(no subject)
(I'm on the settee)
(He comes in)
(Sees me)
Him: "Scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?"
Me: "Four."
Him: "Are you attempting to be a higher number?"
Me: "(Downs another glass)"
Him: "Want something to eat?"
Me: "Yep."
Him: "I'll make you some pasta with pesto and chicken." (He sets some apple slices and cinnamon toast in front of me) "I assume there's a reason."
Me: "Three years today."
Him: "Okay."
I'll never find another man who loves me more. I don't want to. I just want Saeed. Sometimes I write fic, and wonder if I'm not writing my own heart, saying the things I feel for him. Does it even matter? As long as you all like my writing, who cares where I draw my source material from? I love him. From my heart to yours, when I write my fic, I'm writing my love down and sending it out into the world.
I hope you all feel it too.
(He comes in)
(Sees me)
Him: "Scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?"
Me: "Four."
Him: "Are you attempting to be a higher number?"
Me: "(Downs another glass)"
Him: "Want something to eat?"
Me: "Yep."
Him: "I'll make you some pasta with pesto and chicken." (He sets some apple slices and cinnamon toast in front of me) "I assume there's a reason."
Me: "Three years today."
Him: "Okay."
I'll never find another man who loves me more. I don't want to. I just want Saeed. Sometimes I write fic, and wonder if I'm not writing my own heart, saying the things I feel for him. Does it even matter? As long as you all like my writing, who cares where I draw my source material from? I love him. From my heart to yours, when I write my fic, I'm writing my love down and sending it out into the world.
I hope you all feel it too.