(no subject)
So, in an effort to help Haiti in their hour of need, I've decided to join this charity auction. (My thread is Here.)
Basically, I'm offering a 3,500+ original or fanfic to whomever bids the highest. This post is to a) provide an easy link to work I've posted here and b) to provide samples of other work I've never posted. And it's a lot.
Original Fiction
Monster Coffee Shop (Humor/Supernatural)
Skye and Cole (Angst/Drama/One-sided Romance)
Simon and Matthew (Romance/General/Mild Humor)
Large hazel eyes blinked once. Twice.
Charlie blinked once as well before smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way.
The boy blinked again.
“Are you Feury?” the brunet asked gently, taking a step forward.
And that apparently had been the absolute *worst* thing he could have possibly said, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the blond shrieked and scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, eyes wild with terror and body trembling violently.
“Oh my God, oh my God, are you a policeman? Please don’t hurt me I swear I never wanted to hurt anybody it’s not my fault, I can’t control it! It’s the music, it makes me react, I never know what I’m doing when I’m in a state-”
“Hey,” Charlie said, trying to sound comforting but apparently failing miserably because Feury let out another shriek and began to talk even more frantically.
“-it was an experiment my parents did I never wanted to be a part of it they forced me! Are you going to send me to jail? Oh God, you are, aren’t you, I’m going to go to jail and become someone’s prison bitch and get raped everyday, aren’t I? Oh Jesus, I’m not strong enough to take that please don’t send me to prison I just wanted to be a normal person don’t let them take me away-”
“I’m not-”
“-no wait, are you a scientist? Are they going to being me to a lab? They are, aren’t they, and I’m going to be a human guinea pig and have probes stuck up my nose and be cut open and examined-”
“You’re not-”
“-and have experiments done and they’re probably going to give me a lobotomy to make sure I don’t hurt people and replace my kidneys with a cow’s and make sleep in a cage with rabid ferrets-”
“FEURY!”
The blond shrieked and drew himself into a little ball, staring at Charlie with wide, absolutely terrified eyes, but he stopped taking. Charlie sighed and tried smiling gently again. “I’m not a policeman, or a scientist, okay? I’m not going to send you to prison, and I’m not taking you to a secret lab; I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
Feury didn’t relax at all. “If you’re not a police officer then who are you?” he asked, fear lacing itself into every level of his voice. It kind of made Charlie feel like a jackass, which was kind of ridiculous, but he thought that maybe Feury was like a frightened animal and just needed to be calmed down. So he bent down until they were about the same height and said, with a soft smile, “I’m just a hero.”
There was a pause.
“A... a hero,” the blond repeated.
Charlie nodded gently, still smiling.
Feury made a sound like someone had shot him. “Oh God,” he whimpered. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“What?! No!” Charlie stared at him, completely taken aback. “Why would I want to kill you?!”
“Because I hurt people. Heroes have to kill the bad guys to save the world, right?” He made a desperate sobbing noise and suddenly there were tears spilling down his cheeks, and Charlie suddenly became aquatinted with a level of guilt that he hadn’t even known *existed*. He opened his mouth to explain, but Feury kept talking, “I know I’ve done some horrible thing but if you have to kill me can you please make it quick? I don’t want to die slowly, it’s not my fault I destroy things and oh *God*, what if I go to hell?”
“What-You’re not going to hell!” Charlie cried disbelievingly, but the other boy either didn’t hear him or was choosing to ignore him because his frantic babble and then began to sob.
“-b-but what if h-hell’s not b-b-bad enough for m-me and they s-send me to a n-new p-p-place that’s even w-worse and m-maggots start eating my s-skin a-and they-ey k-keep k-killi-ing me b-but I c-can’ die so I’ll be i-in a-agony forev-ver a-and-”
He squealed when Charlie slapped a hand over his mouth, and the brunet felt the guilt start to devourer his kidneys with relish, but he didn’t know how else to shut him up long enough to get a word in. “Okay, listen,” he said, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt, but judging from the way there were still tears pouring from the blond’s eyes and the way Charlie could feel that he was shaking almost violently, it wasn’t working. “I am not going to kill you, and you are not going to hell. I just want to *talk*.”
