small meme - finished
Hokay so, I'm taking a break at work & am bored, but can't really work on anything longer than "short" because I won't be on break for too much longer. SO: first 5-10 (I seriously doubt it'll go over five, but juuust in case) people to comment with a request get a drabble written. (Like 100-300 words, most likely.) There is one rule, which is no
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Here's the thing: Jim can't stand not knowing things.
Seriously, it's always been that way. It's why he ate glue in kindergarten (his mom's third of many calls to poison control), why he kissed Susan Jackson in fourth grade (no, her lipgloss didn't taste like strawberries), and why he picked up that first Dizzy Gillespie tape in that tiny secondhand bookstore when he was eleven (it felt solid and right). He's just a curious person. Can't let sleeping dogs lie.
So at first he thinks it's just that--that Spock's a mystery. There's his enormous talent, for one; Jim's left a little in awe every time the guy puts bow to strings, because man, the sounds he pulls smoothly from his violin? Incredible. Indescribable. And while Jim's wondering how he got so good, he starts noticing the way that Spock concentrates on whatever he's doing, with all of himself focused so intensely. Like doing his best at whatever-it-is is the most important thing ever. He's got an iron will, that's for sure, and it's--well, it's intriguing.
And of course there's that crazy-long name. Jim's dying to know what the language is, but no one seems to know, and Spock won't talk to Jim.
Spock won't talk to Jim, no. But Jim sees him talking to everyone else--even if he doesn't know them all that well, he always seems to know what they need to hear, telling them just the right thing to get them back on track and playing better. And always with that soft, politely encouraging smile, eyes warm and corners of his mouth just barely tipped up. How does he do that, Jim wants to know; put so much into one facial gesture? Most of the time, his face is blank with that deep concentration, so when he does give you an expression it's like--like a prism, one little line of white light refracting into something absolutely beautiful.
Something about it sorta makes Jim's breath catch in his chest.
So it's the curiosity and it's the fascination, if you wanna call it that, that get him at first. He can't help but keep chipping away at Spock, talking his ears off in the hallways and chasing after him all over the place. He learns (against Spock's will) what the guy likes to eat for lunch, how strongly he's devoted to Nyota Uhura, how long he's been studying violin for, and about ten million other little things. When Spock finally gives in and plays a chess game with Jim, he learns more: that Spock has a killer sense of humor and is even smarter than he seems, that his violin has a name, that he owns three copies of his favorite book. That he's loyal, that he's strong, that he likes to eat soup for breakfast, which Jim thinks is pretty strange and hilarious.
It's only after he's collected all these details that he realizes he's not just sticking around because Spock's a mystery, anymore. Now it's just--that he's Spock. That he's this amazingly passionate, strong person, full of music and brilliance and god, the best heart. And he barely even seems to know it.
By that time, Jim's halfway to loving him already. He's in too deep to stop, so he doesn't try--lets it flow out into his music, instead, lets the notes speak for him, and thinks, and dreams, and waits. Wants.
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I especially loved this line:
Most of the time, his face is blank with that deep concentration, so when he does give you an expression it's like--like a prism, one little line of white light refracting into something absolutely beautiful. ♥♥♥
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