wobbly butterfly, with antenna that were too thick and short, and one wing bigger than the other, but it was the best he could do. He knew it was his best too, because he worked really hard on it. Shannon had just made fun of him, but he wanted to please her, wanted to make her happy. Maybe he thought if he did, she would be nice to him instead of mean.
He should have known better. She didn’t do “nice”.
All those years had passed and things had come and gone, but that never really changed. They never really changed. She would put him down one minute and ask for something the next. He would do it, because he wanted to make her happy. And because there was still some part of him that was desperate for her approval, the one thing he would probably never have.
She's too good for him, too good for anybody. She knows it, and she revels in it.
When she has a new boyfriend, Boone feels sorry for him. Or at least, he tells himself he feels sorry for him. He’s seen it a million times before. She uses him and uses him for all he’s worth, and then trades him in for the upgraded model when she gets tired of his face. Boone acts like he feels pity for her poor, used little toys.
But what he really feels is jealousy. Used or not, they get to be close to her. They get to pretend, just for a little while, that Shannon is theirs and she loves them and feels grateful for all that they do. Boone has never had that luxury. He gets to see through the illusion, to the bare truth that he’s being sucked dry for all he’s worth. Shannon doesn’t pretend for him.
So he pretends to himself. He’s gotten really good at it over the years. Sometimes, he almost believes it.
She’s so beautiful. She looks like an angel, a princess. Even when she’s smirking or sneering or giving a look of cold disdain, there’s an aura about her that just takes his breath away. Even knowing the ugliness that lurks behind that beautiful face can’t seem to mar it. In a way, it only makes her more exotic, more intriguing.
So close, yet so far away. It would probably hurt less if he wasn’t around her all the time, if he just left and went somewhere else, but he can’t do that. He can’t get away from her. He just can’t bear to put any more distance between him and her.
Besides, what if Shannon needs him for something?
He knows it’s wrong. It’s wrong to want her so bad, to need her so bad, to love her so bad. It’s not because of the stepsibling thing, though. Oh, that’s what he tells himself is wrong about it, sure. He tells himself it’s sick and that he shouldn’t love a girl who’s been his sister for twelve years, but, really? He doesn’t care.
The real reason he knows it’s wrong is because he knows he’s being used. He’s being put through paces for her, made to do things for her, and all for nothing. All he’ll ever get from her is an empty feeling in his gut, because she’ll never love him back. She’ll probably never love anyone, and even if she can it won’t be him. She looks down on him. She probably thinks he’s lucky that she lets him be her lacky.
And Boone can’t help but feel that he is.
Sometimes he remembers the butterfly he made for her out of paint that one day so long ago. The first thing he ever did for her, knowing even then that it would hardly be the last. He tried so hard to make it beautiful, because it was for her. Because in a way, it was her. Or at least that’s what he thought at the time. But in the years since, he’s learned that he had it wrong.
He had it backward. Because butterflies wind up pinned to cards on display, trapped under glass with wings they can never use to escape. Boone’s the butterfly. He’s trapped, the centerpiece of Shannon’s little collection of things she owns but never even looks at it until she needs them again.
He should hate her for it. He should be sickened by her and how she treats him, how she uses his feelings against him. But all he can do is love her, want her, need her.
And somewhere deep inside him, he still hopes she’ll smile at him in approval one day and make this all worthwhile.