Fic: Lamenting Consequences
Title: Lamenting Consequences.
Author: Onesquishedcat
Pairing: Shou x Hiroto x Shou (can also be read as anyone)
Rating: R to be safe
Summary: Because absence is the only thing.
Warnings: MxM, Angst
Notes: Inspired by the song 'Let the Flames Begin' by Paramore, and jrockprompts' prompt #8.
Also, this was actually written back on the 4th, but I forgot to post it here as well as my journal XP
He stands there, the pictures scattered and fluttering and so still in front of him, where he remains, motionless. His attention is on the world beyond the glass, beyond his shattered heart. Everything in a haze of grey.
Because absense is the only thing.
His hand is on the window, and he can feel the contrast between the temperatures so vividly. But he ignores it for the misty rain, for the blurry vision through the pane. He imagines those people down there are walking towards nothing, the same old routine, and he wishes desperately to cling to that sense of purpose. He doesn't want to feel like this anymore. It's killing him slowly - like the silence of this dark room.
Because you can get free of everything except the space where things have been.
He remembers not too long ago when there was someone to chase the silence away. The person in the pictures all disheveled at his feet. The man he had loved. Still loved. He could almost feel it as he did then - before everything fell apart - the ghost of those thin but soft arms wrapping around his waist, a quiet whisper of his name trying to tug him back to bed. And he would go, willingly, because it was what he wanted most, to be held and cherished and loved. To be with him so close that his steady heartbeat would lull him to sleep..No more was it to be. They were no longer the 'we' and us', but the 'you' and 'him', and the 'him' and 'I'. But he wishes still that it was 'you's and 'I's.
I wish I could hold onto you as you walk away
He remembered with a smokey clarity how it all fell apart, how he didn't say anything as he walked away. How he screamed and pleaded and died inside but not a sound passed through his lips till the quiet sound of the door announced he was alone. He remembered how hollow he felt, how painful his heart beat was, and he clutched at it as he sank to the floor, his world becoming indinstinguishable from his blank mind. There was warmth, he had felt, on his cheeks, but like the window, it was unimportant. He should be feeling so much more.
I wish I could see you when you’re gone,
He can feel now that his skin was cool to the touch but his gaze never wavered. He wants to imagine that if he looks hard enough, down there he'll see him once more, walking away, but this time he'll turn, he'll realize no, it wasn't right, and he would turn around, looking him straight in the eye even from twenty stories below. Even with the fog and rain he would see that he had made a mistake, he would smile, and return to thier - now his, bed. They would hold each other tight and never let go, and make love under the silence and the rain, quiet murmurs of love and ecstacy the only thing to make such perfection, real.
I know that I won’t forget you when you’re presence disappears,
But it's not to be. Too many things, too many words, and too many memories lay between them now, keep them apart even if they were to stand side by side. So overcast grey slowly fades to blue and then bleeds to black - yet still he stands, because he wants to believe if he hopes and longs for it enough, he'll come back. That he'll return to his arms and everything will be as it should. There would be no pain or silence, no apathetic lifelessness or sadness so deep it tore. He would be content to listen and be lulled by his heartbeat, by the feeling of his skin brushing so wonderfully innocent against his. To love and be loved in return.
And I can only hope that one day you’ll realize that you never left.
Twenty stories below a single black umbrella remains motionless, shading it's user from the rain not caught by the tree. And though he can barely see, he continues to concentrate on the rows of dark windows for that one, his mind in a permanent reminiscence. His soft skin, his beautiful eyes... His loving heart. When it at last he can no longer make out the pane and it's overseer through the night he lets out a soft sigh, the sound lost to the rain as he turns. His hand in his pocket clenches as he walks away.
Because absence is the only thing.
Author: Onesquishedcat
Pairing: Shou x Hiroto x Shou (can also be read as anyone)
Rating: R to be safe
Summary: Because absence is the only thing.
Warnings: MxM, Angst
Notes: Inspired by the song 'Let the Flames Begin' by Paramore, and jrockprompts' prompt #8.
Also, this was actually written back on the 4th, but I forgot to post it here as well as my journal XP
He stands there, the pictures scattered and fluttering and so still in front of him, where he remains, motionless. His attention is on the world beyond the glass, beyond his shattered heart. Everything in a haze of grey.
Because absense is the only thing.
His hand is on the window, and he can feel the contrast between the temperatures so vividly. But he ignores it for the misty rain, for the blurry vision through the pane. He imagines those people down there are walking towards nothing, the same old routine, and he wishes desperately to cling to that sense of purpose. He doesn't want to feel like this anymore. It's killing him slowly - like the silence of this dark room.
Because you can get free of everything except the space where things have been.
He remembers not too long ago when there was someone to chase the silence away. The person in the pictures all disheveled at his feet. The man he had loved. Still loved. He could almost feel it as he did then - before everything fell apart - the ghost of those thin but soft arms wrapping around his waist, a quiet whisper of his name trying to tug him back to bed. And he would go, willingly, because it was what he wanted most, to be held and cherished and loved. To be with him so close that his steady heartbeat would lull him to sleep..No more was it to be. They were no longer the 'we' and us', but the 'you' and 'him', and the 'him' and 'I'. But he wishes still that it was 'you's and 'I's.
I wish I could hold onto you as you walk away
He remembered with a smokey clarity how it all fell apart, how he didn't say anything as he walked away. How he screamed and pleaded and died inside but not a sound passed through his lips till the quiet sound of the door announced he was alone. He remembered how hollow he felt, how painful his heart beat was, and he clutched at it as he sank to the floor, his world becoming indinstinguishable from his blank mind. There was warmth, he had felt, on his cheeks, but like the window, it was unimportant. He should be feeling so much more.
I wish I could see you when you’re gone,
He can feel now that his skin was cool to the touch but his gaze never wavered. He wants to imagine that if he looks hard enough, down there he'll see him once more, walking away, but this time he'll turn, he'll realize no, it wasn't right, and he would turn around, looking him straight in the eye even from twenty stories below. Even with the fog and rain he would see that he had made a mistake, he would smile, and return to thier - now his, bed. They would hold each other tight and never let go, and make love under the silence and the rain, quiet murmurs of love and ecstacy the only thing to make such perfection, real.
I know that I won’t forget you when you’re presence disappears,
But it's not to be. Too many things, too many words, and too many memories lay between them now, keep them apart even if they were to stand side by side. So overcast grey slowly fades to blue and then bleeds to black - yet still he stands, because he wants to believe if he hopes and longs for it enough, he'll come back. That he'll return to his arms and everything will be as it should. There would be no pain or silence, no apathetic lifelessness or sadness so deep it tore. He would be content to listen and be lulled by his heartbeat, by the feeling of his skin brushing so wonderfully innocent against his. To love and be loved in return.
And I can only hope that one day you’ll realize that you never left.
Twenty stories below a single black umbrella remains motionless, shading it's user from the rain not caught by the tree. And though he can barely see, he continues to concentrate on the rows of dark windows for that one, his mind in a permanent reminiscence. His soft skin, his beautiful eyes... His loving heart. When it at last he can no longer make out the pane and it's overseer through the night he lets out a soft sigh, the sound lost to the rain as he turns. His hand in his pocket clenches as he walks away.
Because absence is the only thing.