fic ][ a dragon lives forever but not so little boys
{I don't know where this came from, and I don't know what verse it's in because he and his dad have had so many and they've changed names and...I just don't know where this fits. Wherever it is it's further down the line somewhere. Not binding on anything or anyone.}
It was somewhere past midnight but before dawn, and Sam was sitting at his piano. It was like a scene he had seen his whole life, but he was hardly trying to reenact it. It was just one more thing that made him that much more like his father. Whether he liked it or not.
The keys were cold and smooth under his fingers, and with his eyes shut his fingers flowed over the keys fluidly in near perfection. It was something soft and classical. That was where he and his father differed. While his dad always had a modern song to play and sing, Sam preferred just playing and keeping quiet. It was times like those that he wasn't even sure he had a voice.
He stopped suddenly though and opened his eyes to stare at a spot on the wall. Something came over him in that instant, and he found his voice.
"Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea..."
It came out slower and much more somber than it should have, but even as a child he had always found the song to be so depressing. His heart clenched as the song went on, reaching up into his throat and making it harder to get the words out. When the song finally faded he stopped again and ran his hand over his face.
He remembered being like Puff. All the times he had always waited for his dad to come back, retreating in on himself more and more every day longer that he had to wait. He could remember the pain of when he would look at his father and feel like whatever he was, he wasn't enough to make his dad forget his sadness.
He was tired. He was tired and he couldn't sleep. He closed the piano and leaned down to let his cheek rest against the cold cover. It felt good against his skin.
Sam could remember all the good times with his dad, but just as easily he could remember all the times that things weren't good. He remembered seeing how unhappy his father was at times, and how it had affected their lives. He knew his dad tried to not let it, but it did all the same. He remembered.
He sat up and opened the cover, before dropping his hands to the keys and powering through another piece. It was fast and thick, and his head bent over the piano as he played. His curls slipped into his eyes and bounced against his forehead as he put everything he had into the song. When it came to an end his breath was quick and sweat beaded on his forehead. His arm wiped at the sweat as he tried his best to slow his breathing.
His elbow came down on the keys and he rested his head in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, and emotion that he couldn't distinguish rose in his throat.
"Dad," he murmured. A sob choked out at the word and he felt his eyes welling up.
It was good news, it was the best news, but he was terrified. All he could think about was how he wanted to be a far better father than his own had ever been, while at the same time thinking that his father had been the best there was. It was a contradiction of the biggest kind.
"I'm a dad."
571
It was somewhere past midnight but before dawn, and Sam was sitting at his piano. It was like a scene he had seen his whole life, but he was hardly trying to reenact it. It was just one more thing that made him that much more like his father. Whether he liked it or not.
The keys were cold and smooth under his fingers, and with his eyes shut his fingers flowed over the keys fluidly in near perfection. It was something soft and classical. That was where he and his father differed. While his dad always had a modern song to play and sing, Sam preferred just playing and keeping quiet. It was times like those that he wasn't even sure he had a voice.
He stopped suddenly though and opened his eyes to stare at a spot on the wall. Something came over him in that instant, and he found his voice.
"Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea..."
It came out slower and much more somber than it should have, but even as a child he had always found the song to be so depressing. His heart clenched as the song went on, reaching up into his throat and making it harder to get the words out. When the song finally faded he stopped again and ran his hand over his face.
He remembered being like Puff. All the times he had always waited for his dad to come back, retreating in on himself more and more every day longer that he had to wait. He could remember the pain of when he would look at his father and feel like whatever he was, he wasn't enough to make his dad forget his sadness.
He was tired. He was tired and he couldn't sleep. He closed the piano and leaned down to let his cheek rest against the cold cover. It felt good against his skin.
Sam could remember all the good times with his dad, but just as easily he could remember all the times that things weren't good. He remembered seeing how unhappy his father was at times, and how it had affected their lives. He knew his dad tried to not let it, but it did all the same. He remembered.
He sat up and opened the cover, before dropping his hands to the keys and powering through another piece. It was fast and thick, and his head bent over the piano as he played. His curls slipped into his eyes and bounced against his forehead as he put everything he had into the song. When it came to an end his breath was quick and sweat beaded on his forehead. His arm wiped at the sweat as he tried his best to slow his breathing.
His elbow came down on the keys and he rested his head in his hand. His heart pounded in his chest, and emotion that he couldn't distinguish rose in his throat.
"Dad," he murmured. A sob choked out at the word and he felt his eyes welling up.
It was good news, it was the best news, but he was terrified. All he could think about was how he wanted to be a far better father than his own had ever been, while at the same time thinking that his father had been the best there was. It was a contradiction of the biggest kind.
"I'm a dad."
571