fic: Everything is Make Belief Except Our Feelings
Title: Everything is Make Belief Except Our Feelings
Author: terebi_ko
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Summary: AU. Everybody had an imaginary friend when they were kids. Brad's just happens to stay with him longer.
I had come up with a Brad/Ray prompt in Tumblr in which Ray is Brad's imaginary friend. And then the very nice and sweet sansdatelimite wrote me a drabble:
So I continued it, but I think I had turned it to a different direction.
But Ray’s been with him as far back as he can remember and there is no way Holden Caulfield’s view of his adolescent life can beat Ray’s opinion on how the world has deprived him and Brad of their democracy. That and another track from Avril Lavigne which Ray already started to sing, or rather, screech.
It’s not until Brad finally got up from his chair in the corner, the only chair the room, and walk across to sit on his bed next to Ray that he closed his mouth. Nobody says anything for a while, just sitting there staring at each other. Ray lifted his finger to touch Brad’s hand. Brad turned his palm up on impulse, letting Ray ran his fingers on it. He can feel it. It’s an odd feeling.
“Brad.” Ray started.
“Don’t,” Brad shook his head. “Just..don’t, Ray.”
“But I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Brad argued with a low voice, head still bowed with eyes never taking off of Ray’s fingers on his palm. “You’re not.”
Brad could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from Ray if it weren’t for the clicking sound of someone opening the door. He lift his head up and saw a man standing there, looking at him and then at the room.
“Brad.” He finally said. Brad acknowledge the sound of disappointment in his voice, but Brad choose to ignore that. They’ve talked about this.
“Doctor.” He gave a nod.
Dr. Fick sighed. “Come on, Brad. They’re waiting for you in the day room. We’re playing ‘Great Expectations’ today.” He ended it with a smile.
Brad rolled his eyes. “Oh no. Dickens.” He said with a mock, in which Dr. Fick just responded with a scoff and steps away from the door to let Brad out.
Brad let out a laugh and turn his head to his left, expecting a similar reaction from Ray. But his vision went straight to the dull cream coloured wall of his room, into emptiness. And when he looked down, his palm is still up, as if waiting for someone to take it and grasp it.
But there won’t be.
Author: terebi_ko
Pairing: Brad/Ray
Summary: AU. Everybody had an imaginary friend when they were kids. Brad's just happens to stay with him longer.
I had come up with a Brad/Ray prompt in Tumblr in which Ray is Brad's imaginary friend. And then the very nice and sweet sansdatelimite wrote me a drabble:
So I continued it, but I think I had turned it to a different direction.
But Ray’s been with him as far back as he can remember and there is no way Holden Caulfield’s view of his adolescent life can beat Ray’s opinion on how the world has deprived him and Brad of their democracy. That and another track from Avril Lavigne which Ray already started to sing, or rather, screech.
It’s not until Brad finally got up from his chair in the corner, the only chair the room, and walk across to sit on his bed next to Ray that he closed his mouth. Nobody says anything for a while, just sitting there staring at each other. Ray lifted his finger to touch Brad’s hand. Brad turned his palm up on impulse, letting Ray ran his fingers on it. He can feel it. It’s an odd feeling.
“Brad.” Ray started.
“Don’t,” Brad shook his head. “Just..don’t, Ray.”
“But I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Brad argued with a low voice, head still bowed with eyes never taking off of Ray’s fingers on his palm. “You’re not.”
Brad could almost hear the sharp intake of breath from Ray if it weren’t for the clicking sound of someone opening the door. He lift his head up and saw a man standing there, looking at him and then at the room.
“Brad.” He finally said. Brad acknowledge the sound of disappointment in his voice, but Brad choose to ignore that. They’ve talked about this.
“Doctor.” He gave a nod.
Dr. Fick sighed. “Come on, Brad. They’re waiting for you in the day room. We’re playing ‘Great Expectations’ today.” He ended it with a smile.
Brad rolled his eyes. “Oh no. Dickens.” He said with a mock, in which Dr. Fick just responded with a scoff and steps away from the door to let Brad out.
Brad let out a laugh and turn his head to his left, expecting a similar reaction from Ray. But his vision went straight to the dull cream coloured wall of his room, into emptiness. And when he looked down, his palm is still up, as if waiting for someone to take it and grasp it.
But there won’t be.