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Dec. 14th, 2011 12:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsI have an actual post sitting in drafts that needs to be finished and posted, but until then, have a meme.
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three sentences from that story.
One sentence. I can do that.
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three sentences from that story.
One sentence. I can do that.
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Date: 2011-12-14 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 02:38 pm (UTC)None of that matters.
Slowly he approaches the bone tree, sand shifting under his feet and a hot wind flinging dust in his eyes. Gerard squints and stretches up high, hanging the tin can from a needle-like branch.
Immediately it starts swinging, bright metal glinting, star-bursts of light that never stop shining.
One tin can of many. Representing the here and the now, those living and lost.
Gerard reaches out his hand, takes hold of Mikey's and Ray's, looks to ensure Frank and Bob are holding on too.
When he's sure that they are, Gerard says simply, "Happy Christmas."
And it's not the same, it can't be.
It's enough.
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Date: 2011-12-14 03:06 pm (UTC)"Are you sure you've got everything?" Pete asks, unable to stand still as he paces the hallway. "All your bags and boxes? The box of kitchen shit?"
Mikey reaches out, grabbing Pete as he passes. "They've got everything."
"Are you sure?" For a moment Pete relaxes back against Mikey, allowing him to hold on before wiggling away. "I'm going to go check."
Almost tripping over Hemmy in his haste to get out, Pete opens the front door, joining the crowd of people helping Spencer pack boxes and bags into Pete's car.
And Brendon knows he should be out there too. He should be arranging boxes and ensuring that his clothes and Ryan's books have actually made it from the bedroom to car -- but somehow he can't move from this spot.
Huddled inside of his hoody, he stays by the stairs, leashes hanging from hooks behind him and a pile of shoes on the floor.
They're things he's seen daily for years now, and even though he's ready to go, wants to go, the thought of actually leaving Clan House is suddenly too much.
"There's cookies in the kitchen," Mikey says sudden;y, looking fondly at Pete before closing the door. "Gerard made them, and left a fucking mess."
"He always does," Brendon says, and then, "If you want I can help you clean up."
Mikey smiles, says, "Always."
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Date: 2011-12-14 03:41 pm (UTC)Motherhen Pete! Nervous Brendon! Awesome Mikey! ALL THE HUGS!!!
I realise hugs aren't shown but that's what this feels like to me. THEY ARE THE BEST FAMILY.
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Date: 2011-12-14 03:43 pm (UTC)One tin can of many. Representing the here and the now, those living and lost.
Oh. Oh my heart. This is amazing.
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Date: 2011-12-14 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 06:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 07:22 pm (UTC)They are a family. When you asked I immediately flashed back to Mikey and Brendon cleaning for some reason, and figured it's just what Brendon needed then. Something familiar, and to show yet again that Clan House is his home, even when he does move on.
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Date: 2011-12-14 07:23 pm (UTC)Thank you.
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Date: 2011-12-14 07:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-14 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 05:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2011-12-19 05:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-21 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-24 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-24 02:49 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2012-03-29 03:47 pm (UTC)Sorry for being so late.
It turns out that stepping outside of his house doesn't magically become easy. It becomes easier, especially when Frank's accompanied by Mikey -- but easy? Not yet.
It's why Frank's hesitating now, his head pounding and chest tight as he stares at the door. Outside it's raining -- again -- and Frank tries to calm down his breathing, pulling in air through his nose and out of his mouth, resolutely following the techniques he's been researching online.
"Gabe's learned to moon walk," Mikey says, the only warning Frank gets before he's hugged from behind, Mikey wrapping his arms around Frank and holding him close. "Last text I got he was having a thrust off with Michael."
"He's allowed to do that?" Frank still hasn't met Gabriel -- Gabe -- hasn't met most of Mikey's friends in fact, but he can remember the welcome pack, and somehow Frank can't reconcile the solemn man in the photos with this moonwalking friend of Mikey's.
Mikey laughs, his breath warm against Frank's neck. "There's nothing in the rules to say he can't, and even if there was, he'd ignore them."
