Fic: forgetting how to breathe
Title: forgetting how to breathe
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 551
Characters: Ten (Rose/Ten)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: As he has now are his memories.
A/N: For Challenge 16, Photos and Poems, at then_theres_us, prompt is behind the cut, as always :D
003.
I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.
He wanders aimlessly about the place that was their home, as unconventional as it is.
She is everywhere, and she is nowhere. The corridors echo with her laughter, the jumpseat is warm from her touch, his overcoat smells of her perfume.
He stops at the kitchen, steps inside and stands a moment, staring at the sink. There's a window above it, a false scene of the countryside, bright blue skies and white fluffy clouds and a brilliant sun shining. She'd laughed, delighted, when he showed her the window, made just for her when she mentioned how much she missed just staring out the kitchen window sometimes.
He remembers finding her there one morning, still in her pajamas, filling the kettle with water. He'd stood silently, watching as she turned the tap off and carried the kettle over to the stove, watched as she turned the heat on. She fiddled with the knob on the stove a moment before turning around and jumping when she saw him.
She scolded him for scaring her, though she grinned at him too. He smiled and apologized, moving into the kitchen. He asked how she liked her window and her grin widened, sighing about how gorgeous the view was. He moved to stand beside her and they savored the view for a moment until she looked over at him and asked where they were going that day. He moved closer to her and she turned around, leaning against the sink and smiling at him. His hand slid across her stomach to rest on her hip, the rest of him following, as though her body was a magnet for his own. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching as the artificial sunlight made it shine.
Where do you want to go? he asked, his hand moving down to her hip, holding her in place as he leaned forward to kiss her neck.
Doesn't matter, she whispered, tilting her head so that her lips brushed his ear. So long as I'm with you.
He remembers returning from that day's adventure, how she pulled him down onto the couch, her legs opening to allow him entry. The way her thighs felt under his hands, her skin smooth and soft, his fingers moving up, tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her body, as if a part of him knew, even then, that their inevitable end was coming far sooner than either of them ever imagined.
He remembers her breath, hot and quick against his lips as he kisses her, making a trail down to her neck where he can feel her pulse racing and she clenches around him as she cries out his name, the only name she knows, the only name he's told her, and he whispers hers against her shoulder, the only one she has, the only one she needs.
He sits on the couch now and the tears are unexpected, as is the realization that he can't stop them, even if he wanted to. Her presence echoes in this room, in every room in the TARDIS, inside his life, and inside his head and he knows that it will never go away.
He misses her so much and it hurts so bad and suddenly he knows what it feels like to forget how to breathe.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 551
Characters: Ten (Rose/Ten)
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize? Ain't mine.
Summary: As he has now are his memories.
A/N: For Challenge 16, Photos and Poems, at then_theres_us, prompt is behind the cut, as always :D
003.
I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.
He wanders aimlessly about the place that was their home, as unconventional as it is.
She is everywhere, and she is nowhere. The corridors echo with her laughter, the jumpseat is warm from her touch, his overcoat smells of her perfume.
He stops at the kitchen, steps inside and stands a moment, staring at the sink. There's a window above it, a false scene of the countryside, bright blue skies and white fluffy clouds and a brilliant sun shining. She'd laughed, delighted, when he showed her the window, made just for her when she mentioned how much she missed just staring out the kitchen window sometimes.
He remembers finding her there one morning, still in her pajamas, filling the kettle with water. He'd stood silently, watching as she turned the tap off and carried the kettle over to the stove, watched as she turned the heat on. She fiddled with the knob on the stove a moment before turning around and jumping when she saw him.
She scolded him for scaring her, though she grinned at him too. He smiled and apologized, moving into the kitchen. He asked how she liked her window and her grin widened, sighing about how gorgeous the view was. He moved to stand beside her and they savored the view for a moment until she looked over at him and asked where they were going that day. He moved closer to her and she turned around, leaning against the sink and smiling at him. His hand slid across her stomach to rest on her hip, the rest of him following, as though her body was a magnet for his own. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching as the artificial sunlight made it shine.
Where do you want to go? he asked, his hand moving down to her hip, holding her in place as he leaned forward to kiss her neck.
Doesn't matter, she whispered, tilting her head so that her lips brushed his ear. So long as I'm with you.
He remembers returning from that day's adventure, how she pulled him down onto the couch, her legs opening to allow him entry. The way her thighs felt under his hands, her skin smooth and soft, his fingers moving up, tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her body, as if a part of him knew, even then, that their inevitable end was coming far sooner than either of them ever imagined.
He remembers her breath, hot and quick against his lips as he kisses her, making a trail down to her neck where he can feel her pulse racing and she clenches around him as she cries out his name, the only name she knows, the only name he's told her, and he whispers hers against her shoulder, the only one she has, the only one she needs.
He sits on the couch now and the tears are unexpected, as is the realization that he can't stop them, even if he wanted to. Her presence echoes in this room, in every room in the TARDIS, inside his life, and inside his head and he knows that it will never go away.
He misses her so much and it hurts so bad and suddenly he knows what it feels like to forget how to breathe.