[physics] elementary particles
Title: elementary particles
Rating: pg
Word count: 1000
Summary: Sometimes all the rules are wrong. Sometimes gravity isn't a negligible force. Sometimes physics isn't everything. deuterium proton/neutron/electron
elementary particles
The first time they meet is when the universe explodes. It didn't really explode, N rasps later, curling around the space between their quarks, It just kind of happened.
I think you're getting hung up on these particulars, P says. It's her story, after all. You don't always have to be such a downer.
You put a bit too much of a positive spin on these things. You're too romantic. This isn't going to end well.
I sort of hate you, but N smiles and moves back and gives P the space she needs and she's surprised that they've lasted so long together, that their energies mesh so well, that their weight hasn't been so emotionally taxing that they've folded in on each other like so many of their other friends. The world used to be full of their sort of partnerships, of threes and twos to a shell, P remembers, all uneven and electric. The world used to be a much more beautifully unpredictable place.
The first time they meet is when the universe explodes and P gets a glimpse of her, small and thin and breaking into an excitable jump, halfway through an awkward quantum leap. For the second that they’re mutually aware of each other’s energies, P realizes that there’s been something she’s been missing for all of the microseconds of her existence--that the kind of peace she’s been buttressed with is unfair and uninteresting, that E has the freedom to change everything and anything, that P is stuck in the center of a cloud of unreal happy haziness.
You can’t leave, N says. It’s not cruel, it’s frank and deserving. For a second, P almost feels guilty.
I know. and then, later, but I want to.
☆
P spends thousands of halflives keeping an eye on E. It’s not easy, but love shouldn’t be easy.
You’re delusional. N sighs heavily. You’re just going to destroy yourself.
E is bright and appears in the distance for tiny speck of time before glimmering off somewhere else. P gets used to feeling the backdrop of emptiness against her eyelids.
We got an offer, yesterday. An emissary from-
I’m not interested.
It’s our future, P. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to-
P bites her lip and spring back and feels her quarks rustle. No.
☆
N is right. N is always right. The world grows a bit darker and P finds it gets harder to hold on, to cling to the vestiges of attraction. E feels infinitely far away, most of the time, but at least E is hers, at least P is sharing with the possibility of open space instead of the thick welcome of-
I could look for someone else, N suggests. If you’re uncomfortable with Oxygen.
It’s not that.
N folds the letter carefully into quarters. You can’t keep her forever, he says eventually, tucking the note into his pocket. Not like this. Not even if you want to.
It’s unfair how disaffected N always is. P leans away from his easy slouch. Easy for you to say. You never do anything. You just sit here and-
He reaches for her. You know I can’t. I don’t have anything to give you. She lets him. It’s really not his fault.
I’m sorry.
I know.
☆
N doesn’t ask her again. She sees the offers pile up in the wastebasket, and feels her grip on reality get just a bit looser. She tries not to let it matter, tries to hold on to the bright blinks E leaves her with, the sharp turns and leaps in her dance.
And then one day P blinks and feels nothing. To be more precise, she feels N’s fingers curl into her edges and sides and a flood of happiness and a kick in her spin, but there’s nothing tethering her to reality anymore. The faint pull of E’s negativity is entirely gone; P is surrounded by null space, by the emptiness of neutrality, by the deep solitude of nothingness. She breathes in and in and there’s a sharp lack of any feeling at all and she tries to scream.
She can’t. She’s losing it. She’s lost it.
N mouths soft apologies into her neck and P feels herself bouncing and flickering across energy channels. She can’t control her own emissions. The world gets brighter and dimmer and hot and cold and is entirely endless, entirely meaningless. She tickles the roof of her mouth with her tongue and feels her boson giggle back.
I’m sorry, she tries to say and breathe and choke, turning to curl further into N’s disintegrating shell. He doesn’t respond, he never will, and now she’s alone.
She almost deserves that.
☆
When she’s free of everything, when she’s alone all over again, she decides to keep moving. It’s easy to avoid the blank, colder regions where Es gather and reach out to girls like her, and P doesn’t want to remember the shimmer steps of her E, their love story, the sacrifices that N made. She joins a cosmic shower or two and tails along at the end of meteorites, looping through the galaxy. Her fellow Ps respectfully keep their distance.
Eventually the world begins to shiver down. There’s less space to be had, fewer places to curl around. She feels herself shudder down to pions and antimuons.
The universe is ending, someone says.
Systems shrink, density increases, and then it begins to end.
☆
The second time they meet is when the universe implodes.
You haven’t aged well, N says. Only it’s not really N, it’s a quark with a charming smile and far too much energy. E laughs and zips around their orbit and pulls them close for a kiss.
Aren’t you going to tell me that it didn’t implode? It just-
No, and there’s a rumble and a bit more light and N tilts P forward. This time, you can be right.
P breathes in and out and feels the rules change. It's strange and singular and all too bright. Color confinement, she laughs. Quantum gravity.
N beams. This is it, P thinks. E skitters down her spine.
The greatest love stories aren’t all tragic, you know.
(It's a beautiful crunch.)
☆
FIN
a/n: OKAY I KNOW I BROKE PHYSICS A LOT LITTLE BIT i don't know what this is. i realize deuterium is a stable particle but whatever okay. this is just half an hour of insanity. just. i ship it really, really hard.
