[Fic] Bawww moment for Zack and Joseph.
Author: Kura
Challenge: White Chocolate 18: Anxiety; Candy Apple 7: Shoulder
Word Count: 409
Rating: G (that's nearly a cherry for me)
Characters: Zack and Joseph, Zack's senior year of high school (fall 2005, I believe it'd be)
Note: Based on my real-life experiences of OHMYGODICANNOTDOTHISIAMGOINGTOGETREJECTEDDDDD
One would-be lovely Saturday morning, Zack sat fidgeting as he ate breakfast--or rather, attempted to eat, but largely managed only to poke at it awkwardly, then angrily, when the eggs reused to place themselves neatly on his fork.
“Isaac Nicholas Levy,” his father mock-scolded, “Is this how you show your appreciation for the wonderful breakfast I made you? Jabbing at it with you fork?”
Zack wasn’t in the mood; he would have snapped back but he couldn’t be bothered. He knew he was a complete wreck that morning, and knowing only made it worse; he was usually fairly confident, but in a few hours he had an interview with the college he knew he had just the slimmest chance of getting into, and he had nothing worth saying. He wracked his mind trying to guess what they would say, what he would say, but it only made his nerves worse.
His father smiled sympathetically. “Butterflies?”
“An entire freaking conservatory,” Zack answered dryly.
“Just relax. It’ll be fine, if you just calm down.” Joseph stood behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, finish eating and we’ll go. You’ll see.”
Zack really did feel himself calming a bit, and he managed a weak smile. His father’s hand on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but it always gave him so much confidence. He could feel Joseph standing there with him, strong and protective and everything a father should be, and sharing all of that with him.
Sometimes it made him think of the first time (that he could recall) that his father had done that. Today was one of those days.
It was his mother’s funeral, so many years ago. He was so small then, so overwhelmed. So many people and so many tears and so much black; he felt like he would drown in it. His father had been his only anchor, standing there behind him, hand on his shoulder. He was afraid, but he clung to his father and it gave him strength. His father’s hand, large and warm on his tiny shoulder. He had just barely become tall enough that Joseph could comfortably lay a hand there without needing to bend down.
Zack looked so different now. He was taller than Joseph, and his shoulders had grown so broad. But his father’s hand on his shoulder still felt the same, still gave him all the same comfort and strength.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Challenge: White Chocolate 18: Anxiety; Candy Apple 7: Shoulder
Word Count: 409
Rating: G (that's nearly a cherry for me)
Characters: Zack and Joseph, Zack's senior year of high school (fall 2005, I believe it'd be)
Note: Based on my real-life experiences of OHMYGODICANNOTDOTHISIAMGOINGTOGETREJECTEDDDDD
One would-be lovely Saturday morning, Zack sat fidgeting as he ate breakfast--or rather, attempted to eat, but largely managed only to poke at it awkwardly, then angrily, when the eggs reused to place themselves neatly on his fork.
“Isaac Nicholas Levy,” his father mock-scolded, “Is this how you show your appreciation for the wonderful breakfast I made you? Jabbing at it with you fork?”
Zack wasn’t in the mood; he would have snapped back but he couldn’t be bothered. He knew he was a complete wreck that morning, and knowing only made it worse; he was usually fairly confident, but in a few hours he had an interview with the college he knew he had just the slimmest chance of getting into, and he had nothing worth saying. He wracked his mind trying to guess what they would say, what he would say, but it only made his nerves worse.
His father smiled sympathetically. “Butterflies?”
“An entire freaking conservatory,” Zack answered dryly.
“Just relax. It’ll be fine, if you just calm down.” Joseph stood behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, finish eating and we’ll go. You’ll see.”
Zack really did feel himself calming a bit, and he managed a weak smile. His father’s hand on his shoulder. It was such a simple gesture, but it always gave him so much confidence. He could feel Joseph standing there with him, strong and protective and everything a father should be, and sharing all of that with him.
Sometimes it made him think of the first time (that he could recall) that his father had done that. Today was one of those days.
It was his mother’s funeral, so many years ago. He was so small then, so overwhelmed. So many people and so many tears and so much black; he felt like he would drown in it. His father had been his only anchor, standing there behind him, hand on his shoulder. He was afraid, but he clung to his father and it gave him strength. His father’s hand, large and warm on his tiny shoulder. He had just barely become tall enough that Joseph could comfortably lay a hand there without needing to bend down.
Zack looked so different now. He was taller than Joseph, and his shoulders had grown so broad. But his father’s hand on his shoulder still felt the same, still gave him all the same comfort and strength.
“Thanks, Dad.”