General Relativity (128-129/?)
anonymous
August 31 2010, 04:32:33 UTC
CXXVIII. The Equations of the Lorentz Transformation Are Valid
“I think it’s safe to say we’re in a serious relationship,” Alfred told him next week. They were sitting in the Willow Room after hours, putting together a few beaten-up solar system models for the astronomy club. The parts were scattered between them, and Matthew was sure he’d accidentally swapped Neptune and Venus around, but Alfred wasn’t talking and Matthew wasn’t asking.
“Um,” he said, distracted, “I think that’s fair to say, yeah.”
Alfred looked relieved. “Right.”
“What did you…?”
“Oh, it’s-so I was thinking about telling my best friends, too.”
Matthew’s busy fingers stalled, the curve of Saturn heavy in his palm. “You mean Ludwig and Feliciano?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
It isn’t if I like my spleen to stay where it is, thought Matthew. He forced a gentle smile. “Are you sure they’ll take it all right?”
“‘Course they will.” There was a strip of tape on Alfred’s thumb; he gnawed at it until it clung to his mouth instead. Then he took it back between his fingers and applied it to a small crack in the base of the model he was building. “They like you a lot. I bet they’ll be super happy for us, Feliciano especially. He loves a great romance. His family-they’re Italian, you know? The first time he saw Love Actually, he sobbed his dorky heart out and gave Ludwig roses every day for almost three weeks. I had to buy his books for the next semester, ha!”
It wasn’t Feliciano that Matthew was worried about, but for a moment, he was waylaid by the sincerity in that image. He felt self-conscious; had there ever been a time he’d felt so deeply about someone that he was moved to that kind of passion? He tried to imagine buying Alfred wildflowers every day and came up blank. He imagined, though he’d never been told, that Alfred was probably allergic.
“I think Ludwig would disapprove,” Matthew said at last, disquieted.
Alfred framed his face with long, sticky fingers and kissed him. Just once, just so. “Then screw ‘im,” he told Matthew. “I only get to meet one of you in this world, y’know. I’m not passing you up.”
“But if-”
“Tell me when you’re ready, then. I don’t to make you feel weird.”
“That’s not it,” he mumbled despondently; but he also didn’t refuse the lifeline given.
CXXIX. The Imperfections of the Construction of Squares
“I think it’s safe to say we’re in a serious relationship,” Alfred told him next week. They were sitting in the Willow Room after hours, putting together a few beaten-up solar system models for the astronomy club. The parts were scattered between them, and Matthew was sure he’d accidentally swapped Neptune and Venus around, but Alfred wasn’t talking and Matthew wasn’t asking.
“Um,” he said, distracted, “I think that’s fair to say, yeah.”
Alfred looked relieved. “Right.”
“What did you…?”
“Oh, it’s-so I was thinking about telling my best friends, too.”
Matthew’s busy fingers stalled, the curve of Saturn heavy in his palm. “You mean Ludwig and Feliciano?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
It isn’t if I like my spleen to stay where it is, thought Matthew. He forced a gentle smile. “Are you sure they’ll take it all right?”
“‘Course they will.” There was a strip of tape on Alfred’s thumb; he gnawed at it until it clung to his mouth instead. Then he took it back between his fingers and applied it to a small crack in the base of the model he was building. “They like you a lot. I bet they’ll be super happy for us, Feliciano especially. He loves a great romance. His family-they’re Italian, you know? The first time he saw Love Actually, he sobbed his dorky heart out and gave Ludwig roses every day for almost three weeks. I had to buy his books for the next semester, ha!”
It wasn’t Feliciano that Matthew was worried about, but for a moment, he was waylaid by the sincerity in that image. He felt self-conscious; had there ever been a time he’d felt so deeply about someone that he was moved to that kind of passion? He tried to imagine buying Alfred wildflowers every day and came up blank. He imagined, though he’d never been told, that Alfred was probably allergic.
“I think Ludwig would disapprove,” Matthew said at last, disquieted.
Alfred framed his face with long, sticky fingers and kissed him. Just once, just so. “Then screw ‘im,” he told Matthew. “I only get to meet one of you in this world, y’know. I’m not passing you up.”
“But if-”
“Tell me when you’re ready, then. I don’t to make you feel weird.”
“That’s not it,” he mumbled despondently; but he also didn’t refuse the lifeline given.
CXXIX. The Imperfections of the Construction of Squares
(Matthew did not feel ready to face anything.)
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