A Fairy's Tale of Moonlit Skin and Windblown Angels
Title: A Fairy's Tale of Moonlit Skin and Windblown Angels
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: Hard R, but not very much sexualness in it. NOT an AU, just talks about magic a bit, you'll see.
Summary: A boy stuck in a man's body, a man's world, remembers his lover's moonlit skin as he watches his windblown angel prepare to jump.
Disclaimer: If this is true, I'm a fucking dragon with a magic wand, ok?
Word count: About 20 less than 600, give or take.
Author's note: Pete's POV, about Patrick. Sorry about the angst. This fic was written entirely to FOB's new single, I Don't Care.
There's only one night I want you to remember after this. I remember that night. That night was the best of my life, I hope it was yours. The reason I remember it is because that is what defines us. A single night shapes the two of us. That night is my fairytale.
Sweaty skin and heavy bones crashed together in a jumbled mess that night. Our lips met for the first time just only hours previous. Fireworks, heart over the moon, high on your scent, and whatever other shit old wives wove to tales labeled me at that moment. A "True Love's First Kiss."
Such a chaste, innocent little thing as your soft teenager lips on mine turned into your first, your first everything. I was 23 at the time, you were finally legal. Maybe we both had too much to drink at that party, maybe we both just slipped and fell for each other that night, or, how I've always hoped it was so, maybe finally some greater form, ever-existent being, decided to use his powers for someone who truly needed it that night, and sent a shock of magic through that kiss. Maybe it was magic that made "us" happen, the type with elves and stardust and fairies, and where the evil pessimistic always got his own in the end, and kissing frogs, and gorgeous princesses, simple peasants and lovely maidens.
I don't think you know this, but that enthralling night of captivating encounters, I watched you sleep on my bed. We were so exhausted; you fell asleep bare on top of the covers. I watched your sallow chest rise and fall in the pale blue moonlight. The soft starlight spilled through the curtains and across the bed. You bastard, you still managed to keep your hat on. I stared at you for hours on end, deciding if you really are an angel, whether the little delineation between my off white sheets and your skin was anomalous, and if we could ever capture the noises you moaned that night, entagled with my body.
As I look at you now, tear streaked cheeks, strawberry blonde locks whipping in the wind, my breath is taken. I never have it when I'm around you. You are so beautiful, even in your worst moments. Your toes nudge forward a bit on the crumbling edge of the roof. You look down the 12 stories of the apartment building, and look back at me as a hot tear stings your overused tear ducts. You mouth the words "I love you" to me and take my hand. It'll soon be the end.
Of all the times I've pushed my face into your neck, soaking your collar with my common tears of self hate, this is the first time I've ever seen you cry. For being such a youthful kid, I was so jealous of how strong you were, still are. The blood rushes to my face when I see that you really are going through with this, it wasn't just lazy hands idly rocking fingers back and forth on sticking keys, a mock- somber message on a phone's easy keyboard.
You turn your head and kiss my cheek, your neck slick with sheen of nervous sweat. You look forward, look back at me once more and take a step forward. You're hand slips, in what seemed in slow motion, out of my sweaty palm. That was when I knew it. This is the end.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Rating: Hard R, but not very much sexualness in it. NOT an AU, just talks about magic a bit, you'll see.
Summary: A boy stuck in a man's body, a man's world, remembers his lover's moonlit skin as he watches his windblown angel prepare to jump.
Disclaimer: If this is true, I'm a fucking dragon with a magic wand, ok?
Word count: About 20 less than 600, give or take.
Author's note: Pete's POV, about Patrick. Sorry about the angst. This fic was written entirely to FOB's new single, I Don't Care.
There's only one night I want you to remember after this. I remember that night. That night was the best of my life, I hope it was yours. The reason I remember it is because that is what defines us. A single night shapes the two of us. That night is my fairytale.
Sweaty skin and heavy bones crashed together in a jumbled mess that night. Our lips met for the first time just only hours previous. Fireworks, heart over the moon, high on your scent, and whatever other shit old wives wove to tales labeled me at that moment. A "True Love's First Kiss."
Such a chaste, innocent little thing as your soft teenager lips on mine turned into your first, your first everything. I was 23 at the time, you were finally legal. Maybe we both had too much to drink at that party, maybe we both just slipped and fell for each other that night, or, how I've always hoped it was so, maybe finally some greater form, ever-existent being, decided to use his powers for someone who truly needed it that night, and sent a shock of magic through that kiss. Maybe it was magic that made "us" happen, the type with elves and stardust and fairies, and where the evil pessimistic always got his own in the end, and kissing frogs, and gorgeous princesses, simple peasants and lovely maidens.
I don't think you know this, but that enthralling night of captivating encounters, I watched you sleep on my bed. We were so exhausted; you fell asleep bare on top of the covers. I watched your sallow chest rise and fall in the pale blue moonlight. The soft starlight spilled through the curtains and across the bed. You bastard, you still managed to keep your hat on. I stared at you for hours on end, deciding if you really are an angel, whether the little delineation between my off white sheets and your skin was anomalous, and if we could ever capture the noises you moaned that night, entagled with my body.
As I look at you now, tear streaked cheeks, strawberry blonde locks whipping in the wind, my breath is taken. I never have it when I'm around you. You are so beautiful, even in your worst moments. Your toes nudge forward a bit on the crumbling edge of the roof. You look down the 12 stories of the apartment building, and look back at me as a hot tear stings your overused tear ducts. You mouth the words "I love you" to me and take my hand. It'll soon be the end.
Of all the times I've pushed my face into your neck, soaking your collar with my common tears of self hate, this is the first time I've ever seen you cry. For being such a youthful kid, I was so jealous of how strong you were, still are. The blood rushes to my face when I see that you really are going through with this, it wasn't just lazy hands idly rocking fingers back and forth on sticking keys, a mock- somber message on a phone's easy keyboard.
You turn your head and kiss my cheek, your neck slick with sheen of nervous sweat. You look forward, look back at me once more and take a step forward. You're hand slips, in what seemed in slow motion, out of my sweaty palm. That was when I knew it. This is the end.