Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non
"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"
You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for ( Read more... )
Optional bonus - and one time they didn't.
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“What do I think what's like?”
They were sat in the living room, watching television though it was late and a school night and their parents had left him in charge to be mature and responsible. He had been, at first, and Ed had eaten his dinner though it had been too long in the oven, and he made Ed help with the washing up.
But then Ed had asked if they couldn’t stay up and watch the film, and there was all sorts of inappropriateness on screen; ruby red blood, Peter Cushing and the sort of gratuitous nudity their mother organised meetings to talk about.
“Kissing,” Ed said, as the scene merited its late night billing, and David blushed, because of the images and the fact he couldn’t deny he had yet to experience it. He couldn’t think of an answer, so said nothing, and when he looked up Ed had moved to sit next to him ( ... )
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David, for the first time, refused to give it to him.
They sat, side by side, instead. Ed sobbed, silent but for his uneven breathing, and David kept swiping his own cheeks, refusing to give in and allow the tears to flow unhindered.
“I love you,” Ed said, voice thick and strained. “I don’t know what to do without you.”
David wanted to pull Ed to him. To tell him he was sorry, and kiss him better. Touch him and taste him and say that it didn’t matter, so long as they were together. He didn’t because he had to be strong. For both of them.
“I know, Ed,” he whispered, pulled at the black silk of his tie, loosened his collar in the hope of being able to breathe easier. “But he would have been ashamed of us.”
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It was like playing a game. Make believe. A world where they were normal; nothing but brothers. Sometimes he wanted so bad for the lie to be true that he almost convinced himself. But then Ed would look at him, like he was the most important thing in Ed’s world, and they were straight back to square one ( ... )
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David couldn’t answer. The jealousy was twisting him up inside, but the anger wasn’t enough to stop his body responding. Remembering how it had used to be, when Ed touched him and let David touch him in return, all soft gasps and adoration.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Ed hissed, and through the drunken haze David knew that there was something not quite right going on here. Aside from the obvious. “It feels like someone’s wrenched you in half.”
He looked Ed in the face then properly. His brother’s eyes were dark and unfocussed. David was shocked to realise he wasn’t the only one who had been drinking. “Ed?” he tried, hesitantly, because they didn’t do this anymore. And if they did they wouldn’t do it like this, surely ( ... )
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“We’ll forget it ever happened,” he said instead, even as he replayed in his head how Ed looked when he was so close it was hurting. “It’ll stay between us. It was nothing. Less than that.”
Fuck how it hurts so good :(
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I wanted this to be like a progression of fucked-uppery, with A being really normal and E being the worst extreme.
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