BWoC Snippet: dark!Merton
Title: (1/1)
Author: Northlight
email: temporary_blue [at] yahoo.ca
Fandom: Big Wolf on Campus
Summary: Merton knows about dark impulses.
Spoilers: Big Bad Wolf
Rating:
Distribution: List archives and those who ask.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I am in no way affiliated with the show. No profit is being made from this fan work. No harm is intended.
Date: May 23, 2003.
Merton ignores the first tentative roll of Tommy's knuckles across the door. The door is unlocked. A minute trickles by. Merton doesn't move. He is settled in an armchair, hands laced loosely against his stomach and his eyes focused on the burning candles lined two-deep before him. The candles have been burning for a long time. Tommy raps at the door, firmer this time, determined. His voice is filled with impatience, with strangled pentinence, when he calls Merton's name. The reedy flames of the alternating black and white candles jump and tremble as Tommy opens the door.
Merton does not look at Tommy. He does not need to. Tommy has been working his way towards an apology for little over a week now. He is sorry, so sorry, and Merton has to know that what the other Tommy said wasn't and isn't and never will be true. Merton knows more than he sometimes wants to, but he doesn't know this: sorry, so sorry, none of it is true. He doesn't believe it and doesn't want to listen to Tommy lie to him; doesn't want to have to stop pretending that what they have is stronger and brighter and *more* than what it is.
Tommy hovers at the edges of Merton's vision. His hands are folded into the pockets of his open jacket. His shoulders are rounded. His chin is tilted towards the floor, lashes half-lowered. Tommy's voice is aggressively remorseful when he speaks. "I knocked."
"I heard."
Tommy blows sharply into the thick haze of smoke. "Merton," he says. The rubber soles of his sneakers squeal as he pushes himself forward more forcefully than intended. The candles are blocked a second later by blue jeans and the strong line of Tommy's thigh. "You're angry," Tommy says: accusatory and hurt and guilty all at once.
Merton huffs dismissively. Memorizes the weave of Tommy's jeans. "I'm not angry."
Tommy's muscles shift and readjust as he sets his weight from one foot to the other. "You aren't *that* good of a liar," Tommy says. Tommy's voice is strained with attempted levity. He waits on Merton's response. Sighs when Merton does not smile or roll his eyes or speak at all. Tommy's legs fold as he lowers himself slowly until he is staring up into Merton's face. He braces himself with a hand against Merton's knee. "Tell me what happened," Tommy says, "please."
Merton's eyes are so dry that they burn. He blinks once, hard, before lowering his eyes to meet Tommy's. "Nothing especially earth shattering," Merton says, his voice even because he wasn't lying--he isn't angry, not at Tommy, not even at the other Tommy and his near-complete distaste for Merton. "He insulted the hair. Threw me into a locker. The usual. You were there for the rest."
Merton can see the appology in the shape of Tommy's eyes, the set of his lips. Merton closes his eyes against the sight of Tommy's confused guilt. "I'm sorry," Tommy says. "You know that I'd never hurt you."
Merton can probably explain Tommy better than Tommy can. He could cobble together a half-dozen different explanations for the other Tommy's treatment of him: your double was acting on the resentment you harbour towards our strong interdependency; or: the wolf was seeking to establish his dominance in a way that you won't usually allow for; or: you're a teenager, a guy, and a popular football player--you're all jerks, case closed. Instead, Merton twists his lips and says: "you don't have to appologize, Tommy. I understand dark impulses."
Tommy hesitates before smiling. "Right," he says, "the black clothes and weird music sure do give you a real insight into the dark side."
Merton flashes his teeth at Tommy, humourless. "You've never actually thought about what my life was like before we started hanging out, have you?"
Tommy blinks, startled. His hand flexes against Merton's knee. "What?" Tommy says.
"Sometimes," Merton says slowly, "sometimes you act as if you're the only one in the world whose life isn't going the way you want it to." He should stop talking, Merton knows. He should make Tommy go away. "You don't *know* what it means to be different," Merton says with a sharpness that makes Tommy flinch.
