Closer
Title: Closer
Rating: PG
Pairing: Will/Jake
Summary: How much distance would go between them?
Like rising to the surface of a deep pool, he is pulled from a hazy, shapeless dream into the middle of a night, his matted blond hair soaked with perspiration but oddly he remembers nothing. The dream leaves none of an impression: only a sense of confusion lingers as he attempts to recall the stubborn memory but it escapes him and he finally gives up. Supine, he gazes up blankly at the cobweb-filled ceiling, too unwilling to depart from the comfort of simply doing nothing for it is a reluctant morning thing. He blinks sleep away and runs a hand deftly through his unkempt hair; that was the easy part, but it takes him a little over a minute to notice daylight has not come streaming in unlike as it usually does, and this he realizes a few moments after as one of the rare times he is awake before his brother.
Jake sleeps with the bedclothes wrapped tight like cocoon silk around himself and if that is insufficient reminder as to who gets to keep warm his hand clutches a portion of the hem possessively. He is but a mere distance away from him, and all but an iota of its significance vanishes when Will rolls to his side to watch him sleep, putting only a few inches of night air between their faces.
The sky remains obsidian and he reckons it would not be daylight for another few hours. It also means his brother’s mind would be lost in wanderings of its own for approximately the same time, for he knows that minutes before dawn breaks over the sky and feeble sunlight leaks through the cracks in the curtains, spilling into the room, Jake’s internal clock always rouses him in time to watch the sunrise, although Will has rarely witnessed this.
The thin covers outline Jake as he curls up into himself. He is far bonier than Will, and Will reckons he would not stand a chance against him in a rough play-fight yet Jake can hurt when he struggles violently in his attempts to slip away. He seems delicate yet he holds an untapped strength, but this would be unapparent to anyone else as Will notes the angles of his brother’s scrawny self, wondering if he was any leaner in the past, noticing his naturally-tousled dark hair as if he only did today.
Will attempts to regain possession of more of the covers but unfortunately it does not work.
Jake is half-obscured in cloth and shadow and somehow that accentuates his fragility, especially when Will thinks of his relation to the brittle-his glasses, for instance. How many had he owned before they were misplaced/broken before the one he now had with him? Will spots it atop the bedside table; at least he did not forget to remove it. His person was often the most troubling and emotionally-demanding: adamant yet sensitive and quixotic. Will’s realist personality often led to conflict between them, and sometimes it gets on his nerves when he frequently crosses Jake’s hand-drawn, invisible lines and without warning his brother storms off somewhere to sulk. Will cannot help being amused at having to cajole and comfort him like a child nearly all the time; even years after they have outgrown their little selves Jake manages to flawlessly preserve his timid demeanour. It stirs up something within him, a queer emotion Will was yet unable put into acceptable words and it strikes him as ironic when he is often the better talker and that in turn evokes a sardonic grin from within. As he gazes affectionately at Jake he cannot help but wonder if the fault is all his own for deliberately breaking a heart made of glass.
He holds out an uncertain hand to tease a loose strand of hair away from his brother’s eyes but it hovers there as he hesitates. Why, though? He wonders idly as he lowers his hand back on the less-than-soft sheets-if he would rather things stayed like as they are so he would have someone to protect, someone he did not lose sight of, someone he could say ‘it will all be okay’ to even though reality is far from it.
Jake murmurs inaudibly and stirs, as if responding to the inner strife within his sibling and Will allows himself the smallest of smiles in the quiet of this dimly-lit room. He is not tense, nor are his features clouded with worry or grief; it seems to be a dreamless night, or one with pleasant dreams. How many nights since they were children-lonely, confused children-had Will held his sobbing brother, fresh out of a nightmare while the tears soaked his nightshirt, murmuring so many reassuring words that sounded more like empty promises he could not keep? He tells him with a firm, calming voice the demons in his sleep would never devour him in reality, but he inwardly doubts he could drive away Jake’s fears while he struggles to keep his own growling pack of wolves at bay.
He watches Jake but his eyelids betray neither turmoil nor a gaily dream. Will has always scoffed nightmares as childish problems, but he is willing to make an exception for his precious brother. He muses whether Jake would ever grow up, whether that dreamy, frightened-kitten part of him would gradually transmute into stable maturity, though a hint of doubt creeps in at that. He would never admit it, but Jake allowed him to believe in possibilities, regardless of how improbable, or how illogical, they seem.
