This Loud Morning [Cookleta] [PG]
[title] This Loud Morning
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] rajkumari905. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/David Archuleta
[rating] PG
[word count] 509
[summary] You had been broken so many times before, you needed to be cautious. But alcohol and cautiousness have never been friends, so you waited for that door to open and for his eyes to calm your raving heart like they always did.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst. Fluff. Second person POV.
[author's notes] In the umpteenth attempt to come back with something readable, Lire has decided to post this today. It's the first thing I've written since March that has nothing to do with my job or my PhD, and I know it's a bit rusty and imperfect, but I thought you might want to read it and share your thoughts.
The sun rises up in the sky from behind the few mountains that compose the landscape in this small paradise lost in the middle of the ocean. You stare at the calm water that spreads in silvery shimmerings right before your eyes, the cup of coffee forgotten at your right under the lazy clouds that pass by in original shapes.
You sigh.
So much has happened to you in the past three and a half years, ever since you agreed to audition for the show that changed your life, in so many ways that it's impossible for you to list them all - you'd need the rest of your days to reach the last reason why you're a new, different David thanks to American Idol. As you take in the small, shy waves that begin to grace the shore, you remember the first time you laid your eyes on him, on the giant wave that swallowed you up when you held his gaze and almost drowned on it.
His youth was always the biggest obstacle. He wasn't even of age when you met him, and on top of that he was always very religious, a man of strong beliefs - that's something he never lost, even after life slapped him hard with his parents' divorce being aired everywhere. And then, even when he turned eighteen, he was still - he still is - as pure as new snow. So you never spoke your mind, and you ended up dating girl after girl - one of them even tried to become your personal Billie Jean - in the hopes you'd forget about him, until that fateful day.
Dutch courage was in order by the time you broke up with your latest girlfriend. Andy shoved the first three whiskeys down your throat, but you drank up eagerly the rest of the night after the Manila reunion concert. You walked up to his door, barely keeping yourself straight, and you knocked on it, hoping he was still awake. You never held your hopes up, just in case. You had been broken so many times before, you needed to be cautious. But alcohol and cautiousness have never been friends, so you waited for that door to open and for his eyes to calm your raving heart like they always did.
Arms around your waist take you back from your memories. Words begin to fall from your lips, apologies and nonsense entwined in your voice, but fingers reach your mouth and seal it. You don't need to turn around to feel the love, but hands guide you to turn your back to the ocean and lock your gaze to his, brown and deep as a sea full of chocolate. Ever since that night two years ago, he's all you'll ever want to see when you wake up.
"Everything all right?" he asks, and you nod.
And all of a sudden all the sounds surrounding you break the silence, taking you back to the reality of your little escapade.
And you think you don't need silence anymore, this loud morning.
[author] Lire Casander
[beta] rajkumari905. Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
[pairing] David Cook/David Archuleta
[rating] PG
[word count] 509
[summary] You had been broken so many times before, you needed to be cautious. But alcohol and cautiousness have never been friends, so you waited for that door to open and for his eyes to calm your raving heart like they always did.
[disclaimer] I don't own nor have ever met David Cook nor David Archuleta. Everything about them is completely fiction, and any similarity with reality is a mere coincidence.
[warnings] Angst. Fluff. Second person POV.
[author's notes] In the umpteenth attempt to come back with something readable, Lire has decided to post this today. It's the first thing I've written since March that has nothing to do with my job or my PhD, and I know it's a bit rusty and imperfect, but I thought you might want to read it and share your thoughts.
The sun rises up in the sky from behind the few mountains that compose the landscape in this small paradise lost in the middle of the ocean. You stare at the calm water that spreads in silvery shimmerings right before your eyes, the cup of coffee forgotten at your right under the lazy clouds that pass by in original shapes.
You sigh.
So much has happened to you in the past three and a half years, ever since you agreed to audition for the show that changed your life, in so many ways that it's impossible for you to list them all - you'd need the rest of your days to reach the last reason why you're a new, different David thanks to American Idol. As you take in the small, shy waves that begin to grace the shore, you remember the first time you laid your eyes on him, on the giant wave that swallowed you up when you held his gaze and almost drowned on it.
His youth was always the biggest obstacle. He wasn't even of age when you met him, and on top of that he was always very religious, a man of strong beliefs - that's something he never lost, even after life slapped him hard with his parents' divorce being aired everywhere. And then, even when he turned eighteen, he was still - he still is - as pure as new snow. So you never spoke your mind, and you ended up dating girl after girl - one of them even tried to become your personal Billie Jean - in the hopes you'd forget about him, until that fateful day.
Dutch courage was in order by the time you broke up with your latest girlfriend. Andy shoved the first three whiskeys down your throat, but you drank up eagerly the rest of the night after the Manila reunion concert. You walked up to his door, barely keeping yourself straight, and you knocked on it, hoping he was still awake. You never held your hopes up, just in case. You had been broken so many times before, you needed to be cautious. But alcohol and cautiousness have never been friends, so you waited for that door to open and for his eyes to calm your raving heart like they always did.
Arms around your waist take you back from your memories. Words begin to fall from your lips, apologies and nonsense entwined in your voice, but fingers reach your mouth and seal it. You don't need to turn around to feel the love, but hands guide you to turn your back to the ocean and lock your gaze to his, brown and deep as a sea full of chocolate. Ever since that night two years ago, he's all you'll ever want to see when you wake up.
"Everything all right?" he asks, and you nod.
And all of a sudden all the sounds surrounding you break the silence, taking you back to the reality of your little escapade.
And you think you don't need silence anymore, this loud morning.