Five Kisses
And here you thought
I'd actually write 100 shorts?
Pfft. Bish, please.
As with all five kisses challenges:
Five kisses that s/he/they would always remember.
Also... old people scare the bejeezus out of me.
I seriously squicked myself writing this one,
As a result....
==-==-==
Elle M'Embrasse
His childhood was far from troubled. His parents were loving, and as they say, the children of lovers were orphans. But, they cared for him, and though they did everything together, they included their young son whenever they could.
Still, he learned to watch after himself unsupervised, and by seven could drag a footstool into the kitchen and prepare himself a hot dinner without assistance. Occasionally, after a night out, they would find him settled into a pile of blankets on the couch- their little boy afraid the put himself to bed in his dark bedroom- and wonder if they weren't assuming too much independence. If it weren't for his fear that they would discover him breaking they're rules- no knives, don't touch the stove- they might have seen evidence of his overly responsible behavior. But, he always cleaned up after himself.
One of his fondest memories is going to the movie theater with them. His mother was as much... no, she was even more of a child than him, even at six. And so, she had wheedled and pestered his father, until he gave in and took them all out one night. They'd eaten fast food tacos- disgusting and greasy and utterly wonderful- and wandered into the theater well after the previews had started to find it packed impossibly tightly. No groups of three seats to be seen, so his mother had hauled Corinth onto her lap and latched him there for the duration.
He doesn't remember the cartoon now, just that there was a princess- wasn't there always- and a horse, and a dashing prince who was dark and tall.
"That'll be you, eh?" His father had whispered, drawing the attention of a few neighboring viewers. His mother had giggled, and buried her lips into his hair to kiss his scalp.
"You'll never be tall, dark and charming." She declared quietly. "Why, you're as pretty as the princess."
It was all good natured fun. He knows that now. But at the time, it had been odd, to realize that his mother was right. The princess had big green eyes and pastel yellow hair, just like his. She was short, and soft, and wore bright colors, just like he did.
What an odd thing, to have more in common with a girl than a boy, at his age.
Still, it hadn't bothered him much, because he could still taste the tacos in his teeth, and his mother was there holding him, and there was a movie going with lots of things happening all over the place.
Now, staring from an ill lit parking lot at a small church that he hasn't seen in decades, Corinth remembers that night, and wonders if he shouldn't have done this sooner. Shouldn't have gone and found them long before now. Maybe there could have been more times, like those. Not for him but... they would have loved to know his daughter.
His mother would have gone wild with glee, and his father would have settled deeper into his chair, wondering how he'd ever manage to entertain a child all over again.
"It isn't right." Came his husband's voice from the passenger seat. "But it is okay."
A glance at the long blonde hair hiding big, baby blue eyes in the back seat forced him to agree.
Il M'Embrasse
Two years, he'd spent trapped underground. But by now, he was starting to feel comfortable in his new residence. He hadn't been condemned to one of the damp, frigid cells in many months, and the time he'd spent shivering there was beginning to fade from his memory, disappearing into the recesses of his mind. He was in the light, now, learning all there was to learn and becoming whatever they wanted him to be. Just so that he wouldn't go back.
They wouldn't send him back,. He was too valuable. He'd won the right to stay in the warmth and the sharp glow of fluorescent bulbs that, occasionally, made him dizzy.
It was hardly an enjoyable way to live, but it was much better than the existence he'd been forced into until now.
As he wandered the glaring corridors, rubber soles smacking the floor quietly, Corinth wondered what tasks would be waiting for him today. His room was hardly a cell, since he was allowed to leave it freely, but it was where he spent most of his days. It was safer there. He could throw himself into his work without fear of stumbling upon someone living the life he'd so recently escaped.
But, perhaps for his sanity's sake, he was forced to take meals in public. Not just with the others who shared his quiet, secret life, but on the upper floors. On ground level. With the public. He ate, twice daily, in the hospital's cafeteria. Terrified beyond reason that someone might question him. Might ask him where he worked or why he was there.