"Merton," Tommy says helplessly. "Merton, I'm *sorry.*"
Author: Northlight
email: temporary_blue [at] yahoo.ca
Fandom: Big Wolf on Campus
Summary: Merton knows about dark impulses.
Spoilers: Big Bad Wolf
Rating:
Distribution: List archives and those who ask.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I am in no way affiliated with the show. No profit is being made from this fan work. No harm is intended.
Date: May 23, 2003.
Merton ignores the first tentative roll of Tommy's knuckles across the door. The door is unlocked. A minute trickles by. Merton doesn't move. He is settled in an armchair, hands laced loosely against his stomach and his eyes focused on the burning candles lined two-deep before him. The candles have been burning for a long time. Tommy raps at the door, firmer this time, determined. His voice is filled with impatience, with strangled pentinence, when he calls Merton's name. The reedy flames of the alternating black and white candles jump and tremble as Tommy opens the door.
Merton does not look at Tommy. He does not need to. Tommy has been working his way towards an apology for little over a week now. He is sorry, so sorry, and Merton has to know that what the other Tommy said wasn't and isn't and never will be true. Merton knows more than he sometimes wants to, but he doesn't know this: sorry, so sorry, none of it is true. He doesn't believe it and doesn't want to listen to Tommy lie to him; doesn't want to have to stop pretending that what they have is stronger and brighter and *more* than what it is.
Tommy hovers at the edges of Merton's vision. His hands are folded into the pockets of his open jacket. His shoulders are rounded. His chin is tilted towards the floor, lashes half-lowered. Tommy's voice is aggressively remorseful when he speaks. "I knocked."
"I heard."
Tommy blows sharply into the thick haze of smoke. "Merton," he says. The rubber soles of his sneakers squeal as he pushes himself forward more forcefully than intended. The candles are blocked a second later by blue jeans and the strong line of Tommy's thigh. "You're angry," Tommy says: accusatory and hurt and guilty all at once.
Merton huffs dismissively. Memorizes the weave of Tommy's jeans. "I'm not angry."
Tommy's muscles shift and readjust as he sets his weight from one foot to the other. "You aren't *that* good of a liar," Tommy says. Tommy's voice is strained with attempted levity. He waits on Merton's response. Sighs when Merton does not smile or roll his eyes or speak at all. Tommy's legs fold as he lowers himself slowly until he is staring up into Merton's face. He braces himself with a hand against Merton's knee. "Tell me what happened," Tommy says, "please."
Merton's eyes are so dry that they burn. He blinks once, hard, before lowering his eyes to meet Tommy's. "Nothing especially earth shattering," Merton says, his voice even because he wasn't lying--he isn't angry, not at Tommy, not even at the other Tommy and his near-complete distaste for Merton. "He insulted the hair. Threw me into a locker. The usual. You were there for the rest."
Merton can see the appology in the shape of Tommy's eyes, the set of his lips. Merton closes his eyes against the sight of Tommy's confused guilt. "I'm sorry," Tommy says. "You know that I'd never hurt you."
Merton can probably explain Tommy better than Tommy can. He could cobble together a half-dozen different explanations for the other Tommy's treatment of him: your double was acting on the resentment you harbour towards our strong interdependency; or: the wolf was seeking to establish his dominance in a way that you won't usually allow for; or: you're a teenager, a guy, and a popular football player--you're all jerks, case closed. Instead, Merton twists his lips and says: "you don't have to appologize, Tommy. I understand dark impulses."
Tommy hesitates before smiling. "Right," he says, "the black clothes and weird music sure do give you a real insight into the dark side."
Merton flashes his teeth at Tommy, humourless. "You've never actually thought about what my life was like before we started hanging out, have you?"
Tommy blinks, startled. His hand flexes against Merton's knee. "What?" Tommy says.
"Sometimes," Merton says slowly, "sometimes you act as if you're the only one in the world whose life isn't going the way you want it to." He should stop talking, Merton knows. He should make Tommy go away. "You don't *know* what it means to be different," Merton says with a sharpness that makes Tommy flinch.
"Merton," Tommy says helplessly. "Merton, I'm *sorry.*"