He waited for the information to sink in, opting not to say anything else lest the boy start something worse than sobbing, because he honestly didn’t think he could handle anymore of the all-consuming guilt that was still running rampant up and down his spine. Several minutes passed, Feury still trembling and staring at Charlie like he was the executioner and the blond was on the chopping block, but Charlie forced himself to just look back calmly, to not give the boy any reason to start freaking out again, and, after a while, even managed to conjure up another (hopefully) encouraging smile.
They stayed like that, almost unmoving save for Feury’s trembling, for what seemed like ages, until finally, the blond closed his eyes, and Charlie felt a small bit of tension ease from his body. He sighed in relief and dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said. “Are you going to be alright?”
Feury nodded tightly.
“Are you sure? You don’t need like, water or something? Tea, maybe?”
The blond’s eyes opened and he gaze Charlie a puzzled look. “Where are you going to get tea all the way up here?” he asked.
For the first time that night, the brunet felt himself grin. “Why?” he asked. “Do you want some?”
“I...” He blinked. “I... I guess...”
“What kind?”
“Um...” He looked away from Charlie’s face, out into the night, still confused. “That one... That one that’s good for before you go to bed.”
“Chamomile?”
“... Yeah.”
Charlie grinned wide. “If I leave for a minute, will you be okay?”
“What? Why? Oh God, are going to get the poli-”
“*No*,” he said emphatically. “I am not going to get *anybody*. And it’ll only be a minute, I promise.”
“... You promise.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Oh Jesus, don’t do that! I’ve already killed enough people, I don’t want to kill you too!”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” he backtracked, waving his hands frantically for emphasis. “It’s just an old saying that I used to use when I was a kid! It’s not serious!”
“Are you sure? Because I would feel horrible if you died! Not that I don’t feel horrible when other people die, because I do, especially when it’s my fault and-”
“Hey!” The blond stopped. “Okay, look. Since you obviously can’t go two minutes without freaking out about *everything*, I’m am just going to tell you. I am going to leave you alone for a minute, maybe not even. Everything will be fine. I am not going to die, and you are not going to be responsible for it, so just sit tight and wait until I get back. Do you understand?”
A lengthy pause passed before Feury nodded. Charlie sighed again. “Okay,” he repeated. “Okay, just... Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”
And he took off, running as fast as he possible could, flying past buildings and cars and people as he made for the (bookshop). In only twenty seconds he was there, breezing by Alice right as she was about to close the the door (“Charlie, what on earth?!”-“I’ll explain later!”). In another twenty he managed to grab a bag of chamomile and a thermos and filled it with hot water from the still turned-on espresso machine, and then he pushed himself harder than he ever had before getting back, determined not to take more than the minute he had promised.
It didn’t work, and when he returned to where he had left Feury he was completely winded and sweating profusely, but he was only ten seconds late, which he though was pretty damn good. “Here,” he panted, setting the thermos in front of him. “Chamomile tea. It’ll have to steep for a few minutes, and it’ll probably still be too hot to drink for a while, but...” He shrugged, giving the boy a grin.
Feury stared at him like he had grown a second head. Charlie raised an eyebrow, and said in a light, teasing voice, “It’s not poisoned.”
There was shriek and then Feury was back in his little ball of horror, staring at the thermos with his wide, terrified eyes. “It could have been poisoned?!” he screeched.
“No, no!” Mother*fucker*, did he have to freak out about fucking *everything*? “No, that’s just... I was just teasing you! Kidding! Joking around! I wasn’t serious!”
He was still looking at him with those terrified hazel eyes, and Charlie felt the guilt wash over him in waves and start munching away at his pancreas. “Feury, look. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Just... Look, just drink your tea, and don’t... Don’t freak out, okay? And I’ll just... I’ll just keep my mouth shut for a while, and we can just sit here, and enjoy the nighttime silence, and everything will be good. Okay?”
