Fic: Fling
Title: Fling
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Characters: Jeremy/Anna
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Attempted suicide
Wordcount: 427
Summary: He needs to save someone who needs him
A/N: For the not-my-ship ficathon, prompt by angearia: Jeremy/Anna - we're already dying inside, we might as well die together
He’s not sure what it is about her that makes him want to draw her a little closer - test her, even. He finds himself pushing her away at the same time that he pulls her in, grinding the blade across his hand with casual deliberation. He watches her breath quicken and her muscles quake ever so slightly. She can’t look away from him: finally, one person who can’t turn and look away. She wants this, even as she fights against it. She can’t help herself. She sinks herself into him, and suddenly he’s sinking into her. She drinks him in, pulling him into her, as they slowly ebb into one.
He grins. After all, it just goes to show: he was right.
They’re real.
And she’s real - right there. Standing still, right in front of him. Staring at him with wide eyes, a tentative smile playing across her lips. She likes him. She even, perhaps despite herself, wants him.
Somehow, that isn’t enough.
--
It must be in the Gilbert genes, he thinks, months later: the need to save someone who needs you. Someone who can’t be saved, someone you love so completely that your faith is enough to save (or damn) the both of you. That kind of love is the need to save someone from themselves, from destruction, from darkness. To fling yourself over the edge, and then to pull both of you back into the land of the living, even from the grip of death itself. It saves you just as it saves them. It completes you, and it binds you together.
That kind of love doesn’t die. It doesn’t let either of you die, he thinks, as he absentmindedly twirls a ring about his finger.
--
She soon learns that even the living dead can’t compete with a ghost.
He soon learns that even the living dead can die, and become one.
--
He drinks, and swallows, and hopes it saves him, destroys him, erases him - anything to wrap himself up in her again. It’s the last part of her that remains with him, and now in him, and he closes his eyes and waits. It’s just a few tiny drops, and suddenly he feels himself sinking again, washing over the precipice, into nothingness … yet towards no-one.
It isn’t enough. His eyes open. She’s gone. All this time, she’s been so careful not to harm him, that she’s managed to do it anyway.
It shouldn’t surprise either of them, when this makes him fall even more in love with her.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Characters: Jeremy/Anna
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Attempted suicide
Wordcount: 427
Summary: He needs to save someone who needs him
A/N: For the not-my-ship ficathon, prompt by angearia: Jeremy/Anna - we're already dying inside, we might as well die together
He’s not sure what it is about her that makes him want to draw her a little closer - test her, even. He finds himself pushing her away at the same time that he pulls her in, grinding the blade across his hand with casual deliberation. He watches her breath quicken and her muscles quake ever so slightly. She can’t look away from him: finally, one person who can’t turn and look away. She wants this, even as she fights against it. She can’t help herself. She sinks herself into him, and suddenly he’s sinking into her. She drinks him in, pulling him into her, as they slowly ebb into one.
He grins. After all, it just goes to show: he was right.
They’re real.
And she’s real - right there. Standing still, right in front of him. Staring at him with wide eyes, a tentative smile playing across her lips. She likes him. She even, perhaps despite herself, wants him.
Somehow, that isn’t enough.
--
It must be in the Gilbert genes, he thinks, months later: the need to save someone who needs you. Someone who can’t be saved, someone you love so completely that your faith is enough to save (or damn) the both of you. That kind of love is the need to save someone from themselves, from destruction, from darkness. To fling yourself over the edge, and then to pull both of you back into the land of the living, even from the grip of death itself. It saves you just as it saves them. It completes you, and it binds you together.
That kind of love doesn’t die. It doesn’t let either of you die, he thinks, as he absentmindedly twirls a ring about his finger.
--
She soon learns that even the living dead can’t compete with a ghost.
He soon learns that even the living dead can die, and become one.
--
He drinks, and swallows, and hopes it saves him, destroys him, erases him - anything to wrap himself up in her again. It’s the last part of her that remains with him, and now in him, and he closes his eyes and waits. It’s just a few tiny drops, and suddenly he feels himself sinking again, washing over the precipice, into nothingness … yet towards no-one.
It isn’t enough. His eyes open. She’s gone. All this time, she’s been so careful not to harm him, that she’s managed to do it anyway.
It shouldn’t surprise either of them, when this makes him fall even more in love with her.