"I can why you're friends, then," Frank says, turning his head a little so he can smell the scent of below that still clings to Mikey's skin hours after his last visit. "I want to meet him."
"You will," Mikey promises, and while Frank can't actually see, he knows that Mikey's smiling, his happiness something Frank clings onto.
Frank pulls in another deep breath and takes a step forward. "We should go now."
"Yeah," Mikey agrees. Straightening, he moves around Frank and opens the door, shivering when instantly, he's caught in a gust of cold wind. Mikey wipes raindrops from off of his face, and then holds out his hand, entwining his fingers with Frank's. "You ready to do this?"
Frank tightens his grip on Mikey's hand, clinging on as outside the rain starts to ease back to a light drizzle. Which is enough, is the best Frank can do right now as he says, "I'm ready," before stepping outside.
~~~~~
Frank isn't sure how long it takes to get to the party, but by the time that they do his hand is clammy with sweat and Mikey's fingers have to be crushed. Still, at least they're here now and Frank starts to breath easier as Mikey approaches a small building and pushes open the front door.
As soon as he does so Frank can hear the noise from inside. Music and laughter and countless people talking at once -- and before Frank would have loved this. Before the dog and the accident and being thrust into a situation that came along with fears that won't quit. Now Frank's anxiety is surging, the urge to get inside where it's safe battling with the inevitable consequences of actually doing so, and being thrust into a big group.
"It's bigger than it looks from outside," Mikey says, ignoring the new spattering of rain as he rubs his thumb across the back of Frank's hand. "Or if you want we can go back."
More than anything Frank wants to say yes, but he won't, not when he's already taken these first steps. Swallowing to get moisture back into his mouth, Frank says, "I want to see Gabriel moonwalk."
"Better that than wanting to see him thrust, that's fucking scarring," Mikey says on a laugh, gently urging Frank forward by tugging his hand. "And it's Gabe, he only uses Gabriel for the official shit."
"Okay, Gabe, got it," Frank says, sure he'll never be able to address Gabriel in such an informal way. Hell, right now even the thought of addressing Gabriel at all feels weird.
Mikey smiles, says, "They'll love you,"and before Frank can over-think what he's doing, they both go inside.
Instantly Frank's head is spinning. Hit with a wave of heat and noise, it's like he's gone from zero to one hundred in seconds and Frank's clinging to Mikey, the only steady constant in a world that's suddenly too much.
Mikey moves in closer, his whole body pressed close to Frank's and then says, "Look."
Grateful for the distraction, Frank does, his mouth dropping open as he sees Michael Jackson and Freddie Mercury having what appears to be a strut off as they walk the length of a giant marble table. It's something Frank never expected to see, something so surreal that it doesn't even register that Mikey's moving, pulling Frank along with him until they're both standing at the end of the table, close enough to touch as Freddie stops walking and crouches so he's close to their level.
"Mikey. I haven't seen you around for a while," Freddie says, his white pants pulling up and ankles exposed. "You missed Kurt's deathday party."
Mikey laughs, says, "After what I heard it's probably for the best, and I had a good reason."
"Yeah?" Freddie's attention turns from Mikey to Frank, his mouth twitching up into a smile as he takes in their clasped hands. "Bloody hell, don't tell me you're Mikey's other half. We'd all started to think he was in a relationship with his wanking hand."
Unsure how to reply, or even if he needs to reply, Frank looks at Mikey, hoping for some kind of clue. Or more important, a reminder of how to form words, because seriously, Freddie Mercury, is right there talking to Frank.
"It's him," Mikey says finally, and then, "Frank, meet Freddie. Freddie, meet Frank, my boyfriend."
"It's good to finally meet you," Freddie says, and indicates the expanse of table behind him. "How are you at strutting? You need to get up here and show your old man how it's done."
Frank looks past Freddie's legs, watching as Michael spins and goes onto his tip toes. "Not today."
And Frank won't. It's too soon for something so public, but at least he's here, with Mikey, taking yet another step to reclaim this new existence.
This new life.