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i just like putting titles in these things.
So i've been utterly MIA, which is, as always, due to a bunch of real life stuff going on, though nothing beyond work being ridiculously busy and visits from/with family being crazy. But you don't want to hear about all that, and I don't want to talk about all that anyway. We all win!
In between all the ridiculous craziness, I have been getting (or, in most cases, attempting to get) a good deal of writing done here and there. Actually, come to think, less than I'd like. I spend far too much time drowning my free hours in online shopping and... other things, I'm sure. Maybe?
Anyway, I've been rifling through my writing files, and while I don't quite have what I'm sure many of you are looking/waiting for, I do have a couple of pieces I wrote for my last college class. And despite the name changes, I think it'll be pretty evident who I had in mind while I was writing this piece... so long as you consider the whole business of alternate universes and what have you.
Title: Don't really have one, but "poison" is what I saved it as...
Pairing: ...
Rating: pg-13
Parts: one-shot (with a follow-up, so I guess technically two...)
Disclaimer: ... Do I need one?
Summary: He could've said why in a note.
Notes: Reading back through this, there's certainly stuff I would've changed. As always, it wound up surprising me in other areas.
The train lurched forward, and B soon settled back in her seat with a sigh. No problems yet. The mindless chatter of the other passengers trickled around her and she rolled her head around to watch the scenery blur by.
The robotic voice of the train swam overhead, announcing the next stop, and B blinked in surprise. Already?
They rolled to a stop, and passengers began filtering in and out of the bullet train. She glanced at her watch. It had barely been a minute, geez.
“They don’t call these things bullet trains for nothing,” she muttered to herself. The crowd of people boarding was well over the crowd of people that had left, and they swarmed around the train in their search for empty seats.
B watched the high people-traffic with mild amusement—the turnout had been great. Whole families were out to celebrate the city’s first high-speed rail system; it was like opening day at Disneyland.
She spared a brief thought for the cargo in the back car.
“One minute until departure,” the train’s voice announced automatically. A handful of people were still milling around, looking for seats.
B glanced at the empty one next to her right as a body appeared beside it.
“Is this—” a voice started, and B looked up.
She took a moment to consider the young man standing before her, the shock in her expression mirrored in his.
Instantly her mind flew to the back car.
“What are you doing here,” she said icily.
He pulled his lips into a thin line, then responded, “Sitting down. This is the only seat left, and Hell if I’m standing.”
He slid into the seat with a brusque movement and stared straight ahead as the train began to pull forward.
B glared at him, but he only kept his eyes fixed on the seat in front of his as they sped above the city.
Finally she looked away, her once comfy seat now feeling stiff and rigid. Her mind flashed back to the cargo.
He knew something. He had to. He’d gotten wind of it somehow; there was no reason he’d just show up now, out of the blue. She hadn’t seen him in years, but that didn’t mean he had changed one whit.
Red knew something. He always did.
“What are you doing here,” she repeated, and it still wasn’t a question. The train drew to a stop again, and the ritual of passengers exiting and boarding began once more.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s always something with you. There’s always something going on, some evil thing I’m doing that necessitates you thwarting it.” He peeled open an eye and glanced at her. “I’m just taking a ride. I’ve been on my feet all day and I just wanna take a ride.”
“On your feet all day doing what?” she said quietly, and there was a pause. She looked at him again, and his eyes were focused determinedly ahead.
“Working,” he finally said.
“Red, really, that’s not why you’re here,” she said abruptly, and they began picking up speed again.
A cynical little smirk, at once familiar and distant, curled onto his lips. “That’s a tone I remember well. Haven’t changed much, have you?”
“Neither have you.”
“How would you know?”
She heard what might have been bitterness in his voice, and she responded in a similar fashion. “I know you.”
He laughed. “You haven’t seen me for four years, and beyond that, you didn’t even know me when you liked me.”
“You didn’t let me,” she blurted, old resentment and grief bubbling up out of nowhere, and as soon as she said it she wanted to shoot herself.
Instead she turned back to the window, fuming at her reflection, and watched Red in the window, deep in thought.
“I tried,” he finally said, and she just watched him. “You may not think so, but I really, really tried.”
B thought of all the times the signal had gone up for her, and how she’d found him, him, the trouble every time she arrived.
Of her siblings, she’d always been considered the least likely hero to go for the bad guy.
“You could’ve tried harder,” she mumbled.
“Relationship’s a two-way street, B,” he said flatly, and that silenced them both.
Another stop. People filtered out, people filtered in. The train started up again.
B’s thoughts were stuck on empty closets and the morning after, and she tried to focus her thoughts on the back car.
