Fire Reaching Toward the Sky
Title: Fire Reaching Toward the Sky
Fandom: Twilight
Character: Leah
Side Pairings: Sam/Leah, Jacob/Leah
Rating: G
Word Count: ~670
Summary: But that’s okay, she thinks, because ends are beauty in their own right.
Author’s Notes: I've had the title in my head for months. Lyric-looking bits at the beginning and end were written by me. I think I may love Leah.
Fire Reaching Toward the Sky
AND THEN ONE DAY THE WEATHER LIES
WHILE FIRE REACHES TOWARD THE SKY
Fall feels like summer, feels like winter, feels like everything it’s not. The trees look dead or on their way to being there, with bloody, fiery leaves adorning their branches, and though it’s maybe what some people call beauty, Leah sees only the coming of an end. But that’s okay, she thinks, because ends are beauty in their own right. Ends mean that there’s no more lingering, no chance of going back after deciding to walk away; ends mean that when all is said and done, it’s done-down to the fundamentals, the very foundation, it’s done. It’s moving on.
Today is one of those false summer days that appears out of nowhere like a memory best left forgotten. The sun shines bright, the sky’s so blue it almost hurts to imagine, much less to look at. And it’s hot, excuse enough to wear tank tops and shorts that bare too much skin; it’s excuse enough to run through the woods like she’s running for her life, to leap off a cliff and pretend she can fly until she slides into the gentle ocean below. It’s excuse enough to be weightless and careless and thoughtless and everything she’s not.
Leah doesn’t like summer-not anymore, at least. She hates school, but summer gives her too much time to sit and think, and too many opportunities to hold her back. Summer means Sam and Jacob and the rest of the pack prying into her thoughts. Summer means Bella Swan, the girl that ruined everything-even though Leah can’t always put her finger on the exact destruction; it’s like trying to catch smoke, and the moment she thinks she has it cupped within her palms, it’s gone.
She was glad when fall came; because fall is Leah somewhere deep down within her heart. She’s the beauty of an end and the promise of moving forward, someday, eventually-just not yet. Just wait it out, just try to cope and try to heal; it’s fall, and she’s got time.
Fall is Leah, and Leah falls, falls, down to the ground, down to her knees, down the rabbit hole that is her human heart. Leah loves too quickly and too fiercely. She loves Seth because he’s her brother and all she has left and-God-if something ever happened, the camel’s back would break. She loves Sam-not loved, but loves-because that was the way it was supposed to be, and he won’t let her go. (Today is Sam: summer where it shouldn’t be.)
Leah loves Jacob, too, but she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t hold an answer for everything like she used to on a sarcastic, flippant tongue.
Too many loves, not enough heart; she’s going to burst.
That’s why she’s swearing off love for a little while, why she’s swearing off summer for a little while longer. Fall is Leah and Leah needs fall, but not to fall. This time of year keeps her from fracturing into pieces.
Call her bitter, call her lonely, call her cruel; but never call her heartless.
Unless there’s a reason.
Unless it’s the season that does away with broken things so that finally they may heal, piece by tiny, jagged piece.
Leah stands, raises her hands and closes her eyes and tilts her face so that only the awakening stars can see it. The bonfire crackles with unnecessary warmth and light.
Her hips sway, her body moves to the beat of crickets and frogs and wind. She feels Jacob’s eyes, and Sam’s eyes. She feels the longing and the loss, the curiosity and the confusion.
She doesn’t care.
Leah raises her hands higher: fire reaching toward the sky.
Call her bitter, call her lonely, call her cruel; but never call her heartless.
Let her be free.
“Leah,” Sam starts, half-rising.
“Just-don’t,” Jacob cuts in quickly.
And for once, Sam listens.
WHEN ALL GOOD DAYS HAVE SAID GOODBYE
STILL FIRE REACHES TOWARD THE SKY
The End
Fandom: Twilight
Character: Leah
Side Pairings: Sam/Leah, Jacob/Leah
Rating: G
Word Count: ~670
Summary: But that’s okay, she thinks, because ends are beauty in their own right.
Author’s Notes: I've had the title in my head for months. Lyric-looking bits at the beginning and end were written by me. I think I may love Leah.
Fire Reaching Toward the Sky
AND THEN ONE DAY THE WEATHER LIES
WHILE FIRE REACHES TOWARD THE SKY
Fall feels like summer, feels like winter, feels like everything it’s not. The trees look dead or on their way to being there, with bloody, fiery leaves adorning their branches, and though it’s maybe what some people call beauty, Leah sees only the coming of an end. But that’s okay, she thinks, because ends are beauty in their own right. Ends mean that there’s no more lingering, no chance of going back after deciding to walk away; ends mean that when all is said and done, it’s done-down to the fundamentals, the very foundation, it’s done. It’s moving on.
Today is one of those false summer days that appears out of nowhere like a memory best left forgotten. The sun shines bright, the sky’s so blue it almost hurts to imagine, much less to look at. And it’s hot, excuse enough to wear tank tops and shorts that bare too much skin; it’s excuse enough to run through the woods like she’s running for her life, to leap off a cliff and pretend she can fly until she slides into the gentle ocean below. It’s excuse enough to be weightless and careless and thoughtless and everything she’s not.
Leah doesn’t like summer-not anymore, at least. She hates school, but summer gives her too much time to sit and think, and too many opportunities to hold her back. Summer means Sam and Jacob and the rest of the pack prying into her thoughts. Summer means Bella Swan, the girl that ruined everything-even though Leah can’t always put her finger on the exact destruction; it’s like trying to catch smoke, and the moment she thinks she has it cupped within her palms, it’s gone.
She was glad when fall came; because fall is Leah somewhere deep down within her heart. She’s the beauty of an end and the promise of moving forward, someday, eventually-just not yet. Just wait it out, just try to cope and try to heal; it’s fall, and she’s got time.
Fall is Leah, and Leah falls, falls, down to the ground, down to her knees, down the rabbit hole that is her human heart. Leah loves too quickly and too fiercely. She loves Seth because he’s her brother and all she has left and-God-if something ever happened, the camel’s back would break. She loves Sam-not loved, but loves-because that was the way it was supposed to be, and he won’t let her go. (Today is Sam: summer where it shouldn’t be.)
Leah loves Jacob, too, but she doesn’t know why. She doesn’t hold an answer for everything like she used to on a sarcastic, flippant tongue.
Too many loves, not enough heart; she’s going to burst.
That’s why she’s swearing off love for a little while, why she’s swearing off summer for a little while longer. Fall is Leah and Leah needs fall, but not to fall. This time of year keeps her from fracturing into pieces.
Call her bitter, call her lonely, call her cruel; but never call her heartless.
Unless there’s a reason.
Unless it’s the season that does away with broken things so that finally they may heal, piece by tiny, jagged piece.
Leah stands, raises her hands and closes her eyes and tilts her face so that only the awakening stars can see it. The bonfire crackles with unnecessary warmth and light.
Her hips sway, her body moves to the beat of crickets and frogs and wind. She feels Jacob’s eyes, and Sam’s eyes. She feels the longing and the loss, the curiosity and the confusion.
She doesn’t care.
Leah raises her hands higher: fire reaching toward the sky.
Call her bitter, call her lonely, call her cruel; but never call her heartless.
Let her be free.
“Leah,” Sam starts, half-rising.
“Just-don’t,” Jacob cuts in quickly.
And for once, Sam listens.
WHEN ALL GOOD DAYS HAVE SAID GOODBYE
STILL FIRE REACHES TOWARD THE SKY
The End