Blind; Heroe; Mohinder/Sylar; PG
Title: Blind
Fandom/original: Heroes
Characters: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Word count: 211
A/N: Something I wanted to try out. Feedback much appreciated.
Summary: He doesn't see because he doesn't want to see.
Blind
The car door opens. Footsteps on the cooling asphalt. He feels the key turning in the lock, the inaudible mechanical clank vibrating between his fingers. The vent nearby hisses.
The door closes. His hand leaves the cold surface of the knob. He smells a waft of cologne behind him.
Luggage lands on the bed with a creak. Muffled voices from the television next door.
Click. The light switch is on.
“Mohinder, you sure you don’t mind?” He hears him say.
Zane.
No.
Sylar.
“No, no,” he hears himself reply. He is tired. He leans down, slides under the coarse covers. He hears the water running in the bathroom, the near-silent click of the bathroom door.
Click. The light is off.
The bed creaks. The mattress sags even more. The covers move, the rough texture sliding over him.
The plumbing next door drips, drips so loudly he can hear it through the paper-thin walls. A clank upstairs. The cupboard creaks.
If he listens closely, he can hear Sylar’s hearbeat.
If he listens closer, he can hear his resolve breaking.
His resolve to be blind to everything.
He hears Sylar breathing beside him and closes his eyes, because he knows if he looks, he can never be blind - blind to this - again.
Fandom/original: Heroes
Characters: Mohinder/Sylar
Rating: PG
Word count: 211
A/N: Something I wanted to try out. Feedback much appreciated.
Summary: He doesn't see because he doesn't want to see.
Blind
The car door opens. Footsteps on the cooling asphalt. He feels the key turning in the lock, the inaudible mechanical clank vibrating between his fingers. The vent nearby hisses.
The door closes. His hand leaves the cold surface of the knob. He smells a waft of cologne behind him.
Luggage lands on the bed with a creak. Muffled voices from the television next door.
Click. The light switch is on.
“Mohinder, you sure you don’t mind?” He hears him say.
Zane.
No.
Sylar.
“No, no,” he hears himself reply. He is tired. He leans down, slides under the coarse covers. He hears the water running in the bathroom, the near-silent click of the bathroom door.
Click. The light is off.
The bed creaks. The mattress sags even more. The covers move, the rough texture sliding over him.
The plumbing next door drips, drips so loudly he can hear it through the paper-thin walls. A clank upstairs. The cupboard creaks.
If he listens closely, he can hear Sylar’s hearbeat.
If he listens closer, he can hear his resolve breaking.
His resolve to be blind to everything.
He hears Sylar breathing beside him and closes his eyes, because he knows if he looks, he can never be blind - blind to this - again.