more wwi!a.u.
*Laertes told him to rest, and he wanted to (wanted to obey -- when it comes to winning the love of a father, he doesn't know what to do, except to behave, to obey, to stay out of the way -- of course he was never going to be anybody's equal), but in Laertes's apartment he thought of all the wrong things, thought of a morning in bed teasing and telling stories, of unexpected and lovely laughter, thought of being kissed, 'my Danish sweetheart --', thought of standing while someone bandaged his bleeding feet, thought of being held tight while he sobbed his family's secrets, thought of being held, in easy silence -- of onions and cigarettes and things kisses shouldn't taste of, but of smiling -- of charity, of honesty, of a wry look or a bit tongue, of having room. a promise -- if you try, you can make this real. could he make that real?
and he thinks -- but he promised himself he wouldn't think. (rest. rest. your eyes are tired.)
he is so cold. he is so cold. he wants to see Ophelia, to kneel before her and kiss the hem of her skirt. he wants to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to embrace them as friends, and clasp their hands. he wants --
he is wandering, not resting, but his wandering takes him to Horatio's lodginghouse, and he stands a while looking at it, as though it might come to life.*
and he thinks -- but he promised himself he wouldn't think. (rest. rest. your eyes are tired.)
he is so cold. he is so cold. he wants to see Ophelia, to kneel before her and kiss the hem of her skirt. he wants to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, to embrace them as friends, and clasp their hands. he wants --
he is wandering, not resting, but his wandering takes him to Horatio's lodginghouse, and he stands a while looking at it, as though it might come to life.*