In celebration of becoming a godmother I write a fic!
Title: These secrets we keep
Fandom: Zikki
Rating: R {i guess}
Disclaimer: Don't own them.....moving along
Summary: " It was shortness of breath and burning of chest and whispered 'promise not to tell' and you wondered if all secrets feel like this......"
You remember the first time you had a secret to keep. It was riding your bike, wind blowing, feeling so free, your best friend peddling next to you. It was the lake that you had been warned to stay away from.
"Promise me Zachary that you won't go down there"
"Yes Ma I promise".
It was throwing the football (in places you weren't meant to be) "You throw like a girl Efron" then it was the sound of a smashing window and the wailing of a car alarm, and you and Max scrambling onto your bikes and peddling so fast. It was shortness of breath and burning of chest and whispered "Promise not to tell" and you wondered if all secrets felt like this.
The second time you have a secret it's missed classes and stolen cigarettes behind the toilet block (still a child but feeling like a man), it's furtive glances and the feeling of anticipation. It's the strike of a match, inhaling deeply then holding your breath to stop the cough that bubbles up, you welcome the shortness of breath and burning of chest and you know that this is what a secret must be.
It's years later and a whole lifetime away when you next have a secret to keep but this time it's white walls, imposing conference table and a room full of people that hold your life in their hands. It's stern looks and clinical words, your path being written out like the scene of a movie. It's a girl not a woman sitting next to you, her life being intertwined so tightly with yours and again you feel your chest close up and your breathing shallows, and as you fell that familiar burn you realise that secrets are something you never want to keep. (hate to be, aren't innocence and free)
Your love of secrets comes from the most unusual of places. It's a meeting of hands and eyes and 'Hi I'm Nikki" and at first you are confused when your breathing shortens and you feel that familiar tug in your chest. But as the hours turn into days, the days to months and you wake up everyday with anticipation and a feeling of free, when you remember how you felt so long ago when you rode your bike the wind in you hair, and the feeling that the best you could be was all ahead laid out and absorbed as the wheels turned around and over the cobbled stones, you welcome the difficulty of breathing and the burn you feel and smile with your eyes at the wonder of it all.
Your hate of secrets comes a year later when her brown eyes, infectious smile and aura of beauty is no longer with you. When all you have is memories and a life so far from her and so far removed from who you have become. When the burden of past secrets are once again on your shoulders and the tightening in your chest comes not from secret touches, private jokes and movie nights but from the fear that this life, this person you wanted, pretended to be is exactly who you have become (a stranger in your own skin).
The exposure of secrets is something new, as is the feeling it brings. When shortness of breath is replaced by no breathing at all and tightness of chest by an ache so profound you feel it will explode. It's accustions, recriminations, anger and tears and words and pictures in magazines. It's questions with no answers, ringless fingers and a phone that won't stop ringing, it's the destruction and heartbreak and a fear to throw caution to the wind and stop acting and start improvising and you wonder what's better secrets you hate to keep or a truth that no-one wants to hear (or too scared to admit).
Your life without secrets starts two years later. It's a bump of shoulders, the spill of coffee and an "Oh my god Zac E is that you?" It's a meeting of eyes, then hands and finally your whole being wrapped around her. It's the familiar smell of violets and softness of hair and whispered "I've missed you Nikki B". It's a flurry of words both spoken and unspoken and the constant link of hands and eyes and you feel yourself starting to breathe and your heart beginning to beat and for the first time in so long you feel yourself beginning to live.
It's weeks later when you finally become at peace with secrets, when you're drifting somewhere inbetween the relms of reality and fantasy, heaven and earth, when bodies, hearts and minds are tangled and the taste of her lingers on your lips, the smell on your hands and the sighs, moans and screams echo through your mind ( "Nik you feel so good" and "Zac..... oh my god Zac, there just there" and "More please more....I want to feel all of you".) When her head is tucked against your chest her steady breathing like soft caresses on you heart giving it life, re-teaching it to feel. It's newness and wonder and a joy that is hard to contain but it's also sacred and private, a feeling you want to hold close, untainted by reality and judgement and you realise that a secret shared and bourne of love is a secret you could learn (love) to keep.
