fic: sorrow
Title: Sorrow
Genre: Angst, sadness.
Warnings: Sad.
Rating: PG 13 (mentions of death and one swearword)
Spoilers: None. Takes place sometime after Thursday's ep.
Characters: Luke/Reid
Disclaimer: ATWT, it's current and past characters are not property of mine.
Summary: Sad!Luke snapshot of the middle of the night.
Author's Notes: Just a short piece. A bitter acknowledgement of what was lost. BTW - I mean the 'he' and 'he' to be confusing.
Oh, sweet sorrow, the time you borrow, will you be here when i wake up tomorrow?
- Katherine Wolf -
Spread fingers move across skin.
They’re cold fingers with pale dermis and whitened nails. The pressure he puts to them as his hand moves infuses a blood-red blush into tissues. They turn red as the skin they press whitens under duress.
He doesn’t mean to be heavy handed. He doesn’t mean to leave marks. If he had any intentions at all, he’d probably say they were to be gentle and kind.
But no one’s asked him. And he hasn’t given it thought.
He’s only feeling. He’s only experiencing and giving. Same to same.
He can hear music crest in his mind. Strings throb poignantly and waves crash upon a beach. Somewhere. Not here.
Here is a soft bed, warm and dry.
It contains two people. Two men. Either and both of them could be described as next-door ordinary.
Or as extraordinary. Beautiful.
Neither would describe themselves that way. Neither of them is prone to seeing himself that way. Neither really spends that much time on self-exploration. Probably to their detriment, but that’s another issue.
At the moment these two extraordinarily ordinary men are wrapped together. He has cold hands, he has red marks and deepening bruises over his hips and waist that match such hands.
He could offer platitudes, condolences and apologies. But he doesn’t want to hear them. In return he could offer gratitude, forgiveness.
But it would all be bullshit.
They’re human, like the rest of us. They make mistakes, do bad things and make the wrong decisions. They forget things and let people down and hurt people’s feelings.
But they also get over it. They forgive and apologize and value the people in their lives. They don’t have long dragged-out grudges and endless periods of resentment and burning hate.
They have life. They have each other and an everyday life. They go to work, to offices and appointments and meetings. To events and openings and dinners. His favorite time is late at night when the moon is clouded over and stars barely wink light through curtains and blinds.
His favorite time is when he’s half asleep and a small sound or thought rouses him. When their house is silent but for the hum and crackle of appliances and circulating electricity.
He could read, if he’s having trouble sleeping. He could get up and venture to a state-of-the-art kitchen to answer midnight snack cravings. He can sit at the window and stare and ponder.
But most of the time, the best way to cure whatever ails him is to roll over and sink into warmth and comfort. To revel in skin and scent and soft sounds. His partner’s a heavy sleeper. Although, empathetic. Too often on those wakeful nights, a grunt or moan preludes him rolling over with heavy eyes and searching hands.
The easiest way to ensure they both fall back asleep is to submit and admit. To… whatever. To fears and problems, to issues and thoughts and feelings. Time passes unaware, and sleep overcomes to soothe. The hours of slumber carry them through to a new day.
…
Or, they would. If he wasn’t dreaming. If he didn’t start awake breathless and wanting and confused and missing. If he wasn’t always grasping blindly at tangled, sweaty sheets and fading memories. There’s no other for him to turn to, no food or conversation or midnight view that will settle him. This is his life now. He’s human. He’s alive. And he’s alone.
*Fin*
Author's note (2):To everyone who has read and commented on my previous fics. A long overdue thank you. I really appreciate your comments and compliments. I'm a procrastinator and may not respond as much as I should, but I certainly read and enjoy them. Your words are always welcome. -Fran-
Genre: Angst, sadness.
Warnings: Sad.
Rating: PG 13 (mentions of death and one swearword)
Spoilers: None. Takes place sometime after Thursday's ep.
Characters: Luke/Reid
Disclaimer: ATWT, it's current and past characters are not property of mine.
Summary: Sad!Luke snapshot of the middle of the night.
Author's Notes: Just a short piece. A bitter acknowledgement of what was lost. BTW - I mean the 'he' and 'he' to be confusing.
Oh, sweet sorrow, the time you borrow, will you be here when i wake up tomorrow?
- Katherine Wolf -
Spread fingers move across skin.
They’re cold fingers with pale dermis and whitened nails. The pressure he puts to them as his hand moves infuses a blood-red blush into tissues. They turn red as the skin they press whitens under duress.
He doesn’t mean to be heavy handed. He doesn’t mean to leave marks. If he had any intentions at all, he’d probably say they were to be gentle and kind.
But no one’s asked him. And he hasn’t given it thought.
He’s only feeling. He’s only experiencing and giving. Same to same.
He can hear music crest in his mind. Strings throb poignantly and waves crash upon a beach. Somewhere. Not here.
Here is a soft bed, warm and dry.
It contains two people. Two men. Either and both of them could be described as next-door ordinary.
Or as extraordinary. Beautiful.
Neither would describe themselves that way. Neither of them is prone to seeing himself that way. Neither really spends that much time on self-exploration. Probably to their detriment, but that’s another issue.
At the moment these two extraordinarily ordinary men are wrapped together. He has cold hands, he has red marks and deepening bruises over his hips and waist that match such hands.
He could offer platitudes, condolences and apologies. But he doesn’t want to hear them. In return he could offer gratitude, forgiveness.
But it would all be bullshit.
They’re human, like the rest of us. They make mistakes, do bad things and make the wrong decisions. They forget things and let people down and hurt people’s feelings.
But they also get over it. They forgive and apologize and value the people in their lives. They don’t have long dragged-out grudges and endless periods of resentment and burning hate.
They have life. They have each other and an everyday life. They go to work, to offices and appointments and meetings. To events and openings and dinners. His favorite time is late at night when the moon is clouded over and stars barely wink light through curtains and blinds.
His favorite time is when he’s half asleep and a small sound or thought rouses him. When their house is silent but for the hum and crackle of appliances and circulating electricity.
He could read, if he’s having trouble sleeping. He could get up and venture to a state-of-the-art kitchen to answer midnight snack cravings. He can sit at the window and stare and ponder.
But most of the time, the best way to cure whatever ails him is to roll over and sink into warmth and comfort. To revel in skin and scent and soft sounds. His partner’s a heavy sleeper. Although, empathetic. Too often on those wakeful nights, a grunt or moan preludes him rolling over with heavy eyes and searching hands.
The easiest way to ensure they both fall back asleep is to submit and admit. To… whatever. To fears and problems, to issues and thoughts and feelings. Time passes unaware, and sleep overcomes to soothe. The hours of slumber carry them through to a new day.
…
Or, they would. If he wasn’t dreaming. If he didn’t start awake breathless and wanting and confused and missing. If he wasn’t always grasping blindly at tangled, sweaty sheets and fading memories. There’s no other for him to turn to, no food or conversation or midnight view that will settle him. This is his life now. He’s human. He’s alive. And he’s alone.
*Fin*
Author's note (2):To everyone who has read and commented on my previous fics. A long overdue thank you. I really appreciate your comments and compliments. I'm a procrastinator and may not respond as much as I should, but I certainly read and enjoy them. Your words are always welcome. -Fran-