Writing
There is no reason in the world why anyone apart from me should care about these. But they're the only original writing I've *done* recently, so here we go:
21.
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing
The first time they danced Sophie had just turned fourteen and they were, as could be expected, as awkward as teenagers, stubbing each other's toes and Owen hadn't even noticed that girls had such things as waists yet, and it was years later that Sophie thought back and realised that even then - even that first time - they'd stumbled and not moved that much and hadn't moved to the music so much as just shuffled about a bit, but they hadn't noticed one other person in the room, hadn't noticed that there was a room. From that first time, dancing had made them impervious to the world.
Sophie loved to dance, and Owen didn't really care for dancing itself but loved to be with Sophie and move with Sophie and be alone with Sophie, even in a crowded club. Sophie liked to feel his hands on her back, underneath her hair, or strong and just a little unsure on her waist, liked to cup the back of his skull briefly, fingers tangling in his dark scruff of hair, liked to be close enough to smell his skin and gently guide him with just the shift of her hip.
"I'm not sure about this." Owen said, hands tight around her waist even after she'd touched the Levitation broom down.
"Don't be an idiot. You want to get over this or do you want to be scared of heights forever?"
She had to nudge back slightly to get him to let go of her, and then she swung herself off the broom, let him climb off and wriggle awkwardly - broom-flight was not the most practical method of transport for boys, and she grinned - and flicked the broom back into its gem, squeezing it a thanks as she pocketed it.
"I don't -" He'd looked over the edge. From the top of the bridge, they could see their entire world. "Oh gods."
She turned the CD player on as she put it down and took his hand. "S'okay. What can happen? I can fly, you think I'd let you fall?"
He held her hand shaking-tight, making her rings bruise into her skin, but she said nothing, just kept watching his eyes as he watched the world below them. A different world right now, because they were too high up for it to touch them.
It was beautiful, and she knew he must see that but not see it, the bridge all lit like a long, long Christmas tree and the sky huge with stars, cars trailing light below them, the city a huge spread-out disco ball, the water thick with light and finally dark blue instead of brown.
Owen's eyes finally trailed to hers, and he swallowed.
"You trust me, right?" she said, drawing him closer, arms around his shoulders.
His face twisted for a second. "You know I do."
"I'll never let you fall." she said, calmly, surely, stating a fact. "I'll never let you go."
Close enough so she could nudge him into moving with her hip, and it didn't even matter what song was playing, didn't even matter that there was a song playing, didn't even matter that they were so high up the world was an electric toy-town far below them and they could fall, fall, fall onto a road or into a river. Sophie fitted her head against the side of his neck and had he been made to fit her body so perfectly?
"I will never let you go." she said, and he turned his face into her hair and sighed, and she smiled.
26.
When My Boy Walks Down the Street
Adam hadn't known, when he'd fished the boy with brown hair out of the river, that this would happen - it had never happened before, after all. Luke's the first boy he's ever dragged out of a river.
Luke is wearing Adam's spare jeans, loose around his skinny hips, wearing layers of Adam's T-shirts with a shirt over the top and a jacket with his own rough grey cotton scarf, long hair tied back and blue eyes bright with Christmas lights, excited about everything like he's never seen Christmas before. Adam supposes he hasn't, actually. Luke's excitement makes him as bubbly as a child, chattering non-stop and staring up at the lights, mouth open and breath coming out in clouds of white and he doesn't let go of Adam's hand, which is the weirdest thing. It's making Adam's cheeks heat and making him scowl at anyone he can't avoid eye-contact with, challenging them to say something, but he doesn't want Luke to let go.
Luke turns to him and smiles, one of his fantastic little-boy smiles, all the joy in the world and Adam gives a wobbly, wry smile back. Luke's grin gets even broader, if that's possible, before he turns back to the street and starts talking rapidly and aimlessly about the fairy light-lit display in a bookshop window. Adam finally lets his breath out in a rush and tightens his hold on Luke's hand slightly. The world gets brighter around Luke, like he carries the fairy lights' glow around with him; Adam doesn't want to think how dark it's going to seem once they get him home.