Fandom: Zikki
Rating: R {i guess}
Disclaimer: Don't own them.....moving along
Summary: " It was shortness of breath and burning of chest and whispered 'promise not to tell' and you wondered if all secrets feel like this......"
You remember the first time you had a secret to keep. It was riding your bike, wind blowing, feeling so free, your best friend peddling next to you. It was the lake that you had been warned to stay away from.
"Promise me Zachary that you won't go down there"
"Yes Ma I promise".
It was throwing the football (in places you weren't meant to be) "You throw like a girl Efron" then it was the sound of a smashing window and the wailing of a car alarm, and you and Max scrambling onto your bikes and peddling so fast. It was shortness of breath and burning of chest and whispered "Promise not to tell" and you wondered if all secrets felt like this.
The second time you have a secret it's missed classes and stolen cigarettes behind the toilet block (still a child but feeling like a man), it's furtive glances and the feeling of anticipation. It's the strike of a match, inhaling deeply then holding your breath to stop the cough that bubbles up, you welcome the shortness of breath and burning of chest and you know that this is what a secret must be.
It's years later and a whole lifetime away when you next have a secret to keep but this time it's white walls, imposing conference table and a room full of people that hold your life in their hands. It's stern looks and clinical words, your path being written out like the scene of a movie. It's a girl not a woman sitting next to you, her life being intertwined so tightly with yours and again you feel your chest close up and your breathing shallows, and as you fell that familiar burn you realise that secrets are something you never want to keep. (hate to be, aren't innocence and free)
Your love of secrets comes from the most unusual of places. It's a meeting of hands and eyes and 'Hi I'm Nikki" and at first you are confused when your breathing shortens and you feel that familiar tug in your chest. But as the hours turn into days, the days to months and you wake up everyday with anticipation and a feeling of free, when you remember how you felt so long ago when you rode your bike the wind in you hair, and the feeling that the best you could be was all ahead laid out and absorbed as the wheels turned around and over the cobbled stones, you welcome the difficulty of breathing and the burn you feel and smile with your eyes at the wonder of it all.
Your hate of secrets comes a year later when her brown eyes, infectious smile and aura of beauty is no longer with you. When all you have is memories and a life so far from her and so far removed from who you have become. When the burden of past secrets are once again on your shoulders and the tightening in your chest comes not from secret touches, private jokes and movie nights but from the fear that this life, this person you wanted, pretended to be is exactly who you have become (a stranger in your own skin).
The exposure of secrets is something new, as is the feeling it brings. When shortness of breath is replaced by no breathing at all and tightness of chest by an ache so profound you feel it will explode. It's accustions, recriminations, anger and tears and words and pictures in magazines. It's questions with no answers, ringless fingers and a phone that won't stop ringing, it's the destruction and heartbreak and a fear to throw caution to the wind and stop acting and start improvising and you wonder what's better secrets you hate to keep or a truth that no-one wants to hear (or too scared to admit).
Your life without secrets starts two years later. It's a bump of shoulders, the spill of coffee and an "Oh my god Zac E is that you?" It's a meeting of eyes, then hands and finally your whole being wrapped around her. It's the familiar smell of violets and softness of hair and whispered "I've missed you Nikki B". It's a flurry of words both spoken and unspoken and the constant link of hands and eyes and you feel yourself starting to breathe and your heart beginning to beat and for the first time in so long you feel yourself beginning to live.
It's weeks later when you finally become at peace with secrets, when you're drifting somewhere inbetween the relms of reality and fantasy, heaven and earth, when bodies, hearts and minds are tangled and the taste of her lingers on your lips, the smell on your hands and the sighs, moans and screams echo through your mind ( "Nik you feel so good" and "Zac..... oh my god Zac, there just there" and "More please more....I want to feel all of you".) When her head is tucked against your chest her steady breathing like soft caresses on you heart giving it life, re-teaching it to feel. It's newness and wonder and a joy that is hard to contain but it's also sacred and private, a feeling you want to hold close, untainted by reality and judgement and you realise that a secret shared and bourne of love is a secret you could learn (love) to keep.