AAR - Fic - Absence of Sound
Title: Absence of Sound
Author: lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit and I don't claim that it's true.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: none
Pairing: Nick/Tyson (All-American Rejects)
Summary: How do you define a relationship?
A/N: So, I love this. This may be one my favorite things that I've ever written. It was an experience to write, an amazing on, and I'm not quite sure why. It just was. It's a bit experimental in style, and inspired by more
we_are_cities' prompts as well as on particular passage in The Collected Works of Billy the Kid that is where I got the style for the last paragraph from. Anyway, I'm enjoying trying out different things with my writing and I adore this piece. Now I'm going to go on with my genderfuck and vampires. ;) Also, this is rather AU in that it assumes Nick's the lyricist when it's Tyson who writes the lyrics. Just so you know. :)
There really aren’t words for it, for what Nick and Tyson are. Nick says they’re like a married couple, hell, everyone says that, and Tyson thinks maybe it’s accurate.
(except Tyson always hears the word ‘marriage’ and thinks of days without more than a cursory glance and years without passion and hours of silence filled with words that drift in the air like dust motes and that isn’t what he and Nick are, not at all)
The thing is, and Tyson will say this if he’s drunk enough, he and Nick are like fucking soul mates. And fuck what everyone thinks a soul mate should be, some long-legged girl with soul-deep eyes and cock-sucking lips, because they have no fucking clue.
(because when Tyson thinks the words ‘soul mate’ he sees a smile without an end and pale hands curled around his while an encouraging voice says no, this way, jesus you really can’t play bass, can you? and he can still feel the world shifting into perfect alignment under his feet)
Tyson isn’t really that poetic. That’s Nick’s thing, not his, though he does write a mean limerick. He doesn’t usually wish that he was a gifted writer because he likes the way things are, he likes singing Nick’s words because it feels right, it feels like that’s how it should be. But sometimes he wishes that he could explain what it is that he and Nick are. After a show when Nick can’t fucking stop smiling and he’s absolutely gorgeous and Tyson wants to tell him and stops himself, grins back instead and knows that Nick can see the words on his face, moments like that are the ones that make Tyson wish he had the easy answer for what this is.
(there is never an easy answer for things like this and Tyson would maybe know that if he hadn’t spent most of his life looking for the easy answers, answers that he finds in the softness of curves and between glossy lips and in laughs that are nice and words that are sincere, all of it just noise and nothing discernible)
If he’s drunk enough, Tyson will say that he and Nick are soul mates. And if he were minutes away from passing out, he might be able to slur something that would explain how he feels, how he knows that Nick feels. He doesn’t, though, because he’s done it before and once was enough.
(he is Tyson’s best friend, only real friend, like a brother but not because Tyson wouldn’t think of a brother like this, wouldn’t think of pursed lips against his and hips in his hands and don’t stop, never stop, never stop, don’t stop, hips in his hands and wouldn’t think of pursed lips against his, because Nick wouldn’t think of a brother like this, like a brother but not, only real friend, he is Nick’s best friend)
There really aren’t words for it.
Author: lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This is for fun, not profit and I don't claim that it's true.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: none
Pairing: Nick/Tyson (All-American Rejects)
Summary: How do you define a relationship?
A/N: So, I love this. This may be one my favorite things that I've ever written. It was an experience to write, an amazing on, and I'm not quite sure why. It just was. It's a bit experimental in style, and inspired by more
we_are_cities' prompts as well as on particular passage in The Collected Works of Billy the Kid that is where I got the style for the last paragraph from. Anyway, I'm enjoying trying out different things with my writing and I adore this piece. Now I'm going to go on with my genderfuck and vampires. ;) Also, this is rather AU in that it assumes Nick's the lyricist when it's Tyson who writes the lyrics. Just so you know. :)
There really aren’t words for it, for what Nick and Tyson are. Nick says they’re like a married couple, hell, everyone says that, and Tyson thinks maybe it’s accurate.
(except Tyson always hears the word ‘marriage’ and thinks of days without more than a cursory glance and years without passion and hours of silence filled with words that drift in the air like dust motes and that isn’t what he and Nick are, not at all)
The thing is, and Tyson will say this if he’s drunk enough, he and Nick are like fucking soul mates. And fuck what everyone thinks a soul mate should be, some long-legged girl with soul-deep eyes and cock-sucking lips, because they have no fucking clue.
(because when Tyson thinks the words ‘soul mate’ he sees a smile without an end and pale hands curled around his while an encouraging voice says no, this way, jesus you really can’t play bass, can you? and he can still feel the world shifting into perfect alignment under his feet)
Tyson isn’t really that poetic. That’s Nick’s thing, not his, though he does write a mean limerick. He doesn’t usually wish that he was a gifted writer because he likes the way things are, he likes singing Nick’s words because it feels right, it feels like that’s how it should be. But sometimes he wishes that he could explain what it is that he and Nick are. After a show when Nick can’t fucking stop smiling and he’s absolutely gorgeous and Tyson wants to tell him and stops himself, grins back instead and knows that Nick can see the words on his face, moments like that are the ones that make Tyson wish he had the easy answer for what this is.
(there is never an easy answer for things like this and Tyson would maybe know that if he hadn’t spent most of his life looking for the easy answers, answers that he finds in the softness of curves and between glossy lips and in laughs that are nice and words that are sincere, all of it just noise and nothing discernible)
If he’s drunk enough, Tyson will say that he and Nick are soul mates. And if he were minutes away from passing out, he might be able to slur something that would explain how he feels, how he knows that Nick feels. He doesn’t, though, because he’s done it before and once was enough.
(he is Tyson’s best friend, only real friend, like a brother but not because Tyson wouldn’t think of a brother like this, wouldn’t think of pursed lips against his and hips in his hands and don’t stop, never stop, never stop, don’t stop, hips in his hands and wouldn’t think of pursed lips against his, because Nick wouldn’t think of a brother like this, like a brother but not, only real friend, he is Nick’s best friend)
There really aren’t words for it.