over a shooting star -- hey arnold!
Title: over a shooting star
Author: seemslikeaporno
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Wolfgang/Lila
Rating: T
Summary: She is tired, weariness showing on her soft features, and her eyes are downcast, staring at the bubbles in the pot. Maybe she had been happy here once, and she’s still happy, she’s has to be happy, but her shoulders are beginning to ache with the effort of holding everything up. (Words: 1,000+)
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! isn't mine and this never happened on the show.
.
.
we treat mishaps like sinking ships
i know that i don’t want to be out to drift
well i can see it in your eyes like i taste your lips and
they both tell me that we’re better than this
“little motel” by modest mouse
.
.
“How was your day?” Lila asks from the kitchen, where she stirs a pot of chicken noodle soup with a wooden spoon. Her hair is braided from the base of her neck down, tied with a thin ribbon, and her t-shirt is torn at the bottom after hooking it on a handle of the kitchen drawer. She is tired, weariness showing on her soft features, and her eyes are downcast, staring at the bubbles in the pot. Maybe she had been happy here once, and she’s still happy, she’s has to be happy, but her shoulders are beginning to ache with the effort of holding everything up.
Wolfgang runs a hand through his scraggly hair, removes his coat and hangs it on the rack near the front door. His apartment is small and he’s so big that he seems to fill the space by simply standing there. “Fine,” he grumbles, stepping out of his shoes and sitting heavily on the sofa, where the television is already turned to his favorite channel. “How was school?” He asks. He turns his eyes to where Lila stands for a brief moment, waiting on her answer with faux interest.
“Average,” Lila says sweetly, turning the stove off and watching the soup as it cools, “I made an A on my Chemistry exam.”
“Congrats.” Wolfgang doesn’t sound particularly impressed, but Lila hadn’t expected him to. He graduated high school the year before, went straight to the work force and never picked up a book to study with again. Says success isn’t in his future. He never says Lila is in his future, either, but she doesn’t push that. “It’s five,” Wolfgang muses after a minute, “Does your dad know where you are?”
“His shift changed,” Lila says, spooning soup into a bowl for Wolfgang, “He works until eight, now.”
“That’s shit,” Wolfgang tells her. She laughs uncomfortably, never particularly fond of when he curses. She meanders over to the couch with the bowl and a spoon, passing it to him when she’s close enough. He takes it, staring at the yellowed broth apathetically.
“I would’ve made something else,” Lila says after a brief hesitation, green eyes flickering from her dinner to his face, “But there was nothing else in the cabinets.”
“S’fine,” he says. He doesn’t care for her to the extent that he can’t imagine his life without her, but he cares enough not to hurt her feelings. He begins to eat without any objections and she brightens up a little, thinking maybe there’s a chance for him, yet. For them.
She sits down carefully beside him, curling up into his large frame. She isn’t eating - never does, waits until her dad gets home and eats with him - but she does offer Wolfgang company for a while. It’s more than Wolfgang asks for, sometimes, but the attention isn’t unwanted; Lila is his little something. A girl that could do better but chooses not to, chooses to stay in his shitty little house and cook him a shitty little dinner and watch a shitty little television and asks for nothing but his shitty company in return.
Wolfgang should feel better about himself, but he doesn’t. He looks at Lila and thinks he should ruin her - probably has ruined her - and hates himself for keeping her around. She doesn’t deserve this, but she got herself into this situation. She can get herself out, if she wants to. Wolfgang won’t stop her either way. Doesn’t really care to.
It might break her heart knowing she can’t fix him. Can’t save him or protect him like she longs to. That’s the thing about perfect, pretty girls - they want to help people, fix them, change them to something better, but little by little they lose themselves. Wolfgang is positive Lila has already lost herself, busy trying to find him. She thinks he could be so much more and Wolfgang has never felt that way about himself. He wishes he could look at Lila and mold himself to fit her view, but he just can’t. He lost hope a while ago. Knows she never really will.
He leans forward, stretching to put the bowl on the coffee table, and then leans back, shrugging an arm around Lila, a girl he doesn’t have a label for, really, and kisses the top of her head. She turns a pink color, tilting her chin up to smile at him. He kisses her lips, too hard, probably, but she doesn’t mind; she kisses him back with fervor, with passion, and he knows she loves him but he wishes she didn’t. She must know he doesn’t feel the same.
“You’re too sweet,” Wolfgang mutters against her mouth, pulling back but still a breath away. It still feels as though her lips are pressed to his, the tingling sensation never really subsiding, “You’re going to get hurt one of these days.” This is a warning, he supposes. She won’t take it to heart.
“No, I’m not,” she insists with a breathless giggle, leaning forward to peck his lips once more, “It’s worth hurting for the one you love.”
Wolfgang almost laughs, doesn’t.
“I can’t say I agree,” he tells her, and he knows his eyes must be sad because she mirrors him, lips turning downwards and her eyes glazing over. He rubs his finger in circles on the back of her neck where he’s pushed his hand into her braided hair. Then he leans forward and kisses her again.
Gives her what she wants, because like she said, he’s worth hurting for.
fin.