“What are you doing here?” he asked suddenly.
‘Keeping an eye out for people like you,’ she thought. “It’s the bullet train’s first run. They wanted me here to make sure everything ran smoothly.”
He scoffed. “Because you can save an entire train of people from certain death.”
“Nice of you to undermine my abilities,” she snapped.
“Hey. No need to get short with me.” Red cast a look around the train and said, “It isn’t about your ability. It’s about their… over-dependence on you.”
Familiar conversation, this. She squared her shoulders and said stiffly, “People with ‘special abilities’ have an obligation to help others.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “Such as yourself.”
His laugh was short, a sharp bark of a “Ha!” and he shot her a pointed look. “I don’t babysit.”
“There you go, belittling me again,” she huffed, eliciting a sigh from him. She studied the shimmering plastic of the seat before her. “People need help, Red.”
“Then they should stop fucking up their own lives,” he retorted. “I wasn’t put here to fix it for them.”
“No, apparently you think you’re supposed to make things worse,” she replied in a resentful tone, and now she couldn’t think of anything but sunlight pouring on an empty pillow and lonely breakfasts and damn it, damn it, damn it she needed to focus on the back car!
“My life isn’t long enough to waste acting in other people’s best interests.” Red’s voice carried a note of finality to it, and he stood up as they reached another stop. “I’m going to find another seat.”
The empty last car of the train suddenly surged to the front of her mind, but B was hurt and bitter and resentful all over, and frankly, she wanted him to just leave. “Yeah, leave,” she muttered. “You’re good at that.”
Red was standing in the aisle when she said it and he stopped, gripping the back of the seat, his eyes burning a hole in the floor as he struggled with the decision to respond or not. At last he took a deep breath and sat back down.
“You know why I left?”
No. “No, and I don’t care.” A lie.
“You’re always trying to save people,” he continued, his gaze directed at his knees.
“I’m trying to help them!”
“You tried to save me. And I didn’t need saving.”
Her shoulders slumped and she stared helplessly out the window, eyes searching the window for a response. “I was just trying to help you.”
“You wanted to make me some sort of hero—”
“Because you could be!”
“—But I didn’t want it,” he said emphatically. “I wished you had just let me be. I wished you hadn’t tried to change me, I wish you’d just left me to my own devices—”
“I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t for my side,” she started.
“I could’ve,” he said, a little too loud to sound natural, and went on in a quieter voice, “I wish you could’ve, too. I really wanted—I wouldn’t have left, if you’d just left me alone.”
B bit her lip and looked around aimlessly before finally leaning forward and sinking her head into her arms. “You make this sound like it was all my fault,” she said with a cynical laugh.
He continued to stare at his feet. “Relationship’s a two-way street,” he said finally.
She just nodded, trying not to think of all the times she’d sat in that house, slept in that bed and wished, wished, wished.
The train was coming to a stop again, and she could hear him shifting, getting ready to stand.
“You could’ve left a note,” she suddenly said, and she heard him pause. She kept her face buried in her hands. “The least you could’ve done was leave a note. You could’ve—you could’ve said why in a note.” Her voice was threatening to crack and she hated it because she thought four years had been long enough to get over everything. “You just… I just woke up and you weren’t there, and I didn’t… all your stuff was gone and I just wish you’d left a fucking note.”
She finished babbling, feeling stupid and immature and wishing he had never left.
The two of them sat, absorbing each other’s silence.
B lifted her head and directed a feeble look in his direction just as he reached a hand for her.
It brushed through her hair, a familiar gesture that was totally incongruent four years in the after, and he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
Her hand fumbled against his and she sighed. “It’s just… closure would’ve been nice, you know,” she said quietly.
His eyes were heavy-lidded and focused intently on hers, sad and genuine and devoid of any traces of malevolent thoughts. Maybe that was what had made her try.
He gave her hand a squeeze and said quietly, “Sorry, B,” before pulling away, his hand trailing along hers.
Even when faced with the option of watching him leave she didn’t really want to.
The train stopped, and started. She closed her eyes.
The next second there was a jarring explosion, and the train braked sharply, sending people screaming out of their seats, into the aisles, and B leapt to her feet and sped to the back of the train, her heart pounding relentlessly behind her eyes as she raced to the final car—
She came to a stop. The entire car was gone, and so was the cargo, and so was Red.
Red had known. He always did.
-fin-
The follow-up piece to this will get posted soon :)
In between all the ridiculous craziness, I have been getting (or, in most cases, attempting to get) a good deal of writing done here and there. Actually, come to think, less than I'd like. I spend far too much time drowning my free hours in online shopping and... other things, I'm sure. Maybe?