21.
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing
The first time they danced Sophie had just turned fourteen and they were, as could be expected, as awkward as teenagers, stubbing each other's toes and Owen hadn't even noticed that girls had such things as waists yet, and it was years later that Sophie thought back and realised that even then - even that first time - they'd stumbled and not moved that much and hadn't moved to the music so much as just shuffled about a bit, but they hadn't noticed one other person in the room, hadn't noticed that there was a room. From that first time, dancing had made them impervious to the world.
Sophie loved to dance, and Owen didn't really care for dancing itself but loved to be with Sophie and move with Sophie and be alone with Sophie, even in a crowded club. Sophie liked to feel his hands on her back, underneath her hair, or strong and just a little unsure on her waist, liked to cup the back of his skull briefly, fingers tangling in his dark scruff of hair, liked to be close enough to smell his skin and gently guide him with just the shift of her hip.
"I'm not sure about this." Owen said, hands tight around her waist even after she'd touched the Levitation broom down.
"Don't be an idiot. You want to get over this or do you want to be scared of heights forever?"
She had to nudge back slightly to get him to let go of her, and then she swung herself off the broom, let him climb off and wriggle awkwardly - broom-flight was not the most practical method of transport for boys, and she grinned - and flicked the broom back into its gem, squeezing it a thanks as she pocketed it.
"I don't -" He'd looked over the edge. From the top of the bridge, they could see their entire world. "Oh gods."
She turned the CD player on as she put it down and took his hand. "S'okay. What can happen? I can fly, you think I'd let you fall?"
He held her hand shaking-tight, making her rings bruise into her skin, but she said nothing, just kept watching his eyes as he watched the world below them. A different world right now, because they were too high up for it to touch them.
It was beautiful, and she knew he must see that but not see it, the bridge all lit like a long, long Christmas tree and the sky huge with stars, cars trailing light below them, the city a huge spread-out disco ball, the water thick with light and finally dark blue instead of brown.
Owen's eyes finally trailed to hers, and he swallowed.
"You trust me, right?" she said, drawing him closer, arms around his shoulders.
His face twisted for a second. "You know I do."
"I'll never let you fall." she said, calmly, surely, stating a fact. "I'll never let you go."
Close enough so she could nudge him into moving with her hip, and it didn't even matter what song was playing, didn't even matter that there was a song playing, didn't even matter that they were so high up the world was an electric toy-town far below them and they could fall, fall, fall onto a road or into a river. Sophie fitted her head against the side of his neck and had he been made to fit her body so perfectly?
"I will never let you go." she said, and he turned his face into her hair and sighed, and she smiled.
26.
When My Boy Walks Down the Street
Adam hadn't known, when he'd fished the boy with brown hair out of the river, that this would happen - it had never happened before, after all. Luke's the first boy he's ever dragged out of a river.
Luke is wearing Adam's spare jeans, loose around his skinny hips, wearing layers of Adam's T-shirts with a shirt over the top and a jacket with his own rough grey cotton scarf, long hair tied back and blue eyes bright with Christmas lights, excited about everything like he's never seen Christmas before. Adam supposes he hasn't, actually. Luke's excitement makes him as bubbly as a child, chattering non-stop and staring up at the lights, mouth open and breath coming out in clouds of white and he doesn't let go of Adam's hand, which is the weirdest thing. It's making Adam's cheeks heat and making him scowl at anyone he can't avoid eye-contact with, challenging them to say something, but he doesn't want Luke to let go.
Luke turns to him and smiles, one of his fantastic little-boy smiles, all the joy in the world and Adam gives a wobbly, wry smile back. Luke's grin gets even broader, if that's possible, before he turns back to the street and starts talking rapidly and aimlessly about the fairy light-lit display in a bookshop window. Adam finally lets his breath out in a rush and tightens his hold on Luke's hand slightly. The world gets brighter around Luke, like he carries the fairy lights' glow around with him; Adam doesn't want to think how dark it's going to seem once they get him home.