TITLE: Muted Recoil
AUTHOR: overly_utopian
E-MAIL: cordy100@a...
IMPROV: #12. rapt - crimson - despair- headlights - dragonfly
RATING: PG-13, maybe R because it with rape, So I guess R, just to be
safe.
PAIRING (if any): Daphne, Justin
VERSION (UK or US): US
SPOILERS (if any): Justin and Daph's relationship, pretty much all of
the first seson until 119. Many spoilers for 119.
SUMMARY: Daphne POV on Justin. What happened to her after episode
103? My take... Grr... I hate summaries.
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine. Damn. Everyone just HAS to keep
bringing that up. ;-)
FEEDBACK: I will grovel...
ARCHIVE: Sure, just tell me first.
You stood, rapt at attention, crimson despair running down your
cheeks [which cheeks?]. Raped but warned. Hoped you wouldn't fuck it
up again, so you waited, but he never came back that night.
Neither of them did.
Chased dragonflies through alleyways, hoping to catch a glimpse of
pedophilia crossing the rainbows of liberty. He disappeared,
obsession appeared in his place.
Dejectedly, you walked back home alone, prepared for the usual
barrage of racist comments, accusations, and reverse discrimination.
You said nothing. No screams, cries, tears. Stood dormant, maybe it's
to be expected? Perfectly normal to tell no one. Not even your best
friend.
Your best friend who'd already disappeared, even if you didn't notice
it right then.
It was ok. You were allowed to keep secrets too. He sure as hell
wasn't telling you everything about his life anymore.
You lied to him, ironically. Virginity was overrated, you told
yourself. You were no virgin. Consensually though, perhaps.
Used it to get closer to him, tried to reel him in, hook line sinker,
closer than before.
How much closer could you have gotten?
"Please Justin please? I want my first time to be you." It was almost
funny.
The sex was amazing, at least to you. Nothing funny about it though.
You saw fireworks exploding flashing lights tasted the fourth of July
spilled stickly sweet salty punch and poppers.
He saw you. Saw bland, boring, sidekick daph, only around for a few
cheap giggles and maybe some gossip. His new life at Babylon [oooh
ahhhh] was ten times more exciting. You'd been there and it wasn't
all it was cracked up to be.
You weren't enough for him, apparently.
He ricochetted; Newton told you he would. Each action has an equal
and opposite reaction. Warm cocoa melted pallidity. Burned the
bridges. And to you there WAS a spark, he just hadn't seen it yet.
Your parents didn't understand. Blurred barriers, nearly yielded to
their distorted perception of interracial interaction. They claimed
it had to do with pride, self respect, So, you asked yourself, why do
you feel like shit without him?
No more. You'd promised yourself you'd tell him. Reestablish a
relationship whether he wanted it or not. At least get it out in the
open.
You tried to confront him, inform him really, and elucidate the blatant.
Opened your mouth when he came to see you at the record store, to let
something other than idle chit chat tumble through your trachea. You
weren't expecting him so turned deer-in-headlights...
I love you love you love you love you love youDAMMIT! You can't say
it.
He did come to see you after all, so let him speak first. What? What
card? Friendship is the highest form of... inability to express
yourself.
You'd grown surprisingly accustomed to saying nothing, and it was made
easier by the fact that you longer had anyone to speak to.
You gave up. Seemed futile anyway.
And when you felt yourself slipping away, you let him go. There was
no point in stunting him, he'd bounced away that first night he'd
banged Brian. Rebound. It was only natural, only fair. No use
fighting with physics.
So you closed your mouth, and let science take its toll.
You stood, rapt at attention, crimson despair running down your
cheeks [which cheeks?]. Raped but warned. Hoped you wouldn't fuck it
up again, so you waited, but he never came back that night.
Neither of them did.
Chased dragonflies through alleyways, hoping to catch a glimpse of
pedophilia crossing the rainbows of liberty. He disappeared,
obsession appeared in his place.
Dejectedly, you walked back home alone, prepared for the usual
barrage of racist comments, accusations, and reverse discrimination.
You said nothing. No screams, cries, tears. Stood dormant, maybe it's
to be expected? Perfectly normal to tell no one. Not even your best
friend.
Your best friend who'd already disappeared, even if you didn't notice
it right then.
It was ok. You were allowed to keep secrets too. He sure as hell
wasn't telling you everything about his life anymore.
You lied to him, ironically. Virginity was overrated, you told
yourself. You were no virgin. Consensually though, perhaps.
Used it to get closer to him, tried to reel him in, hook line sinker,
closer than before.
How much closer could you have gotten?
"Please Justin please? I want my first time to be you." It was almost
funny.
The sex was amazing, at least to you. Nothing funny about it though.
You saw fireworks exploding flashing lights tasted the fourth of July
spilled stickly sweet salty punch and poppers.
He saw you. Saw bland, boring, sidekick daph, only around for a few
cheap giggles and maybe some gossip. His new life at Babylon [oooh
ahhhh] was ten times more exciting. You'd been there and it wasn't
all it was cracked up to be.
You weren't enough for him, apparently.
He ricochetted; Newton told you he would. Each action has an equal
and opposite reaction. Warm cocoa melted pallidity. Burned the
bridges. And to you there WAS a spark, he just hadn't seen it yet.
Your parents didn't understand. Blurred barriers, nearly yielded to
their distorted perception of interracial interaction. They claimed
it had to do with pride, self respect, So, you asked yourself, why do
you feel like shit without him?
No more. You'd promised yourself you'd tell him. Reestablish a
relationship whether he wanted it or not. At least get it out in the
open.
You tried to confront him, inform him really, and elucidate the blatant.
Opened your mouth when he came to see you at the record store, to let
something other than idle chit chat tumble through your trachea. You
weren't expecting him so turned deer-in-headlights...
I love you love you love you love you love youDAMMIT! You can't say
it.
He did come to see you after all, so let him speak first. What? What
card? Friendship is the highest form of... inability to express
yourself.
You'd grown surprisingly accustomed to saying nothing, and it was made
easier by the fact that you longer had anyone to speak to.
You gave up. Seemed futile anyway.
And when you felt yourself slipping away, you let him go. There was
no point in stunting him, he'd bounced away that first night he'd
banged Brian. Rebound. It was only natural, only fair. No use
fighting with physics.
So you closed your mouth, and let science take its toll.