FIC: creaky love doors [1/1]
creaky love doors
||{ jon/brendon }||{ pg }||{ poems included }||
inspired by the picture from march 25 08
one day, brendon wakes up feeling restless. he climbs out of bed carefully, so as not to wake jon, and tiptoes downstairs. he steps out onto the back porch and looks around, noticing something odd about the air. it doesn't feel the same as it did yesterday, but he can't quite place it. he sniffs cautiously and a smile blooms slowly on his face. the air smells like crisp, like october. brendon decides to paint.
a couple hours later, jon pauses at the foot of the staircase. he smells paint. puzzled, he makes his way into the kitchen. the calendar pinned up on the wall looks different. jon can't figure out why until he notices the big, bold 'OCTOBER' on the top of the page. it's the first day of october. that explains the paint smell.
jon finds brendon in the living room. he's facing the wall, a paintbrush in his hand, working on the mural. four years ago, when jon and brendon moved in together, brendon decided to do a mural on the living room wall. he wanted it to be a timeline, so he works on it at the beginning of every month, and paints what the day feels like. sometimes he writes poems on it, too. he calls the wall his 'life canvas.'
when brendon's away, jon will sit and stare at the wall for hours. he especially likes brendon's poems.
brendon figures that someday, when he's old and tired, he'll look at the mural and smile.
jon doesn't say it, but he figures that he will, too.
poems from the wall:
this empty eggcarton of a saturday
is crushing me like a falling piano
which plays beethoven at 4 in the morning
instead of occupying itself like the other instruments
---
i fell from the sky on a spring morning-----
hit the dewdrops like sunlight
and glistened happily
---
the days of sun and nothing are life
'it's so quiet,' shouts the tragic blade of grass
---
since you asked me to write this poem (you: theuniverseandnothing)
i will write it
since you asked that it be about summer (you: myimaginaryfriend)
it will be about summer
it will be about the wethot days of july
and the buzzbuzz surrounding blackness of august nights
it will be about jumping into water you were banned from touching
and grabbing sundried bathing suits from the deck railing
it will be about drinking glass after glass of icecoldwater
and staying up late to read
it will be about screaming seagulls
and waking up to the onandoff sound of chirping singing birds
and it will be for you (you: everythingthatnoonebelievesin)
---
i feel my lazy old bones growing wings
growing wings so i can fly to you
and live in your fairytale
---
how can the world not see
that i am just a whisper wishing for a better home?
---
I'll remember the lukewarm buzzing nights
we piled all the rocks against the wall
and listened to the crickets
that sing songs of violet tomorrows
---
dream of here and there
of creaky love doors and politics
of thin wrists and ripply water
A/N: so, i don't know how much i like this ficlet, but whatever! writing is writing, and i'm glad i finished it. i wrote the poem snippets, by the way. like i said, though, most of them are snippets, and the full versions are much longer :). just FYI, i should have at least one more fic up soon, both here and at my journal. thanks for reading! comments are ♥!
||{ jon/brendon }||{ pg }||{ poems included }||
inspired by the picture from march 25 08
one day, brendon wakes up feeling restless. he climbs out of bed carefully, so as not to wake jon, and tiptoes downstairs. he steps out onto the back porch and looks around, noticing something odd about the air. it doesn't feel the same as it did yesterday, but he can't quite place it. he sniffs cautiously and a smile blooms slowly on his face. the air smells like crisp, like october. brendon decides to paint.
a couple hours later, jon pauses at the foot of the staircase. he smells paint. puzzled, he makes his way into the kitchen. the calendar pinned up on the wall looks different. jon can't figure out why until he notices the big, bold 'OCTOBER' on the top of the page. it's the first day of october. that explains the paint smell.
jon finds brendon in the living room. he's facing the wall, a paintbrush in his hand, working on the mural. four years ago, when jon and brendon moved in together, brendon decided to do a mural on the living room wall. he wanted it to be a timeline, so he works on it at the beginning of every month, and paints what the day feels like. sometimes he writes poems on it, too. he calls the wall his 'life canvas.'
when brendon's away, jon will sit and stare at the wall for hours. he especially likes brendon's poems.
brendon figures that someday, when he's old and tired, he'll look at the mural and smile.
jon doesn't say it, but he figures that he will, too.
poems from the wall:
this empty eggcarton of a saturday
is crushing me like a falling piano
which plays beethoven at 4 in the morning
instead of occupying itself like the other instruments
---
i fell from the sky on a spring morning-----
hit the dewdrops like sunlight
and glistened happily
---
the days of sun and nothing are life
'it's so quiet,' shouts the tragic blade of grass
---
since you asked me to write this poem (you: theuniverseandnothing)
i will write it
since you asked that it be about summer (you: myimaginaryfriend)
it will be about summer
it will be about the wethot days of july
and the buzzbuzz surrounding blackness of august nights
it will be about jumping into water you were banned from touching
and grabbing sundried bathing suits from the deck railing
it will be about drinking glass after glass of icecoldwater
and staying up late to read
it will be about screaming seagulls
and waking up to the onandoff sound of chirping singing birds
and it will be for you (you: everythingthatnoonebelievesin)
---
i feel my lazy old bones growing wings
growing wings so i can fly to you
and live in your fairytale
---
how can the world not see
that i am just a whisper wishing for a better home?
---
I'll remember the lukewarm buzzing nights
we piled all the rocks against the wall
and listened to the crickets
that sing songs of violet tomorrows
---
dream of here and there
of creaky love doors and politics
of thin wrists and ripply water
A/N: so, i don't know how much i like this ficlet, but whatever! writing is writing, and i'm glad i finished it. i wrote the poem snippets, by the way. like i said, though, most of them are snippets, and the full versions are much longer :). just FYI, i should have at least one more fic up soon, both here and at my journal. thanks for reading! comments are ♥!