The blond was still looking at the thermos like it was about to explode, but after a moment his eyes slid up to look at Charlie and he nodded shakily. The brunet sighed and took the thermos, unscrewing the lid and pulling the tea bag out before putting it back on and giving it back to Feury. Or at least trying to, because the boy was still looking at him like he wasn’t quite sure the brunet wasn’t going to kill him the second he let his guard down, but Charlie just kept holding the thermos, and after a few minutes, he reached out a hand and took it. “Th.... Thank you,” he said softly.
Charlie smiled. “You’re welcome,” he answered.
It was quiet for a long time after that, Feury not taking his first sip of tea until after several minutes and making a noise a bit like a very repressed moan. Charlie felt himself smile. “It’s good?” he asked.
The blond nodded, a little tightly, still with wide eyes, and Charlie felt his smile drop a little. “It’s okay if it’s not,” he said. “I won’t... I won’t be mad.”
He made a noise like a wounded animal and began shaking his head frantically. “No, no, it’s fine, it’s good, I’m not mad, really! I’m just...” He trailed off, looking lost.
“Tightly wound?” Charlie offered.
“Um... I... I guess...” His cheeks flushed pink and he cast he gaze downwards. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being... Being a nuisance.”
He blinked. “You’re not being a nuisance,” he said.
“But you are annoyed with me, aren’t you?” He wasn’t even looking at Charlie anymore. “Everyone always is.”
“I’m not annoyed with you,” Charlie insisted, reaching out and placing a hand on the boy’s knee, which was also an incredibly stupid thing to do, because he jerked back and shrieked. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He pulled the hand back. “What’d I do now?!”
“Nothing, nothing, oh Jesus, I’m sorry, that was my fault, I’m just not used to people touching me because no one ever wants to touch me and you scared me and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to it’s just kind of instinct! Oh God, please don’t be angry, I’m sorry-”
“Okay, stop!” Charlie reached out and grabbed him by the upper arms, forcing him to still. “Look, that was my fault, so stop freaking out and let me say I’m sorry and then tell me what other things there are out there that are going to make you do this so that I can avoid them and we won’t have this problem. Does that sound okay?”
Feury swallowed thickly. “That... That might be... Kind of... Difficult.”
Charlie frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I...” The boy ducked his head and stared resolutely at the ground. “I’m kind of... Well, I’m scared of everything.”
“... Everything?”
He nodded.
“So... What, do you suffer from paranoia, or something?”
There was a very long, very heavy pause before slowly, Feury nodded.
Oh.
This was going to be difficult.
--
“Cassandra.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember when I told you I was gay?”
She frowns. “Yes.”
“Well, I... I lied.”
“You lied.”
“Yes. I mean, kind of. I mean...” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. “I mean I didn’t lie when I said I was gay. Because I think I am. Or at least I would be if I was attracted to guys. But not because I don’t find them attractive!” he amends quickly, seeing the skeptical and somewhat angry look on her face. “It’s because... I’m kind of in love with someone. And I’m so in love with them that I can’t really look at anybody else.”
She still looks angry. “Is this person male?” she asks, and Ian can hear her trying not to raise her voice.
“Yes.”
He sees the tension flow out of her almost instantly. “So you can’t look at other guys because you’re so in love this one no one else holds any appeal to you, is that what you‘re saying?”
He thinks for a moment. “Yeah, pretty much.”
She smiles. “That doesn’t mean you’re not gay, Ian. It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but it’s...” He sighs again and begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“Because... I don’t think... I’m not supposed to be in love with him.”
Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“It’s not... Right.”
“Is he older?”
“No...”
“Younger?”
“God, no.”
“Then why isn’t it right?”
“Because it’s...” He swallows thickly, and forces the word out of his throat. “Unnatural.”
“Unnatural?”
“... Yeah.”
His whole body is nothing but a bundle of frayed nerves at this point, as he watches her frown deepen as confusion etches itself into the lines of her face. “Is he... straight?” she asks hesitantly, like she’s not sure it’s the right question to be asking.
