Drabble-type Stuffs
I said I've been ficcing a lot lately, and experimenting with points of view and tenses. These two short pieces are both in second person, which is quite possibly the hardest POV. And future tense is even harder. So of course I had to put both together. They're technically Sea Patrol fics, but pretty general, so you should be able to understand, even if you've not seen the show.
A Day To Live For
Everyone tells you it will get easier. You will move on. From him, the ship, the memories of that day. It will happen. You will be able to laugh without feeling guilty. Smile, cry, breathe without thinking of him. When your eyes close at night, his face might not appear every time - and even if it does, you will wake up with dry cheeks. You will live.
Even as it happens, you will refuse to believe it could be possible. This heartache will never diminish, let alone cease altogether.
Then one day, you will wake up and smile. Happy.
Breathe
Breathe; in and out. Clench your eyes shut and hope the tears don’t escape. If the wetness reaches your cheeks, she wins. You lean against the doorframe in order to remain upright; technically still standing on your own, which is what she wants.
Even though it’s her with the fiery temper, you’re always the one to start the fight. And you’re the one who ends it, by running away. It’s nothing to do with being afraid of the yelling, just a pathological need to have the last word. She can’t reply if you’re too far away to hear. The two of you are both incredibly stubborn, but you must be more so - why else would she always be the first to apologise?
The sky above is pitch black, with only a solitary star to distinguish direction. It’s a new moon tonight.
Breathe; in and out. Press a palm over your heart, just to be sure it’s still beating. It may resides in your chest, but it belongs to her. You thought she knew that; never realised she needed confirmation until it was too late. After all, you always knew what she felt, without her having to say it. She never has said it, anyway; at least, not until tonight. And that sounded more like an ultimatum than a declaration of love, so of course you rebelled. You’ve never been receptive to demands; unlike work, there are no ranks in relationships.
The lack of a moon makes it hard to tell how much time has passed. You’d swear it’s been several hours, but the glowing numbers on your watch say it’s only been eight minutes. A tingle on your lips is a tangible reminder of her, and you wonder if that kiss will be the last.
As the minutes drag by, you realise the house behind you is silent. She hasn’t come out. The realisation hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest. She’s not coming after you this time.
You stumble forward a few steps, fighting the feeling of something ripping apart your lungs.
Breathe; in and out.
A Day To Live For
Everyone tells you it will get easier. You will move on. From him, the ship, the memories of that day. It will happen. You will be able to laugh without feeling guilty. Smile, cry, breathe without thinking of him. When your eyes close at night, his face might not appear every time - and even if it does, you will wake up with dry cheeks. You will live.
Even as it happens, you will refuse to believe it could be possible. This heartache will never diminish, let alone cease altogether.
Then one day, you will wake up and smile. Happy.
Breathe
Breathe; in and out. Clench your eyes shut and hope the tears don’t escape. If the wetness reaches your cheeks, she wins. You lean against the doorframe in order to remain upright; technically still standing on your own, which is what she wants.
Even though it’s her with the fiery temper, you’re always the one to start the fight. And you’re the one who ends it, by running away. It’s nothing to do with being afraid of the yelling, just a pathological need to have the last word. She can’t reply if you’re too far away to hear. The two of you are both incredibly stubborn, but you must be more so - why else would she always be the first to apologise?
The sky above is pitch black, with only a solitary star to distinguish direction. It’s a new moon tonight.
Breathe; in and out. Press a palm over your heart, just to be sure it’s still beating. It may resides in your chest, but it belongs to her. You thought she knew that; never realised she needed confirmation until it was too late. After all, you always knew what she felt, without her having to say it. She never has said it, anyway; at least, not until tonight. And that sounded more like an ultimatum than a declaration of love, so of course you rebelled. You’ve never been receptive to demands; unlike work, there are no ranks in relationships.
The lack of a moon makes it hard to tell how much time has passed. You’d swear it’s been several hours, but the glowing numbers on your watch say it’s only been eight minutes. A tingle on your lips is a tangible reminder of her, and you wonder if that kiss will be the last.
As the minutes drag by, you realise the house behind you is silent. She hasn’t come out. The realisation hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest. She’s not coming after you this time.
You stumble forward a few steps, fighting the feeling of something ripping apart your lungs.
Breathe; in and out.