Some Days
Title: Some Days
Author: puckkit
Rating: G
Prompt: Travel
Disclaimer: I do not own this tv show or it's characters and I am in no way profiting from any of it. Although it would be nice if I were.
Author's Notes: My first jump into this fandom, so here goes. In general I don't like writing fic until I have a good feel for the characters, but I joined up so... here goes!
Some days Mohinder just wants to go home.
He misses friends, festivals, and so many small things that wouldn’t mean a whit to him if he were still there experiencing them.
In his mind he travels back home, spends the day teaching his students and wandering around Chennai. Has lunch with his fellow professors and contemplates the idiosyncrasies of genetic predisposition to certain traits and the likelihood of natural selection factoring in to his father’s research.
He finishes his classes and watches the children (young adults, he supposes) scurry out to do the reading he assigned, although even in his fabricated reality he knows that they’re actually headed out to catch a nap before planning their weekend partying. After he’s done up some notes for the next day he heads home. Sometimes, he calls up Ketana to see if she’s free for a late afternoon snack.
His mental pictures do him no justice though, and he can hardly make up the witty remarks Ketana would respond with when he’d ask her why such a pretty girl wasn’t married yet or if her sister was still single. Her smile fades with time and distance, her laugh has nearly evaporated from his mind.
His friends feel like the result of a lonely imagination. Sometimes he wonders if they’ve ever been real at all.
He’s stopped trying to sleep; it’s a useless feat anyway. When his body does force him into unconsciousness he dreams about glaring traffic lights and cities that conquer the sky. He dreams about the map, the strings, and the tacks- of his father dying over and over again. He dreams of all the things he left behind and all the things he wishes he could leave behind.
But he has a purpose.
He’s making a life for himself here; making a future from the torn pieces of his father’s past, sewing it all together to form some semblance of a memory to cling to. He’s living, day by day, and trying to move forward fast enough so that he’ll never have to look back.
Some days are better than others. Some days the rear-view mirror lies to him, tells him he’s fine and content with the way things are headed. Some days he doesn’t even dream.
But most days he just wants to go home.
Author: puckkit
Rating: G
Prompt: Travel
Disclaimer: I do not own this tv show or it's characters and I am in no way profiting from any of it. Although it would be nice if I were.
Author's Notes: My first jump into this fandom, so here goes. In general I don't like writing fic until I have a good feel for the characters, but I joined up so... here goes!
Some days Mohinder just wants to go home.
He misses friends, festivals, and so many small things that wouldn’t mean a whit to him if he were still there experiencing them.
In his mind he travels back home, spends the day teaching his students and wandering around Chennai. Has lunch with his fellow professors and contemplates the idiosyncrasies of genetic predisposition to certain traits and the likelihood of natural selection factoring in to his father’s research.
He finishes his classes and watches the children (young adults, he supposes) scurry out to do the reading he assigned, although even in his fabricated reality he knows that they’re actually headed out to catch a nap before planning their weekend partying. After he’s done up some notes for the next day he heads home. Sometimes, he calls up Ketana to see if she’s free for a late afternoon snack.
His mental pictures do him no justice though, and he can hardly make up the witty remarks Ketana would respond with when he’d ask her why such a pretty girl wasn’t married yet or if her sister was still single. Her smile fades with time and distance, her laugh has nearly evaporated from his mind.
His friends feel like the result of a lonely imagination. Sometimes he wonders if they’ve ever been real at all.
He’s stopped trying to sleep; it’s a useless feat anyway. When his body does force him into unconsciousness he dreams about glaring traffic lights and cities that conquer the sky. He dreams about the map, the strings, and the tacks- of his father dying over and over again. He dreams of all the things he left behind and all the things he wishes he could leave behind.
But he has a purpose.
He’s making a life for himself here; making a future from the torn pieces of his father’s past, sewing it all together to form some semblance of a memory to cling to. He’s living, day by day, and trying to move forward fast enough so that he’ll never have to look back.
Some days are better than others. Some days the rear-view mirror lies to him, tells him he’s fine and content with the way things are headed. Some days he doesn’t even dream.
But most days he just wants to go home.