(no subject)
Wait, You'll See
kris gen. (kris/katy)
pg-13
you write it yourself, "just wait, you'll see. it gets better." well, does it? 1,042 words.
notes: i totally stole the prompt from hotttpockets' drabble meme; bwahaha: pre-Idol. kris wants to give up on music, but katy doesn't allow it. but it kinda ends up differently? i don't know, you decide.
title from kris' "on our way."
It’s 2 and a half months before the wedding and Kris is hanging tough; hanging on. Into bars, out of cafés. Onstage, off the air. And amongst this mess, there’s college and a 5-page form he needs to fill in if he wants his name to remain in their system.
Because there are songs and a CD and gigs that still bring him nowhere. And then there’s Katy… Even before she got her diploma, there were interviews and an internship at a company with the cheesiest waiting room music Kris has ever heard. And she landed a job just months after graduation. The whiz kid that she is!
Her dad has promised to pay for everything. “Out of tradition,” he says. Out of pity, Kris thinks. But he’s not protesting, either. Not out loud, at least.
Meanwhile, Katy never misses a gig. She just shrugs when he laughs and calls her his self-proclaimed manager. Well, in a way, that’s exactly what she’s always been. She gets off work at 5 and meets him backstage an hour later. She watches him sing from a round table in the center and cheers on him endlessly. The guys in the room will follow her lead, trying to impress. That’s the real story of how he always gets the loudest rounds of applause (He never tells Katy, of course. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. She can be very sensitive when it comes to that kind of stuff). But bars’ owners allow him to come back the next night because of this and Kris remembers that Lord works in mysterious ways.
He usually finishes his set at 2 in the morning. Katy will run up to him then and give him a congratulatory hug, cueing frowns and grunts from the same men who have applauded earlier. He’ll drive them back to her place, where he spends a night, or morning to be precise. She needs to wake up at 7 so she can get ready for work. He remembers telling her that if he stays, he can help her one way or another. He said something, like “Human form alarm” once. She just rolled her eyes as a response, smirking all the while. But Katy never, never fails to take his hand and follow him to the car, obviously not objecting to his company. Besides, she’s not a morning person anyway, while he-well, he isn’t, either. But being able to rub her bare shoulder and point his finger at one of the skirts she’s showing him make Kris feel less guilty. Feel less… Futile.
It happens during one of those nights in that tiny flat of hers. He’s lying on the bed with Katy, sleepless. Their arms are numb around each other’s waist. Her eyelashes tickle the skin on his chest as she nuzzles up against him. Kris buries his nose in her hair and sighs heavily, blowing a few blonde strands in result. He closes his eyes and reminds himself to wake up at 7. So that Katy won’t be late. Katy has to get to work in the morning, meet him backstage in the afternoon. He has to sing again tonight. He needs to check that one string. His guitar sounded a little funny yesterday-this morning. He has to drive them back here later.
His eyes are closed.
But his right hand is restless, moving to follow a hollow trail along Katy’s backbone before resting itself on her neck. He’s cold, and she’s not. He strokes her skin then, sharing her warmth; taking.
He presses his fingertips gently, just to make sure if she’s awake. There’s a gentle rumble from her that lets him know.
“I’m tired.”
It slips out from him, mumbled in her hair. And he’s silent, waiting.
“Me too, babe,” Katy answers after a while, yawning against his chest as if he needs an evidence. Her voice is lazy when she tells him again, “Me too.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, shutting his eyes even tighter as if to brace himself. And he repeats himself, firmer. “I’m tired.” Because she needs to understand, he needs her to know.
And she does, body tensing inside his embrace. The bed is getting narrower all of a sudden and he clutches her closer, just in case. Just in case she rolls off, away.
Yet Katy is motionless; her heavy breathing becomes the only indication that she’s still there with him, listening. Or ignoring. He’s aware of both possibilities, and knowledge, it scares him more than it should (It has always been that way).
He tries again.
“I-”
“Daniel called.”
But it’s Katy, cutting him off mid-sentence. There’s a stifled gasp that seems to come from his throat and he bites his lip, just to stop himself. She’s being random and unfamiliar, and he’s uncomfortable. She’s the one that counts, yells; chest voice spelling high school name through a football field, or resonating scripts through a theatre building. While his is merely the one he hears in his head. Head voice. He’s never even had a singing lesson.
Kris is turning tensed, listening to their rapid breathing as they surface and fall, surface and fall, marring the silence. The room is cold and Katy’s fidgeting, pressing her body closer against his. But he still needs her to know.
“You need to wake up in 4 hours-”
“Dan called.”
And it’s her again, out-of-character. Her fingers tighten around him all of a sudden, nails clawing at the skin on the small of his back. As if she’s making sure, securing his place there.
He asks her instead, “What did he say?”
She’s being slow too, taking her time before choosing her answer. He can feel the way Katy’s lips parting and closing when she finally lets out word by word.
“He wanted to take you somewhere,” she murmurs, softly. “You should think about it.”
There’s something about her last sentence that demands, urging. Like she needs him to know. And he’s quiet, contemplating.
But then there’s a nod coming from his side; his chin brushing the top of her head as he does so. The left end of her mouth curls into a half-smile.
Kris heaves another sigh.
“Okay.”
End.
kris gen. (kris/katy)
pg-13
you write it yourself, "just wait, you'll see. it gets better." well, does it? 1,042 words.
notes: i totally stole the prompt from hotttpockets' drabble meme; bwahaha: pre-Idol. kris wants to give up on music, but katy doesn't allow it. but it kinda ends up differently? i don't know, you decide.
title from kris' "on our way."
It’s 2 and a half months before the wedding and Kris is hanging tough; hanging on. Into bars, out of cafés. Onstage, off the air. And amongst this mess, there’s college and a 5-page form he needs to fill in if he wants his name to remain in their system.
Because there are songs and a CD and gigs that still bring him nowhere. And then there’s Katy… Even before she got her diploma, there were interviews and an internship at a company with the cheesiest waiting room music Kris has ever heard. And she landed a job just months after graduation. The whiz kid that she is!
Her dad has promised to pay for everything. “Out of tradition,” he says. Out of pity, Kris thinks. But he’s not protesting, either. Not out loud, at least.
Meanwhile, Katy never misses a gig. She just shrugs when he laughs and calls her his self-proclaimed manager. Well, in a way, that’s exactly what she’s always been. She gets off work at 5 and meets him backstage an hour later. She watches him sing from a round table in the center and cheers on him endlessly. The guys in the room will follow her lead, trying to impress. That’s the real story of how he always gets the loudest rounds of applause (He never tells Katy, of course. He doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. She can be very sensitive when it comes to that kind of stuff). But bars’ owners allow him to come back the next night because of this and Kris remembers that Lord works in mysterious ways.
He usually finishes his set at 2 in the morning. Katy will run up to him then and give him a congratulatory hug, cueing frowns and grunts from the same men who have applauded earlier. He’ll drive them back to her place, where he spends a night, or morning to be precise. She needs to wake up at 7 so she can get ready for work. He remembers telling her that if he stays, he can help her one way or another. He said something, like “Human form alarm” once. She just rolled her eyes as a response, smirking all the while. But Katy never, never fails to take his hand and follow him to the car, obviously not objecting to his company. Besides, she’s not a morning person anyway, while he-well, he isn’t, either. But being able to rub her bare shoulder and point his finger at one of the skirts she’s showing him make Kris feel less guilty. Feel less… Futile.
It happens during one of those nights in that tiny flat of hers. He’s lying on the bed with Katy, sleepless. Their arms are numb around each other’s waist. Her eyelashes tickle the skin on his chest as she nuzzles up against him. Kris buries his nose in her hair and sighs heavily, blowing a few blonde strands in result. He closes his eyes and reminds himself to wake up at 7. So that Katy won’t be late. Katy has to get to work in the morning, meet him backstage in the afternoon. He has to sing again tonight. He needs to check that one string. His guitar sounded a little funny yesterday-this morning. He has to drive them back here later.
His eyes are closed.
But his right hand is restless, moving to follow a hollow trail along Katy’s backbone before resting itself on her neck. He’s cold, and she’s not. He strokes her skin then, sharing her warmth; taking.
He presses his fingertips gently, just to make sure if she’s awake. There’s a gentle rumble from her that lets him know.
“I’m tired.”
It slips out from him, mumbled in her hair. And he’s silent, waiting.
“Me too, babe,” Katy answers after a while, yawning against his chest as if he needs an evidence. Her voice is lazy when she tells him again, “Me too.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, shutting his eyes even tighter as if to brace himself. And he repeats himself, firmer. “I’m tired.” Because she needs to understand, he needs her to know.
And she does, body tensing inside his embrace. The bed is getting narrower all of a sudden and he clutches her closer, just in case. Just in case she rolls off, away.
Yet Katy is motionless; her heavy breathing becomes the only indication that she’s still there with him, listening. Or ignoring. He’s aware of both possibilities, and knowledge, it scares him more than it should (It has always been that way).
He tries again.
“I-”
“Daniel called.”
But it’s Katy, cutting him off mid-sentence. There’s a stifled gasp that seems to come from his throat and he bites his lip, just to stop himself. She’s being random and unfamiliar, and he’s uncomfortable. She’s the one that counts, yells; chest voice spelling high school name through a football field, or resonating scripts through a theatre building. While his is merely the one he hears in his head. Head voice. He’s never even had a singing lesson.
Kris is turning tensed, listening to their rapid breathing as they surface and fall, surface and fall, marring the silence. The room is cold and Katy’s fidgeting, pressing her body closer against his. But he still needs her to know.
“You need to wake up in 4 hours-”
“Dan called.”
And it’s her again, out-of-character. Her fingers tighten around him all of a sudden, nails clawing at the skin on the small of his back. As if she’s making sure, securing his place there.
He asks her instead, “What did he say?”
She’s being slow too, taking her time before choosing her answer. He can feel the way Katy’s lips parting and closing when she finally lets out word by word.
“He wanted to take you somewhere,” she murmurs, softly. “You should think about it.”
There’s something about her last sentence that demands, urging. Like she needs him to know. And he’s quiet, contemplating.
But then there’s a nod coming from his side; his chin brushing the top of her head as he does so. The left end of her mouth curls into a half-smile.
Kris heaves another sigh.
“Okay.”
End.