Fanfic: Sunrise
Jan. 24th, 2006 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knights_say_nihSun Breaking through clouds;
Rated G
The plate of food went untouched.
Ramon didn’t even need to look at it to know. He picked it up off the table, after a second, being sure to clatter the fork because Random could look, if he just wanted to. Just look, just look.
Random didn’t. Didn’t look, didn’t look, didn’t do anything but reach for the half empty box of cigarettes, lighting himself another, taking a breath of it and sitting back to let it burn down between his fingers and stare out the window.
Maybe it’s not a bad thing, Ramon’s been telling himself. Maybe he just needs some time. Maybe one day he’ll just get up and stop looking for him.
It hasn’t happened.
He’s still sitting at the window, not smoking, a blanket tucked around his legs and an ashtray at his elbow.
Two weeks ago, Martin walked out. Two weeks ago, Random started watching.
A week and four days, Random started drinking and stopped eating.
A week ago, Ramon stopped bringing him scotch.
Four days ago, Random stopped asking for it.
Two days ago, he stopped talking altogether.
And now, he sat. The watching was consuming him. He couldn’t pull away from the window. Couldn’t come sit with his lover for a minute because, as he’d whispered into hands hiding all his face but wide, pained eyes, because if he looked away he might miss him coming back and then he’d never forgive himself.
Ramon’s fingers clench on the edge of the plate, holding onto the ceramic, and one hand slides down to quickly massage a tense shoulder. Random’s back aches, his muscles burn from two weeks of either no sleep or rest in the armchair. Ramon could feel the worry carried there in the way the muscle involuntarily coiled at the touch.
An hour, they remain. Ramon with one hand set on Random’s back, Random not looking not looking and staring out the window. An hour, one out of three hundred forty some, blending easily into the rest of them.
Then Ramon can’t can’t can’t and he pulls his hand away. Pulls back, pulls off, and moves to the kitchen to throw out the food and wash the dishes.
He doesn’t make it to the door.
Because for the first time in two weeks, there’s an admission.
“I’m in love with you.”
His voice shatters the darkness in the room.
“And I’m going to be alright, because I’m going to live for and with you.”
The plate shatters too, crashing to the floor as Ramon moves for him to hold him always always always and kiss tears away.
Rated G
The plate of food went untouched.
Ramon didn’t even need to look at it to know. He picked it up off the table, after a second, being sure to clatter the fork because Random could look, if he just wanted to. Just look, just look.
Random didn’t. Didn’t look, didn’t look, didn’t do anything but reach for the half empty box of cigarettes, lighting himself another, taking a breath of it and sitting back to let it burn down between his fingers and stare out the window.
Maybe it’s not a bad thing, Ramon’s been telling himself. Maybe he just needs some time. Maybe one day he’ll just get up and stop looking for him.
It hasn’t happened.
He’s still sitting at the window, not smoking, a blanket tucked around his legs and an ashtray at his elbow.
Two weeks ago, Martin walked out. Two weeks ago, Random started watching.
A week and four days, Random started drinking and stopped eating.
A week ago, Ramon stopped bringing him scotch.
Four days ago, Random stopped asking for it.
Two days ago, he stopped talking altogether.
And now, he sat. The watching was consuming him. He couldn’t pull away from the window. Couldn’t come sit with his lover for a minute because, as he’d whispered into hands hiding all his face but wide, pained eyes, because if he looked away he might miss him coming back and then he’d never forgive himself.
Ramon’s fingers clench on the edge of the plate, holding onto the ceramic, and one hand slides down to quickly massage a tense shoulder. Random’s back aches, his muscles burn from two weeks of either no sleep or rest in the armchair. Ramon could feel the worry carried there in the way the muscle involuntarily coiled at the touch.
An hour, they remain. Ramon with one hand set on Random’s back, Random not looking not looking and staring out the window. An hour, one out of three hundred forty some, blending easily into the rest of them.
Then Ramon can’t can’t can’t and he pulls his hand away. Pulls back, pulls off, and moves to the kitchen to throw out the food and wash the dishes.
He doesn’t make it to the door.
Because for the first time in two weeks, there’s an admission.
“I’m in love with you.”
His voice shatters the darkness in the room.
“And I’m going to be alright, because I’m going to live for and with you.”
The plate shatters too, crashing to the floor as Ramon moves for him to hold him always always always and kiss tears away.
