i can see your years in my reflection
May. 2nd, 2009 02:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
klenaIt's stupid - it's idiotic for a fic to get me this introspective and to feel this ache, a genuine every-cell-in-your-chest-cavity--is-cramping ache but it's a good thing. Introspection is something I lack except for little moments of wisdom - tiny pearls choking me before falling from my lips - and late nights with too much time spent alone. Like now, I guess.
I spend half my life caught between two distant thrummings of emotion: young and eternal and fuck this, i have forever; needing nothing more than smiles and laughter and stupid moments at 3am where nothing makes sense but something lock-clicks in your chest and time is not a concept at all, it's a thing, a rock wall against which the waves of happiness break and scatter before forming all over again.
The other is this thrum beneath my skin and bones and nerves, where i imagine the soul lays, jittering and shaking and anxious, too-fast breathing and hyper-aware of thhe world, that i may not get chances like this again and wanting to do something. Maybe not amazing or world-changing or even remotely life-changing but moments that will shine brightly for a few years or that will become ensnarled in the web of old memories when i get older until something shines a light upon it and it will no longer glisten like it did, but merely pulsate with an inner glow of something that i cannot recreate or recall anymore. The feeling of the entire world changing and the stupid Sublime terror and beauty of that moment.
The need to be with someone; to fuck, to argue, to scream at, to laugh at, to brush the hair from your eyes, to text you at random intervals in your boring day and turn the ventricles in your heart separate and bleed sunlight and giggling, ridiculous joy into your chest, to cause you to clench your fists and roll your eyes and repeat the same stupid cliches your parents utter about the young/the opposite sex/best friends/enemies/society.
There is no reconcilling this. Song writers will always sing about these two contrary states. Writers will always tie the concepts and use them, place the heart of the idea beneath the words on the page. People will know the ideas but will never acknowledge them consciously but they will always be there, like a song on a radio just a little too faraway to make out anything more than the fact there is a melody playing.
I am terrified. I will lose people in my life due to my own faults, due to theirs, due to life tearing us apart. Or I will lose them because life changes us, one by one the seasons change you as The Acorn puts it, or because life leaves us.
So I am sitting here, trembling, knowing that there are moments like this coming the rest of my life, that one day someone else will live in this room and it will never be the same and in some other life I will never think back to this place, this time again.
I don't make promises to anyone now. This is not a moment of self-actualisation and change. I will let you down. I will forget the important things I should remember. I will be cruel. I may vanish and not think of you and blithely do things that you think I should not.
I won't be sorry because I won't realise what.
I won't swear to be kind because it is more than likely that this moment, the throb, will vanish from my veins sometime soon and my good intentions will fade.
I cannot cut my brain from skull and these ideas and memories and half-formed notions of love I have for you or the little sparks that crackle with overwhelming happiness at the fact that you - you - are in the world cannot be extracted in order to for me to show you them.
But there will be moments that I'll never tell you about - moments where I will be still and think of you and the world will blossom with the possibilty of things I could do for you or for those you love. And maybe in some other life I will have done them.
Spencer’s heart squeezes, and for a moment, he pictures himself asking Jon to keep driving. They’ve got a tank full of gas, a beautiful English morning dawning around them, they’ve both got sixty or so years left, and couldn’t they just keep driving until their last breath? Because Spencer could. Jon could show Spencer all those places he travelled to, and Spencer could crack lame jokes that make Jon laugh, and they could do that.
They could.
In some other life.
Jon takes the right exit, the road sign showing a picture of an airplane. Jon stops outside the international terminal, and the airport is a bit more alive than the city was, a bit more alive than the two of them feel. Still, even the airport is only slowly starting to wake up.
Spencer gets his huge suitcase out from the boot, and Jon walks around the car, is looking from Spencer to the revolving doors of the terminal. “Dae ye want me tae come inside wit ye?” Jon asks.
“That’s okay, ew can go home an sleep some more.”
If Jon comes inside, Spencer is afraid he will do something stupid like change his mind.
“Okay,” Jon exhales. Spencer is going to go and be gone, and Jon can’t wrap his mind around that. He doesn’t understand Spencer not being there anymore. How could he let himself get used to Spencer like that?
“I’m goin home,” Spencer whispers and manages to smile.
“Ye happy?”
“Yeah. Sad too, but... I’m happy.”
It’s good. It’s what Spencer said he wants in life, and it’s not a bad thing to want. Jon knows Brendon wants to change the world, and Ryan probably has some vague notions of contributing to the human knowledge, and all of these are worthy causes. There is no one right way of spending a life. Jon hasn’t really realised that until now.
“About that... that time with Tom,” Spencer begins. He looks down to his shoes. “It was... good fun, but… Sometimes, I wish it had just been ew an me.”
“Aye. Me too.”
What they had was too private to be shared with a third party – they just didn’t realise it at the time. Jon’s heart flares at the thought, and he can’t. He can’t do this, he doesn’t know how. Fuck, he can’t break down.