“No. He’s... He’s bisexual.”
“Oh. Okay...” She looks away for a moment, but suddenly her eyes widen and her gaze snaps back to him. “Oh my God Ian, it’s not Rick, is it?”
“What?!” he shrieks, mentally gagging at the thought. “Jesus Christ, no!”
“Oh thank God,” she breaths, taking a moment to look extremely relieved before she frowns again. “Then... Who is it?”
He open his mouth, and the words get stuck in his throat as he looks at her. And he realizes that he can’t do this if he’s looking at her; because it’s going to tear him apart when she leaves, and he can’t bear to see it happening. So he closes his eyes and drops his head and says, so low it’s almost a whisper, “It’s Sydney.”
Silence follows.
“Sydney,” she repeats after a minute.
He nods, and squeezes his eyes tighter because he can already feel the tears coming.
“As in... Your brother.”
“Yes.”
There’s a pause, and then she lets out a small laugh with absolutely no humor behind it, only nervousness and disbelief. “That... That is quite unnatural,” she agrees shakily.
He draws in a shuddery breath and whispers, in a small, broken voice, “I know.”
Another silence follows, much longer this time, suffocating in it’s intensity. “You can leave if you want,” he says quietly, hoping that she won’t but knowing that she will anyway. “I’ll... I’ll understand.” He draws in another shaky breath and continues, in a whisper, “I know I’d want to leave me.”
He hears her make a noise, like she’s about to protest, but nothing follows. Then she sighs. “I think...” she starts, pauses, and then tries again, “Yes. I... I need some time. To think. And... take this all in.”
He grits his teeth to keep from making any noise as he hears her putting her things away. It doesn’t work quite as well as he hoped; a small whimper ends up getting past him. There’s pause in her movements, and then he hears her say, in a soft voice: “I’m sorry.”
Her retreating footsteps sound like cannons in his ears. He stops trying to hold back his tears.
All fanfiction can be found here
Go forth and bid! Even if it isn't for me! I don't mind either way; it's all for a good cause!
Basically, I'm offering a 3,500+ original or fanfic to whomever bids the highest. This post is to a) provide an easy link to work I've posted here and b) to provide samples of other work I've never posted. And it's a lot.
Original Fiction
Monster Coffee Shop (Humor/Supernatural)
Skye and Cole (Angst/Drama/One-sided Romance)
Simon and Matthew (Romance/General/Mild Humor)
Large hazel eyes blinked once. Twice.
Charlie blinked once as well before smiling in what he hoped was an encouraging way.
The boy blinked again.
“Are you Feury?” the brunet asked gently, taking a step forward.
And that apparently had been the absolute *worst* thing he could have possibly said, because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the blond shrieked and scrambled backwards until he hit the wall, eyes wild with terror and body trembling violently.
“Oh my God, oh my God, are you a policeman? Please don’t hurt me I swear I never wanted to hurt anybody it’s not my fault, I can’t control it! It’s the music, it makes me react, I never know what I’m doing when I’m in a state-”
“Hey,” Charlie said, trying to sound comforting but apparently failing miserably because Feury let out another shriek and began to talk even more frantically.
“-it was an experiment my parents did I never wanted to be a part of it they forced me! Are you going to send me to jail? Oh God, you are, aren’t you, I’m going to go to jail and become someone’s prison bitch and get raped everyday, aren’t I? Oh Jesus, I’m not strong enough to take that please don’t send me to prison I just wanted to be a normal person don’t let them take me away-”
“I’m not-”
“-no wait, are you a scientist? Are they going to being me to a lab? They are, aren’t they, and I’m going to be a human guinea pig and have probes stuck up my nose and be cut open and examined-”
“You’re not-”
“-and have experiments done and they’re probably going to give me a lobotomy to make sure I don’t hurt people and replace my kidneys with a cow’s and make sleep in a cage with rabid ferrets-”
“FEURY!”