He'd settled into a stiff plastic seat, tray in front of him, as a small table, all alone. There was an empty seat across the flat vinyl expanse, but the passing bodies all seemed more interested in sitting with their own peers. Or, at the least, leaving him in his miserable solitude. Maybe they thought he was a visitor, mourning the injury of a patient. He certainly seemed the right age to be terrified by, say, his mother left in critical condition after an accident. Sixteen years old, and wearing a collared shirt and tie. He could easily be preparing for a funeral...
He ate in peace. The bread was dry, the meat was frighteningly moist, and the vegetables were mush. But, it was food. And even after months of eating it, he was grateful for anything that wasn't heavily medicated nutritional paste.
His gratitude melted away when someone sat at the other side of his now crowded table.
"Hey there." The tall, lanky man said. He had a bronze tan, and his hair was obviously the result of a terrible dye job- what should had been blond was instead a brassy green. The long, white coat meant he was some sort of hospital staff, but his age- younger twenties, maybe twenty five at the most- meant he was either some sort of genius specialist phd, a lab technician, or possibly an extremely fast tracked intern. There was no ID badge visible to say which.
Corinth prayed that if he just kept eating, and ignored this stranger, he would leave.
"What's a lovely little lady like you doing sitting all alone?" The fork full of- were they supposed to be green beans?- clattered back to his tray loudly. Before he could do anything to address the issue, his newly empty hand had been snatched by the man. And, god forbid, actually kissed lightly. "You look terribly lonely. I thought you'd like some company. My name's Atalp."
Corinth jerked his hand back, settling it protectively against his lap. "I'm Corinth." He muttered darkly, purposefully driving his voice deeper than it naturally was.
The look on the man's face when he realized his mistake was almost worth it.
Tu M'Embrasses
"How long've you been 'ere?" The wild-eyed youth had asked, bouncing in the most unseemly way on his bed.
Corinth took pause at that particular question. Unlike the dozens he'd answered thus far, he had to think to find the answer. And when it came to him it was appalling. How had that happened? "Ten years."
The redhead whistled loudly. "Tha'ssa long time, boss. Thirteen years old, eh? I guess that's young enough for 'em to whip you into shape."
"Fourteen." Corinth corrected, stiffly reorganizing his paperwork. A yawn attempted to break free, but it's escape was quashed by tightly pursed lips. "And that makes your twentieth inquiry. Now, go to sleep before I am forced to medicate your into a coma."
Corinth ignored the vague twinge in his stomach. He would not be sleeping. Instead, he would lie awake on his mattress that night, waiting until Cyrano's breaths evened out. And then, he would indeed medicate the young man. Anesthetize him. It seemed cruel, to do it without asking. But much less brutal than what Dierdya would have done, given the opportunity. She liked to keep them awake.
Cyrano would never know what kindness he was begin shown, going under the knife at Corinth's hands instead of that woman's. Even if he didn't know it was coming, and would be forced to wake and discover the alterations unprepared.
The lights in Corinth's room turned off abruptly, as the man settled beneath his thin blanket. He could hear the ruffling noises of his larger comforter being moved around as Cyrano tried- and failed- to find a comfortable way to sleep in his desk chair.
But, the younger man could sleep anywhere, body still accustomed to the captivity he'd been kept in for the first month. And it did not take long for his movements to stop, and his heavy breaths to deepen and even out. Barely half an hour
Corinth moved to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, when the soft murmur of the comforter falling to the floor caught his attention. Perhaps Cyrano was not yet asleep.
The blond man closed his eyes and laid still, as he listened to the muted steps across the hard wood floor. He knew it was his imagination, but Corinth swore he could feel Cyrano's eyes boring into him from beside his bed. It was troubling.
