[fanfiction] you'll never be far
365 Gay Sharks
Day 135, Word Count: 779
Theme: May; Chain Reactions
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: #y_slash; Hexamon
Rating: PG
Pre-Notes: For fuzzlol in the youtube_slash fic exchange. ♥
Disclaimer: Please go away.
Summary: There is no one in the world that Alex likes as much as Tom Milsom.
you'll never be far
There is no one in the world that Alex likes as much as Tom Milsom.
It doesn't matter what they're doing or what Alex says, because it will always be true. The little things are the telling ones. There's the easy way that Tom will wrap his arms around Alex and bury his face in the crook of Alex's neck. There's the way that Alex will sit next to Tom at the piano, every point where the touch burning until Alex thinks that he may very well just go up in flames. There's the way that Tom will press a kiss to Alex's forehead and smile at him, eyes shining. There's the way that Alex will put a hand around Tom's waist, pulling him closer. There's the way that their fingers will tangle together in stolen moments of privacy.
And that's just the beginning. Every tiny touch, every connection of skin to skin, is a tiny step on the road to breaking apart and shattering whatever tiny boundary is left between them.
Sometimes Alex isn't sure if he should be excited or terrified for the day where they can't deny the invisible elephant in the room with them. It isn't like Charlie and Ed don't exchange looks between them and pretend to ignore whatever waters they're treading. Ignore whatever things simply aren't being said, which are many and varied. They start with "I like you" and end with "you are everything I want and I may shatter into a thousand, million, tiny pieces if you ever leave."
In the end, the barrier is broken like this: they're sitting at the piano, Alex chiming in where appropriate and Tom's fingers running nimble across the ivory surface of the piano keys. They're pressed together, as close as they can get and not occupy the same space, and Tom turns. Alex turns too, and then their lips meet. It's not an explosion, it's not anything like Alex thought it would be.
Actually, it's very easy.
It's easy to turn more fully and wrap a hand around the base of Tom's neck. It's easy to press closer to Tom when his hands urge Alex forward. It's easy to crawl into Tom's lap, precarious on the piano bench, and kiss him until they cannot breathe, cannot do anything but pull apart and try to fill their lungs with air once more. It's easy for everything to fall into place, like it was never out of place to begin with.
There is something poetic in that, maybe. Something beautiful. Alex thinks that Tom would know exactly what words to describe it. Would know exactly what the feeling was and how to play the melody to match that feeling. Alex isn't that good, though. He's not got magic fingers or mysterious, ridiculous powers of music. He likes music, likes writing it and performing it and the like. It's just not the same as what Tom does, though.
Tom fits his hands into the back pockets of Alex's jeans, holding him in place and stabilizing him, before resting his head against Alex's chest. They breathe, and Alex can hear a nameless, wordless melody playing in the distance. He hums it, unaware that he's humming at all, and Tom looks up at him and smiles. Alex knows that look, and he's sliding off the bench to sit next to Tom again, watching as Tom's fingers fall into place on the piano and begin to move, elegant and meticulous. Alex watches, listens as the song pours out from Tom, and sways in time to it. There are no words, and Alex doesn't feel the need to add any.
Some things just don't need words.
Alex doesn't need words for Tom to know that there is nothing and no one that Alex loves more. Alex doesn't need words to say I love you or you are everything I want and I may shatter into a thousand, million, tiny pieces if you ever leave. Alex doesn't need words to say much of anything at all, when it comes to Tom. He just needs music and maybe a smile or two, and the rest will sort itself out. Tom's fingers still on the piano, and he glances over at Alex, smiling. Alex smiles back, and hums another melody.
There's a lot of music in the world - more music that words, maybe - and it's something that Alex understands. It's not complicated, and a person can say anything they want with music if they only know the right way to say it because knowing that you want to say something is the easy part.
It's figuring out the right way that's hard.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Day 135, Word Count: 779
Theme: May; Chain Reactions
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: #y_slash; Hexamon
Rating: PG
Pre-Notes: For fuzzlol in the youtube_slash fic exchange. ♥
Disclaimer: Please go away.
Summary: There is no one in the world that Alex likes as much as Tom Milsom.
you'll never be far
There is no one in the world that Alex likes as much as Tom Milsom.
It doesn't matter what they're doing or what Alex says, because it will always be true. The little things are the telling ones. There's the easy way that Tom will wrap his arms around Alex and bury his face in the crook of Alex's neck. There's the way that Alex will sit next to Tom at the piano, every point where the touch burning until Alex thinks that he may very well just go up in flames. There's the way that Tom will press a kiss to Alex's forehead and smile at him, eyes shining. There's the way that Alex will put a hand around Tom's waist, pulling him closer. There's the way that their fingers will tangle together in stolen moments of privacy.
And that's just the beginning. Every tiny touch, every connection of skin to skin, is a tiny step on the road to breaking apart and shattering whatever tiny boundary is left between them.
Sometimes Alex isn't sure if he should be excited or terrified for the day where they can't deny the invisible elephant in the room with them. It isn't like Charlie and Ed don't exchange looks between them and pretend to ignore whatever waters they're treading. Ignore whatever things simply aren't being said, which are many and varied. They start with "I like you" and end with "you are everything I want and I may shatter into a thousand, million, tiny pieces if you ever leave."
In the end, the barrier is broken like this: they're sitting at the piano, Alex chiming in where appropriate and Tom's fingers running nimble across the ivory surface of the piano keys. They're pressed together, as close as they can get and not occupy the same space, and Tom turns. Alex turns too, and then their lips meet. It's not an explosion, it's not anything like Alex thought it would be.
Actually, it's very easy.
It's easy to turn more fully and wrap a hand around the base of Tom's neck. It's easy to press closer to Tom when his hands urge Alex forward. It's easy to crawl into Tom's lap, precarious on the piano bench, and kiss him until they cannot breathe, cannot do anything but pull apart and try to fill their lungs with air once more. It's easy for everything to fall into place, like it was never out of place to begin with.
There is something poetic in that, maybe. Something beautiful. Alex thinks that Tom would know exactly what words to describe it. Would know exactly what the feeling was and how to play the melody to match that feeling. Alex isn't that good, though. He's not got magic fingers or mysterious, ridiculous powers of music. He likes music, likes writing it and performing it and the like. It's just not the same as what Tom does, though.
Tom fits his hands into the back pockets of Alex's jeans, holding him in place and stabilizing him, before resting his head against Alex's chest. They breathe, and Alex can hear a nameless, wordless melody playing in the distance. He hums it, unaware that he's humming at all, and Tom looks up at him and smiles. Alex knows that look, and he's sliding off the bench to sit next to Tom again, watching as Tom's fingers fall into place on the piano and begin to move, elegant and meticulous. Alex watches, listens as the song pours out from Tom, and sways in time to it. There are no words, and Alex doesn't feel the need to add any.
Some things just don't need words.
Alex doesn't need words for Tom to know that there is nothing and no one that Alex loves more. Alex doesn't need words to say I love you or you are everything I want and I may shatter into a thousand, million, tiny pieces if you ever leave. Alex doesn't need words to say much of anything at all, when it comes to Tom. He just needs music and maybe a smile or two, and the rest will sort itself out. Tom's fingers still on the piano, and he glances over at Alex, smiling. Alex smiles back, and hums another melody.
There's a lot of music in the world - more music that words, maybe - and it's something that Alex understands. It's not complicated, and a person can say anything they want with music if they only know the right way to say it because knowing that you want to say something is the easy part.
It's figuring out the right way that's hard.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D