GRAVITY -- PG
Not only popular demand, but overwhelming demand, brought this to you. You guys are sooo sweet! And I sincerely apologize for the mass heart breakage that occurred. It was an accident, I swear! <3 <3 <3 Clean up crews are on the way...
[title] Gravity [2/?]
[author] fieryrogue
[pairing] Cookleta
[rating] PG
[word count] 672
[summary] It's hard not to fall.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Maybe not as sorrowful as the last installment, but still sad... and going somewhere, I promise.
[author's notes] Sequel to " Ghost". Written for david_squared's Challenge #4, Prompt #2, which is the quote, "I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you." ~Roy Croft.
>>>If you are familiar with the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles, you may get an extra tingle out of this. If you're not, I highly recommend it, HERE. I'll tease you by saying that if you want the conclusion (er, I mean, I don't have it written at all... no... it's all... *makes whispy gestures with hands*), you'll have to eat all your vegetables, clean your room, be nice to your sister and do something nice for a stranger. Don't let me down! ;)
GRAVITY
You palm your phone for the one thousandth time today. You check it again to see who's called, to make sure the the ringer's volume is up, to be sure it's even on at all.
No one's called.
Somehow you desperately want him to call you, and at the same time don't. Because if you talk to him, if you hear that scratch in his voice or the lilt of his laugh, you'll be gone again. Drawn in, sucked unwillingly and without any power of your own into him. Out of your mind and beyond reason.
Reason. That was always the problem. You tried to reason with him about how you were feeling about some of the things going on while he was on tour. For one thing, fan interactions were getting a little personal, you felt. It was alarming to open e-mails from friends who attached photos of him from message boards and seeing how downright... personal he was being. He didn't see it, nor see why you were making a deal about it... again. He called you immature and then, with a hitching laugh, made a comment about how he shouldn't be surprised.
Sometimes, he can't see the forest for the trees.
You learned that phrase from him. Forest for the trees. Also the words culpable, chagrin, juxtapose, ambiguity, ostentatious, and trite. You learned so much from him, every day. Every day there'd be a word or a phrase, a random piece of trivia, something he saw on Discovery Channel.
He was like your own personal Discovery Channel. Before him, you'd never been so exposed, so fascinated, by everything in the whole entire universe. It was like being reborn, opening your eyes for the first time... over and over and over. And you were drawn to it. You couldn't help it. Your heart drawing you, all the time, closer and closer, in an orbit. Its force a hundred times stronger than your mass.
He described to you how the moon affects the waves, how the planets align, and all about Newton's Third Law of Motion. "Whenever a particle A exerts a force on another particle B, B simultaneously exerts a force on A with the same magnitude in the opposite direction." Yeah, you memorized it. You memorized it because right then in that moment it sounded like poetry. Like he was A and you were B.
"Stop it," you say to yourself. "Stop thinking about him." If this keeps on, you'll be looking at photographs next, then reading old text messages. Then you'll call, or fly back out there or... and once that happens, you'll be caught again. Caught in his orbit, always circling.
No, you couldn't do it again. Because, you admitted, you were jealous. A terrible, jealous person who angered quickly to see anyone touch him, to see anyone, even just fans, ask him for a mere hug. Your heart surged out of your chest each time. Because that was your space. Your space fit right into his, shaped perfectly around him. Yours, and no one else's. And if he wasn't going to understand that -- if he didn't feel the same way... why, you didn't know what to do anymore. It would be better if you stayed away.
You drop the phone on your bed next to you. It's getting darker here in the basement of your parents' house. No one has disturbed you all day. You know it's your mother doing the hard work of keeping them away, and the even harder work of keeping herself away. You think about going upstairs, but then... you just can't. You wish you could will the upstairs piano down to you, but instead you settle for the next best thing. You get up from the bed, wobbly on your legs which haven't had much action today, and sit at your old standby, Lucia, the first electronic keyboard you ever owned. Her keys are familiar to you, more familiar than anything else you know, your fingers fit right into the worn grooves. You close your eyes.
