Sticks and Stones - Lost - Sun/Walt
Title: Sticks and Stones
Pairing: Sun/Walt
Word Count: 232
Rating: PG
A/N: This is the last of my fics for the Lost Fic Battle. My apologies for the fic-spam!
Summary: The beach camp is alive with gossip about the pair.
"They're talking about us," Walt says.
She knows this is true - and in their position she would talk too. He's just turned eighteen; she's using him, and using him horribly. Sitting on the shore - far, far from the others - her arms are wrapped around her knees, hugging her legs tightly to her chest.
She looks up at him. His black hair is haloed by the harsh glare of the sun. He doesn't look like his father beyond a faint, superficial resemblance, but she can't stand to look at him for too long now.
Just a boy. Even grown-up, even as an adult, even as someone who had seen and done and known too much, Walt is just a boy.
Just a boy that she has taken to her bed and taught the carnal delights of the world. When she thinks about it too closely - when she thinks of what Jin would think - it turns her stomach.
But then his hand rests on her shoulder and he sits down beside her on the sand, quiet and thoughtful. The boy is wiser than his years; he is as old as the island itself.
Sun covers his hand with her own and lets their fingers entwine. Just having him near her makes her feel alive again.
"Let them talk," she says. "I don't care."
The most surprising thing - really - is that she means every word.
Pairing: Sun/Walt
Word Count: 232
Rating: PG
A/N: This is the last of my fics for the Lost Fic Battle. My apologies for the fic-spam!
Summary: The beach camp is alive with gossip about the pair.
"They're talking about us," Walt says.
She knows this is true - and in their position she would talk too. He's just turned eighteen; she's using him, and using him horribly. Sitting on the shore - far, far from the others - her arms are wrapped around her knees, hugging her legs tightly to her chest.
She looks up at him. His black hair is haloed by the harsh glare of the sun. He doesn't look like his father beyond a faint, superficial resemblance, but she can't stand to look at him for too long now.
Just a boy. Even grown-up, even as an adult, even as someone who had seen and done and known too much, Walt is just a boy.
Just a boy that she has taken to her bed and taught the carnal delights of the world. When she thinks about it too closely - when she thinks of what Jin would think - it turns her stomach.
But then his hand rests on her shoulder and he sits down beside her on the sand, quiet and thoughtful. The boy is wiser than his years; he is as old as the island itself.
Sun covers his hand with her own and lets their fingers entwine. Just having him near her makes her feel alive again.
"Let them talk," she says. "I don't care."
The most surprising thing - really - is that she means every word.