There are good days and bad days, and then there are days like this.
The good ones: Gorgeous dimples carved into golden smooth skin, skarky little-brother remarks and singing loudly with the radio as they drive an endless ribbon of sun-kissed blacktop through miles of golden-green cornfields.
The bad ones: A haunted look reflected behind eyes darkened by fear and pain, shameful confessions whispered into the dark, pleading fingers squeezed tight around Dean's own, begging him to just please make it stop.Sam's eyes are dull and lifeless now - empty - as he watches the branches of the old cottonwood tree tilt and sway in the wind. The fall leaves have just started to brown, turning them crisp and brittle as they drift down to the soft blanket of earth below. Sam curls up on his side and hugs his pillow close, burrowing further under the quilt tucked around him
( ... )
Ok. Ouch. That hurt like hell. God. Poor Sammy. I love 'Sam's broken' fics (as much as they may hurt) and of course, you did it perfectly. Well done, m'dear. I'mma just go sit in the corner and cry quietly for awhile now. *weak chuckle*
JFC, just realized I never responded to this o.O I'm not sure where my brain is since the new year started. Anyway, thank you - I'm glad to hear you liked this! I'm so not comfortable writing broken Sammy fics, but this one kinda just wanted to be written :)
Oh, this was beautiful, bb! I totally decided to read it as slash (Because, I mean, seriously? Since when do you write gen, hon? ;) And more importantly: Since when do I read gen? Lol. But it is you, so of course I did! :D), which made it even more heartbreaking to me. *sniffles* Lovely little piece, sweetie.
Thank you so much! I started to doubt myself afterward about categorizing it as gen, but that's what it was supposed to be. *insert some reference here about a road and good intentions* I have slash goggles permanently attached to my eyes, you may have noticed. Hee.
I never got the obsession about Sam's hair before, until I read your ficlet. The hair as soft as the day he was born was the thing that broke my heart. Beautifully written! Love it.
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There are good days and bad days, and then there are days like this.
The good ones: Gorgeous dimples carved into golden smooth skin, skarky little-brother remarks and singing loudly with the radio as they drive an endless ribbon of sun-kissed blacktop through miles of golden-green cornfields.
The bad ones: A haunted look reflected behind eyes darkened by fear and pain, shameful confessions whispered into the dark, pleading fingers squeezed tight around Dean's own, begging him to just please make it stop.Sam's eyes are dull and lifeless now - empty - as he watches the branches of the old cottonwood tree tilt and sway in the wind. The fall leaves have just started to brown, turning them crisp and brittle as they drift down to the soft blanket of earth below. Sam curls up on his side and hugs his pillow close, burrowing further under the quilt tucked around him ( ... )
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