I don't ship braille so I don't know why I wrote this. Maybe because it's fanfic and doesn't have to follow the show. Or maybe because its 2am and I'm in one of my weird moods and needed to write and these were the first two characters to come to mind? Not sure. But I hope you enjoy. (Like all my fics, this is heavier. Read only if you aren't easily triggered)
She hands him a silver Sharpie that she finds in her bag. He traces the outline of a heart on the tip of her shoe.
It shines when the moon is up.
.
Everything about them is hush-hush and secret pinkie-locking underneath the kitchen table. They toss glances around like it's nothing, like they're foolish friends making a joke. But really, there's more to it than that.
They're not defined by storybook romances; They are different – together and apart. They don't kiss or cuddle; She screams and pushes and screams at him for saying I love you. She hates him for saying it. (But not really) They sit on lonesome nights together in his room, he puts his headphones on her ears (shh, everyone's asleep) and plays her a lullaby.
He finds her on the bridge by their school. Starring at the stars and the waves when she should be asleep. She knows he's there. She looks the wrong way instead, her back to the ocean, looking at the quickly moving cars, engines pouring exhaust into what should be fresh air and their old tires making too much sound. It makes her want to jump; jump into the street chaos and disappear from the world, jump into the ocean with closed eyes, or jump into his arms.
She hasn't decided yet.
Her fingers curl around the railing, her hair blocking her view (of him, not the cars, not the water) as she leans a bit too far over. She can feel him tense at her precarious position, and it makes her smile; his unease is welcomed, it means he cares. She shouldn't be letting herself think this when nothing works out in the end; but she will. After all, she is a self-proclaimed masochist.
(Kind of)
The metal feels ice-cold against her skin – or maybe it's her hands that are making her shiver. Either way, in spite of the raw cold, she keeps her fingers wrapped tightly around the railing, tapping the beat of his Lullaby with a finger. The iciness is consuming her whole body just by her fingertips and is appreciated by her mind; it makes her blood curdle, but as she waits, it instead starts to burn. The irony fascinates her.
The cars are still rushing past down there, still honking, still polluting, they never stop. A stream of mismatched colors – – all on the road, and she wonders why they aren't asleep. Why they're sitting in traffic jams when they could be with - who?- their family? And when they're not stuck, all they do is go fast until they're blurs. Barely there.
Why can't they stop a second?
She wonders how the world has become so fast.
Life is slow, and she's grown up believing the solution to that making the bad go away is to fast forward.
She doesn't want to go fast anymore.
(Then again, what is a slow life in a fast world?)
She keeps the beat of the nonexistent music, still tapping,
"If I tried to jump right now, what would you do?"
"I'd catch you." There was no hesitation.
"What if you didn't move fast enough?"
"I'd jump after you."
(Two lives in a fast world? Better than one.)
.
When he tells the family he's going away for the summer to a music school, she doesn't scream, or cry, or pout; instead she hugs him like everyone else does, except tighter (even tighter than his moms).
She goes with him and the rest of the family to the airport, where his plane is waiting.(and hers isn't.)
It's only for the summer.
He hugs her again(one more than anyone else got) and all he says is "Play the lullaby on your guitar," but it's ten times more effective than any I love you could have been and she has to dig her nails into her palm to keep from crying.
She goes home.
All she does is close her eyes.
.
He just got home and they're standing on the bridge. She kisses him, their lips barely parting and his hands tangled in her hair – her nails digging into his neck for all the world to see(or at least the cars out at 2:14 am) his hot breath murmuring "I love you" against her lips.
He doesn't know quite what she says after (he's too busy with his lips on her neck) but it sounds like "No."
.
They're eating lunch on the bridge.
"If I asked you to stay next summer," she says, fiddling with the top button of her shirt that's come that's come undone as they sit cross-legged facing the cars(not the ocean. Never the ocean anymore.), "would you?" He looks at her sadly, but she keeps looking at the traffic below.
"I'd jump off this bridge for you." he answers, "You know that."
She does.
And that honestly scares her more than him leaving.
.
"I'm bad for you, you know." she whispers from behind the locked door, only a floor between them and the rest of the family. He shakes his head sadly, always sadly(herfaultherfault) and he presses his face against hers.
"I know…" he mumbles, hands grazing her thighs; it's not like he hasn't done this before, though he'd never leave her thighs. Not unless she wanted to. (She hasn't yet)
He pushes her up against his wall gently, kissing her neck. She digs her hands into his sides, too afraid to stop; but too afraid to continue. She whispers "No," and he stops.
.
She goes into his room every night, and he still plays her lullaby while everyone's asleep.
Sometimes he holds her hand and the walk to the bridge together.
.
Her hands are gripping the railing, metal on flesh, freezing and burning all at once. (How it's always been) The dark of night masks her face(but not his. He's sleeping, she didn't wake him tonight.) and the stars look so beautiful but she can't make herself care anymore. She just can't.
She tries to imagine Brandon behind her, his back to her. He watches the ocean, she watches the cars. How it's always been.
Nothing is different from any other night to the world– the cars are moving fast, the stars are bright and the heart on her shoe is shining from the moon(until she takes it off and throws it into the ocean)
Except tonight he's not there.
And she's glad.
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes – moves, stands, jumps.
She hums the lullaby until she hits the ground.
I'm not sure what this was? I think it was pretty AU but oh well. Please review. They're keeping me sane till January! :)