It turns out you don't need one scrap of music to play the most riveting and perfect performance in your life of "Moonlight Sonata".
[title] Gravity [2/?]
[author] fieryrogue
[pairing] Cookleta
[rating] PG
[word count] 672
[summary] It's hard not to fall.
[disclaimer] Surely, I have nothing to do with either of these fine young men, no matter how much I wish I did.
[warnings] Maybe not as sorrowful as the last installment, but still sad... and going somewhere, I promise.
[author's notes] Sequel to " Ghost". Written for david_squared's Challenge #4, Prompt #2, which is the quote, "I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you." ~Roy Croft.
>>>If you are familiar with the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles, you may get an extra tingle out of this. If you're not, I highly recommend it, HERE. I'll tease you by saying that if you want the conclusion (er, I mean, I don't have it written at all... no... it's all... *makes whispy gestures with hands*), you'll have to eat all your vegetables, clean your room, be nice to your sister and do something nice for a stranger. Don't let me down! ;)
GRAVITY
You palm your phone for the one thousandth time today. You check it again to see who's called, to make sure the the ringer's volume is up, to be sure it's even on at all.
No one's called.
Somehow you desperately want him to call you, and at the same time don't. Because if you talk to him, if you hear that scratch in his voice or the lilt of his laugh, you'll be gone again. Drawn in, sucked unwillingly and without any power of your own into him. Out of your mind and beyond reason.
Reason. That was always the problem. You tried to reason with him about how you were feeling about some of the things going on while he was on tour. For one thing, fan interactions were getting a little personal, you felt. It was alarming to open e-mails from friends who attached photos of him from message boards and seeing how downright... personal he was being. He didn't see it, nor see why you were making a deal about it... again. He called you immature and then, with a hitching laugh, made a comment about how he shouldn't be surprised.
Sometimes, he can't see the forest for the trees.
You learned that phrase from him. Forest for the trees. Also the words culpable, chagrin, juxtapose, ambiguity, ostentatious, and trite. You learned so much from him, every day. Every day there'd be a word or a phrase, a random piece of trivia, something he saw on Discovery Channel.
He was like your own personal Discovery Channel. Before him, you'd never been so exposed, so fascinated, by everything in the whole entire universe. It was like being reborn, opening your eyes for the first time... over and over and over. And you were drawn to it. You couldn't help it. Your heart drawing you, all the time, closer and closer, in an orbit. Its force a hundred times stronger than your mass.
He described to you how the moon affects the waves, how the planets align, and all about Newton's Third Law of Motion. "Whenever a particle A exerts a force on another particle B, B simultaneously exerts a force on A with the same magnitude in the opposite direction." Yeah, you memorized it. You memorized it because right then in that moment it sounded like poetry. Like he was A and you were B.
"Stop it," you say to yourself. "Stop thinking about him." If this keeps on, you'll be looking at photographs next, then reading old text messages. Then you'll call, or fly back out there or... and once that happens, you'll be caught again. Caught in his orbit, always circling.
No, you couldn't do it again. Because, you admitted, you were jealous. A terrible, jealous person who angered quickly to see anyone touch him, to see anyone, even just fans, ask him for a mere hug. Your heart surged out of your chest each time. Because that was your space. Your space fit right into his, shaped perfectly around him. Yours, and no one else's. And if he wasn't going to understand that -- if he didn't feel the same way... why, you didn't know what to do anymore. It would be better if you stayed away.
You drop the phone on your bed next to you. It's getting darker here in the basement of your parents' house. No one has disturbed you all day. You know it's your mother doing the hard work of keeping them away, and the even harder work of keeping herself away. You think about going upstairs, but then... you just can't. You wish you could will the upstairs piano down to you, but instead you settle for the next best thing. You get up from the bed, wobbly on your legs which haven't had much action today, and sit at your old standby, Lucia, the first electronic keyboard you ever owned. Her keys are familiar to you, more familiar than anything else you know, your fingers fit right into the worn grooves. You close your eyes.
It turns out you don't need one scrap of music to play the most riveting and perfect performance in your life of "Moonlight Sonata".