Let My Lips Not Pollute Your Name
Title: Let My Lips Not Pollute Your Name
Fandom: Heroes
Characters/Pairing: Possibly Peter/Sylar
Rating: G
Word Count: 540
Warning: none
Notes: I didn't start this with a pairing in mind, but it sort of became Peter and Sylar. Its been hanging around in my notebook for ages and I figured that it needed to get out more.
The brick is rough and cool beneath my palms; my feet hang over a drop, over empty air, an area of pure space.
They come up behind me, laying a hand upon my shoulder. It’s cool up here and their hand is warm and just rests there.
We stay together, staring out across the dark but lit by the occasional building, a shining beacon in the midst of the quiet. It is not beautiful though, for all its brilliance, this city that when seen by the grey light of day is as dull as the watch upon my wrist.
It doesn’t even work, both the city and my watch. Both are cheap and could be destroyed without any damage to the world. The only difference between them is that I would miss my watch.
My companion’s hand twitches on my shoulder, fingers gently grasp my collar and tug at the cotton, they’re getting cold.
I force myself to drag weary eyes away from the brilliance and towards their face. They are just as tired as me, the circles under their eyes accentuated by the shadows that the city throws upon them, purple violence.
I lift my hands to grasp theirs, long fingers curl around mine and pull me to my feet balancing on the low brick wall. A gust of unexpected wind causes me to sway backwards briefly over the drop behind me. Their hand tightens over mine, but it’s unnecessary. I was in no danger.
As I stepped from the wall they release my hand and step backwards. The moment of quiet comfort has evaporated now with the barest sliver of dawn light over a plain horizon.
They back away even more, putting distance between us. In the coming light of day we are not friends or companions or anything else that could be in anyway affectionate. I restrain myself from attempting to reach out to them; I know that it will only end badly for me. They might not come back again.
It is an uneasy agreement, they seem to be content with the arrangement, but I constantly yearn for more.
.....................................................................................
Tonight they are back again. Once again we are on a rooftop, I glance at my watch, force of habit, then at the clock tower to my right. Three hours until sunrise, I want to make the most of it.
I turn to them and hold out my arms, in the darkness of the night it is easier between us. They step forwards and allow themselves to be engulfed by my embrace. They don’t return it but it is not discouraged either.
When they speak it is at a whisper, as though afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the night.
‘Why are we doing this?’ Murmured into my shoulder.
‘Because it’s harder not to.’ At this I feel their arms not return the hug, warm and firm.
‘When will this stop?’ I feel it rather than hear it, a low rumble against my neck. It is a rhetorical question so I say nothing aloud but in my head I’m praying that the answer is never. All I can do is tighten my hold on the body in my arms and stare across the barren city.
fin.