Song Fic ~ Amazing by Blue October
How am I supposed to breathe?
I try to relax. I touch your still frame
So I can watch you closer
Shannon doesn't know alot about boys, but sometimes at night she hears things. The kinds of things that Sabrina whispers to her father when the lights go out. She knows about sex, about the basic mechanics. She notices the noticing, and not just the kind of noticing that Boone tosses her way when he thinks she's not looking. Long legs lounged lazily against the recliner, the beat of the sun hot on her chest. The casual disdain filtered into mild interest. Not that it matters. Boone's her brother, and Shannon wants to know about boys. Slender fingers curve around Jimmy Hamilton's neck. He's only twelve but Shannon hears the girls giggling in the restroom. Shannon might not know alot about boys but Jimmy knows alot about girls.
She whispers all the things she hears Sabrina tell her father, a low purr in his ears and she can feel him rubbing up against her. She wants him and even though Shannon's only twelve years old she already knows this is how life is supposed to be for her. She sees something, she wants it, she has it. As easy as that. Her fingertips tremble as they tentatively touch his skin, traveling down towards the center of his universe. She's nervous and his fingers curl around her wrist, guiding, showing her the things she needs to know.
...study the ways I believe I belong to you
I scratch at your waist line... your doll hair
I dig up the thought of how your eyes glow
Corbin isn't like the other boys she used to know. Corbin isn't shaking fingers and tentative lips and words that stutter and quiver. Her bare back presses against the fridge in their Paris apartment and a string of promises leave his lips. Baby baby baby baby. It's like a monotone, grounds her, pushes her back from the moment she wants to pull his hair so hard it rips out of his head. He's not tentative at all. Loud, angry, and after awhile she starts to wonder if anger isn't her little quirk, her kink. Blood pounding, heart thumping, staggered breathing and she wants him, just like she's wanted all the others before him.
Shannon's finger curls. One twist or turn and they usually fall to their knees but not Corbin. In eighteen years she's never met anyone like him. His fist tightens, hand in her hair, tugging insistantly. Baby baby baby. It fuels her. Spurns her on into a hysterical rhthym.
Later when she's holding a bag of frozen peas to her eye she thinks about that anger and her fingernails dig into her palm. More angry red marks to be covered up with cosmetics. There's always a price for getting the things you want. Shannon understands that now.
So I make you my religion, my collision, an escape goat
So have I found your secret weak spot, baby?
Shannon wishes words were spears, because if they were Brian would have her name scarred into his back a thousand times. They cut into eachother, sharp tongues meet sharp eyes. The end result is always the same. He yields, she folds. The small victory shoots electrical pulses through her skin, sets her on fire, makes her feel alive. It's vicious love but at least she knows that she's in control of him. She relishes it, parades it in front of him waiting for the day he'll grow tired of her outbursts. Waiting for the day his ego just can't handle her anymore. The idea of it terrifies her, it excites her.
She's never seen eyes like Brian's before. A dark swirling sea of adoration. She's always aware of them, following her, watching her. The curve of her leg, dip of her waist the intensity nearly bowls her over. For twenty years men have done nothing but stare at Shannon but Brian's eyes are different. They turn a dark grey when he's angry. This time cutting into her, shoves luggage into her hands and shows her the door. Tells her she's alone now.
He doesn't know that her stepmother already taught her that lesson.
Now our history is for sale
And for that I apoligize
You see you're my only know how
Shannon goes to Boone because it's the only thing she knows. His anger is justified and palpable but she sees past that. No more the prodigal children, now steady gazes and lilting lips. Pale eyes follow the curve of her neck and she watches it all. Takes it in, knows it's wrong. She can taste it on her tongue, all that bitter angst that wraps around her whenever Boone comes to her rescue. He loves her. She feels it, knows it, in some ways has always known it. A vaguelly sick feeling rises in the pit of her stomach because she knows that she's the end of him. He doesn't know where he begins and she ends and the answers are all locked inside of her.
She presses him, always pushing him. It's just a second nature to her now and he slips into the role comfortably. It's love that binds them there but they stand on two seperate sides of a precipice. His love devours him, keeps him weighted to the bottom of her ocean. Struggling desperately to reach the surface, for just an instant of relief. And on the shore he rescues the damsel and they live happily ever after. Shannon needs him to believe in her, and not in the superficial way he pretends to. Not in the way that demands she consistantly screw things up so he can come to her rescue. She needs so bad, so deeply it tears her apart. She knows that giving him what he wants only ensures that she'll never get what she needs.
She kisses him like she's dying, like she's the one who's drowning. It's a funeral after all, because she's just killed them both.
Can you pretend I'm amazing?
I can pretend I'm amazing...
Instead of what we both know
When he brings her shoes a smile lights up on her face. It almost hurts because it feels too genuine. Sayid has that effect on her though. He just makes her glow. It's strange because he's not the sort of man that would catch Shannon's attention in any other situation. Sometimes when she catches a glimpse of deeply tanned skin she finds herself almost...happy. It's a strange concept to the princess. She's been adored, she's been spoiled, she's had everything she's ever wanted. But she's never happy.
Lounging on the white sand, flipping through the same Cosmo issue for the sixty third time she realizes she hasn't even been reading the words. She's read the magazine so many times she's almost sure she could repeat them by heart on command. But today's she staring into the ocean and thinking about things she's never imagined thinking.
Maybe a plane crash on a deserted and forgotten island has been the best thing that's ever happened to her.