Anyway, I've been rifling through my writing files, and while I don't quite have what I'm sure many of you are looking/waiting for, I do have a couple of pieces I wrote for my last college class. And despite the name changes, I think it'll be pretty evident who I had in mind while I was writing this piece... so long as you consider the whole business of alternate universes and what have you.
Title: Don't really have one, but "poison" is what I saved it as...
Pairing: ...
Rating: pg-13
Parts: one-shot (with a follow-up, so I guess technically two...)
Disclaimer: ... Do I need one?
Summary: He could've said why in a note.
Notes: Reading back through this, there's certainly stuff I would've changed. As always, it wound up surprising me in other areas.
The train lurched forward, and B soon settled back in her seat with a sigh. No problems yet. The mindless chatter of the other passengers trickled around her and she rolled her head around to watch the scenery blur by.
The robotic voice of the train swam overhead, announcing the next stop, and B blinked in surprise. Already?
They rolled to a stop, and passengers began filtering in and out of the bullet train. She glanced at her watch. It had barely been a minute, geez.
“They don’t call these things bullet trains for nothing,” she muttered to herself. The crowd of people boarding was well over the crowd of people that had left, and they swarmed around the train in their search for empty seats.
B watched the high people-traffic with mild amusement—the turnout had been great. Whole families were out to celebrate the city’s first high-speed rail system; it was like opening day at Disneyland.
She spared a brief thought for the cargo in the back car.
“One minute until departure,” the train’s voice announced automatically. A handful of people were still milling around, looking for seats.
B glanced at the empty one next to her right as a body appeared beside it.
“Is this—” a voice started, and B looked up.
She took a moment to consider the young man standing before her, the shock in her expression mirrored in his.
Instantly her mind flew to the back car.
“What are you doing here,” she said icily.
He pulled his lips into a thin line, then responded, “Sitting down. This is the only seat left, and Hell if I’m standing.”
He slid into the seat with a brusque movement and stared straight ahead as the train began to pull forward.
B glared at him, but he only kept his eyes fixed on the seat in front of his as they sped above the city.
Finally she looked away, her once comfy seat now feeling stiff and rigid. Her mind flashed back to the cargo.
He knew something. He had to. He’d gotten wind of it somehow; there was no reason he’d just show up now, out of the blue. She hadn’t seen him in years, but that didn’t mean he had changed one whit.
Red knew something. He always did.
“What are you doing here,” she repeated, and it still wasn’t a question. The train drew to a stop again, and the ritual of passengers exiting and boarding began once more.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s always something with you. There’s always something going on, some evil thing I’m doing that necessitates you thwarting it.” He peeled open an eye and glanced at her. “I’m just taking a ride. I’ve been on my feet all day and I just wanna take a ride.”
“On your feet all day doing what?” she said quietly, and there was a pause. She looked at him again, and his eyes were focused determinedly ahead.
“Working,” he finally said.
“Red, really, that’s not why you’re here,” she said abruptly, and they began picking up speed again.
A cynical little smirk, at once familiar and distant, curled onto his lips. “That’s a tone I remember well. Haven’t changed much, have you?”
“Neither have you.”
“How would you know?”
She heard what might have been bitterness in his voice, and she responded in a similar fashion. “I know you.”
He laughed. “You haven’t seen me for four years, and beyond that, you didn’t even know me when you liked me.”
“You didn’t let me,” she blurted, old resentment and grief bubbling up out of nowhere, and as soon as she said it she wanted to shoot herself.
Instead she turned back to the window, fuming at her reflection, and watched Red in the window, deep in thought.
“I tried,” he finally said, and she just watched him. “You may not think so, but I really, really tried.”
B thought of all the times the signal had gone up for her, and how she’d found him, him, the trouble every time she arrived.
Of her siblings, she’d always been considered the least likely hero to go for the bad guy.
“You could’ve tried harder,” she mumbled.
“Relationship’s a two-way street, B,” he said flatly, and that silenced them both.
Another stop. People filtered out, people filtered in. The train started up again.
B’s thoughts were stuck on empty closets and the morning after, and she tried to focus her thoughts on the back car.
“What are you doing here?” he asked suddenly.
‘Keeping an eye out for people like you,’ she thought. “It’s the bullet train’s first run. They wanted me here to make sure everything ran smoothly.”
He scoffed. “Because you can save an entire train of people from certain death.”
“Nice of you to undermine my abilities,” she snapped.
