fic: I never thought about love when I thought about home.
I never thought about love when I thought about home
the social network. the winklevi. ~1000 words. incest. a short list of why of they were never that close.
notes: for ava-leigh-fitz whose fictional-incest detecting superpower should be encourage and rewarded at every opportunity.
They never learn to share.
The house is too big and the presents too frequent. What is Tyler’s is never Cameron’s, there’s no need.
(What is Cameron’s is always Tyler’s and not because he takes it.
Later people will think of Cameron as the good one. As the one with the generous spirit. They’ll be wrong.
Cameron never learned to share either.)
-
Let’s toss a die, pick a number and call this game something it isn’t. For the sake of argument let’s say Cameron loves Tyler more than he loves anyone else. Let’s say Cameron loves Tyler with all his heart.
This should be an easy argument to make, an easy game to play. It’s one of those things books say; a twin is half your soul in a different body. But open an anatomy book and which page do you turn for the section on soul?
The human brain has fifty-billion neurons with some thousand-trillion synaptic connections passing signals throughout. No one ever said any of these had to be about love.
-
Somewhere in the softly colored past of perfectly groomed lawns and red cars driven by the neighbors’ latest teenaged brides there is a mother who drank too much and a father who was never home. The house never smelled of anything, certainly not at Christmastime, and ice never chipped against lemonade glasses.
There was Tyler and there was Cameron and there was a lot of silence.
Somewhere in there they should have learned to talk but a laugh was always better, always louder.
It’s not a lot but a shared experience can tie you to someone forever. Can tie you to someone better than blood can.
-
Tyler wanted Cameron before he knew it was wrong.
Cameron always knew it was wrong. (Tyler was always smarter.)
-
In school it’s the sudden lack of quiet that’s the worst. There are people and people and more people. Each of them needing, wanting, craving, speaking. Constantly speaking.
Tyler takes it all into himself with a half-turn. He’s loud and he’s brash and they love him. Cameron’s nice because that’s the hole that’s left and he was always good at disappearing.
(Not with Tyler though. Tyler always looks straight at him.)
-
They’re supposed to take care of each other’s weaknesses. It’s something that makes sense on paper, neat lines of mathematical proofs or cost-benefit reasoning, depending on you preferred approach.
It’s all very logical.
But there’s something in Tyler that likes to watch Cameron fail. Likes to watch Cameron not meet expectations.
There’s something in Tyler that likes to put an ear against the door when Cameron is in the shower. Likes to listen as Cameron wraps a hand around his dick and strangled sigh he lets out is almost like a touch.
-
If this is a play it is a poorly acted one.
The quick patter of their words would sound clever but there’s a beat that can’t be accounted for. Tyler’s barbs are too short or Cameron’s retorts too late and it feels hollow. The way they talk feels hollow and people don’t listen the way they should.
That’s the space Divya fills.
They aren’t three parts of a whole. Things aren’t whole, not in a world of approximations and best guesses. Not in a world of imperfections but Divya still provides the thing they lack. Divya provides the ideas to Tyler’s drive and Cameron’s caution.
Divya makes them more than pantomime heroes in a story with a pre-written ending and Cameron knows this is going to be problem one day. He knows it has to be.
-
At some point, very early on, they decided not to talk about. There’s something to be said for unspoken agreements, or so one of them would mutter if that didn’t cross a line.
Those still exist. Lines.
It’s one thing to give into the only thing you’ve wanted your whole life, wanted since before you could quantify it, put it into words. It’s quite another to abandon all sense of decorum.
They’re gentlemen of Harvard. Cameron won’t say this for years but it will be a sentiment he carries with him from the first day on campus.
There’s not a lot to believe in when you’re born a Winklevoss. There’s even less when the only thing that brings you close to happiness is the way your brother says your name when he comes but this is what Cameron believes in anyway. It’s also the one thing that really makes them separate people. That makes them more than half-formed personalities dressing up as real live humans.
Cameron believes in Harvard, in what it can make him. Tyler so actively doesn’t believe it’s almost funny.
-
Somewhere in the future there are matching marriages, wives who smile with perfect teeth and don’t bother to wait up with dinner. In the future there are neatly trimmed lawns and the same lives they once lived but from a different angle.
The only difference will be the collective lack of secretaries who spread their leg wider than is strictly necessary.
That’s not true. There will be secretaries. They just won’t be the only ones who are fucked.
-
Tyler doesn’t remember being afraid of the dark as a child. It’s one of those things that got pushed farther, deeper, back where no one could see it.
But it doesn’t matter if you can’t see something, it can still exist. It can still fester and eat at you. It’s the things that can’t be seen that really own a person.
Tyler doesn’t remember being afraid of the dark but he was. And Cameron remembers he was.
It’s impossible to love someone when you don’t know how to love. But it’s even harder to love them when you haven’t seen their weaknesses, their soul.
