run for your children, for your sisters and brothersadamantinedJanuary 14 2010, 05:36:09 UTC
She's reflected that smile back at enough people to know what it takes to wear it, the amount of energy it requires to muster it up, to bring it to life, to wear it and pretend like things are actually as bad as they feel, as they are. Claire reflects it back at him now - sad little smile, painfully smooth angles - and it feels as natural as breathing, as waking up in the morning, putting on socks and brushing her teeth. Peter has rubbed off on her in ways that she never imagined anyone would, and she's only sorry that she's rubbed off on him in return, in ways that no one ever should.
In the most basic sense, Claire gets it, she understands, more than anyone ever could. The two of them are tiny boats in a tiny swimming pool, and the means of getting out aren't far out of reach but seem so distant in the grand scheme of things. No one else could understand that feeling: drowning and floating at the same time. Stuck in a world where nothing matters but everything does, they gravitate around each other like two miserable little planets, and so Claire's smile can't be anything other than the same one she's taught Peter to imitate so flawlessly.
She nods, looking out over the skyline, her breath a sharp, white exhale in the dark night. Her shoes scrape across the floor as she comes to stand next to him, only looking up when she feels like enough time has passed between what he's said and what she wants to say. All the right words are there, but they're meaningless, have no weight, not point. Instead of saying anything at all, Claire stays beside him, moving only to squeeze her arm around his, linking them by the insides of their elbows, her fingers gripping the material of his sleeve. She stands close to him and looks out over the sky and says nothing.
run for your children, for your sisters and brothersjustdoingmyjobJanuary 20 2010, 02:22:06 UTC
Arms that link with ease are a comfort, just as Claire herself is, and if it wasn't Claire at his side he knows the comfort wouldn't be the same either, wrapped up in colors that only go together sometimes and words that say the right thing with even less frequency; histories that simultaneously explain a lot and very little about where they are now. Night gives way to sunrise, because Peter finds it easier to remember the world isn't a lost cause when control seems like it is only one facet of making things work, like he can leave many pieces up in the air and still come out standing.
Even the air seems to transform itself from the metropolitan screening to something cleaner, something far away and simple that reaffirms that this is a dream. But he doesn't mind. His life has been comprised in large fractions of dreams for a long time now.
"I'm glad to see you..." he stops short, head bowing, arm curling a little tighter without meaning to. "...maybe it sounds stupid, but it's like...I want to think it's a sign. That even," and he has to stop again, exhaling enough that it sends bangs flying up and this time he unlinks their arms, stepping away but not in a way that implies needing distance so much as a need to move. "...even with everything...the way it is, there's still something good."
We have each other.
But is it enough? His subconscious echoes every uncertainty back at him with mirror pieces and it changes that statement into a question.
We have each other...right?
And maybe it's stupid for him to think of it like this when Claire is the one who can't die, but he believes that there is always a way around the 'never' and the absolute, believes that anything can be taken away even if he no longer believes anything can be regained. Death is the darkest opponent because you can't argue with it and no matter the number of times the once cheerleader from Odessa says she can't die, he doesn't believe that any more than he believes that she can't be hurt. One look at her tells him differently, and really the truth is that Peter doesn't even have to look to know that much.
He looks anyway though, because it means more to let people know someone cares enough to in the first place.
In the most basic sense, Claire gets it, she understands, more than anyone ever could. The two of them are tiny boats in a tiny swimming pool, and the means of getting out aren't far out of reach but seem so distant in the grand scheme of things. No one else could understand that feeling: drowning and floating at the same time. Stuck in a world where nothing matters but everything does, they gravitate around each other like two miserable little planets, and so Claire's smile can't be anything other than the same one she's taught Peter to imitate so flawlessly.
She nods, looking out over the skyline, her breath a sharp, white exhale in the dark night. Her shoes scrape across the floor as she comes to stand next to him, only looking up when she feels like enough time has passed between what he's said and what she wants to say. All the right words are there, but they're meaningless, have no weight, not point. Instead of saying anything at all, Claire stays beside him, moving only to squeeze her arm around his, linking them by the insides of their elbows, her fingers gripping the material of his sleeve. She stands close to him and looks out over the sky and says nothing.
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Even the air seems to transform itself from the metropolitan screening to something cleaner, something far away and simple that reaffirms that this is a dream. But he doesn't mind. His life has been comprised in large fractions of dreams for a long time now.
"I'm glad to see you..." he stops short, head bowing, arm curling a little tighter without meaning to. "...maybe it sounds stupid, but it's like...I want to think it's a sign. That even," and he has to stop again, exhaling enough that it sends bangs flying up and this time he unlinks their arms, stepping away but not in a way that implies needing distance so much as a need to move. "...even with everything...the way it is, there's still something good."
We have each other.
But is it enough? His subconscious echoes every uncertainty back at him with mirror pieces and it changes that statement into a question.
We have each other...right?
And maybe it's stupid for him to think of it like this when Claire is the one who can't die, but he believes that there is always a way around the 'never' and the absolute, believes that anything can be taken away even if he no longer believes anything can be regained. Death is the darkest opponent because you can't argue with it and no matter the number of times the once cheerleader from Odessa says she can't die, he doesn't believe that any more than he believes that she can't be hurt. One look at her tells him differently, and really the truth is that Peter doesn't even have to look to know that much.
He looks anyway though, because it means more to let people know someone cares enough to in the first place.
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