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windandwateri'm dressed in a green tank top and black shorts and i'm listening to NIN. any takers on just *who* is trying to get fics outta me?
come on, guess! ^_^;;
anyway, here's a little very rough snip for the first of the sad!fics. i need to know two things:
1) whose POV do you think this is?
2) for that person, do you think the POV sounds OOC or is it okay?
"Better This Way"
ficsnip
It was better this way.
He didn't want to deal with the angry words. He didn't want to see the hurt expression on his lover's face as he walked out the door and turned his back on the years that they had spent together. No, it was better if he left now, while his lover was away. Maybe having him return to a cold and empty house would be cruel, but it was preferable to the alternatives.
It wasn't as if he had a choice.
He'd been forced to sit back and watch as his lover danced and ignored the gulf between them. He didn't see the problems, didn't realize that he, too, woke up screaming from nightmares. No, it was always about *him,* what *he* wanted, what *he* needed. As if *his* heart were somehow unacceptable... on a different level of reckoning simply because it was not used in the same way. But he had allowed it -- allowed his lover to call the shots and drag him through what he considered a "normal life." And he hadn't minded. Not at first.
It wasn't his place to say.
Because who was he to say what was normal or not? He had spent his life not knowing the meaning of "normal." And so it didn't bother him that his lover never said the words. He knew of the fear, the gut-wrenching terror that saying the words would somehow kill him... as illogical as that sounded. But his love was a young man who had been surrounded by death and harsh words. He understood. He allowed it.
It wasn't as if he was mistreated.
No, he knew his jewel-eyed partner loved him to the point of insanity. It was the little things in their shared life that rang the loudest, that made it hardest to walk away. It was the dry flattery, the grudgingly given words of praise, the way he was held at night. It was the actions that spoke, because his lover wouldn't say the words. But it was too late for all that now.
It wasn't as if he would be surprised.
Despite his ability to block out the things that his lover did not wish to see, the tension between them now was palpable. The arguments had started a month ago. The nights of sleeping on the couch, or perhaps even not spending a night in the house at all. It had been the shock of holding his brown-haired lover in his arms, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol as he babbled about needing to "feel." It had finally made him angry, less willing to forgive and accept.
It wasn't as if he didn't have his problems, too.
He was suffering just as much, still haunted by the dreams of war. Buried memories took this time of peace to stalk him, always wavering in the shadows. But he had pushed them all away to focus on his love. It was so one-sided, but it was all he had. They both clung to each other because they were afraid of having to be alone.
It wasn't as if they had any other place to go.
So they remained together despite the pain, despite the heartache, despite the fact that the love that had once flared so brightly and hot between them was becoming tainted. Because their physical compatibility still inflamed their blood and it was easier to believe that everything was okay when you were too tired to move, and the two of them lay tangled together in a haze of lust and love that couldn't be denied.
come on, guess! ^_^;;
anyway, here's a little very rough snip for the first of the sad!fics. i need to know two things:
1) whose POV do you think this is?
2) for that person, do you think the POV sounds OOC or is it okay?
"Better This Way"
ficsnip
It was better this way.
He didn't want to deal with the angry words. He didn't want to see the hurt expression on his lover's face as he walked out the door and turned his back on the years that they had spent together. No, it was better if he left now, while his lover was away. Maybe having him return to a cold and empty house would be cruel, but it was preferable to the alternatives.
It wasn't as if he had a choice.
He'd been forced to sit back and watch as his lover danced and ignored the gulf between them. He didn't see the problems, didn't realize that he, too, woke up screaming from nightmares. No, it was always about *him,* what *he* wanted, what *he* needed. As if *his* heart were somehow unacceptable... on a different level of reckoning simply because it was not used in the same way. But he had allowed it -- allowed his lover to call the shots and drag him through what he considered a "normal life." And he hadn't minded. Not at first.
It wasn't his place to say.
Because who was he to say what was normal or not? He had spent his life not knowing the meaning of "normal." And so it didn't bother him that his lover never said the words. He knew of the fear, the gut-wrenching terror that saying the words would somehow kill him... as illogical as that sounded. But his love was a young man who had been surrounded by death and harsh words. He understood. He allowed it.
It wasn't as if he was mistreated.
No, he knew his jewel-eyed partner loved him to the point of insanity. It was the little things in their shared life that rang the loudest, that made it hardest to walk away. It was the dry flattery, the grudgingly given words of praise, the way he was held at night. It was the actions that spoke, because his lover wouldn't say the words. But it was too late for all that now.
It wasn't as if he would be surprised.
Despite his ability to block out the things that his lover did not wish to see, the tension between them now was palpable. The arguments had started a month ago. The nights of sleeping on the couch, or perhaps even not spending a night in the house at all. It had been the shock of holding his brown-haired lover in his arms, reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol as he babbled about needing to "feel." It had finally made him angry, less willing to forgive and accept.
It wasn't as if he didn't have his problems, too.
He was suffering just as much, still haunted by the dreams of war. Buried memories took this time of peace to stalk him, always wavering in the shadows. But he had pushed them all away to focus on his love. It was so one-sided, but it was all he had. They both clung to each other because they were afraid of having to be alone.
It wasn't as if they had any other place to go.
So they remained together despite the pain, despite the heartache, despite the fact that the love that had once flared so brightly and hot between them was becoming tainted. Because their physical compatibility still inflamed their blood and it was easier to believe that everything was okay when you were too tired to move, and the two of them lay tangled together in a haze of lust and love that couldn't be denied.
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(no subject)
Date: 2002-08-30 08:01 pm (UTC)