Jake’s breathing is soft, consistent and unwavering, even as his sibling distractedly detects his own quicken, and an undisturbed placidity comes over him as if he is deeply absorbed in a lovely dream. Will envies his ability to retain his awkward, boyish features which he finds a challenge to tear his eyes away from. He was certain he was not alone in that. What of she whom Jake said he loved? He had experienced the strangest feeling when he had discovered that, and he recalls with some guilt how in the name of protection he had subtly attempted to break them apart. He cannot imagine life being the same, and the conversations they have in stagecoaches and rooms-he does not intend for them to be privy to anyone else. Two is company, three is a crowd.
However, no matter how easily he shrugs it off he knows better than anyone that emotion is far from protectiveness; he was not too sure he wanted to familiarize himself with it.
Jake shifts away as if sensing the intensity of his brother’s scrutinizing gaze but he does not go very far before lying still again.
In the shade of the night Will wonders with growing worry whether one day would it be no longer acceptable to caress him or stroke his hair. This has nothing to do with strange stares, which he has become accustomed to and Jake does not seem to notice, nor the little unspoken rules of life that dictate allowed but limited closeness between siblings. He is certain Jake is simply ignorant, but this does not stop the nagging thought from surfacing: that someday his beloved brother would object to his extended affections.
He throws his portion of the covers over his sibling instead as it is perfectly fine for him to be cold as long as Jake is snug and warm. Will knows he loves him this much, no matter how he frustrates his frazzled nerves and how many of his own lines he has crossed. Jake is his brother and they have spent nearly every part of their lives together. He smiles: a smile that hides many secrets. Jake’s hand brushes his and his skin feels much warmer than his own as Will’s delicately snags his index finger and unconsciously traces the rough lines etched by years of wear and tear. Skin to skin and the warm blood flowing through both is nearly ‘of his own’; deep down it awakens a slight headiness as Will finds himself thinking in rather ridiculous poetry; he edges closer for contact but the mood is ruined when Jake unexpectedly kicks him hard in the leg.
‘Ouch! Watch it, you-’ Will growls but pauses as he retreats, figuring he could not hear him anyway.
Jake settles more or less into docile quiescence and Will makes himself comfortable again when he thinks it is safe enough. Sheer lack of distance makes his heart pound and he tries and fails to dismiss the fact that this is very inappropriate. A quick glance to the window tells him the sky retains an impenetrable shade of ink and morning would be far from now. He yearns to-and it would not matter if at this moment he reaches out to pull his sibling into his arms, to press these oblivious lips to his own for a split-second, or maybe longer. Jake would not feel it, he would not retaliate, and he would not know a thing when morning breaks. Will, however, would have plenty to think about afterwards.
It had been such a pity when he had said ‘not you’ in the forest but that was understandable when they were not the only ones.
On a night like this he would be his and his alone.
He strokes his cheek with a trembling hand; tentative at first, but no response is a good response. He gently tilts Jake’s chin slightly upwards so his lips would fit perfectly over his own; his mind on restraint for caution’s sake yet he feels so deeply the myriad of unexplored, unmentioned emotions that threaten to spill over. It would be a split-second’s worth, he tells himself despite desiring otherwise, and then he would break contact with this familiar face, he whom Will would never be allowed to have, mere inches away in innocent oblivion…
But he hesitates, and Jake’s eyes snap open. He regards his surroundings with a glazed disorientation, and there is mild surprise at their proximity which gives way to a politely bewildered expression.
‘…Will?’ Slight uncertainty laces the whispered name and he imagines his brother’s mind attempting to fit all of this into a benign, perfectly logical scenario that would explain why they were much closer physically than usual and why Will is staring at him with such an obsessed manner. Obsessed.
‘It’s nothing,’ he replies slowly and turns away, obscuring the look of disappointment he struggles to withhold from the world. ‘Go back to bed, Jake.’
He had been so close. Will slumps, suddenly exhausted, onto his share of the pillows. The only ‘nothing’ that occurs to him is that which fills the hollow of anticipation as he lapses into uneasy sleep.
On the contrary Jake remains wide awake, clinging onto and reevaluating every last detail he had seen and felt. He is certain he had not been imagining it. He has easily seen through Will’s feeble, cordial reply, and there was only a thought that fills him with rancour:
He should not have roused himself so soon.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Will/Jake
Summary: How much distance would go between them?
