WARNING: Here's some light slash, ya know m/m relationship. Don't like,
don't read. Simple.
AN: Takes place before "HeX Factor".
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And We All Shine On . . .
by sugar.coated
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*They tell me everything is gonna be alright, but I don't know what alright even means*
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The landscape was a black-and-white photograph. Snow was lying in a thin layer on the ground, covering the world in a false innocence. Stars were scattered over the sky, as if a small child had carelessly thrown them against the inky black background whilst playing, but they all faded next to the full moon that shone as if it was made from glass. The light from the heavenly body reflected in the snow making the night bright, shaped black shadows, and illuminated the lone figure standing in the backyard, still like a statue.
The frost painted flowers on the windows, icicles shone in the moonlight like diamond tears, and yet the pale boy was wearing nothing but a pair of dark pajama pants. He stood quiet, filtering moonlight through his hand, counting the stars in the sky, trying to imprint the memory of this ethereal night forever in his mind.
The maple tree in the garden was stretching its black naked limbs up high in the sky, as if it was trying to reach the moon. On the ground, its dark twin laid sprawled like cracks in the earth, a spiderweb of shadows, failing to catch the round orb high in the sky, but succeeding to draw in the pale boy with its intricate pattern. He teetered at the edge of the alluring darkness, then started to climb the maple, wanting to reach the moon, pick it down. That would be a perfect present for Lance, nothing else seemed good enough.
He climbed higher and higher. Looking down, he saw his own black twin, caught in the mysterious web, unable to get away. He thought of Wanda, his real other half. The dark one, the bright one, he wasn't really sure which she was, which he was. Maybe they were both gray. All he knew was that he missed her and she probably was as caught as he was.
He hadn't seen her for so long. He tried to recall glimpses of memories of his childhood, but it was all very vague. A shattered snowglobe, the fake snow lying spread over the floor like tears turned to stone, the slivers of glass reflecting jagged pain. Severed hands in tentative attempts to reach one another. A raised eyebrow. White lilies and marigolds in a sooty black silk-ribbon. Glistening metal tainted with red.
Life wasn't the way he had hoped it would turn out and it would be so easy to just press down the razor a little harder the next time he was longing for release, letting life run down his wrist like red tears. Those thought were more common these days and they scared him, because even if dying was easier than living it was so final, no turning back.
He though about his sister. Though about Lance that wanted him to live. Stroking over the scars and cuts on his forearm with his finger, he turned to look at the moon. He heard footsteps approaching the tree, but he didn't look down, already knowing whom it was that was now standing there below looking up at him.
"Pietro, would you please come down from the fucking tree?" Lance sounded tired, as if he'd lived a thousand lifetimes, each one harder than the one before. The pale boy didn't answer, just kept looking at the moon, a fleeting smile playing on his lips.
"I like snow. It's so . . . pure," he finally said. Lance sighted.
"Well would you at least put on some more clothes before going out in the middle of the night? You're gonna catch pneumonia."
The pale boy leaned his forehead against the rough bark in front of him, suddenly feeling so very exhausted and scared of being alone.
"If you could wish for whatever you wanted, would you then be somewhere else? Or would you still be here with me?"
"Pie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I won't leave you. Come down now."
The young teen sighted and started climbing down. The tree didn't want to loose the nymph it so easily lured into its nest, reaching out its bony fingers in a try to keep the pale creature locked up within its embrace, scraping the boy's arms, drawing blood where blood had been drawn many times before. Although it this time was unintentional, it still ran freely, dripping down on the ground. Blood on snow. Red on white. Rubies among diamonds. And in the dark, all cats are gray, but in the moonlight blood is still so very red.
Lance caught his arm as soon as he came to the ground, surveying the damage whilst desperately trying to ignore the other dark red gashes so obvious on those thin pale wrists.