“Hey. No need to get short with me.” Red cast a look around the train and said, “It isn’t about your ability. It’s about their… over-dependence on you.”
Familiar conversation, this. She squared her shoulders and said stiffly, “People with ‘special abilities’ have an obligation to help others.” After a moment of consideration, she added, “Such as yourself.”
His laugh was short, a sharp bark of a “Ha!” and he shot her a pointed look. “I don’t babysit.”
“There you go, belittling me again,” she huffed, eliciting a sigh from him. She studied the shimmering plastic of the seat before her. “People need help, Red.”
“Then they should stop fucking up their own lives,” he retorted. “I wasn’t put here to fix it for them.”
“No, apparently you think you’re supposed to make things worse,” she replied in a resentful tone, and now she couldn’t think of anything but sunlight pouring on an empty pillow and lonely breakfasts and damn it, damn it, damn it she needed to focus on the back car!
“My life isn’t long enough to waste acting in other people’s best interests.” Red’s voice carried a note of finality to it, and he stood up as they reached another stop. “I’m going to find another seat.”
The empty last car of the train suddenly surged to the front of her mind, but B was hurt and bitter and resentful all over, and frankly, she wanted him to just leave. “Yeah, leave,” she muttered. “You’re good at that.”
Red was standing in the aisle when she said it and he stopped, gripping the back of the seat, his eyes burning a hole in the floor as he struggled with the decision to respond or not. At last he took a deep breath and sat back down.
“You know why I left?”
No. “No, and I don’t care.” A lie.
“You’re always trying to save people,” he continued, his gaze directed at his knees.
“I’m trying to help them!”
“You tried to save me. And I didn’t need saving.”
Her shoulders slumped and she stared helplessly out the window, eyes searching the window for a response. “I was just trying to help you.”
“You wanted to make me some sort of hero—”
“Because you could be!”
“—But I didn’t want it,” he said emphatically. “I wished you had just let me be. I wished you hadn’t tried to change me, I wish you’d just left me to my own devices—”
“I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t for my side,” she started.
“I could’ve,” he said, a little too loud to sound natural, and went on in a quieter voice, “I wish you could’ve, too. I really wanted—I wouldn’t have left, if you’d just left me alone.”
B bit her lip and looked around aimlessly before finally leaning forward and sinking her head into her arms. “You make this sound like it was all my fault,” she said with a cynical laugh.
He continued to stare at his feet. “Relationship’s a two-way street,” he said finally.
She just nodded, trying not to think of all the times she’d sat in that house, slept in that bed and wished, wished, wished.
The train was coming to a stop again, and she could hear him shifting, getting ready to stand.
“You could’ve left a note,” she suddenly said, and she heard him pause. She kept her face buried in her hands. “The least you could’ve done was leave a note. You could’ve—you could’ve said why in a note.” Her voice was threatening to crack and she hated it because she thought four years had been long enough to get over everything. “You just… I just woke up and you weren’t there, and I didn’t… all your stuff was gone and I just wish you’d left a fucking note.”
She finished babbling, feeling stupid and immature and wishing he had never left.
The two of them sat, absorbing each other’s silence.
B lifted her head and directed a feeble look in his direction just as he reached a hand for her.
It brushed through her hair, a familiar gesture that was totally incongruent four years in the after, and he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
Her hand fumbled against his and she sighed. “It’s just… closure would’ve been nice, you know,” she said quietly.
His eyes were heavy-lidded and focused intently on hers, sad and genuine and devoid of any traces of malevolent thoughts. Maybe that was what had made her try.
He gave her hand a squeeze and said quietly, “Sorry, B,” before pulling away, his hand trailing along hers.
Even when faced with the option of watching him leave she didn’t really want to.
The train stopped, and started. She closed her eyes.
The next second there was a jarring explosion, and the train braked sharply, sending people screaming out of their seats, into the aisles, and B leapt to her feet and sped to the back of the train, her heart pounding relentlessly behind her eyes as she raced to the final car—
She came to a stop. The entire car was gone, and so was the cargo, and so was Red.
Red had known. He always did.
-fin-
The follow-up piece to this will get posted soon :)
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“The least you could've done was leave a note. You could've—you could’ve said why in a note.” Her voice was threatening to crack and she hated it because she thought four years had been long enough to get over everything. “You just… I just woke up and you weren't there, and I didn't… all your stuff was gone and I just wish you’d left a fucking note.”
I absolutely adore your talent for dialogue. It gets me every time. So much emotion! I get a little prick in my chest just reading it.
The ending was superb. I was expecting it, but it still took my breath away. I am in awe. :)
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