Title: Fragile as Glass
Author: BehrBeMine
Feedback: PLEASE! I will hug you and kiss you and love you and squeeze you, and... Well, I'll say thank you very enthusiastically. behrbemine@hotmail.com
Distribution: My sites, 'Solemn One' (http://solemnone.tripod.com/) and 'Into Oblivion' (http://behrbemine.tripod.com/); 'Capeside Diaries'. To archive anywhere else, just ask.
Summary: It's the nature of Dawson and Joey's love.
Rating: R
Pairing: Dawson/Joey
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p
Spoilers: 'The Song Remains the Same'
Warning: sadness (like you'd expect anything else from me)
She was in tears again. She'd had a whole night to cry, and cry she did; now she was crying again.
She sobbed over the broken snowglobe on the floor. On her knees, she tried desperately to find pieces that would fit together, as though they were nothing but the pieces of an unsolved puzzle. The word "Hollywood" stared up at her from the miniature plastic city, reminding her of what she'd done, making her die inside.
She tried to force herself to take in long, deep breaths. She closed her eyes and winced in pain as a sharp piece of glass cut into the delicate skin on the palm of her hand. Now droplets of blood were added to the broken mess on her dorm room floor.
Joey sniffled and set as many pieces of glass onto her desk as she could find, determined to salvage her most precious birthday present. Given by the person dearest to her heart.
The glass was still wet from the water it had previously trapped inside its dome shape. The water found its way to her cut and smeared the blood on her hand. She didn't stop to bother with tending to her wound. It was more important to find a way to undo what had happened.
The bottom half of the snowglobe remained intact, the fragments of glass still attached to it resembling the concrete evidence of a bubble that had been popped. Broken in an instant like her bubble of happiness she'd allowed herself to live in for a day. But one day had been enough. Things had happened, and the happiness she had shared with Dawson for such a short time was no more.
She tried to forget what had happened that night, when she gave Dawson what he'd been wanting since the age of fifteen. If she couldn't remember it as being perfect anymore, then she thought it best to not think of it at all.
Best not to think of the way his hands were so gentle as they discovered every curve, every sensitive part of her. Best not to remember the blissful oblivion she fell into as he slid inside of her, or the way their eyes locked when he paused as soon as he entered her, letting the feeling sink in, cherishing the moment for all it was worth. Best to forget the way fire spread through her veins as he gently kissed her nipples and trailed fingers delicately over her breasts.
It was too hard to remember these things when she feared she'd never experience them again. Not with him.
She tried to block out the things that he'd said as he laid on top of her, needed to forget the love in his eyes that surpassed the underlying lust.
("Remember 'Braveheart'?" he'd said, his voice husky with desire. "'I love you... Always have.'")
It made the tears come faster when she remembered how it felt as he slid his entire length into her, then slid all the way back out until just the tip remained at her entrance. The need in her voice when she said "Please..." echoed in her ears, and she remembered the pure wanting that had driven her to buck her hips up in a desperate attempt to bring him back inside, deep inside.
("I feel like we're in a movie," she'd said to him, her lips to his ear as he buried his face in the side of her neck.
"A porno?" he'd asked, and she'd laughed. It was too beautiful for that.)
With her uninjured hand, Joey subconsciously touched her neck, where Dawson had made a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, dipping down her chest all the way to her flat stomach. In the quietness of the room, she recalled the sound of her moan as she'd arched up into his chest. Recalled, too, his shuddering sigh as he came inside of her.
Crying out his name, she'd closed her eyes tight and bit her lip to keep from screaming as her orgasm took over. The darkness behind her eyelids became white with flashes of light that continued even after her body had settled down.
She hadn't opened her eyes until Dawson had kissed both her eyelids and asked her to look at him. She'd obeyed and the first thing she saw was Dawson's loving smile. He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down on top of hers. She'd reached up to cup his face in her hands, drawing it down to hers for a kiss to seal in all that had happened.
(She remembered a night during high school when they had kissed in a boat on the water. The moon glistening down accented the shimmering stillness that surrounded them. And they thought about sleeping together.
"The night is young," Dawson had said, liking the feel of her back up against his chest.
But in a child's whisper, she'd answered, "So are we.")
Emotionally exhausted, Joey dropped down onto her unmade bed. She couldn't stop thinking of how she'd sent the snowglobe flying with one careless sweep of her arm. Couldn't forgive herself for breaking the gift that she had been given on the night that things were perfect.
Joey knew she would never understand why nothing with Dawson could work out. Why she'd always have her ideals reduced to that of a fifteen year-old child when it came to being his lover. Why she couldn't just let things happen with him.
(Looking at her best friend with fondness, she'd stilled the swing holding up her body. Looking past the chains to either side, she'd looked only at Dawson. And she'd told him the only thing she'd always known to be true.
"You'll always have a piece of my heart.")
She laid down, grateful for the softness of her pillow beneath her aching head. Too many thoughts and too many tears for her to handle had been hers that day, and she begged for sleep, to take her away from a day when everything that had been right had gone wrong. Wanted to let go of the anguish that inevitably came along with Dawson's love.
She closed her eyes against the world, hating her heart for hurting her so, and hating her love for Dawson because it would always be as fragile as the snowglobe's broken glass.
