Wishes and Wonders
His body presses you lightly against the wall, your hands grasp
desperately around his shoulders as he kisses your mouth fully.
You groan a little. You pull yourself closer to him, and he chuckles
lightly, moving away from your too-tight hold. He takes you lightly
by the hand and leads you away.
Your head
aches and your eyes burn from the effort of holding back the silly,
sentimental tears that break through every time he leaves you. You
want to be strong like him, but you just can't. He doesn't seem to
mind going, in fact, he seems to relish it. Being tied to the ground
is too monotonous for him. He itches to go, to fly away from here, to
fly away from you.
You won't know where he's
going, he never tells you. For your safety, he says. They won't try
to torture you if you have no information. It's bullshit, you know
that. If they found you, they'd do whatever it took, and enjoy it.
It's for his. He doesn't trust you not to let anything slip. He
doesn't trust your resistance against pain and your total devotion to
him. He wants it so that if they do water board you, you have nothing
to tell.
So you will be up all night and all
day tomorrow, watching the news, desperate for any scrap of
information. Sometimes you hear something, about a building exploding
or a company resigning, anything in the fight against Itex, but
sometimes you don't. Still, you will search the internet and the
television until the day he comes back.
He
leads you down the hall and through the door. His room is dark and
musty. He spreads his wings, smirking as he pulls you closer. He
knows that you just can't resist him when they are out so damn
majestically.
Your legs are shaking and you
hold on to him for support. He laughs at your desperation and the
vibrations
radiate through your body.
When he kisses you,
you feel as if you are kissing something so much bigger than
yourself. He is the one of the first of his kind, a new species, a
new generation. He is a rebel, a fulcrum in today's political, social
and economic world. When he moves, society moves with him. He is
powerful; at his say millions of children around the world would rise
up and fight. He his dangerous, wanted for many things, but never
caught.
He changes the world with each choice,
each word.
You shudder at the thought as he
presses you against the mattress. It seems impossible. Why you? Why
would he choose someone of such little significance?
He desires you, you know that. When he comes back from a "trip"
his hug is always bruising.
He needs you, you
think. He needs a rest from the monstrous burden. That's why it never
worked with Max, his best friend and ex-lover (or you presume ex, the
way that they look at each other often sends you into a jealous rage,
but he is honourable and you trust him). She is like him. Max is big,
she is the leader of it all, she runs the revolution. It was too much
for him, to handle her and everything else.
You are simple, he likes that.
The thought is
heartbreaking, and your normalcy stares you straight in the face.
Your hopes of greatness wallow, their impossibility weighs them down.
You will never join him in the air, you know that logically. But in
your heart of hearts you have always hoped. It seemed to you that it
would come in time, somewhere in the future, and you would be able to
join him on his quest. In just a few days, months, years, you were
always waiting for that something more.
It
can't happen. You are not the type for adventure; no matter what
books you read when you were little. He wouldn't want it, anyways. He
likes you like this. You are relaxing to him, an easy break from
whatever work he has to do that week.
His
light body feels like nothing on top of yours.
He could die tomorrow, you know that. Others have before him. You're
not that scared though. You are more terrified at the thought of him
leaving you. If he dies with love for you in his heart, you will be
almost satisfied. You are ashamed by this thought.
But there is no sense worrying now. He's all yours for tonight. He's
never as withdrawn before he leaves, and he gives himself to you
fully.
No matter what, you'll always be stuck
on the ground. The least you can do is make the best of it.
AN: This is a fangirl self-insertion type piece. But it's an attempt at a realistic self-insertion. If someone normal were actually going to play a part in Fang's life, how would it work? That's why it's a little harsh. I wanted self-insertion, not self-indulgence.
This is also kind of an attempt to get reviews. My last MR fanfiction didn't get ANY, so I wanted to see if I still had the ability to grasp the reader's attention. Maybe not.
Reviewers get (virtual) ice cream cake. :D