10 Days of Drabble: All I Have Left
Dec. 16th, 2011 12:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunshine_173author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sunshine_173
rating: PG-13/R-ish
pairing: Belldom
summary: One out of ten drabbles I will be posting daily till Christmas day.
feedback: I wants it, my precious.
disclaimer: I think if I owned Muse, you would know about it. They're a bit famous so I doubt it'd be something easily hidden.
warning : Language. Allusions to sex. Nothing explicit. Brief mentioning of alcohol and drug use, but it's so fleeting that you might miss it.
notes: Aaand here is the second drabble! This one ended up being a lot darker than I'd originally intended. I was thinking of keeping the ten drabbles all Christmasy and shit but my unconscious mind was like trololol no. Anyway I'm exhausted but I wanted to keep to my personal promise of having one of these per day and yeah. Imma go to bed now.
I remember the first time. That moment of silence and hushed voices, our breath intermingling as we rocked gently together in the warmth and heat of the bedroom.
I remember the desperation in your voice as you cried out at me, demanding me to veer away from the slow rhythm I'd fallen into as I traced the outline of the crescent shaped birthmark on your right hipbone.
I remember the static electricity in your eyes as they crackled with the energy of an exploding star, and you very much reminded me of one in that moment; chaotic and beautiful, violent and shining and glowing with the sheen of want and need and the eternity of a whispered promise.
I remember how your skin was purer than the snow falling outside the windows and nearly as pale, your complexion so flawless that I wanted to drag my nails down your chest just to see a hint of color. The blue of your eyes was disappearing rapidly, your pupils swallowing that vivid hue like a ravenous beast desiring to strip away everything but the ebony of your hair and eyelashes and the ivory of your body.
I remember how the passion between us never diminished and instead grew, our roots entwining together so far beneath the surface of our connection that I couldn’t distinguish the difference between you and me. The angel or the devil, the victim or the guilty.
I remember that it was always me that wanted, that took. You never came to me for anything, not even sex. Yet when I shoved you against the wall and bit and licked a path of destruction up the column of your neck and the trail of your collarbone, you begged for me, screamed for me, all without opening your mouth. Your eyes did enough. Said enough. Blamed and pointed the finger at me enough times that I wanted to rip them out of their sockets and shove them down your throat.
I remember when I called you at half-past five in the morning and apologized and told you that I loved you and I understood and I was just so fucking sorry. And you forgave me, like you always do. You are so naïve, so innocent that you believe the words coming out of my mouth. And I mean them, I do. Most of the time. I just find it so hard to love something that is so incapable of separating reality from fantasy but simultaneously I want nothing more than to pull you into the warmth of my bed and just hold you.
I remember that we both promised to never let our emotions get in the way of how we live our lives. Is that why you began to sell yourself in order to afford enough money to move to Berlin with me? Why would you have ever thought that I would want that for you? The irony in that statement is that we both know you never thought I would in the first place, because I don’t really think anything about what you do with your body. There’s beauty in that.
I remember how surprised I was when you told me that you thought our relationship was unhealthy since I wouldn’t even give you the comfort of calling me your partner or at least your boyfriend, considering that we’d been seeing each other for seven years. It’s amazing how little someone can change when they choose to live such a static life and surround themselves with the same face(s) day-in and day-out.
I remember on your sixteenth birthday when you met me for the first time in the backseat of your older brother’s beat up Mustang. I was four years your senior and living off of artistic episodes and twelve packs of ramen. I remember the warmth of your thigh against mine in the cramped space and I remember how you quietly asked me to protect you if your brother’s deal went wrong, which it did. It always did.
I remember holding your arm as I walked you away from the accident and up the stairs of my shitty studio apartment where you had whiskey and pot for the first time. I remember how you threw everything up in my bathtub at three in the morning and cried.
I remember two years later when I realized I had fallen in love with you and that you’d always been at the same level with me.
I remember how later all I wanted was to do nothing more than slam you against the table and annihilate you. But then you’d smile at me through lurking sadness and tell me that in the morning it’d pass like it always does and then you’d crawl on top of me and kiss away tears and make love to me like the sun does to the moon, and I never quite realized how alike we are to those two celestial spheres. One cold and solid, one ever-changing and tumultuous. I haven’t quite decided who is who just yet, or if I’m just projecting my internalized self-perception onto a semester’s worth of Astronomy lessons.
I remember how I told you I would always love you no matter what I would say to you in the coming days, months, years. I know I never expected you to stick around with me this long but I guess soul mates don’t get to choose who their partner is.
But that’s all they are now. Memories. That’s all you are. Sometimes I wonder if you ever existed, and sometimes I wish you never did.
