Title: Metronome
Author: unwinding fantasy (formerly Aqua Phoenix1)
Disclaimer: Gattaca isn't mine. I'm just messing around.
Rating: K+ (implied dark themes, angst. Slash if you peer through a microscope and squint real hard.)
Author's Note: So Eugene practically strapped me to my chair, held me at gunpoint and threatened to throw an endless assortment of Eugenesque imagery in my face unless I typed. Resistance proved futile. Fictitious characters are surprisingly persuasive. On a side note, this is also the shortest thing that's ever spewed from my fingertips. Bleh.
He's all shameless cynicism and rabbits without lucky feet and one-is-the-loneliest-number, the monotonous tick-tock of clocks' gears grinding. He's the wheel that can't choose where it's going, can only spin, spin, spin, each revolution inching it nearer to nowhere. The echo that has no choice but to answer its master's beckons, ever the same --
Jerome, Jerome, the metronome.
A dark angel that clipped his own wings, fled from heaven's perfection. Couldn't bare gazing down from wispy cotton-candy --
I'm afraid of heights.
-- so stumbled over the edge of shadows into a prison with a rusty key that refuses to turn in its lock. He's a lost puppy pretending to be a proud wolf silently pining for the moon, the place he'll return to someday. Stares at the ground because the sky's feelings are blue and he hates blue. Blue is oceans and brackish tears; he doesn't cry anymore. Blue, the colour of --
My eyes are prettier
-- always turns him sour. Sourer. Lemon x 100.
Can't even dream about fields of green. Mosaic-rainbow flower blossoms don't compute in his monochrome world, a world of silver.
…always second best…
Haze of cigarette smoke, liquor's searing kiss, a broken toy perhaps shattered beyond repair. Still, it was better than -- easier than --
Never mind. Much simpler to get drunk, and pray that by the time he staggers into the next one, he's less sober. (If he's not trying, surely he'll succeed.)
And maybe he'll find solace after going supernova,
shining brighter than starfire as he returns heavenwards,
the reawakening of blackened wings.