Reid Garwin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsdropin) wrote2010-03-06 04:10 am
letsdropin) wrote2010-03-06 04:10 am
just_muse_me 28.Bonus #1: Write about how you met your love.
It's at a party, and he's as close enough to his boyfriend to feel the thrill of appreciation mirroring his own run through them both almost simultaneously.
This probably won't end well, he thinks.
Surprisingly...
It does.
***
It was a brightly sunny coffee shop morning and the first day of classes. It felt too bright and too loud for him, and that was absurd, because he was loud, right? Except the people he was supposed to be loud with weren't there, and it hurt.
She mistook it for hangover, and it was the only free seat in her favorite place, so she asked if it was available anyway.
Neither of them was looking for anything; besides, he was a grad and she was technically professoring, not a good combination for any kind of involvement; it wasn't on either of their minds. But they talked, anyway. About Stephen King and hiding in the attic to listen to thunderstorms and he didn't hit on her, and she suggested that he should. Or might.
And while big, irretrievable parts of his heart were miles and miles away, the spark between them set him abuzz in a way that made him think that, all the rest considered, she might be right.
***
He was drained, at the end of his rope in a way nobody would have ever believed of him. Hollowed up by rejection after rejection after rejection, bite into his heart after another, deep and bleeding; by not reaching for and being held by the Power that was his life for months and months. Solitude and silence, that was the best way to not be a jerk to anyone anymore, wasn't it?
It stifled him; he wasn't the person to stay silent, or alone. The alternative hurt more, though, so he tightened in on himself, wound up, and carried on.
The patient couldn't be helped by traditional means. No, it wasn't saving her life; it wasn't even a case that would have hinted assisted suicide - chronically ill, yes, but for now, fully aware, just extremely, senselessly miserable. So he helped. Just opening himself up to the Use made him shiver with pleasure beyond what he'd known or allowed himself in a long, long time. And the anger was easier to face, when he let go, the awareness that he had done something battling with how drained he was after this kind of massive, delicate employ of his Power.
He had barely noticed her until he turned, after that, and a pair of too-bright eyes (the daughter of the patient, he registered) were fixed in an unsettling manner. He wasn't much up for talking, after this; he wasn't much up for talking these days anyway; let the daughter know that her mother was better and left her to that.
She didn't let go. Found him the next day, and asked. Asked, the way most people would never touch on events that outlandish and confusing.
Then again, most people would likely find her confusing, too.
***
Happened before where memory extends.
Muse: Reid Garwin
Fandom: The Covenant
Word count: 506
A/N: Here we have three different 'verses responses to the bonus prompt! Because it's bonus. All muses not mine or shared used with permission and much, much love.
This probably won't end well, he thinks.
Surprisingly...
It does.
***
It was a brightly sunny coffee shop morning and the first day of classes. It felt too bright and too loud for him, and that was absurd, because he was loud, right? Except the people he was supposed to be loud with weren't there, and it hurt.
She mistook it for hangover, and it was the only free seat in her favorite place, so she asked if it was available anyway.
Neither of them was looking for anything; besides, he was a grad and she was technically professoring, not a good combination for any kind of involvement; it wasn't on either of their minds. But they talked, anyway. About Stephen King and hiding in the attic to listen to thunderstorms and he didn't hit on her, and she suggested that he should. Or might.
And while big, irretrievable parts of his heart were miles and miles away, the spark between them set him abuzz in a way that made him think that, all the rest considered, she might be right.
***
He was drained, at the end of his rope in a way nobody would have ever believed of him. Hollowed up by rejection after rejection after rejection, bite into his heart after another, deep and bleeding; by not reaching for and being held by the Power that was his life for months and months. Solitude and silence, that was the best way to not be a jerk to anyone anymore, wasn't it?
It stifled him; he wasn't the person to stay silent, or alone. The alternative hurt more, though, so he tightened in on himself, wound up, and carried on.
The patient couldn't be helped by traditional means. No, it wasn't saving her life; it wasn't even a case that would have hinted assisted suicide - chronically ill, yes, but for now, fully aware, just extremely, senselessly miserable. So he helped. Just opening himself up to the Use made him shiver with pleasure beyond what he'd known or allowed himself in a long, long time. And the anger was easier to face, when he let go, the awareness that he had done something battling with how drained he was after this kind of massive, delicate employ of his Power.
He had barely noticed her until he turned, after that, and a pair of too-bright eyes (the daughter of the patient, he registered) were fixed in an unsettling manner. He wasn't much up for talking, after this; he wasn't much up for talking these days anyway; let the daughter know that her mother was better and left her to that.
She didn't let go. Found him the next day, and asked. Asked, the way most people would never touch on events that outlandish and confusing.
Then again, most people would likely find her confusing, too.
***
Happened before where memory extends.
Muse: Reid Garwin
Fandom: The Covenant
Word count: 506
A/N: Here we have three different 'verses responses to the bonus prompt! Because it's bonus. All muses not mine or shared used with permission and much, much love.