Words.
This is a story I have written for Jules (july_v as a Christmas present (and I still owe her a package!). It's just a short Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood drabble from Harry Potter universe, so apparently the characters belong to J. K. Rowling. PG-13.
Marcus hates words. He hates many things, sure, but words have a special place among them. He hates how easily they change their meaning, like something wriggling, slippery and nasty.
When he was little, it took him longer to start talking, longer than his brothers or other kids. He struggled to learn the correct sounds, to put them in syllables and then words so they would have the right meaning. Just like other kids were clumsy with holding their toy broomsticks in their little fingers, Marcus was equally clumsy with talking. He stuttered, mispronouncing sounds, unintentionally changing the meaning of words.
That's when he started to hate the words. Words he couldn't get out right. Words thrown at him by his parents. Words yelled by other kids. Hissed insults by teachers. Tricky, slippery words.
He started to use his fists, punches and hits instead of words and it... worked.
It still works. Marcus groans lowly, his fist flying forward and hitting its target just as someone else's fist collides with Marcus' jaw. It hurts, but it doesn't stop him. It doesn't stop him until he is straddling Oliver Wood and the other isn't fighting back anymore. There is a trail of blood trickling down Oliver's chin and Marcus wipes it away with his thumb, somehow fascinated by it/ He lets go of Oliver's hands, but he isn't pushed away. Oliver is pulling him down and Marcus kisses his bruised lips.
With Oliver, Marcus doesn't have to use the words he hates so much. That's probably why Marcus thinks he really does love Oliver.
===============
Also. As you have noticed, I have tagged all the fictions I have written, so now, if you feel like reading some Candy, just click the tag. If you want to have some laughter over my old fanfictions, read the Hoobastank or the MCR ones. I laughed. ::tehe:
Marcus hates words. He hates many things, sure, but words have a special place among them. He hates how easily they change their meaning, like something wriggling, slippery and nasty.
When he was little, it took him longer to start talking, longer than his brothers or other kids. He struggled to learn the correct sounds, to put them in syllables and then words so they would have the right meaning. Just like other kids were clumsy with holding their toy broomsticks in their little fingers, Marcus was equally clumsy with talking. He stuttered, mispronouncing sounds, unintentionally changing the meaning of words.
That's when he started to hate the words. Words he couldn't get out right. Words thrown at him by his parents. Words yelled by other kids. Hissed insults by teachers. Tricky, slippery words.
He started to use his fists, punches and hits instead of words and it... worked.
It still works. Marcus groans lowly, his fist flying forward and hitting its target just as someone else's fist collides with Marcus' jaw. It hurts, but it doesn't stop him. It doesn't stop him until he is straddling Oliver Wood and the other isn't fighting back anymore. There is a trail of blood trickling down Oliver's chin and Marcus wipes it away with his thumb, somehow fascinated by it/ He lets go of Oliver's hands, but he isn't pushed away. Oliver is pulling him down and Marcus kisses his bruised lips.
With Oliver, Marcus doesn't have to use the words he hates so much. That's probably why Marcus thinks he really does love Oliver.
===============
Also. As you have noticed, I have tagged all the fictions I have written, so now, if you feel like reading some Candy, just click the tag. If you want to have some laughter over my old fanfictions, read the Hoobastank or the MCR ones. I laughed. ::tehe: