[Greta Salpeter & Patrick Stump] I Built a Wall of Books Between Us [drabble]
Title: I Built a Wall of Books Between Us.
Author: Me [ shattered_ink ]
Point of View: 1st / Patrick's.
Rated: PG - super mild language, since this is less than 350 words.
Summary: How do you get through to someone when they hide behind their books?
Disclaimer: The title (and the idea, for that matter) comes from Back In Your Head (by Tegan & Sara) and none of this happened. Ever. I don't own Greta or Patrick.
A/N: Wheee. I have like, three stories being worked on at once, but I'm being all persnickety about them, so I figured I should write SOMETHING post-able. So I was like, "Hey, why not write a fluff-drabble?" :]
There stood a wall of books between us - Austen and Hemingway and Poe stacked up to cancel me out. I tried breaking through to her with words of my own, but the words printed on paper won her over better than I ever could. Those classic writers had their similes and metaphors and rhetoric. I had, “I’m sorry,” and, “I need you,” and the same old tired shit.
“Greta,” I said, and the name itself was a poem.
She flipped another page in what seemed to be an endless novel.
“I’ll tear this wall down if I have to.”
I heard her shift and get to her feet. I held my breath, cheeks puffed out like a fish.
George Orwell’s Animal Farm flew out from the wall, landing at my feet with a thud. A sentient, narrowed eye filled the gap the book had left behind. “What do you want?”
“To tell you I love you.”
“So say it.”
“I love you.”
“Okay then. Goodbye.”
Her eye vanished, leaving an empty space - which was nothing more than a space not full of her.
I didn’t hear the rustling of pages or her quick, irritated huffs of breath. I did hear my heart drumming this impetuous death-metal beat, and I heard my thoughts long and loud like run-on sentences: I-love-you-I-need-you-I’m-sorry-so-sorry. And the only thing I wished for then was her eyes, or her fingers, or some part of her to appear. Even if only through this wall she'd built of books.
What I got was a paperback flung at me through the gap. I bent to pick it up, saw the cover and I smiled.
P.S. I Love You.
My message in a title.
Author: Me [ shattered_ink ]
Point of View: 1st / Patrick's.
Rated: PG - super mild language, since this is less than 350 words.
Summary: How do you get through to someone when they hide behind their books?
Disclaimer: The title (and the idea, for that matter) comes from Back In Your Head (by Tegan & Sara) and none of this happened. Ever. I don't own Greta or Patrick.
A/N: Wheee. I have like, three stories being worked on at once, but I'm being all persnickety about them, so I figured I should write SOMETHING post-able. So I was like, "Hey, why not write a fluff-drabble?" :]
There stood a wall of books between us - Austen and Hemingway and Poe stacked up to cancel me out. I tried breaking through to her with words of my own, but the words printed on paper won her over better than I ever could. Those classic writers had their similes and metaphors and rhetoric. I had, “I’m sorry,” and, “I need you,” and the same old tired shit.
“Greta,” I said, and the name itself was a poem.
She flipped another page in what seemed to be an endless novel.
“I’ll tear this wall down if I have to.”
I heard her shift and get to her feet. I held my breath, cheeks puffed out like a fish.
George Orwell’s Animal Farm flew out from the wall, landing at my feet with a thud. A sentient, narrowed eye filled the gap the book had left behind. “What do you want?”
“To tell you I love you.”
“So say it.”
“I love you.”
“Okay then. Goodbye.”
Her eye vanished, leaving an empty space - which was nothing more than a space not full of her.
I didn’t hear the rustling of pages or her quick, irritated huffs of breath. I did hear my heart drumming this impetuous death-metal beat, and I heard my thoughts long and loud like run-on sentences: I-love-you-I-need-you-I’m-sorry-so-sorry. And the only thing I wished for then was her eyes, or her fingers, or some part of her to appear. Even if only through this wall she'd built of books.
What I got was a paperback flung at me through the gap. I bent to pick it up, saw the cover and I smiled.
P.S. I Love You.
My message in a title.