I try to relax. I touch your still frame
So I can watch you closer
Shannon doesn't know alot about boys, but sometimes at night she hears things. The kinds of things that Sabrina whispers to her father when the lights go out. She knows about sex, about the basic mechanics. She notices the noticing, and not just the kind of noticing that Boone tosses her way when he thinks she's not looking. Long legs lounged lazily against the recliner, the beat of the sun hot on her chest. The casual disdain filtered into mild interest. Not that it matters. Boone's her brother, and Shannon wants to know about boys. Slender fingers curve around Jimmy Hamilton's neck. He's only twelve but Shannon hears the girls giggling in the restroom. Shannon might not know alot about boys but Jimmy knows alot about girls.
She whispers all the things she hears Sabrina tell her father, a low purr in his ears and she can feel him rubbing up against her. She wants him and even though Shannon's only twelve years old she already knows this is how life is supposed to be for her. She sees something, she wants it, she has it. As easy as that. Her fingertips tremble as they tentatively touch his skin, traveling down towards the center of his universe. She's nervous and his fingers curl around her wrist, guiding, showing her the things she needs to know.
...study the ways I believe I belong to you
I scratch at your waist line... your doll hair
I dig up the thought of how your eyes glow
Corbin isn't like the other boys she used to know. Corbin isn't shaking fingers and tentative lips and words that stutter and quiver. Her bare back presses against the fridge in their Paris apartment and a string of promises leave his lips. Baby baby baby baby. It's like a monotone, grounds her, pushes her back from the moment she wants to pull his hair so hard it rips out of his head. He's not tentative at all. Loud, angry, and after awhile she starts to wonder if anger isn't her little quirk, her kink. Blood pounding, heart thumping, staggered breathing and she wants him, just like she's wanted all the others before him.
Shannon's finger curls. One twist or turn and they usually fall to their knees but not Corbin. In eighteen years she's never met anyone like him. His fist tightens, hand in her hair, tugging insistantly. Baby baby baby. It fuels her. Spurns her on into a hysterical rhthym.
Later when she's holding a bag of frozen peas to her eye she thinks about that anger and her fingernails dig into her palm. More angry red marks to be covered up with cosmetics. There's always a price for getting the things you want. Shannon understands that now.
So I make you my religion, my collision, an escape goat
So have I found your secret weak spot, baby?
Shannon wishes words were spears, because if they were Brian would have her name scarred into his back a thousand times. They cut into eachother, sharp tongues meet sharp eyes. The end result is always the same. He yields, she folds. The small victory shoots electrical pulses through her skin, sets her on fire, makes her feel alive. It's vicious love but at least she knows that she's in control of him. She relishes it, parades it in front of him waiting for the day he'll grow tired of her outbursts. Waiting for the day his ego just can't handle her anymore. The idea of it terrifies her, it excites her.
She's never seen eyes like Brian's before. A dark swirling sea of adoration. She's always aware of them, following her, watching her. The curve of her leg, dip of her waist the intensity nearly bowls her over. For twenty years men have done nothing but stare at Shannon but Brian's eyes are different. They turn a dark grey when he's angry. This time cutting into her, shoves luggage into her hands and shows her the door. Tells her she's alone now.
He doesn't know that her stepmother already taught her that lesson.
Now our history is for sale
And for that I apoligize
You see you're my only know how
Shannon goes to Boone because it's the only thing she knows. His anger is justified and palpable but she sees past that. No more the prodigal children, now steady gazes and lilting lips. Pale eyes follow the curve of her neck and she watches it all. Takes it in, knows it's wrong. She can taste it on her tongue, all that bitter angst that wraps around her whenever Boone comes to her rescue. He loves her. She feels it, knows it, in some ways has always known it. A vaguelly sick feeling rises in the pit of her stomach because she knows that she's the end of him. He doesn't know where he begins and she ends and the answers are all locked inside of her.
She presses him, always pushing him. It's just a second nature to her now and he slips into the role comfortably. It's love that binds them there but they stand on two seperate sides of a precipice. His love devours him, keeps him weighted to the bottom of her ocean. Struggling desperately to reach the surface, for just an instant of relief. And on the shore he rescues the damsel and they live happily ever after. Shannon needs him to believe in her, and not in the superficial way he pretends to. Not in the way that demands she consistantly screw things up so he can come to her rescue. She needs so bad, so deeply it tears her apart. She knows that giving him what he wants only ensures that she'll never get what she needs.
She kisses him like she's dying, like she's the one who's drowning. It's a funeral after all, because she's just killed them both.
Can you pretend I'm amazing?
I can pretend I'm amazing...
Instead of what we both know
When he brings her shoes a smile lights up on her face. It almost hurts because it feels too genuine. Sayid has that effect on her though. He just makes her glow. It's strange because he's not the sort of man that would catch Shannon's attention in any other situation. Sometimes when she catches a glimpse of deeply tanned skin she finds herself almost...happy. It's a strange concept to the princess. She's been adored, she's been spoiled, she's had everything she's ever wanted. But she's never happy.
Lounging on the white sand, flipping through the same Cosmo issue for the sixty third time she realizes she hasn't even been reading the words. She's read the magazine so many times she's almost sure she could repeat them by heart on command. But today's she staring into the ocean and thinking about things she's never imagined thinking.
Maybe a plane crash on a deserted and forgotten island has been the best thing that's ever happened to her.