(Originally posted 23/08/15)
A/N So sorry for the almost permanent pause, the delay was painful for me too. Literally. My body seems to have imploded and I've experienced a myriad of health issues. Hopefully I'm on the mend now, although I may never be "better", I may be able to "manage" and possibly scribble at a faster pace. Rest assured I will never abandon this story, (Ianto would kill me).
Anyhoo, onwards.
Chapter 22
-OOO-
Twenty-five year old Ianto started running, running through the corridors in his mind. He stopped briefly to open the doors on either side. He barely gave himself enough time to glance into them.
He rejected every interior.
He continued to run.
To run towards the outside.
Towards the crossroads.
Along the yellow brick.
He ran towards the remnants of a castle.
Just a drawbridge really, without a moat.
He ran inside.
Towards a gallery.
His feet familiar with the floorplan.
At another time,
in another place,
Ianto would have freely given of his time, would have lingered leisurely, looking at the huge paintings that hung there. Today he sped past his past, eager to get to the end.
Sunshine.
Rain.
Slaps.
Departures, and arguments barely caused his eyelids to flicker.
He paused however, at the three dejected face-facing hangings at the end of the auditorium. He slowly reached out a nervous hand to touch, reconnect, only to swiftly draw it back, as though
stung.
Bitten.
Burnt.
Unsure of what to do next, he wavered. This was unchartered territory and yet, instinctively he waited, watched for a sign and was rewarded with the appearance, of a brand new equally huge bare canvas. Ianto didn't need to be told twice. He stepped in and started to paint,
his future.
-ooo-
Tbc shortly
Comments are always appreciated.