To Belong Nowhere (1/1)
Title: To Belong Nowhere
Rating: PG
Fandom: none
Pairings: none
Summery: Whenever Francis remembers home, he remembers baby blue.
Disclaimers: None, really. I own everything. :D
Whenever Francis remembers home, he remembers baby blue. It was the color of his brother's curtains, the colors of his mother's favorite dress, his father's suede shoes, his girlfriend's brother's prom suit, his sister's Easter Shoes. His dog's collar. And when he remembers home and baby blue and curtains and dresses and shoes and suits and collars, it hurts. A physical pain in his heart, like it wants to shatter and stop beating and just end. So Francis avoids thinking about his home in Missoula, Montana and the white snow and green trees and red poppies. Because it hurts, because when he does think about it, he can't stay in Paris or Munich or London or Athens or Moscow or wherever he is that month. Because Francis is weak and thinking about his mother in tears, or his father drinking, or his sister acting despondent, or his brother just confused, or Jenny never leaving her room makes him want to throw up.
But he can't go back, because that hurts more. Because at home it's all stressful classes and living up to expectations and disappointment. And reminders that Stuart is dead. He sees it in his teachers' looks, his mother's weekly bag-packing and "I can't do this anymore, Carl!", his father's bagged eyes.
Francis doesn't think he belongs anywhere, because everywhere hurts.
Rating: PG
Fandom: none
Pairings: none
Summery: Whenever Francis remembers home, he remembers baby blue.
Disclaimers: None, really. I own everything. :D
Whenever Francis remembers home, he remembers baby blue. It was the color of his brother's curtains, the colors of his mother's favorite dress, his father's suede shoes, his girlfriend's brother's prom suit, his sister's Easter Shoes. His dog's collar. And when he remembers home and baby blue and curtains and dresses and shoes and suits and collars, it hurts. A physical pain in his heart, like it wants to shatter and stop beating and just end. So Francis avoids thinking about his home in Missoula, Montana and the white snow and green trees and red poppies. Because it hurts, because when he does think about it, he can't stay in Paris or Munich or London or Athens or Moscow or wherever he is that month. Because Francis is weak and thinking about his mother in tears, or his father drinking, or his sister acting despondent, or his brother just confused, or Jenny never leaving her room makes him want to throw up.
But he can't go back, because that hurts more. Because at home it's all stressful classes and living up to expectations and disappointment. And reminders that Stuart is dead. He sees it in his teachers' looks, his mother's weekly bag-packing and "I can't do this anymore, Carl!", his father's bagged eyes.
Francis doesn't think he belongs anywhere, because everywhere hurts.