Spencer is staring at him, suddenly laughing out loud. “Well. Can I get a cwch out of ew?”
Jon laughs but chokes on it, and he steps over and pulls Spencer to him. The hug is tight with no intentions from either one to let go. And Spencer’s smile turns into a frown that he hides into Jon’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent.
“Ew saved me,” Spencer says. Jon makes a protesting sound, but Spencer says, “Ew did.” Jon saved him, made him better, changed and moulded him in a way Spencer never knew another person could. Spencer would have perished without him.
Jon feels the words, the words, swirling inside him, fighting to find a way out. And Jon has never said them to anyone, never thought he would, but he can’t stop them from spilling out. “Spencer, ah –”
“Ew don’t have to say it,” Spencer says, and he pulls back enough to look Jon in the eyes. “I know. Well, I... hoped.”
Jon nods, blinking more than necessary. Spencer knows. That’s good.
“I do too,” Spencer says, and he smiles a bit too wide over the confession, knowing that they never would have said anything if it hadn’t come down to this. But it has, and Spencer can’t leave not telling Jon how he felt. How he feels.
Jon kisses him. Spencer clings onto it, knowing that what they have will never exist in another time, and that they will never be like this again. Jon pulls back a little, but Spencer steps forward for another kiss because that couldn’t have been the last one. There has to be at least a few more, a bit more time. Maybe he should’ve asked Jon to keep on driving.
When they pull apart, Jon notices that Spencer’s eyes are glistening. And they look even more beautiful like that. Spencer whispers, “Don’t go changing on me, Jon Walker.”
Jon laughs desperately. He wouldn’t dream of it. He would never.
Spencer steps away, grabs onto the handle of the suitcase. Jon shivers, all the way to his heart and bones, but he smiles at Spencer and hides it.
“Later, yeah?” Spencer asks.
“Aye. Later.”
There is no later. They know that.
Spencer keeps smiling, and Jon watches Spencer turn around and walk away. Spencer heads for the terminal as tears spill onto his cheeks. He walks faster.
Jon turns around, gets back into the car, drives off without looking back. Jon can barely breathe, and he has to pull over to the side of the road, head resting against the wheel and knuckles white as he tries to breathe because Spencer is gone, is gone now, isn’t there anymore, and Jon can’t fucking believe it. He bangs the dashboard with his fist as he breaks down.
Spencer made Jon break half a dozen promises he had made to himself. Sometimes, the people who change your life are only short acquaintances, but the impact they leave lasts a lifetime. And if Jon could have ever made it work with anyone, it would have been with Spencer. And he hopes Spencer knows that.
He is pretty sure Spencer knew that.
I spend half my life caught between two distant thrummings of emotion: young and eternal and fuck this, i have forever; needing nothing more than smiles and laughter and stupid moments at 3am where nothing makes sense but something lock-clicks in your chest and time is not a concept at all, it's a thing, a rock wall against which the waves of happiness break and scatter before forming all over again.
The other is this thrum beneath my skin and bones and nerves, where i imagine the soul lays, jittering and shaking and anxious, too-fast breathing and hyper-aware of thhe world, that i may not get chances like this again and wanting to do something. Maybe not amazing or world-changing or even remotely life-changing but moments that will shine brightly for a few years or that will become ensnarled in the web of old memories when i get older until something shines a light upon it and it will no longer glisten like it did, but merely pulsate with an inner glow of something that i cannot recreate or recall anymore. The feeling of the entire world changing and the stupid Sublime terror and beauty of that moment.
The need to be with someone; to fuck, to argue, to scream at, to laugh at, to brush the hair from your eyes, to text you at random intervals in your boring day and turn the ventricles in your heart separate and bleed sunlight and giggling, ridiculous joy into your chest, to cause you to clench your fists and roll your eyes and repeat the same stupid cliches your parents utter about the young/the opposite sex/best friends/enemies/society.
There is no reconcilling this. Song writers will always sing about these two contrary states. Writers will always tie the concepts and use them, place the heart of the idea beneath the words on the page. People will know the ideas but will never acknowledge them consciously but they will always be there, like a song on a radio just a little too faraway to make out anything more than the fact there is a melody playing.
I am terrified. I will lose people in my life due to my own faults, due to theirs, due to life tearing us apart. Or I will lose them because life changes us, one by one the seasons change you as The Acorn puts it, or because life leaves us.
So I am sitting here, trembling, knowing that there are moments like this coming the rest of my life, that one day someone else will live in this room and it will never be the same and in some other life I will never think back to this place, this time again.
I don't make promises to anyone now. This is not a moment of self-actualisation and change. I will let you down. I will forget the important things I should remember. I will be cruel. I may vanish and not think of you and blithely do things that you think I should not.
I won't be sorry because I won't realise what.
I won't swear to be kind because it is more than likely that this moment, the throb, will vanish from my veins sometime soon and my good intentions will fade.
I cannot cut my brain from skull and these ideas and memories and half-formed notions of love I have for you or the little sparks that crackle with overwhelming happiness at the fact that you - you - are in the world cannot be extracted in order to for me to show you them.