It’s easy to say Cameron loves Tyler. Loves Tyler with all his heart.
the social network. the winklevi. ~1000 words. incest. a short list of why of they were never that close.
notes: for ava-leigh-fitz whose fictional-incest detecting superpower should be encourage and rewarded at every opportunity.
They never learn to share.
The house is too big and the presents too frequent. What is Tyler’s is never Cameron’s, there’s no need.
(What is Cameron’s is always Tyler’s and not because he takes it.
Later people will think of Cameron as the good one. As the one with the generous spirit. They’ll be wrong.
Cameron never learned to share either.)
-
Let’s toss a die, pick a number and call this game something it isn’t. For the sake of argument let’s say Cameron loves Tyler more than he loves anyone else. Let’s say Cameron loves Tyler with all his heart.
This should be an easy argument to make, an easy game to play. It’s one of those things books say; a twin is half your soul in a different body. But open an anatomy book and which page do you turn for the section on soul?
The human brain has fifty-billion neurons with some thousand-trillion synaptic connections passing signals throughout. No one ever said any of these had to be about love.
-
Somewhere in the softly colored past of perfectly groomed lawns and red cars driven by the neighbors’ latest teenaged brides there is a mother who drank too much and a father who was never home. The house never smelled of anything, certainly not at Christmastime, and ice never chipped against lemonade glasses.
There was Tyler and there was Cameron and there was a lot of silence.
Somewhere in there they should have learned to talk but a laugh was always better, always louder.
It’s not a lot but a shared experience can tie you to someone forever. Can tie you to someone better than blood can.
-
Tyler wanted Cameron before he knew it was wrong.
Cameron always knew it was wrong. (Tyler was always smarter.)
-
In school it’s the sudden lack of quiet that’s the worst. There are people and people and more people. Each of them needing, wanting, craving, speaking. Constantly speaking.
Tyler takes it all into himself with a half-turn. He’s loud and he’s brash and they love him. Cameron’s nice because that’s the hole that’s left and he was always good at disappearing.
(Not with Tyler though. Tyler always looks straight at him.)
-
They’re supposed to take care of each other’s weaknesses. It’s something that makes sense on paper, neat lines of mathematical proofs or cost-benefit reasoning, depending on you preferred approach.
It’s all very logical.
But there’s something in Tyler that likes to watch Cameron fail. Likes to watch Cameron not meet expectations.
There’s something in Tyler that likes to put an ear against the door when Cameron is in the shower. Likes to listen as Cameron wraps a hand around his dick and strangled sigh he lets out is almost like a touch.
-
If this is a play it is a poorly acted one.
The quick patter of their words would sound clever but there’s a beat that can’t be accounted for. Tyler’s barbs are too short or Cameron’s retorts too late and it feels hollow. The way they talk feels hollow and people don’t listen the way they should.
That’s the space Divya fills.
They aren’t three parts of a whole. Things aren’t whole, not in a world of approximations and best guesses. Not in a world of imperfections but Divya still provides the thing they lack. Divya provides the ideas to Tyler’s drive and Cameron’s caution.
Divya makes them more than pantomime heroes in a story with a pre-written ending and Cameron knows this is going to be problem one day. He knows it has to be.
-
At some point, very early on, they decided not to talk about. There’s something to be said for unspoken agreements, or so one of them would mutter if that didn’t cross a line.
Those still exist. Lines.
It’s one thing to give into the only thing you’ve wanted your whole life, wanted since before you could quantify it, put it into words. It’s quite another to abandon all sense of decorum.
They’re gentlemen of Harvard. Cameron won’t say this for years but it will be a sentiment he carries with him from the first day on campus.
There’s not a lot to believe in when you’re born a Winklevoss. There’s even less when the only thing that brings you close to happiness is the way your brother says your name when he comes but this is what Cameron believes in anyway. It’s also the one thing that really makes them separate people. That makes them more than half-formed personalities dressing up as real live humans.
Cameron believes in Harvard, in what it can make him. Tyler so actively doesn’t believe it’s almost funny.
-
Somewhere in the future there are matching marriages, wives who smile with perfect teeth and don’t bother to wait up with dinner. In the future there are neatly trimmed lawns and the same lives they once lived but from a different angle.
The only difference will be the collective lack of secretaries who spread their leg wider than is strictly necessary.
That’s not true. There will be secretaries. They just won’t be the only ones who are fucked.
-
Tyler doesn’t remember being afraid of the dark as a child. It’s one of those things that got pushed farther, deeper, back where no one could see it.
But it doesn’t matter if you can’t see something, it can still exist. It can still fester and eat at you. It’s the things that can’t be seen that really own a person.
Tyler doesn’t remember being afraid of the dark but he was. And Cameron remembers he was.
It’s impossible to love someone when you don’t know how to love. But it’s even harder to love them when you haven’t seen their weaknesses, their soul.
It’s easy to say Cameron loves Tyler. Loves Tyler with all his heart.