Author: seemslikeaporno
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Wolfgang/Lila
Rating: T
Summary: She is tired, weariness showing on her soft features, and her eyes are downcast, staring at the bubbles in the pot. Maybe she had been happy here once, and she’s still happy, she’s has to be happy, but her shoulders are beginning to ache with the effort of holding everything up. (Words: 1,000+)
Disclaimer: Hey Arnold! isn't mine and this never happened on the show.
.
.
we treat mishaps like sinking ships
i know that i don’t want to be out to drift
well i can see it in your eyes like i taste your lips and
they both tell me that we’re better than this
“little motel” by modest mouse
.
.
“How was your day?” Lila asks from the kitchen, where she stirs a pot of chicken noodle soup with a wooden spoon. Her hair is braided from the base of her neck down, tied with a thin ribbon, and her t-shirt is torn at the bottom after hooking it on a handle of the kitchen drawer. She is tired, weariness showing on her soft features, and her eyes are downcast, staring at the bubbles in the pot. Maybe she had been happy here once, and she’s still happy, she’s has to be happy, but her shoulders are beginning to ache with the effort of holding everything up.
Wolfgang runs a hand through his scraggly hair, removes his coat and hangs it on the rack near the front door. His apartment is small and he’s so big that he seems to fill the space by simply standing there. “Fine,” he grumbles, stepping out of his shoes and sitting heavily on the sofa, where the television is already turned to his favorite channel. “How was school?” He asks. He turns his eyes to where Lila stands for a brief moment, waiting on her answer with faux interest.
“Average,” Lila says sweetly, turning the stove off and watching the soup as it cools, “I made an A on my Chemistry exam.”
“Congrats.” Wolfgang doesn’t sound particularly impressed, but Lila hadn’t expected him to. He graduated high school the year before, went straight to the work force and never picked up a book to study with again. Says success isn’t in his future. He never says Lila is in his future, either, but she doesn’t push that. “It’s five,” Wolfgang muses after a minute, “Does your dad know where you are?”
“His shift changed,” Lila says, spooning soup into a bowl for Wolfgang, “He works until eight, now.”
“That’s shit,” Wolfgang tells her. She laughs uncomfortably, never particularly fond of when he curses. She meanders over to the couch with the bowl and a spoon, passing it to him when she’s close enough. He takes it, staring at the yellowed broth apathetically.
“I would’ve made something else,” Lila says after a brief hesitation, green eyes flickering from her dinner to his face, “But there was nothing else in the cabinets.”
“S’fine,” he says. He doesn’t care for her to the extent that he can’t imagine his life without her, but he cares enough not to hurt her feelings. He begins to eat without any objections and she brightens up a little, thinking maybe there’s a chance for him, yet. For them.
She sits down carefully beside him, curling up into his large frame. She isn’t eating - never does, waits until her dad gets home and eats with him - but she does offer Wolfgang company for a while. It’s more than Wolfgang asks for, sometimes, but the attention isn’t unwanted; Lila is his little something. A girl that could do better but chooses not to, chooses to stay in his shitty little house and cook him a shitty little dinner and watch a shitty little television and asks for nothing but his shitty company in return.
Wolfgang should feel better about himself, but he doesn’t. He looks at Lila and thinks he should ruin her - probably has ruined her - and hates himself for keeping her around. She doesn’t deserve this, but she got herself into this situation. She can get herself out, if she wants to. Wolfgang won’t stop her either way. Doesn’t really care to.
It might break her heart knowing she can’t fix him. Can’t save him or protect him like she longs to. That’s the thing about perfect, pretty girls - they want to help people, fix them, change them to something better, but little by little they lose themselves. Wolfgang is positive Lila has already lost herself, busy trying to find him. She thinks he could be so much more and Wolfgang has never felt that way about himself. He wishes he could look at Lila and mold himself to fit her view, but he just can’t. He lost hope a while ago. Knows she never really will.
He leans forward, stretching to put the bowl on the coffee table, and then leans back, shrugging an arm around Lila, a girl he doesn’t have a label for, really, and kisses the top of her head. She turns a pink color, tilting her chin up to smile at him. He kisses her lips, too hard, probably, but she doesn’t mind; she kisses him back with fervor, with passion, and he knows she loves him but he wishes she didn’t. She must know he doesn’t feel the same.
“You’re too sweet,” Wolfgang mutters against her mouth, pulling back but still a breath away. It still feels as though her lips are pressed to his, the tingling sensation never really subsiding, “You’re going to get hurt one of these days.” This is a warning, he supposes. She won’t take it to heart.
“No, I’m not,” she insists with a breathless giggle, leaning forward to peck his lips once more, “It’s worth hurting for the one you love.”
Wolfgang almost laughs, doesn’t.
“I can’t say I agree,” he tells her, and he knows his eyes must be sad because she mirrors him, lips turning downwards and her eyes glazing over. He rubs his finger in circles on the back of her neck where he’s pushed his hand into her braided hair. Then he leans forward and kisses her again.
Gives her what she wants, because like she said, he’s worth hurting for.
fin.