"Than r ing me." The words were too soft for Corinth to make out, even at this small distance. But, if Cyrano believed him to be asleep, then he wasn't meant to comprehend them at all, was he?
It was much easier to understand what came next, though the reasons behind it were impossibly mysterious. It took every modicum of his will to remain soft and pliable, seemingly unconscious, beneath the flutter light assault of lips against his shoulder.
Tu Lui Baisses
It was a matter of survival, now. He should just abandon the dead weight he was half dragging. The younger man was delirious, injured, and almost certainly going to condemn the two of them to death.
But if he just let go... Just left him here... Corinth could run and run and escape. He could outlive this place and its vile reputation.
And no one would blame him. Cyrano was only slowing him down... there wasn't even a chance they would both get far enough out of the blast radius.
And still, hovering crudely in the back of his mind, he knew that he couldn't abandon the boy. That was all he was, really, a boy. A full grown, twenty year old child. Who couldn't be held accountable for what had happened. It wasn't his fault, it never would be. It was that vile woman... that wretched disgusting creature who had done this. She had forced the destruction protocols. She had caused chaos in this delicately balanced system.
She had destroyed them all.
And she had done... she had done that to Cyrano. Not the other way around. She had even admitted it, as she fled.
It was all her fault.
But, Corinth knew well enough that if he left Cyrano here to die, he wouldn't be doing it to save himself. He would be doing it as punishment against the redhead for crimes he had not committed.
No one asked to be taken like that.
But Corinth wished dearly, as he heaved and lurched and dragged, that he had never seen it. Never seen that wicked woman curling her body around what was rightfully his, claiming Cyrano's lips- and everything attached- for herself.
Nous nous embrasserons. Toujours.
These days, they are something of a forgotten legend. Historical figures. They will be mentioned, in passing, in history books. Not even by name, a dubious honor reserved for Dierdya, Artemis and Nephthys. Only the students who go on to develop an obsessive interest in the past will become familiar with Corinth Trelix and Cyrano Guidanci.
And in his advancing age, body frail and fragile, Corinth finds himself grateful for that. It has been a good life. There was enough excitement to last them both decades, in their first few years. And now, they find themselves satisfied with the common banality of their habits. He wakes first, each morning, and stumbles half blind through making breakfast. Cyrano joins him, they eat in silence, and Cyrano washes the dishes.
As his husband watches the television, and he reads the news, Corinth occasionally imagines a flash of vibrant red. But, though his hair is as unruly and long as ever, the color has been gone for years from Cyrano's head.
They are different now. Such different people than they had ever expected to be.
They barely even speak now. Everything there is to say was spoken long ago.
They have peace. A gift neither of them had really expected, and even though it was their daily lot in life now, they were grateful.
Just after noon, that kind little Indian boy would come and make sure they hadn't hurt themselves- Cyrano had already fallen twice in the last month- and give them the news of people they had once known. Danny kept them well abreast of the situation that they had long ago extracted themselves from, more for his own peace of mind than any curiosity from the old men.
Sometimes, he mentioned that his mother- their daughter- was having a lucid period. Sometimes he gave news that Dierdya's children were making headway in undoing their mother's harm.
Once, long ago, he'd mentioned finding a woman that, perhaps, they knew? But, though Corinth recognized the woman's family name, Atalp, he did not know her. Perhaps Abby'd had a daughter.
It was astounding, the way the world was moving in such a rush, and somehow, managed to leave them in peace.
Danny would make dinner for them- he always insisted upon it- before leaving them to their evenings alone.
They would shuffle off to bed together, grateful each step for the fact that they were in good enough health to still share a bed. So many men and women their age were forced to undo decades of habit and learn to sleep alone again.
And, just before sleep claimed them again, Corinth would look back and see the life he'd lived long ago. It had been good. But, now, as they drifted off again, they were waiting for something better still.
Each night, he promised Cyrano that they would be together always. And after the ritual, he sealed his promise with a powder light kiss.