The blond shrieked and drew himself into a little ball, staring at Charlie with wide, absolutely terrified eyes, but he stopped taking. Charlie sighed and tried smiling gently again. “I’m not a policeman, or a scientist, okay? I’m not going to send you to prison, and I’m not taking you to a secret lab; I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
Feury didn’t relax at all. “If you’re not a police officer then who are you?” he asked, fear lacing itself into every level of his voice. It kind of made Charlie feel like a jackass, which was kind of ridiculous, but he thought that maybe Feury was like a frightened animal and just needed to be calmed down. So he bent down until they were about the same height and said, with a soft smile, “I’m just a hero.”
There was a pause.
“A... a hero,” the blond repeated.
Charlie nodded gently, still smiling.
Feury made a sound like someone had shot him. “Oh God,” he whimpered. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
“What?! No!” Charlie stared at him, completely taken aback. “Why would I want to kill you?!”
“Because I hurt people. Heroes have to kill the bad guys to save the world, right?” He made a desperate sobbing noise and suddenly there were tears spilling down his cheeks, and Charlie suddenly became aquatinted with a level of guilt that he hadn’t even known *existed*. He opened his mouth to explain, but Feury kept talking, “I know I’ve done some horrible thing but if you have to kill me can you please make it quick? I don’t want to die slowly, it’s not my fault I destroy things and oh *God*, what if I go to hell?”
“What-You’re not going to hell!” Charlie cried disbelievingly, but the other boy either didn’t hear him or was choosing to ignore him because his frantic babble and then began to sob.
“-b-but what if h-hell’s not b-b-bad enough for m-me and they s-send me to a n-new p-p-place that’s even w-worse and m-maggots start eating my s-skin a-and they-ey k-keep k-killi-ing me b-but I c-can’ die so I’ll be i-in a-agony forev-ver a-and-”
He squealed when Charlie slapped a hand over his mouth, and the brunet felt the guilt start to devourer his kidneys with relish, but he didn’t know how else to shut him up long enough to get a word in. “Okay, listen,” he said, trying not to sound as frustrated as he felt, but judging from the way there were still tears pouring from the blond’s eyes and the way Charlie could feel that he was shaking almost violently, it wasn’t working. “I am not going to kill you, and you are not going to hell. I just want to *talk*.”
He waited for the information to sink in, opting not to say anything else lest the boy start something worse than sobbing, because he honestly didn’t think he could handle anymore of the all-consuming guilt that was still running rampant up and down his spine. Several minutes passed, Feury still trembling and staring at Charlie like he was the executioner and the blond was on the chopping block, but Charlie forced himself to just look back calmly, to not give the boy any reason to start freaking out again, and, after a while, even managed to conjure up another (hopefully) encouraging smile.
They stayed like that, almost unmoving save for Feury’s trembling, for what seemed like ages, until finally, the blond closed his eyes, and Charlie felt a small bit of tension ease from his body. He sighed in relief and dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said. “Are you going to be alright?”
Feury nodded tightly.
“Are you sure? You don’t need like, water or something? Tea, maybe?”
The blond’s eyes opened and he gaze Charlie a puzzled look. “Where are you going to get tea all the way up here?” he asked.
For the first time that night, the brunet felt himself grin. “Why?” he asked. “Do you want some?”
“I...” He blinked. “I... I guess...”
“What kind?”
“Um...” He looked away from Charlie’s face, out into the night, still confused. “That one... That one that’s good for before you go to bed.”
“Chamomile?”
“... Yeah.”
Charlie grinned wide. “If I leave for a minute, will you be okay?”
“What? Why? Oh God, are going to get the poli-”
“*No*,” he said emphatically. “I am not going to get *anybody*. And it’ll only be a minute, I promise.”
“... You promise.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Oh Jesus, don’t do that! I’ve already killed enough people, I don’t want to kill you too!”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” he backtracked, waving his hands frantically for emphasis. “It’s just an old saying that I used to use when I was a kid! It’s not serious!”
