The Warmth: Are You Sad?
Author's Note: But this goes back to the night Lyra was sad and cried herself to sleep, only in Will's world. On to the story. Er, disclamer. Oh yes, and in the story, Will has the knife at his house. I think Mary took it in the book, and in that case, the knife "magically" appeared in Will's closet. Ooh, mysterious.
Disclaimer: Who said I own anything????? Not me. Incubus owns The Warmth (AWESOME SONG, once again) and Dashboard Confessional owns Are You Sad. Both are awesome, they remind me of HDM and Will and Lyra very much.
~*~*~*
Will tucked his mother in gently.
"'Night, mum." He said softly. He kissed her forehead and she smiled bemusedly up at him before quickly falling asleep. Will wished he could fall asleep that easily. He walked to the door, turned to double check on his mother, and flicked off the light. Dark as it was, he headed back to his room with Kirjava at his heels. He had finished all chores and schoolwork earlier, and since he had no friends and was involved in no activities he had the time.
Will entered his room slowly, flicking on the light and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. As soon as they had, he entered and sat at his desk. He had been assigned at school to pick a poem that meant something to him, and Edgar Allan Poe's Dream Within A Dream had been the only one close. He picked it up to read it aloud.
"You are not wrong, to deem that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away in a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?"
He sighed again, setting down the poem and walking towards the chest. Not really knowing why, he opened it up and began searching. For what, he wasn't sure. But his fingers knew when they had found it; a small leather pouch containing the shards of-
"The knife," Will breathed. He ran his fingers over the smooth, flat side of the knife, wondering why it's lustrous quality had lessened since he had last seen it. He remembered opening countless worlds with it, sealing them, exploring them- with Lyra. He closed his eyes in memory, swallowing the lump in his throat. Lyra. Lyra. Did she really exist now? Of course she did, but then again she didn't. What was she doing now? Did she have a boyfriend? Did she still think of him everyday minute of everyday, as he did her? He sat heavily on the bed, holding the shards in their leather wrap. He had gone back to the Botanic Garden every Midsummer's Day, as they had vowed, and he swore she was there those times. He even went back when it wasn't Midsummer's Day, just to sit and think that maybe, somehow, Lyra was there too. But she rarely was. He could feel it. But he knew that to spend all his time on the bench was worthless- he had a life now, pathetic as it was. He had a mother to take care of. And he would never see Lyra again; the question wasn't hard to answer.
*I'd like to close my eyes; go numb
But there's a cold wind coming from
The top of the highest high rise today
It's not a breeze 'cause it blows hard
Watch the warmth blow away
Don't let the world bring you down
Not everyone here is that messed up and cold
Remember why you came and while you're alive
Experience the warmth before you grow old*
To his dismay, a tear rolled down his cheek. Angrily, he wiped it away. Lyra wouldn't have cared. But being 15, he knew crying wasn't an option. Still with his fighting, though, more tears flowed and it wasn't long until he tasted their salty feel. Wiping them once more with the back of his hand, he re-wrapped the knife shards and hid them in his bedside table drawer. Then he lay back and let the tears silently come, until his face and shirt were soaked. The price he had had to pay for saving the worlds. well, any price was worth it. But the one chosen had torn him in two. Lyra, his Lyra. The only other part of him existing. And he would never, ever be with her again. Surprising him, Kirjava leapt into his arms.
"Hello," he said softly, stroking the purring daemon's fur as the tears ran on. Kirjava rubbed his head on Will's neck.
"She's gone," she informed him kindly. Will lowered his wet eyes to her fur.
"Are you sure? Because logic tells me the same and still I can feel her sometimes, like Midsummer's Day." His voice was hoarse somehow, as if he's been crying. Kirjava laid down against his chest.
"No," she replied after a minute. "No, I'm not sure."