Like rising to the surface of a deep pool, he is pulled from a hazy, shapeless dream into the middle of a night, his matted blond hair soaked with perspiration but oddly he remembers nothing. The dream leaves none of an impression: only a sense of confusion lingers as he attempts to recall the stubborn memory but it escapes him and he finally gives up. Supine, he gazes up blankly at the cobweb-filled ceiling, too unwilling to depart from the comfort of simply doing nothing for it is a reluctant morning thing. He blinks sleep away and runs a hand deftly through his unkempt hair; that was the easy part, but it takes him a little over a minute to notice daylight has not come streaming in unlike as it usually does, and this he realizes a few moments after as one of the rare times he is awake before his brother.
Jake sleeps with the bedclothes wrapped tight like cocoon silk around himself and if that is insufficient reminder as to who gets to keep warm his hand clutches a portion of the hem possessively. He is but a mere distance away from him, and all but an iota of its significance vanishes when Will rolls to his side to watch him sleep, putting only a few inches of night air between their faces.
The sky remains obsidian and he reckons it would not be daylight for another few hours. It also means his brother’s mind would be lost in wanderings of its own for approximately the same time, for he knows that minutes before dawn breaks over the sky and feeble sunlight leaks through the cracks in the curtains, spilling into the room, Jake’s internal clock always rouses him in time to watch the sunrise, although Will has rarely witnessed this.
The thin covers outline Jake as he curls up into himself. He is far bonier than Will, and Will reckons he would not stand a chance against him in a rough play-fight yet Jake can hurt when he struggles violently in his attempts to slip away. He seems delicate yet he holds an untapped strength, but this would be unapparent to anyone else as Will notes the angles of his brother’s scrawny self, wondering if he was any leaner in the past, noticing his naturally-tousled dark hair as if he only did today.
Will attempts to regain possession of more of the covers but unfortunately it does not work.
Jake is half-obscured in cloth and shadow and somehow that accentuates his fragility, especially when Will thinks of his relation to the brittle-his glasses, for instance. How many had he owned before they were misplaced/broken before the one he now had with him? Will spots it atop the bedside table; at least he did not forget to remove it. His person was often the most troubling and emotionally-demanding: adamant yet sensitive and quixotic. Will’s realist personality often led to conflict between them, and sometimes it gets on his nerves when he frequently crosses Jake’s hand-drawn, invisible lines and without warning his brother storms off somewhere to sulk. Will cannot help being amused at having to cajole and comfort him like a child nearly all the time; even years after they have outgrown their little selves Jake manages to flawlessly preserve his timid demeanour. It stirs up something within him, a queer emotion Will was yet unable put into acceptable words and it strikes him as ironic when he is often the better talker and that in turn evokes a sardonic grin from within. As he gazes affectionately at Jake he cannot help but wonder if the fault is all his own for deliberately breaking a heart made of glass.
He holds out an uncertain hand to tease a loose strand of hair away from his brother’s eyes but it hovers there as he hesitates. Why, though? He wonders idly as he lowers his hand back on the less-than-soft sheets-if he would rather things stayed like as they are so he would have someone to protect, someone he did not lose sight of, someone he could say ‘it will all be okay’ to even though reality is far from it.
Jake murmurs inaudibly and stirs, as if responding to the inner strife within his sibling and Will allows himself the smallest of smiles in the quiet of this dimly-lit room. He is not tense, nor are his features clouded with worry or grief; it seems to be a dreamless night, or one with pleasant dreams. How many nights since they were children-lonely, confused children-had Will held his sobbing brother, fresh out of a nightmare while the tears soaked his nightshirt, murmuring so many reassuring words that sounded more like empty promises he could not keep? He tells him with a firm, calming voice the demons in his sleep would never devour him in reality, but he inwardly doubts he could drive away Jake’s fears while he struggles to keep his own growling pack of wolves at bay.
He watches Jake but his eyelids betray neither turmoil nor a gaily dream. Will has always scoffed nightmares as childish problems, but he is willing to make an exception for his precious brother. He muses whether Jake would ever grow up, whether that dreamy, frightened-kitten part of him would gradually transmute into stable maturity, though a hint of doubt creeps in at that. He would never admit it, but Jake allowed him to believe in possibilities, regardless of how improbable, or how illogical, they seem.