I'd actually write 100 shorts?
Pfft. Bish, please.
As with all five kisses challenges:
Five kisses that s/he/they would always remember.
Also... old people scare the bejeezus out of me.
I seriously squicked myself writing this one,
As a result....
==-==-==
Elle M'Embrasse
His childhood was far from troubled. His parents were loving, and as they say, the children of lovers were orphans. But, they cared for him, and though they did everything together, they included their young son whenever they could.
Still, he learned to watch after himself unsupervised, and by seven could drag a footstool into the kitchen and prepare himself a hot dinner without assistance. Occasionally, after a night out, they would find him settled into a pile of blankets on the couch- their little boy afraid the put himself to bed in his dark bedroom- and wonder if they weren't assuming too much independence. If it weren't for his fear that they would discover him breaking they're rules- no knives, don't touch the stove- they might have seen evidence of his overly responsible behavior. But, he always cleaned up after himself.
One of his fondest memories is going to the movie theater with them. His mother was as much... no, she was even more of a child than him, even at six. And so, she had wheedled and pestered his father, until he gave in and took them all out one night. They'd eaten fast food tacos- disgusting and greasy and utterly wonderful- and wandered into the theater well after the previews had started to find it packed impossibly tightly. No groups of three seats to be seen, so his mother had hauled Corinth onto her lap and latched him there for the duration.
He doesn't remember the cartoon now, just that there was a princess- wasn't there always- and a horse, and a dashing prince who was dark and tall.
"That'll be you, eh?" His father had whispered, drawing the attention of a few neighboring viewers. His mother had giggled, and buried her lips into his hair to kiss his scalp.
"You'll never be tall, dark and charming." She declared quietly. "Why, you're as pretty as the princess."
It was all good natured fun. He knows that now. But at the time, it had been odd, to realize that his mother was right. The princess had big green eyes and pastel yellow hair, just like his. She was short, and soft, and wore bright colors, just like he did.
What an odd thing, to have more in common with a girl than a boy, at his age.
Still, it hadn't bothered him much, because he could still taste the tacos in his teeth, and his mother was there holding him, and there was a movie going with lots of things happening all over the place.
Now, staring from an ill lit parking lot at a small church that he hasn't seen in decades, Corinth remembers that night, and wonders if he shouldn't have done this sooner. Shouldn't have gone and found them long before now. Maybe there could have been more times, like those. Not for him but... they would have loved to know his daughter.
His mother would have gone wild with glee, and his father would have settled deeper into his chair, wondering how he'd ever manage to entertain a child all over again.
"It isn't right." Came his husband's voice from the passenger seat. "But it is okay."
A glance at the long blonde hair hiding big, baby blue eyes in the back seat forced him to agree.
Il M'Embrasse
Two years, he'd spent trapped underground. But by now, he was starting to feel comfortable in his new residence. He hadn't been condemned to one of the damp, frigid cells in many months, and the time he'd spent shivering there was beginning to fade from his memory, disappearing into the recesses of his mind. He was in the light, now, learning all there was to learn and becoming whatever they wanted him to be. Just so that he wouldn't go back.
They wouldn't send him back,. He was too valuable. He'd won the right to stay in the warmth and the sharp glow of fluorescent bulbs that, occasionally, made him dizzy.
It was hardly an enjoyable way to live, but it was much better than the existence he'd been forced into until now.
As he wandered the glaring corridors, rubber soles smacking the floor quietly, Corinth wondered what tasks would be waiting for him today. His room was hardly a cell, since he was allowed to leave it freely, but it was where he spent most of his days. It was safer there. He could throw himself into his work without fear of stumbling upon someone living the life he'd so recently escaped.
But, perhaps for his sanity's sake, he was forced to take meals in public. Not just with the others who shared his quiet, secret life, but on the upper floors. On ground level. With the public. He ate, twice daily, in the hospital's cafeteria. Terrified beyond reason that someone might question him. Might ask him where he worked or why he was there.
