it's: moving on
by: bj
in sum: cliche i know but nonetheless still true.
rating: pg.
label: bright. bright/colin. post-ep for "colin the second."
sissies: "colin the second."
legalities: not mine, don't sue.
i say: as yet untitled. title/summary from "moving on" by mike plume (and his) band, on the album "jump back kerouac." this song also partially inspired "whilst this machine," so i guess the stories kind of go together. more love for jeff.
archive: ask and it (probably) shall be given. not that there's an everwood slash archive. yet.
you say: all comments appreciated, answered, and archived. allcanadiangirl@lycos.com.
Moving On
So now you're showering, uniform puddled on the bathroom floor, braced against the tiles, not a drop to drink, you're crying.
You can't mold a stranger. You can't push and push against him until he assumes the shape of somebody you know you used to know. You have to let him, you have to let him bulge where Colin was lean and bite back where Colin would smile. You have to, you know, you have to because the alternative is worse.
This guy, this guy pushes back. You can see it: you touch him and he knocks the hand away. Humiliation is maybe worse than retreat.
So you're going to drive away after school and you're going to forget about taste, you're going to forget about everything he's forgotten. You don't want to be a witness anymore, better that it never happened.
This is sliding, cold tile, breathing steam like those times, somewhere in the back of your mind, towels and a ghost that could have been him.
You're going to, you're going to take some second-hand advice. You're going to take your hand away and put it back there, back where it belongs, on the ball, keep your eyes on the goal. You're going to take it home and this is, this is where your heart is.
Let him be in the quiet with somebody else, let him grow where Colin was afraid to look. He'll be somewhere and that is, that is, somehow, that is enough.
You are crying and you're okay.
This is a good place: naked and wet, knees to chest, in the corner of the tub with water everywhere. There are only your hands, it's serene and chaotic and you are crying and you're okay. You've figured it out and there is nothing left to say.
end.
by: bj
in sum: cliche i know but nonetheless still true.
rating: pg.
label: bright. bright/colin. post-ep for "colin the second."
sissies: "colin the second."
legalities: not mine, don't sue.
i say: as yet untitled. title/summary from "moving on" by mike plume (and his) band, on the album "jump back kerouac." this song also partially inspired "whilst this machine," so i guess the stories kind of go together. more love for jeff.
archive: ask and it (probably) shall be given. not that there's an everwood slash archive. yet.
you say: all comments appreciated, answered, and archived. allcanadiangirl@lycos.com.
Moving On
So now you're showering, uniform puddled on the bathroom floor, braced against the tiles, not a drop to drink, you're crying.
You can't mold a stranger. You can't push and push against him until he assumes the shape of somebody you know you used to know. You have to let him, you have to let him bulge where Colin was lean and bite back where Colin would smile. You have to, you know, you have to because the alternative is worse.
This guy, this guy pushes back. You can see it: you touch him and he knocks the hand away. Humiliation is maybe worse than retreat.
So you're going to drive away after school and you're going to forget about taste, you're going to forget about everything he's forgotten. You don't want to be a witness anymore, better that it never happened.
This is sliding, cold tile, breathing steam like those times, somewhere in the back of your mind, towels and a ghost that could have been him.
You're going to, you're going to take some second-hand advice. You're going to take your hand away and put it back there, back where it belongs, on the ball, keep your eyes on the goal. You're going to take it home and this is, this is where your heart is.
Let him be in the quiet with somebody else, let him grow where Colin was afraid to look. He'll be somewhere and that is, that is, somehow, that is enough.
You are crying and you're okay.
This is a good place: naked and wet, knees to chest, in the corner of the tub with water everywhere. There are only your hands, it's serene and chaotic and you are crying and you're okay. You've figured it out and there is nothing left to say.
end.