“Are you sure? Because I would feel horrible if you died! Not that I don’t feel horrible when other people die, because I do, especially when it’s my fault and-”
“Hey!” The blond stopped. “Okay, look. Since you obviously can’t go two minutes without freaking out about *everything*, I’m am just going to tell you. I am going to leave you alone for a minute, maybe not even. Everything will be fine. I am not going to die, and you are not going to be responsible for it, so just sit tight and wait until I get back. Do you understand?”
A lengthy pause passed before Feury nodded. Charlie sighed again. “Okay,” he repeated. “Okay, just... Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”
And he took off, running as fast as he possible could, flying past buildings and cars and people as he made for the (bookshop). In only twenty seconds he was there, breezing by Alice right as she was about to close the the door (“Charlie, what on earth?!”-“I’ll explain later!”). In another twenty he managed to grab a bag of chamomile and a thermos and filled it with hot water from the still turned-on espresso machine, and then he pushed himself harder than he ever had before getting back, determined not to take more than the minute he had promised.
It didn’t work, and when he returned to where he had left Feury he was completely winded and sweating profusely, but he was only ten seconds late, which he though was pretty damn good. “Here,” he panted, setting the thermos in front of him. “Chamomile tea. It’ll have to steep for a few minutes, and it’ll probably still be too hot to drink for a while, but...” He shrugged, giving the boy a grin.
Feury stared at him like he had grown a second head. Charlie raised an eyebrow, and said in a light, teasing voice, “It’s not poisoned.”
There was shriek and then Feury was back in his little ball of horror, staring at the thermos with his wide, terrified eyes. “It could have been poisoned?!” he screeched.
“No, no!” Mother*fucker*, did he have to freak out about fucking *everything*? “No, that’s just... I was just teasing you! Kidding! Joking around! I wasn’t serious!”
He was still looking at him with those terrified hazel eyes, and Charlie felt the guilt wash over him in waves and start munching away at his pancreas. “Feury, look. I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Just... Look, just drink your tea, and don’t... Don’t freak out, okay? And I’ll just... I’ll just keep my mouth shut for a while, and we can just sit here, and enjoy the nighttime silence, and everything will be good. Okay?”
The blond was still looking at the thermos like it was about to explode, but after a moment his eyes slid up to look at Charlie and he nodded shakily. The brunet sighed and took the thermos, unscrewing the lid and pulling the tea bag out before putting it back on and giving it back to Feury. Or at least trying to, because the boy was still looking at him like he wasn’t quite sure the brunet wasn’t going to kill him the second he let his guard down, but Charlie just kept holding the thermos, and after a few minutes, he reached out a hand and took it. “Th.... Thank you,” he said softly.
Charlie smiled. “You’re welcome,” he answered.
It was quiet for a long time after that, Feury not taking his first sip of tea until after several minutes and making a noise a bit like a very repressed moan. Charlie felt himself smile. “It’s good?” he asked.
The blond nodded, a little tightly, still with wide eyes, and Charlie felt his smile drop a little. “It’s okay if it’s not,” he said. “I won’t... I won’t be mad.”
He made a noise like a wounded animal and began shaking his head frantically. “No, no, it’s fine, it’s good, I’m not mad, really! I’m just...” He trailed off, looking lost.
“Tightly wound?” Charlie offered.
“Um... I... I guess...” His cheeks flushed pink and he cast he gaze downwards. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being... Being a nuisance.”
He blinked. “You’re not being a nuisance,” he said.
“But you are annoyed with me, aren’t you?” He wasn’t even looking at Charlie anymore. “Everyone always is.”
“I’m not annoyed with you,” Charlie insisted, reaching out and placing a hand on the boy’s knee, which was also an incredibly stupid thing to do, because he jerked back and shrieked. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He pulled the hand back. “What’d I do now?!”
“Nothing, nothing, oh Jesus, I’m sorry, that was my fault, I’m just not used to people touching me because no one ever wants to touch me and you scared me and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to it’s just kind of instinct! Oh God, please don’t be angry, I’m sorry-”
“Okay, stop!” Charlie reached out and grabbed him by the upper arms, forcing him to still. “Look, that was my fault, so stop freaking out and let me say I’m sorry and then tell me what other things there are out there that are going to make you do this so that I can avoid them and we won’t have this problem. Does that sound okay?”
