TITLE: Unheard
DISCLAIMER: Yes, Disney? Hi, its me, I need Race and Jack for the evening.Well, you do own them, dears. I kinda have to ask, since I don't own anything except the words and ideas in my fics, and usually not even those.
AUTHORS NOTE: If you listen real careful-like, after Jack says "You're too kind to me, Race, you're too kind." you can hear Race say 'I love ya, Jack.' and Jack does this sort of double take. Click. Odd pairing. Enjoy.
~ Unheard ~ I tell you that I love you everyday. You never hear me. You choose not to hear. Why?
No one else tells you that. Not any of the boys you pine after, at any rate. Not Spot with his pretty face of David with his pretty words. But I do. Everyday.
Everyday, after your morning ritual of taking out the Delancys, I congratulate you. You thank me. I say I love you. You buy your papers. Life goes on.
Life moving along at a brisk clip includes you getting your heat broken, Jack. It happens repetitively. I know. My shoulders are soaked from your tears. Every time Spot or David or one of the other boys breaks your heart, whom do you come to? Who comforts you, tells you that you deserve better, that everything will be all right? Me. Those other boys, Jack, they don't really love you. Your face, your body, the power you have as leader, sure-but not you. There is someone who does, though. Who loves you for who you really are? For all your faults and flaws as well as talents and accomplishments?
Me.
Me, Jack. I'm right here, right in front of you. Me. Right here. Can't you see me? Can't you hear me? I try so hard. I go out of my way to make you laugh. I make sure I'm there for you when you need me. Hell, I let you beat me at poker sometimes. Do you see me let the other boys do that? No. Know why?
Because I love you.
I tell you that I love you every day. You never hear me. You choose not to hear. Why?
Maybe you can't hear; won't let yourself hear the words. No one tells you that they love you. With a family as screwed up as yours, and the fact that I've taken pisses longer then your last 3 relationships{1}, you probably see love as a weakness. Something someone can use to hurt you. And I understand that. But please, Jack. Can't you make just one exception? For me?
Maybe its just you physically can't hear me. I never say the words unless we're somewhere very crowded, very public; somewhere you can't just run away if you don't want to hear them.
But I know you hear. The look in your dark-chocolate eyes, a look of confusion and something like resistance, tells me so. You hear me. And you can tell, from the pleading look in my own eyes, that I mean each and every word. You just don't know.
But what's to know? I love you. I, Racetrack Higgins, love you, Jack Kelly. It's not that hard to comprehend.
But then, we are talking about you, Jack. How hard can it be to admit someone would miss you if you up and left? How hard can it be to admit someone cares for you? How hard can it be to admit you are loved?
I tell you that I love you everyday. You never hear me. You choose not to hear.
Why?
~*~*~*~
{1} I hate myself for actually having seen this movie.Anyone who knows the title of this effrontery to humanity of which I speak, feel free to hate me too.
DISCLAIMER: Yes, Disney? Hi, its me, I need Race and Jack for the evening.Well, you do own them, dears. I kinda have to ask, since I don't own anything except the words and ideas in my fics, and usually not even those.
AUTHORS NOTE: If you listen real careful-like, after Jack says "You're too kind to me, Race, you're too kind." you can hear Race say 'I love ya, Jack.' and Jack does this sort of double take. Click. Odd pairing. Enjoy.
~ Unheard ~ I tell you that I love you everyday. You never hear me. You choose not to hear. Why?
No one else tells you that. Not any of the boys you pine after, at any rate. Not Spot with his pretty face of David with his pretty words. But I do. Everyday.
Everyday, after your morning ritual of taking out the Delancys, I congratulate you. You thank me. I say I love you. You buy your papers. Life goes on.
Life moving along at a brisk clip includes you getting your heat broken, Jack. It happens repetitively. I know. My shoulders are soaked from your tears. Every time Spot or David or one of the other boys breaks your heart, whom do you come to? Who comforts you, tells you that you deserve better, that everything will be all right? Me. Those other boys, Jack, they don't really love you. Your face, your body, the power you have as leader, sure-but not you. There is someone who does, though. Who loves you for who you really are? For all your faults and flaws as well as talents and accomplishments?
Me.
Me, Jack. I'm right here, right in front of you. Me. Right here. Can't you see me? Can't you hear me? I try so hard. I go out of my way to make you laugh. I make sure I'm there for you when you need me. Hell, I let you beat me at poker sometimes. Do you see me let the other boys do that? No. Know why?
Because I love you.
I tell you that I love you every day. You never hear me. You choose not to hear. Why?
Maybe you can't hear; won't let yourself hear the words. No one tells you that they love you. With a family as screwed up as yours, and the fact that I've taken pisses longer then your last 3 relationships{1}, you probably see love as a weakness. Something someone can use to hurt you. And I understand that. But please, Jack. Can't you make just one exception? For me?
Maybe its just you physically can't hear me. I never say the words unless we're somewhere very crowded, very public; somewhere you can't just run away if you don't want to hear them.
But I know you hear. The look in your dark-chocolate eyes, a look of confusion and something like resistance, tells me so. You hear me. And you can tell, from the pleading look in my own eyes, that I mean each and every word. You just don't know.
But what's to know? I love you. I, Racetrack Higgins, love you, Jack Kelly. It's not that hard to comprehend.
But then, we are talking about you, Jack. How hard can it be to admit someone would miss you if you up and left? How hard can it be to admit someone cares for you? How hard can it be to admit you are loved?
I tell you that I love you everyday. You never hear me. You choose not to hear.
Why?
~*~*~*~
{1} I hate myself for actually having seen this movie.Anyone who knows the title of this effrontery to humanity of which I speak, feel free to hate me too.