He'd settled into a stiff plastic seat, tray in front of him, as a small table, all alone. There was an empty seat across the flat vinyl expanse, but the passing bodies all seemed more interested in sitting with their own peers. Or, at the least, leaving him in his miserable solitude. Maybe they thought he was a visitor, mourning the injury of a patient. He certainly seemed the right age to be terrified by, say, his mother left in critical condition after an accident. Sixteen years old, and wearing a collared shirt and tie. He could easily be preparing for a funeral...
He ate in peace. The bread was dry, the meat was frighteningly moist, and the vegetables were mush. But, it was food. And even after months of eating it, he was grateful for anything that wasn't heavily medicated nutritional paste.
His gratitude melted away when someone sat at the other side of his now crowded table.
"Hey there." The tall, lanky man said. He had a bronze tan, and his hair was obviously the result of a terrible dye job- what should had been blond was instead a brassy green. The long, white coat meant he was some sort of hospital staff, but his age- younger twenties, maybe twenty five at the most- meant he was either some sort of genius specialist phd, a lab technician, or possibly an extremely fast tracked intern. There was no ID badge visible to say which.
Corinth prayed that if he just kept eating, and ignored this stranger, he would leave.
"What's a lovely little lady like you doing sitting all alone?" The fork full of- were they supposed to be green beans?- clattered back to his tray loudly. Before he could do anything to address the issue, his newly empty hand had been snatched by the man. And, god forbid, actually kissed lightly. "You look terribly lonely. I thought you'd like some company. My name's Atalp."
Corinth jerked his hand back, settling it protectively against his lap. "I'm Corinth." He muttered darkly, purposefully driving his voice deeper than it naturally was.
The look on the man's face when he realized his mistake was almost worth it.
Tu M'Embrasses
"How long've you been 'ere?" The wild-eyed youth had asked, bouncing in the most unseemly way on his bed.
Corinth took pause at that particular question. Unlike the dozens he'd answered thus far, he had to think to find the answer. And when it came to him it was appalling. How had that happened? "Ten years."
The redhead whistled loudly. "Tha'ssa long time, boss. Thirteen years old, eh? I guess that's young enough for 'em to whip you into shape."
"Fourteen." Corinth corrected, stiffly reorganizing his paperwork. A yawn attempted to break free, but it's escape was quashed by tightly pursed lips. "And that makes your twentieth inquiry. Now, go to sleep before I am forced to medicate your into a coma."
Corinth ignored the vague twinge in his stomach. He would not be sleeping. Instead, he would lie awake on his mattress that night, waiting until Cyrano's breaths evened out. And then, he would indeed medicate the young man. Anesthetize him. It seemed cruel, to do it without asking. But much less brutal than what Dierdya would have done, given the opportunity. She liked to keep them awake.
Cyrano would never know what kindness he was begin shown, going under the knife at Corinth's hands instead of that woman's. Even if he didn't know it was coming, and would be forced to wake and discover the alterations unprepared.
The lights in Corinth's room turned off abruptly, as the man settled beneath his thin blanket. He could hear the ruffling noises of his larger comforter being moved around as Cyrano tried- and failed- to find a comfortable way to sleep in his desk chair.
But, the younger man could sleep anywhere, body still accustomed to the captivity he'd been kept in for the first month. And it did not take long for his movements to stop, and his heavy breaths to deepen and even out. Barely half an hour
Corinth moved to swing his feet over the edge of the bed, when the soft murmur of the comforter falling to the floor caught his attention. Perhaps Cyrano was not yet asleep.
The blond man closed his eyes and laid still, as he listened to the muted steps across the hard wood floor. He knew it was his imagination, but Corinth swore he could feel Cyrano's eyes boring into him from beside his bed. It was troubling.