"You have to be more careful," he muttered, deciding the wound wasn't life threatening and taking off his worn jacket to wrap it around the pale boy so that he'd get warm, and so Lance wouldn't have to see how he had once again failed to keep the one he loved safe. The pale boy leaned against the older teen, needing the human contact like others needed air to breathe, still having questions that needed answers.
"Does heaven exist?"
"I have no idea. But if it does, I know I'm fucked."
"Me too," the pale boy sighted and kissed Lance, his lips as cool and smooth as marble. Lance kissed him back, wrapping his arms around the younger teen in a feeble attempt to save him from himself. Diamonds are forever, but icicles fade. And Pietro suddenly realized that Lance wasn't worth dying for, but he was worth living for, and that was much better.
He saw a shooting star, but didn't wish for anything. He knew that he'd never get the moon, but that was okay. He had everything he needed anyway. And it was five miles from midnight and they were the only two people in this world, the moon folded them both into its white wing and they kissed like nothing else mattered.
And everything was just black and white, and so damn uncomplicated.
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the end
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Authors Ramblings: This story was written around 3 a.m. under the influence of Håkan Hellström, Peter LeMarc and Gyllene Tider, Swedish artists that makes _great_ songs. I recommend that you check 'em out. And there's snow over here in Sweden right now, and this combined with a full moon makes for one damn poetic sugar.coated. The TV was also showing "Millenium", and whilst the program itself doesn't do much for me, I _love_ the intro- thingie. All in all, this fic ended up being extremely weird. So, uh, let me know what you think of this? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on the top?
This is dedicated to my lovely cat Salem-Panter who died last Sunday. It's also dedicated to the lovely Chiru, since she's just _awesome_. You should all go and read her latest fic "Bring me to life", and then you should let her know how great it is. Because it is. *nods*
Disclaimer: I own naaaaathin' . . . but my sister said that she _will_ give me her Håkan Hellström CD as soon as she can find it. Yayness. And I do kinda own the maple tree, since it's growing in my garden. Unfortunately, I don't have Pietro sitting in it. *pouts*
Distribution: If ya want it, ya can have it. Just keep my name with it and let me know where it ends up.
AN: Takes place before "HeX Factor".
.
.
And We All Shine On . . .
by sugar.coated
.
.
.
.
.
*They tell me everything is gonna be alright, but I don't know what alright even means*
.
.
.
.
.
The landscape was a black-and-white photograph. Snow was lying in a thin layer on the ground, covering the world in a false innocence. Stars were scattered over the sky, as if a small child had carelessly thrown them against the inky black background whilst playing, but they all faded next to the full moon that shone as if it was made from glass. The light from the heavenly body reflected in the snow making the night bright, shaped black shadows, and illuminated the lone figure standing in the backyard, still like a statue.
The frost painted flowers on the windows, icicles shone in the moonlight like diamond tears, and yet the pale boy was wearing nothing but a pair of dark pajama pants. He stood quiet, filtering moonlight through his hand, counting the stars in the sky, trying to imprint the memory of this ethereal night forever in his mind.
The maple tree in the garden was stretching its black naked limbs up high in the sky, as if it was trying to reach the moon. On the ground, its dark twin laid sprawled like cracks in the earth, a spiderweb of shadows, failing to catch the round orb high in the sky, but succeeding to draw in the pale boy with its intricate pattern. He teetered at the edge of the alluring darkness, then started to climb the maple, wanting to reach the moon, pick it down. That would be a perfect present for Lance, nothing else seemed good enough.
He climbed higher and higher. Looking down, he saw his own black twin, caught in the mysterious web, unable to get away. He thought of Wanda, his real other half. The dark one, the bright one, he wasn't really sure which she was, which he was. Maybe they were both gray. All he knew was that he missed her and she probably was as caught as he was.
He hadn't seen her for so long. He tried to recall glimpses of memories of his childhood, but it was all very vague. A shattered snowglobe, the fake snow lying spread over the floor like tears turned to stone, the slivers of glass reflecting jagged pain. Severed hands in tentative attempts to reach one another. A raised eyebrow. White lilies and marigolds in a sooty black silk-ribbon. Glistening metal tainted with red.
