Winter Shorts 2008 Round Two: Fic - Labor of Love - R
Mod Note: This is the second of three posts today. Enjoy, and don't forget to comment! :D
Title: Labor of Love
Name: nolagal
Prompt: #132 - Ink-stained fingertips, cigarettes, broken picture frame
Prompt Given by: Anonymous
Word Count: 665
Rating: R
Betas: snarkyscorp
Author's/Artist’s Notes:Warnings: unrequited, angst, smoking, drinking
Summary: Albus has something to write for Scorpius but it may be the hardest thing he has ever done.
Albus took another shot of firewhisky, glancing down at the parchment. The blank page mocked him, daring him to write the wrong thing once again before balling the parchment up and throwing it to join the dozen other parchment scraps littering the floor around his desk. The trash served as a demonstration of his efforts to accomplish the impossible.
He picked up the picture he had placed on his desk for inspiration. It was from their Hogwarts graduation: Albus, Scorpius, and Rose, all smiling and waving. Albus watched his photo-self leaning into Scorpius, looking adoringly at the thin, beautiful, blond boy whose arm was slung across his shoulder. If only he had admitted it then, maybe… but Albus shook off the thought.
There was too many "what if's" and "maybes" that kept rolling through his mind, making the task at hand unthinkable. He threw the picture to the floor as hard as possible, a thrill running through him at the carnage of the broken picture frame, shattered wood and glass joining the crumpled parchment.
He stood up, lit a cigarette and began to pace, taking deep, long pulls and letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly exhaling.
He had to get this written. Had to do this one thing for Scorpius, then he could go back to being miserable. Just get this done, just get through tomorrow. That had been his mantra for the last month, taking every horrible task, one at time until finally, tomorrow, it would all be over, save the life-long misery.
Everything Albus had done had been for Scorpius, determined to be the perfect best friend, always available, always willing to help. These last few tasks were the hardest though, the ones that were shattering Albus's heart into tiny shards. His frame wouldn't break though; he would keep the ruins inside so that Scorpius wouldn't know he was broken.
Albus wanted to write about how much he loved Scorpius, how he had been in love with his best friend for years, but that was not what Scorpius needed to hear, not tomorrow, not ever.
Albus could have told him before but he had been too scared of rejection, of being hurt, of losing his best friend. The best friend he made ten years prior when he was only eleven, sitting alone on the Hogwart's express. The same friend that had been everything to Albus all those years but Albus had been too blind to see it for what it was - love.
He realized his feeling much too late, or at least he had thought so, until it was clearly too late. Albus had lost what small chance he ever had, every pause in conversation when Albus could have slipped it in, the nights of drunken confessions, the chance to make some grand romantic gesture; they were all lost.
Albus knew he should want Scorpius to be happy, want what was best for him, but Albus just wanted Scorpius with him, not her. Scorpius would be happy with him, and Albus would ensure his every desire would be met. If only Scorpius would let him.
Albus sat back down at his desk, took another swallow of firewhiskey and stubbed his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. Scorpius would kill him if he saw how much Albus was smoking, but for tonight, the cigarettes and alcohol were necessary crutches.
He picked up the quill, twirling it between his ink-stained fingertips, praying for the right words to come this time. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and called up whatever strength he had left. He could do this, he dipped the quill into the inkpot, for Scorpius.
It is an honor to be here with all of you tonight, to be a part of such a wonderful and magical occasion. To stand as best man as we celebrate the marriage of my best friend to my favorite cousin, Scorpius and Rose...
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Title: Labor of Love
Name: nolagal
Prompt: #132 - Ink-stained fingertips, cigarettes, broken picture frame
Prompt Given by: Anonymous
Word Count: 665
Rating: R
Betas: snarkyscorp
Author's/Artist’s Notes:Warnings: unrequited, angst, smoking, drinking
Summary: Albus has something to write for Scorpius but it may be the hardest thing he has ever done.
Albus took another shot of firewhisky, glancing down at the parchment. The blank page mocked him, daring him to write the wrong thing once again before balling the parchment up and throwing it to join the dozen other parchment scraps littering the floor around his desk. The trash served as a demonstration of his efforts to accomplish the impossible.
He picked up the picture he had placed on his desk for inspiration. It was from their Hogwarts graduation: Albus, Scorpius, and Rose, all smiling and waving. Albus watched his photo-self leaning into Scorpius, looking adoringly at the thin, beautiful, blond boy whose arm was slung across his shoulder. If only he had admitted it then, maybe… but Albus shook off the thought.
There was too many "what if's" and "maybes" that kept rolling through his mind, making the task at hand unthinkable. He threw the picture to the floor as hard as possible, a thrill running through him at the carnage of the broken picture frame, shattered wood and glass joining the crumpled parchment.
He stood up, lit a cigarette and began to pace, taking deep, long pulls and letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly exhaling.
He had to get this written. Had to do this one thing for Scorpius, then he could go back to being miserable. Just get this done, just get through tomorrow. That had been his mantra for the last month, taking every horrible task, one at time until finally, tomorrow, it would all be over, save the life-long misery.
Everything Albus had done had been for Scorpius, determined to be the perfect best friend, always available, always willing to help. These last few tasks were the hardest though, the ones that were shattering Albus's heart into tiny shards. His frame wouldn't break though; he would keep the ruins inside so that Scorpius wouldn't know he was broken.
Albus wanted to write about how much he loved Scorpius, how he had been in love with his best friend for years, but that was not what Scorpius needed to hear, not tomorrow, not ever.
Albus could have told him before but he had been too scared of rejection, of being hurt, of losing his best friend. The best friend he made ten years prior when he was only eleven, sitting alone on the Hogwart's express. The same friend that had been everything to Albus all those years but Albus had been too blind to see it for what it was - love.
He realized his feeling much too late, or at least he had thought so, until it was clearly too late. Albus had lost what small chance he ever had, every pause in conversation when Albus could have slipped it in, the nights of drunken confessions, the chance to make some grand romantic gesture; they were all lost.
Albus knew he should want Scorpius to be happy, want what was best for him, but Albus just wanted Scorpius with him, not her. Scorpius would be happy with him, and Albus would ensure his every desire would be met. If only Scorpius would let him.
Albus sat back down at his desk, took another swallow of firewhiskey and stubbed his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray. Scorpius would kill him if he saw how much Albus was smoking, but for tonight, the cigarettes and alcohol were necessary crutches.
He picked up the quill, twirling it between his ink-stained fingertips, praying for the right words to come this time. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and called up whatever strength he had left. He could do this, he dipped the quill into the inkpot, for Scorpius.
It is an honor to be here with all of you tonight, to be a part of such a wonderful and magical occasion. To stand as best man as we celebrate the marriage of my best friend to my favorite cousin, Scorpius and Rose...
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.