FIC: Borders
It’s amazing. Apparently I’m experiencing the opposite to the writer’s block. Writer’s flood, is it? I’m writing, writing and writing, and when I’m not writing, I’m editing and finishing things I started a long time ago. I feel elated, and only slightly apprehensive about the growing pile of things I should be taking care of now.
My unfailing magda2em posted another piece of art, an illustration to my fic Leaving. Magda, I used your teaser in the “Leaving” post, but here I’ve decided to use a non-blinking one. It was a little too distracting. I hope that’s okay with you. And of course once again many, many thanks for this amazing picture! I can hardly express how much it means to me. &hearts
Link to the picture:
And here goes one of my most recent fics:
Title: Borders
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: R/S
Era: post-Hogwarts
Word count: Er, depends. Varying between 483 and 525.
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: I decided to post this fic together with a poem I wrote about Sirius several months ago, also entitled “Borders”. Unlike the case of “Leaving”, this time the fic wasn’t supposed to expand the ideas from the poem; it just happened and I realised it only after I’d finished the story. However, I believe the two pieces work well together and complement each other. Feedback on both or either will be treasured.
Borders
Where I come to an end
and you begin
I do not know
where courage melts into recklessness
where fear into madness
Where my skin comes to an end
and yours begins
I do not know
as we lie like tangled ropes
The hot stream of water hits his face and Remus almost screams. Instead he clenches his teeth and lets the water run over his body, willing it to wash Sirius’s scent away.
He Apparated back to his flat as soon as he was sure Sirius was soundly asleep. He’d tenderly kissed Sirius on the lips, then carefully disentangled himself and gathered his things from the floor. Although impatient to leave, he couldn’t stop himself from gathering Sirius’s clothes, too, and folding them on a chair. He didn’t look at the sleeping shape when he was leaving.
He places his palms on the wet tiles before him and inclines his head. The water splashes over his back and further down. He breathes heavily, the heat closing around his temples and almost unbearable. He shuts his eyes.
But the scent remains - unmistakable and tainting. Remus can feel it even in the hot mist around him. He reaches for the soap and the sponge; he starts to rub himself with determination. He needs to wash this off, he needs to smell like himself again, he needs to know-
He needs to know who he is.
He needs to feel whole again.
He winces as he touches a sore spot on his neck. He curses softly and rubs harder.
After he’s washed his hair, too, he finally steps out from the shower, dripping water on the cold floor. He waits for the mirror to defog.
His skin is flushed. He finds the bruise on his neck; it’s a bite mark.
He gazes at himself intently, memorising the borders of his body, inhaling the scent of soap and shampoo and wet hair and nothing else.
He goes to his bedroom and stands in the middle of the room. He turns around slowly, taking in the high bookshelf, the photographs in their wooden frames, the picture on the wall. He inhales deeply and feels only himself.
He wants it to be enough.
It isn’t.
When he curls in bed he tries to remember the time before Sirius’s hands started to define his body, before he began to dream Sirius’s dreams.
He can’t believe there was such a time.
But now it’s too much. It’s too much and sometimes when they move together he feels like crying, and afterwards he clutches at Sirius desperately, trying to keep himself from falling. Sirius strokes his face and murmurs soothing endearments, and eventually Remus calms down. But when Sirius falls asleep, their bodies intertwined, Remus is still lying there with open eyes and thinking, what will be left of him when Sirius leaves. There is no part of Remus untouched, unclaimed, unmarked. There is no hiding place and no safe.
He touches the bruise on his neck.
He tries to hug himself but it doesn’t feel right.
He looks down at himself, but under the sheets the contours of his body are blurred.
December 9th 2007
My unfailing magda2em posted another piece of art, an illustration to my fic Leaving. Magda, I used your teaser in the “Leaving” post, but here I’ve decided to use a non-blinking one. It was a little too distracting. I hope that’s okay with you. And of course once again many, many thanks for this amazing picture! I can hardly express how much it means to me. &hearts
Link to the picture:
And here goes one of my most recent fics:
Title: Borders
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: R/S
Era: post-Hogwarts
Word count: Er, depends. Varying between 483 and 525.
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: I decided to post this fic together with a poem I wrote about Sirius several months ago, also entitled “Borders”. Unlike the case of “Leaving”, this time the fic wasn’t supposed to expand the ideas from the poem; it just happened and I realised it only after I’d finished the story. However, I believe the two pieces work well together and complement each other. Feedback on both or either will be treasured.
Borders
Where I come to an end
and you begin
I do not know
where courage melts into recklessness
where fear into madness
Where my skin comes to an end
and yours begins
I do not know
as we lie like tangled ropes
The hot stream of water hits his face and Remus almost screams. Instead he clenches his teeth and lets the water run over his body, willing it to wash Sirius’s scent away.
He Apparated back to his flat as soon as he was sure Sirius was soundly asleep. He’d tenderly kissed Sirius on the lips, then carefully disentangled himself and gathered his things from the floor. Although impatient to leave, he couldn’t stop himself from gathering Sirius’s clothes, too, and folding them on a chair. He didn’t look at the sleeping shape when he was leaving.
He places his palms on the wet tiles before him and inclines his head. The water splashes over his back and further down. He breathes heavily, the heat closing around his temples and almost unbearable. He shuts his eyes.
But the scent remains - unmistakable and tainting. Remus can feel it even in the hot mist around him. He reaches for the soap and the sponge; he starts to rub himself with determination. He needs to wash this off, he needs to smell like himself again, he needs to know-
He needs to know who he is.
He needs to feel whole again.
He winces as he touches a sore spot on his neck. He curses softly and rubs harder.
After he’s washed his hair, too, he finally steps out from the shower, dripping water on the cold floor. He waits for the mirror to defog.
His skin is flushed. He finds the bruise on his neck; it’s a bite mark.
He gazes at himself intently, memorising the borders of his body, inhaling the scent of soap and shampoo and wet hair and nothing else.
He goes to his bedroom and stands in the middle of the room. He turns around slowly, taking in the high bookshelf, the photographs in their wooden frames, the picture on the wall. He inhales deeply and feels only himself.
He wants it to be enough.
It isn’t.
When he curls in bed he tries to remember the time before Sirius’s hands started to define his body, before he began to dream Sirius’s dreams.
He can’t believe there was such a time.
But now it’s too much. It’s too much and sometimes when they move together he feels like crying, and afterwards he clutches at Sirius desperately, trying to keep himself from falling. Sirius strokes his face and murmurs soothing endearments, and eventually Remus calms down. But when Sirius falls asleep, their bodies intertwined, Remus is still lying there with open eyes and thinking, what will be left of him when Sirius leaves. There is no part of Remus untouched, unclaimed, unmarked. There is no hiding place and no safe.
He touches the bruise on his neck.
He tries to hug himself but it doesn’t feel right.
He looks down at himself, but under the sheets the contours of his body are blurred.
December 9th 2007