"Than r ing me." The words were too soft for Corinth to make out, even at this small distance. But, if Cyrano believed him to be asleep, then he wasn't meant to comprehend them at all, was he?
It was much easier to understand what came next, though the reasons behind it were impossibly mysterious. It took every modicum of his will to remain soft and pliable, seemingly unconscious, beneath the flutter light assault of lips against his shoulder.
Tu Lui Baisses
It was a matter of survival, now. He should just abandon the dead weight he was half dragging. The younger man was delirious, injured, and almost certainly going to condemn the two of them to death.
But if he just let go... Just left him here... Corinth could run and run and escape. He could outlive this place and its vile reputation.
And no one would blame him. Cyrano was only slowing him down... there wasn't even a chance they would both get far enough out of the blast radius.
And still, hovering crudely in the back of his mind, he knew that he couldn't abandon the boy. That was all he was, really, a boy. A full grown, twenty year old child. Who couldn't be held accountable for what had happened. It wasn't his fault, it never would be. It was that vile woman... that wretched disgusting creature who had done this. She had forced the destruction protocols. She had caused chaos in this delicately balanced system.
She had destroyed them all.
And she had done... she had done that to Cyrano. Not the other way around. She had even admitted it, as she fled.
It was all her fault.
But, Corinth knew well enough that if he left Cyrano here to die, he wouldn't be doing it to save himself. He would be doing it as punishment against the redhead for crimes he had not committed.
No one asked to be taken like that.
But Corinth wished dearly, as he heaved and lurched and dragged, that he had never seen it. Never seen that wicked woman curling her body around what was rightfully his, claiming Cyrano's lips- and everything attached- for herself.
Nous nous embrasserons. Toujours.
These days, they are something of a forgotten legend. Historical figures. They will be mentioned, in passing, in history books. Not even by name, a dubious honor reserved for Dierdya, Artemis and Nephthys. Only the students who go on to develop an obsessive interest in the past will become familiar with Corinth Trelix and Cyrano Guidanci.
And in his advancing age, body frail and fragile, Corinth finds himself grateful for that. It has been a good life. There was enough excitement to last them both decades, in their first few years. And now, they find themselves satisfied with the common banality of their habits. He wakes first, each morning, and stumbles half blind through making breakfast. Cyrano joins him, they eat in silence, and Cyrano washes the dishes.
As his husband watches the television, and he reads the news, Corinth occasionally imagines a flash of vibrant red. But, though his hair is as unruly and long as ever, the color has been gone for years from Cyrano's head.
They are different now. Such different people than they had ever expected to be.
They barely even speak now. Everything there is to say was spoken long ago.
They have peace. A gift neither of them had really expected, and even though it was their daily lot in life now, they were grateful.
Just after noon, that kind little Indian boy would come and make sure they hadn't hurt themselves- Cyrano had already fallen twice in the last month- and give them the news of people they had once known. Danny kept them well abreast of the situation that they had long ago extracted themselves from, more for his own peace of mind than any curiosity from the old men.
Sometimes, he mentioned that his mother- their daughter- was having a lucid period. Sometimes he gave news that Dierdya's children were making headway in undoing their mother's harm.
Once, long ago, he'd mentioned finding a woman that, perhaps, they knew? But, though Corinth recognized the woman's family name, Atalp, he did not know her. Perhaps Abby'd had a daughter.
It was astounding, the way the world was moving in such a rush, and somehow, managed to leave them in peace.
Danny would make dinner for them- he always insisted upon it- before leaving them to their evenings alone.
They would shuffle off to bed together, grateful each step for the fact that they were in good enough health to still share a bed. So many men and women their age were forced to undo decades of habit and learn to sleep alone again.
And, just before sleep claimed them again, Corinth would look back and see the life he'd lived long ago. It had been good. But, now, as they drifted off again, they were waiting for something better still.
Each night, he promised Cyrano that they would be together always. And after the ritual, he sealed his promise with a powder light kiss.