But there will be moments that I'll never tell you about - moments where I will be still and think of you and the world will blossom with the possibilty of things I could do for you or for those you love. And maybe in some other life I will have done them.
Spencer’s heart squeezes, and for a moment, he pictures himself asking Jon to keep driving. They’ve got a tank full of gas, a beautiful English morning dawning around them, they’ve both got sixty or so years left, and couldn’t they just keep driving until their last breath? Because Spencer could. Jon could show Spencer all those places he travelled to, and Spencer could crack lame jokes that make Jon laugh, and they could do that.
They could.
In some other life.
Jon takes the right exit, the road sign showing a picture of an airplane. Jon stops outside the international terminal, and the airport is a bit more alive than the city was, a bit more alive than the two of them feel. Still, even the airport is only slowly starting to wake up.
Spencer gets his huge suitcase out from the boot, and Jon walks around the car, is looking from Spencer to the revolving doors of the terminal. “Dae ye want me tae come inside wit ye?” Jon asks.
“That’s okay, ew can go home an sleep some more.”
If Jon comes inside, Spencer is afraid he will do something stupid like change his mind.
“Okay,” Jon exhales. Spencer is going to go and be gone, and Jon can’t wrap his mind around that. He doesn’t understand Spencer not being there anymore. How could he let himself get used to Spencer like that?
“I’m goin home,” Spencer whispers and manages to smile.
“Ye happy?”
“Yeah. Sad too, but... I’m happy.”
It’s good. It’s what Spencer said he wants in life, and it’s not a bad thing to want. Jon knows Brendon wants to change the world, and Ryan probably has some vague notions of contributing to the human knowledge, and all of these are worthy causes. There is no one right way of spending a life. Jon hasn’t really realised that until now.
“About that... that time with Tom,” Spencer begins. He looks down to his shoes. “It was... good fun, but… Sometimes, I wish it had just been ew an me.”
“Aye. Me too.”
What they had was too private to be shared with a third party – they just didn’t realise it at the time. Jon’s heart flares at the thought, and he can’t. He can’t do this, he doesn’t know how. Fuck, he can’t break down.
Spencer is staring at him, suddenly laughing out loud. “Well. Can I get a cwch out of ew?”
Jon laughs but chokes on it, and he steps over and pulls Spencer to him. The hug is tight with no intentions from either one to let go. And Spencer’s smile turns into a frown that he hides into Jon’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent.
“Ew saved me,” Spencer says. Jon makes a protesting sound, but Spencer says, “Ew did.” Jon saved him, made him better, changed and moulded him in a way Spencer never knew another person could. Spencer would have perished without him.
Jon feels the words, the words, swirling inside him, fighting to find a way out. And Jon has never said them to anyone, never thought he would, but he can’t stop them from spilling out. “Spencer, ah –”
“Ew don’t have to say it,” Spencer says, and he pulls back enough to look Jon in the eyes. “I know. Well, I... hoped.”
Jon nods, blinking more than necessary. Spencer knows. That’s good.
“I do too,” Spencer says, and he smiles a bit too wide over the confession, knowing that they never would have said anything if it hadn’t come down to this. But it has, and Spencer can’t leave not telling Jon how he felt. How he feels.
Jon kisses him. Spencer clings onto it, knowing that what they have will never exist in another time, and that they will never be like this again. Jon pulls back a little, but Spencer steps forward for another kiss because that couldn’t have been the last one. There has to be at least a few more, a bit more time. Maybe he should’ve asked Jon to keep on driving.
When they pull apart, Jon notices that Spencer’s eyes are glistening. And they look even more beautiful like that. Spencer whispers, “Don’t go changing on me, Jon Walker.”
Jon laughs desperately. He wouldn’t dream of it. He would never.
Spencer steps away, grabs onto the handle of the suitcase. Jon shivers, all the way to his heart and bones, but he smiles at Spencer and hides it.
“Later, yeah?” Spencer asks.
“Aye. Later.”
There is no later. They know that.
Spencer keeps smiling, and Jon watches Spencer turn around and walk away. Spencer heads for the terminal as tears spill onto his cheeks. He walks faster.
Jon turns around, gets back into the car, drives off without looking back. Jon can barely breathe, and he has to pull over to the side of the road, head resting against the wheel and knuckles white as he tries to breathe because Spencer is gone, is gone now, isn’t there anymore, and Jon can’t fucking believe it. He bangs the dashboard with his fist as he breaks down.
Spencer made Jon break half a dozen promises he had made to himself. Sometimes, the people who change your life are only short acquaintances, but the impact they leave lasts a lifetime. And if Jon could have ever made it work with anyone, it would have been with Spencer. And he hopes Spencer knows that.
He is pretty sure Spencer knew that.
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-02 02:04 am (UTC)Have naked!Roy Mustang-icon!
no subject
Date: 2009-05-04 07:07 pm (UTC)*Hug*
Some days I think too much.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-09 10:58 pm (UTC)