Rating: pg
Word count: 1000
Summary: Sometimes all the rules are wrong. Sometimes gravity isn't a negligible force. Sometimes physics isn't everything. deuterium proton/neutron/electron
elementary particles
The first time they meet is when the universe explodes. It didn't really explode, N rasps later, curling around the space between their quarks, It just kind of happened.
I think you're getting hung up on these particulars, P says. It's her story, after all. You don't always have to be such a downer.
You put a bit too much of a positive spin on these things. You're too romantic. This isn't going to end well.
I sort of hate you, but N smiles and moves back and gives P the space she needs and she's surprised that they've lasted so long together, that their energies mesh so well, that their weight hasn't been so emotionally taxing that they've folded in on each other like so many of their other friends. The world used to be full of their sort of partnerships, of threes and twos to a shell, P remembers, all uneven and electric. The world used to be a much more beautifully unpredictable place.
The first time they meet is when the universe explodes and P gets a glimpse of her, small and thin and breaking into an excitable jump, halfway through an awkward quantum leap. For the second that they’re mutually aware of each other’s energies, P realizes that there’s been something she’s been missing for all of the microseconds of her existence--that the kind of peace she’s been buttressed with is unfair and uninteresting, that E has the freedom to change everything and anything, that P is stuck in the center of a cloud of unreal happy haziness.
You can’t leave, N says. It’s not cruel, it’s frank and deserving. For a second, P almost feels guilty.
I know. and then, later, but I want to.
☆
P spends thousands of halflives keeping an eye on E. It’s not easy, but love shouldn’t be easy.
You’re delusional. N sighs heavily. You’re just going to destroy yourself.
E is bright and appears in the distance for tiny speck of time before glimmering off somewhere else. P gets used to feeling the backdrop of emptiness against her eyelids.
We got an offer, yesterday. An emissary from-
I’m not interested.
It’s our future, P. It’s the only way we’ll ever be able to-
P bites her lip and spring back and feels her quarks rustle. No.
☆
N is right. N is always right. The world grows a bit darker and P finds it gets harder to hold on, to cling to the vestiges of attraction. E feels infinitely far away, most of the time, but at least E is hers, at least P is sharing with the possibility of open space instead of the thick welcome of-
I could look for someone else, N suggests. If you’re uncomfortable with Oxygen.
It’s not that.
N folds the letter carefully into quarters. You can’t keep her forever, he says eventually, tucking the note into his pocket. Not like this. Not even if you want to.
It’s unfair how disaffected N always is. P leans away from his easy slouch. Easy for you to say. You never do anything. You just sit here and-
He reaches for her. You know I can’t. I don’t have anything to give you. She lets him. It’s really not his fault.
I’m sorry.
I know.
☆
N doesn’t ask her again. She sees the offers pile up in the wastebasket, and feels her grip on reality get just a bit looser. She tries not to let it matter, tries to hold on to the bright blinks E leaves her with, the sharp turns and leaps in her dance.
And then one day P blinks and feels nothing. To be more precise, she feels N’s fingers curl into her edges and sides and a flood of happiness and a kick in her spin, but there’s nothing tethering her to reality anymore. The faint pull of E’s negativity is entirely gone; P is surrounded by null space, by the emptiness of neutrality, by the deep solitude of nothingness. She breathes in and in and there’s a sharp lack of any feeling at all and she tries to scream.
She can’t. She’s losing it. She’s lost it.
N mouths soft apologies into her neck and P feels herself bouncing and flickering across energy channels. She can’t control her own emissions. The world gets brighter and dimmer and hot and cold and is entirely endless, entirely meaningless. She tickles the roof of her mouth with her tongue and feels her boson giggle back.
I’m sorry, she tries to say and breathe and choke, turning to curl further into N’s disintegrating shell. He doesn’t respond, he never will, and now she’s alone.
She almost deserves that.
☆
When she’s free of everything, when she’s alone all over again, she decides to keep moving. It’s easy to avoid the blank, colder regions where Es gather and reach out to girls like her, and P doesn’t want to remember the shimmer steps of her E, their love story, the sacrifices that N made. She joins a cosmic shower or two and tails along at the end of meteorites, looping through the galaxy. Her fellow Ps respectfully keep their distance.
Eventually the world begins to shiver down. There’s less space to be had, fewer places to curl around. She feels herself shudder down to pions and antimuons.
The universe is ending, someone says.
Systems shrink, density increases, and then it begins to end.
☆
The second time they meet is when the universe implodes.
You haven’t aged well, N says. Only it’s not really N, it’s a quark with a charming smile and far too much energy. E laughs and zips around their orbit and pulls them close for a kiss.
Aren’t you going to tell me that it didn’t implode? It just-
No, and there’s a rumble and a bit more light and N tilts P forward. This time, you can be right.
P breathes in and out and feels the rules change. It's strange and singular and all too bright. Color confinement, she laughs. Quantum gravity.
N beams. This is it, P thinks. E skitters down her spine.
The greatest love stories aren’t all tragic, you know.
(It's a beautiful crunch.)
☆
FIN
a/n: OKAY I KNOW I BROKE PHYSICS A LOT LITTLE BIT i don't know what this is. i realize deuterium is a stable particle but whatever okay. this is just half an hour of insanity. just. i ship it really, really hard.