Life wasn't the way he had hoped it would turn out and it would be so easy to just press down the razor a little harder the next time he was longing for release, letting life run down his wrist like red tears. Those thought were more common these days and they scared him, because even if dying was easier than living it was so final, no turning back.
He though about his sister. Though about Lance that wanted him to live. Stroking over the scars and cuts on his forearm with his finger, he turned to look at the moon. He heard footsteps approaching the tree, but he didn't look down, already knowing whom it was that was now standing there below looking up at him.
"Pietro, would you please come down from the fucking tree?" Lance sounded tired, as if he'd lived a thousand lifetimes, each one harder than the one before. The pale boy didn't answer, just kept looking at the moon, a fleeting smile playing on his lips.
"I like snow. It's so . . . pure," he finally said. Lance sighted.
"Well would you at least put on some more clothes before going out in the middle of the night? You're gonna catch pneumonia."
The pale boy leaned his forehead against the rough bark in front of him, suddenly feeling so very exhausted and scared of being alone.
"If you could wish for whatever you wanted, would you then be somewhere else? Or would you still be here with me?"
"Pie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I won't leave you. Come down now."
The young teen sighted and started climbing down. The tree didn't want to loose the nymph it so easily lured into its nest, reaching out its bony fingers in a try to keep the pale creature locked up within its embrace, scraping the boy's arms, drawing blood where blood had been drawn many times before. Although it this time was unintentional, it still ran freely, dripping down on the ground. Blood on snow. Red on white. Rubies among diamonds. And in the dark, all cats are gray, but in the moonlight blood is still so very red.
Lance caught his arm as soon as he came to the ground, surveying the damage whilst desperately trying to ignore the other dark red gashes so obvious on those thin pale wrists.
"You have to be more careful," he muttered, deciding the wound wasn't life threatening and taking off his worn jacket to wrap it around the pale boy so that he'd get warm, and so Lance wouldn't have to see how he had once again failed to keep the one he loved safe. The pale boy leaned against the older teen, needing the human contact like others needed air to breathe, still having questions that needed answers.
"Does heaven exist?"
"I have no idea. But if it does, I know I'm fucked."
"Me too," the pale boy sighted and kissed Lance, his lips as cool and smooth as marble. Lance kissed him back, wrapping his arms around the younger teen in a feeble attempt to save him from himself. Diamonds are forever, but icicles fade. And Pietro suddenly realized that Lance wasn't worth dying for, but he was worth living for, and that was much better.
He saw a shooting star, but didn't wish for anything. He knew that he'd never get the moon, but that was okay. He had everything he needed anyway. And it was five miles from midnight and they were the only two people in this world, the moon folded them both into its white wing and they kissed like nothing else mattered.
And everything was just black and white, and so damn uncomplicated.
.
.
.
.
.
the end
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Authors Ramblings: This story was written around 3 a.m. under the influence of Håkan Hellström, Peter LeMarc and Gyllene Tider, Swedish artists that makes _great_ songs. I recommend that you check 'em out. And there's snow over here in Sweden right now, and this combined with a full moon makes for one damn poetic sugar.coated. The TV was also showing "Millenium", and whilst the program itself doesn't do much for me, I _love_ the intro- thingie. All in all, this fic ended up being extremely weird. So, uh, let me know what you think of this? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on the top?
This is dedicated to my lovely cat Salem-Panter who died last Sunday. It's also dedicated to the lovely Chiru, since she's just _awesome_. You should all go and read her latest fic "Bring me to life", and then you should let her know how great it is. Because it is. *nods*
Disclaimer: I own naaaaathin' . . . but my sister said that she _will_ give me her Håkan Hellström CD as soon as she can find it. Yayness. And I do kinda own the maple tree, since it's growing in my garden. Unfortunately, I don't have Pietro sitting in it. *pouts*
Distribution: If ya want it, ya can have it. Just keep my name with it and let me know where it ends up.