Jake’s breathing is soft, consistent and unwavering, even as his sibling distractedly detects his own quicken, and an undisturbed placidity comes over him as if he is deeply absorbed in a lovely dream. Will envies his ability to retain his awkward, boyish features which he finds a challenge to tear his eyes away from. He was certain he was not alone in that. What of she whom Jake said he loved? He had experienced the strangest feeling when he had discovered that, and he recalls with some guilt how in the name of protection he had subtly attempted to break them apart. He cannot imagine life being the same, and the conversations they have in stagecoaches and rooms-he does not intend for them to be privy to anyone else. Two is company, three is a crowd.
However, no matter how easily he shrugs it off he knows better than anyone that emotion is far from protectiveness; he was not too sure he wanted to familiarize himself with it.
Jake shifts away as if sensing the intensity of his brother’s scrutinizing gaze but he does not go very far before lying still again.
In the shade of the night Will wonders with growing worry whether one day would it be no longer acceptable to caress him or stroke his hair. This has nothing to do with strange stares, which he has become accustomed to and Jake does not seem to notice, nor the little unspoken rules of life that dictate allowed but limited closeness between siblings. He is certain Jake is simply ignorant, but this does not stop the nagging thought from surfacing: that someday his beloved brother would object to his extended affections.
He throws his portion of the covers over his sibling instead as it is perfectly fine for him to be cold as long as Jake is snug and warm. Will knows he loves him this much, no matter how he frustrates his frazzled nerves and how many of his own lines he has crossed. Jake is his brother and they have spent nearly every part of their lives together. He smiles: a smile that hides many secrets. Jake’s hand brushes his and his skin feels much warmer than his own as Will’s delicately snags his index finger and unconsciously traces the rough lines etched by years of wear and tear. Skin to skin and the warm blood flowing through both is nearly ‘of his own’; deep down it awakens a slight headiness as Will finds himself thinking in rather ridiculous poetry; he edges closer for contact but the mood is ruined when Jake unexpectedly kicks him hard in the leg.
‘Ouch! Watch it, you-’ Will growls but pauses as he retreats, figuring he could not hear him anyway.
Jake settles more or less into docile quiescence and Will makes himself comfortable again when he thinks it is safe enough. Sheer lack of distance makes his heart pound and he tries and fails to dismiss the fact that this is very inappropriate. A quick glance to the window tells him the sky retains an impenetrable shade of ink and morning would be far from now. He yearns to-and it would not matter if at this moment he reaches out to pull his sibling into his arms, to press these oblivious lips to his own for a split-second, or maybe longer. Jake would not feel it, he would not retaliate, and he would not know a thing when morning breaks. Will, however, would have plenty to think about afterwards.
It had been such a pity when he had said ‘not you’ in the forest but that was understandable when they were not the only ones.
On a night like this he would be his and his alone.
He strokes his cheek with a trembling hand; tentative at first, but no response is a good response. He gently tilts Jake’s chin slightly upwards so his lips would fit perfectly over his own; his mind on restraint for caution’s sake yet he feels so deeply the myriad of unexplored, unmentioned emotions that threaten to spill over. It would be a split-second’s worth, he tells himself despite desiring otherwise, and then he would break contact with this familiar face, he whom Will would never be allowed to have, mere inches away in innocent oblivion…
But he hesitates, and Jake’s eyes snap open. He regards his surroundings with a glazed disorientation, and there is mild surprise at their proximity which gives way to a politely bewildered expression.
‘…Will?’ Slight uncertainty laces the whispered name and he imagines his brother’s mind attempting to fit all of this into a benign, perfectly logical scenario that would explain why they were much closer physically than usual and why Will is staring at him with such an obsessed manner. Obsessed.
‘It’s nothing,’ he replies slowly and turns away, obscuring the look of disappointment he struggles to withhold from the world. ‘Go back to bed, Jake.’
He had been so close. Will slumps, suddenly exhausted, onto his share of the pillows. The only ‘nothing’ that occurs to him is that which fills the hollow of anticipation as he lapses into uneasy sleep.
On the contrary Jake remains wide awake, clinging onto and reevaluating every last detail he had seen and felt. He is certain he had not been imagining it. He has easily seen through Will’s feeble, cordial reply, and there was only a thought that fills him with rancour:
He should not have roused himself so soon.