~*~*~*
*are you sad
are you holding yourself
are you locked in your room
you shouldn't be
are you sad?*
Author's Note: But this goes back to the night Lyra was sad and cried herself to sleep, only in Will's world. On to the story. Er, disclamer. Oh yes, and in the story, Will has the knife at his house. I think Mary took it in the book, and in that case, the knife "magically" appeared in Will's closet. Ooh, mysterious.
Disclaimer: Who said I own anything????? Not me. Incubus owns The Warmth (AWESOME SONG, once again) and Dashboard Confessional owns Are You Sad. Both are awesome, they remind me of HDM and Will and Lyra very much.
~*~*~*
Will tucked his mother in gently.
"'Night, mum." He said softly. He kissed her forehead and she smiled bemusedly up at him before quickly falling asleep. Will wished he could fall asleep that easily. He walked to the door, turned to double check on his mother, and flicked off the light. Dark as it was, he headed back to his room with Kirjava at his heels. He had finished all chores and schoolwork earlier, and since he had no friends and was involved in no activities he had the time.
Will entered his room slowly, flicking on the light and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. As soon as they had, he entered and sat at his desk. He had been assigned at school to pick a poem that meant something to him, and Edgar Allan Poe's Dream Within A Dream had been the only one close. He picked it up to read it aloud.
"You are not wrong, to deem that my days have been a dream; yet if hope has flown away in a night, or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?"
He sighed again, setting down the poem and walking towards the chest. Not really knowing why, he opened it up and began searching. For what, he wasn't sure. But his fingers knew when they had found it; a small leather pouch containing the shards of-
"The knife," Will breathed. He ran his fingers over the smooth, flat side of the knife, wondering why it's lustrous quality had lessened since he had last seen it. He remembered opening countless worlds with it, sealing them, exploring them- with Lyra. He closed his eyes in memory, swallowing the lump in his throat. Lyra. Lyra. Did she really exist now? Of course she did, but then again she didn't. What was she doing now? Did she have a boyfriend? Did she still think of him everyday minute of everyday, as he did her? He sat heavily on the bed, holding the shards in their leather wrap. He had gone back to the Botanic Garden every Midsummer's Day, as they had vowed, and he swore she was there those times. He even went back when it wasn't Midsummer's Day, just to sit and think that maybe, somehow, Lyra was there too. But she rarely was. He could feel it. But he knew that to spend all his time on the bench was worthless- he had a life now, pathetic as it was. He had a mother to take care of. And he would never see Lyra again; the question wasn't hard to answer.
*I'd like to close my eyes; go numb
But there's a cold wind coming from
The top of the highest high rise today
It's not a breeze 'cause it blows hard
Watch the warmth blow away
Don't let the world bring you down
Not everyone here is that messed up and cold
Remember why you came and while you're alive
Experience the warmth before you grow old*
To his dismay, a tear rolled down his cheek. Angrily, he wiped it away. Lyra wouldn't have cared. But being 15, he knew crying wasn't an option. Still with his fighting, though, more tears flowed and it wasn't long until he tasted their salty feel. Wiping them once more with the back of his hand, he re-wrapped the knife shards and hid them in his bedside table drawer. Then he lay back and let the tears silently come, until his face and shirt were soaked. The price he had had to pay for saving the worlds. well, any price was worth it. But the one chosen had torn him in two. Lyra, his Lyra. The only other part of him existing. And he would never, ever be with her again. Surprising him, Kirjava leapt into his arms.
"Hello," he said softly, stroking the purring daemon's fur as the tears ran on. Kirjava rubbed his head on Will's neck.
"She's gone," she informed him kindly. Will lowered his wet eyes to her fur.
"Are you sure? Because logic tells me the same and still I can feel her sometimes, like Midsummer's Day." His voice was hoarse somehow, as if he's been crying. Kirjava laid down against his chest.
"No," she replied after a minute. "No, I'm not sure."
~*~*~*
*are you sad
are you holding yourself
are you locked in your room
you shouldn't be
are you sad?*