- -
end
Author: BehrBeMine
Feedback: PLEASE! I will hug you and kiss you and love you and squeeze you, and... Well, I'll say thank you very enthusiastically. behrbemine@hotmail.com
Distribution: My sites, 'Solemn One' (http://solemnone.tripod.com/) and 'Into Oblivion' (http://behrbemine.tripod.com/); 'Capeside Diaries'. To archive anywhere else, just ask.
Summary: It's the nature of Dawson and Joey's love.
Rating: R
Pairing: Dawson/Joey
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p
Spoilers: 'The Song Remains the Same'
Warning: sadness (like you'd expect anything else from me)
She was in tears again. She'd had a whole night to cry, and cry she did; now she was crying again.
She sobbed over the broken snowglobe on the floor. On her knees, she tried desperately to find pieces that would fit together, as though they were nothing but the pieces of an unsolved puzzle. The word "Hollywood" stared up at her from the miniature plastic city, reminding her of what she'd done, making her die inside.
She tried to force herself to take in long, deep breaths. She closed her eyes and winced in pain as a sharp piece of glass cut into the delicate skin on the palm of her hand. Now droplets of blood were added to the broken mess on her dorm room floor.
Joey sniffled and set as many pieces of glass onto her desk as she could find, determined to salvage her most precious birthday present. Given by the person dearest to her heart.
The glass was still wet from the water it had previously trapped inside its dome shape. The water found its way to her cut and smeared the blood on her hand. She didn't stop to bother with tending to her wound. It was more important to find a way to undo what had happened.
The bottom half of the snowglobe remained intact, the fragments of glass still attached to it resembling the concrete evidence of a bubble that had been popped. Broken in an instant like her bubble of happiness she'd allowed herself to live in for a day. But one day had been enough. Things had happened, and the happiness she had shared with Dawson for such a short time was no more.
She tried to forget what had happened that night, when she gave Dawson what he'd been wanting since the age of fifteen. If she couldn't remember it as being perfect anymore, then she thought it best to not think of it at all.
Best not to think of the way his hands were so gentle as they discovered every curve, every sensitive part of her. Best not to remember the blissful oblivion she fell into as he slid inside of her, or the way their eyes locked when he paused as soon as he entered her, letting the feeling sink in, cherishing the moment for all it was worth. Best to forget the way fire spread through her veins as he gently kissed her nipples and trailed fingers delicately over her breasts.
It was too hard to remember these things when she feared she'd never experience them again. Not with him.
She tried to block out the things that he'd said as he laid on top of her, needed to forget the love in his eyes that surpassed the underlying lust.
("Remember 'Braveheart'?" he'd said, his voice husky with desire. "'I love you... Always have.'")
It made the tears come faster when she remembered how it felt as he slid his entire length into her, then slid all the way back out until just the tip remained at her entrance. The need in her voice when she said "Please..." echoed in her ears, and she remembered the pure wanting that had driven her to buck her hips up in a desperate attempt to bring him back inside, deep inside.
("I feel like we're in a movie," she'd said to him, her lips to his ear as he buried his face in the side of her neck.
"A porno?" he'd asked, and she'd laughed. It was too beautiful for that.)
With her uninjured hand, Joey subconsciously touched her neck, where Dawson had made a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, dipping down her chest all the way to her flat stomach. In the quietness of the room, she recalled the sound of her moan as she'd arched up into his chest. Recalled, too, his shuddering sigh as he came inside of her.
Crying out his name, she'd closed her eyes tight and bit her lip to keep from screaming as her orgasm took over. The darkness behind her eyelids became white with flashes of light that continued even after her body had settled down.
She hadn't opened her eyes until Dawson had kissed both her eyelids and asked her to look at him. She'd obeyed and the first thing she saw was Dawson's loving smile. He was still breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down on top of hers. She'd reached up to cup his face in her hands, drawing it down to hers for a kiss to seal in all that had happened.
(She remembered a night during high school when they had kissed in a boat on the water. The moon glistening down accented the shimmering stillness that surrounded them. And they thought about sleeping together.
"The night is young," Dawson had said, liking the feel of her back up against his chest.
But in a child's whisper, she'd answered, "So are we.")
Emotionally exhausted, Joey dropped down onto her unmade bed. She couldn't stop thinking of how she'd sent the snowglobe flying with one careless sweep of her arm. Couldn't forgive herself for breaking the gift that she had been given on the night that things were perfect.
Joey knew she would never understand why nothing with Dawson could work out. Why she'd always have her ideals reduced to that of a fifteen year-old child when it came to being his lover. Why she couldn't just let things happen with him.
(Looking at her best friend with fondness, she'd stilled the swing holding up her body. Looking past the chains to either side, she'd looked only at Dawson. And she'd told him the only thing she'd always known to be true.
"You'll always have a piece of my heart.")
She laid down, grateful for the softness of her pillow beneath her aching head. Too many thoughts and too many tears for her to handle had been hers that day, and she begged for sleep, to take her away from a day when everything that had been right had gone wrong. Wanted to let go of the anguish that inevitably came along with Dawson's love.
She closed her eyes against the world, hating her heart for hurting her so, and hating her love for Dawson because it would always be as fragile as the snowglobe's broken glass.
- -
end