Feury swallowed thickly. “That... That might be... Kind of... Difficult.”
Charlie frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I...” The boy ducked his head and stared resolutely at the ground. “I’m kind of... Well, I’m scared of everything.”
“... Everything?”
He nodded.
“So... What, do you suffer from paranoia, or something?”
There was a very long, very heavy pause before slowly, Feury nodded.
Oh.
This was going to be difficult.
--
“Cassandra.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember when I told you I was gay?”
She frowns. “Yes.”
“Well, I... I lied.”
“You lied.”
“Yes. I mean, kind of. I mean...” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose to ward off the oncoming headache. “I mean I didn’t lie when I said I was gay. Because I think I am. Or at least I would be if I was attracted to guys. But not because I don’t find them attractive!” he amends quickly, seeing the skeptical and somewhat angry look on her face. “It’s because... I’m kind of in love with someone. And I’m so in love with them that I can’t really look at anybody else.”
She still looks angry. “Is this person male?” she asks, and Ian can hear her trying not to raise her voice.
“Yes.”
He sees the tension flow out of her almost instantly. “So you can’t look at other guys because you’re so in love this one no one else holds any appeal to you, is that what you‘re saying?”
He thinks for a moment. “Yeah, pretty much.”
She smiles. “That doesn’t mean you’re not gay, Ian. It’s not a big deal.”
“I know, but it’s...” He sighs again and begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How so?”
“Because... I don’t think... I’m not supposed to be in love with him.”
Cassandra raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“It’s not... Right.”
“Is he older?”
“No...”
“Younger?”
“God, no.”
“Then why isn’t it right?”
“Because it’s...” He swallows thickly, and forces the word out of his throat. “Unnatural.”
“Unnatural?”
“... Yeah.”
His whole body is nothing but a bundle of frayed nerves at this point, as he watches her frown deepen as confusion etches itself into the lines of her face. “Is he... straight?” she asks hesitantly, like she’s not sure it’s the right question to be asking.
“No. He’s... He’s bisexual.”
“Oh. Okay...” She looks away for a moment, but suddenly her eyes widen and her gaze snaps back to him. “Oh my God Ian, it’s not Rick, is it?”
“What?!” he shrieks, mentally gagging at the thought. “Jesus Christ, no!”
“Oh thank God,” she breaths, taking a moment to look extremely relieved before she frowns again. “Then... Who is it?”
He open his mouth, and the words get stuck in his throat as he looks at her. And he realizes that he can’t do this if he’s looking at her; because it’s going to tear him apart when she leaves, and he can’t bear to see it happening. So he closes his eyes and drops his head and says, so low it’s almost a whisper, “It’s Sydney.”
Silence follows.
“Sydney,” she repeats after a minute.
He nods, and squeezes his eyes tighter because he can already feel the tears coming.
“As in... Your brother.”
“Yes.”
There’s a pause, and then she lets out a small laugh with absolutely no humor behind it, only nervousness and disbelief. “That... That is quite unnatural,” she agrees shakily.
He draws in a shuddery breath and whispers, in a small, broken voice, “I know.”
Another silence follows, much longer this time, suffocating in it’s intensity. “You can leave if you want,” he says quietly, hoping that she won’t but knowing that she will anyway. “I’ll... I’ll understand.” He draws in another shaky breath and continues, in a whisper, “I know I’d want to leave me.”
He hears her make a noise, like she’s about to protest, but nothing follows. Then she sighs. “I think...” she starts, pauses, and then tries again, “Yes. I... I need some time. To think. And... take this all in.”
He grits his teeth to keep from making any noise as he hears her putting her things away. It doesn’t work quite as well as he hoped; a small whimper ends up getting past him. There’s pause in her movements, and then he hears her say, in a soft voice: “I’m sorry.”
Her retreating footsteps sound like cannons in his ears. He stops trying to hold back his tears.
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