Just know I will always love you.
sunshine_173rating: PG-13/R-ish
pairing: Belldom
summary: One out of ten drabbles I will be posting daily till Christmas day.
feedback: I wants it, my precious.
disclaimer: I think if I owned Muse, you would know about it. They're a bit famous so I doubt it'd be something easily hidden.
warning : Language. Allusions to sex. Nothing explicit. Brief mentioning of alcohol and drug use, but it's so fleeting that you might miss it.
notes: Aaand here is the second drabble! This one ended up being a lot darker than I'd originally intended. I was thinking of keeping the ten drabbles all Christmasy and shit but my unconscious mind was like trololol no. Anyway I'm exhausted but I wanted to keep to my personal promise of having one of these per day and yeah. Imma go to bed now.
I remember the first time. That moment of silence and hushed voices, our breath intermingling as we rocked gently together in the warmth and heat of the bedroom.
I remember the desperation in your voice as you cried out at me, demanding me to veer away from the slow rhythm I'd fallen into as I traced the outline of the crescent shaped birthmark on your right hipbone.
I remember the static electricity in your eyes as they crackled with the energy of an exploding star, and you very much reminded me of one in that moment; chaotic and beautiful, violent and shining and glowing with the sheen of want and need and the eternity of a whispered promise.
I remember how your skin was purer than the snow falling outside the windows and nearly as pale, your complexion so flawless that I wanted to drag my nails down your chest just to see a hint of color. The blue of your eyes was disappearing rapidly, your pupils swallowing that vivid hue like a ravenous beast desiring to strip away everything but the ebony of your hair and eyelashes and the ivory of your body.
I remember how the passion between us never diminished and instead grew, our roots entwining together so far beneath the surface of our connection that I couldn’t distinguish the difference between you and me. The angel or the devil, the victim or the guilty.
I remember that it was always me that wanted, that took. You never came to me for anything, not even sex. Yet when I shoved you against the wall and bit and licked a path of destruction up the column of your neck and the trail of your collarbone, you begged for me, screamed for me, all without opening your mouth. Your eyes did enough. Said enough. Blamed and pointed the finger at me enough times that I wanted to rip them out of their sockets and shove them down your throat.
I remember when I called you at half-past five in the morning and apologized and told you that I loved you and I understood and I was just so fucking sorry. And you forgave me, like you always do. You are so naïve, so innocent that you believe the words coming out of my mouth. And I mean them, I do. Most of the time. I just find it so hard to love something that is so incapable of separating reality from fantasy but simultaneously I want nothing more than to pull you into the warmth of my bed and just hold you.
I remember that we both promised to never let our emotions get in the way of how we live our lives. Is that why you began to sell yourself in order to afford enough money to move to Berlin with me? Why would you have ever thought that I would want that for you? The irony in that statement is that we both know you never thought I would in the first place, because I don’t really think anything about what you do with your body. There’s beauty in that.
I remember how surprised I was when you told me that you thought our relationship was unhealthy since I wouldn’t even give you the comfort of calling me your partner or at least your boyfriend, considering that we’d been seeing each other for seven years. It’s amazing how little someone can change when they choose to live such a static life and surround themselves with the same face(s) day-in and day-out.
I remember on your sixteenth birthday when you met me for the first time in the backseat of your older brother’s beat up Mustang. I was four years your senior and living off of artistic episodes and twelve packs of ramen. I remember the warmth of your thigh against mine in the cramped space and I remember how you quietly asked me to protect you if your brother’s deal went wrong, which it did. It always did.
I remember holding your arm as I walked you away from the accident and up the stairs of my shitty studio apartment where you had whiskey and pot for the first time. I remember how you threw everything up in my bathtub at three in the morning and cried.
I remember two years later when I realized I had fallen in love with you and that you’d always been at the same level with me.
I remember how later all I wanted was to do nothing more than slam you against the table and annihilate you. But then you’d smile at me through lurking sadness and tell me that in the morning it’d pass like it always does and then you’d crawl on top of me and kiss away tears and make love to me like the sun does to the moon, and I never quite realized how alike we are to those two celestial spheres. One cold and solid, one ever-changing and tumultuous. I haven’t quite decided who is who just yet, or if I’m just projecting my internalized self-perception onto a semester’s worth of Astronomy lessons.
I remember how I told you I would always love you no matter what I would say to you in the coming days, months, years. I know I never expected you to stick around with me this long but I guess soul mates don’t get to choose who their partner is.
But that’s all they are now. Memories. That’s all you are. Sometimes I wonder if you ever existed, and sometimes I wish you never did.
Just know I will always love you.
