Life goes on; life stays the same; everything changes (с)
Someone takes Spencer’s heart except it isn’t someone, it’s Brendon, and that complicates things. Brendon takes Spencer’s heart out of his chest while they’re eating breakfast, reaching in and pinching it between two fingers, easy as pie. He holds it up triumphantly, raising an eyebrow at Spencer and dangling it in front of him, teasing. It’s a small, angry little thing, deep dark red and ferocious looking.
“Give it back,” Spencer says, frowning at Brendon, but his voice is flat because it’s eight in the morning and he’s not in the mood, and because Brendon does this all the time.
Brendon widens his eyes meaningfully, and says, “I’ll trade.”
Spencer can feel a hollow little tap-tap-tap in his chest where his heart should be, and in Brendon’s hands he can see the way it’s started to beat faster, almost desperate in its pulsing, as if it could slip out of Brendon’s grip like a wriggling fish.
Brendon squeezes and Spencer can feel it in his chest, the way it’s there, and the way it isn’t.
“Not funny,” Spencer says, grabbing out for it again. It keeps trying to jump back to him, to get back where it belongs.
Brendon, Brendon just stares at him for a minute longer, that eyebrow still raised, that smile still half-formed. Eventually he shrugs, flicks the heart back into Spencer’s body, a little chuckle peeling from his lips.
Spencer absent-mindedly takes some of Brendon’s laughter where it lands on the table and drops it into his own mouth without bothering to ask. It’s sweet and light like he expected, but it’s only after Brendon’s got up to wash his bowl that Spencer notices the faintly bitter aftertaste it’s left on his tongue.
The Weather Outside
Абсолютно прекрасная и мозговыносящая вещь о том, как твое сердце кто угодно может достать из твоей груди, произнесенные слова встают стеной между говорящими, смех рассыпается по столу, и ты можешь заставить человека взглянуть на него с твоей стороны, просто взяв его глаза в твои ладони, - и все это в прямом смысле. Я знаю, что все равно никто это читать не будет, потому что...ну мало ли какие отмазки, просто знаю, что не будете)))Но не могла не повесить хотя бы начало. А дальше оно еще замечательнее. Мне просто хочется выйти замуж за этот фик. И оно мне очень сильно напоминает что-нибудь из рассказов прекрасной Али Смит (то, что я хочу выйти замуж за книги Али Смит-это совсем не новость, а банальный и постоянный факт). И даже не суть, что это фик с моим отпшным отп, потому что это спокойно можно читать как ориджинал, но все же, это настолько Брендон и настолько Спенсер, и...
Spencer gets so angry he rips off his own head and throws it across the room. It’s childish and stupid, and he thinks he might have made a crack in the plaster where his skull hit the wall. He’s still fuming though, his anger spurting out in hot jets, staining the carpet beneath him. He watches, still breathing heavily with rage, as his body stands poised for a second before wandering over and slumping down next to him, patting his hair absently.
“Well that was fucking dumb,” he says, and his severed neck nods limply.
и
When Spencer frowned Ryan only tapped his head again, and laughed a little, which was Spencer’s cue to pull the laugh right off of his face and shove it down his throat. But Ryan swallowed it easily, eyes bright, and then he laughed more, threw some of it right at Spencer so it hit him in the face.
“Give it back,” Spencer says, frowning at Brendon, but his voice is flat because it’s eight in the morning and he’s not in the mood, and because Brendon does this all the time.
Brendon widens his eyes meaningfully, and says, “I’ll trade.”
Spencer can feel a hollow little tap-tap-tap in his chest where his heart should be, and in Brendon’s hands he can see the way it’s started to beat faster, almost desperate in its pulsing, as if it could slip out of Brendon’s grip like a wriggling fish.
Brendon squeezes and Spencer can feel it in his chest, the way it’s there, and the way it isn’t.
“Not funny,” Spencer says, grabbing out for it again. It keeps trying to jump back to him, to get back where it belongs.
Brendon, Brendon just stares at him for a minute longer, that eyebrow still raised, that smile still half-formed. Eventually he shrugs, flicks the heart back into Spencer’s body, a little chuckle peeling from his lips.
Spencer absent-mindedly takes some of Brendon’s laughter where it lands on the table and drops it into his own mouth without bothering to ask. It’s sweet and light like he expected, but it’s only after Brendon’s got up to wash his bowl that Spencer notices the faintly bitter aftertaste it’s left on his tongue.
The Weather Outside
Абсолютно прекрасная и мозговыносящая вещь о том, как твое сердце кто угодно может достать из твоей груди, произнесенные слова встают стеной между говорящими, смех рассыпается по столу, и ты можешь заставить человека взглянуть на него с твоей стороны, просто взяв его глаза в твои ладони, - и все это в прямом смысле. Я знаю, что все равно никто это читать не будет, потому что...ну мало ли какие отмазки, просто знаю, что не будете)))Но не могла не повесить хотя бы начало. А дальше оно еще замечательнее. Мне просто хочется выйти замуж за этот фик. И оно мне очень сильно напоминает что-нибудь из рассказов прекрасной Али Смит (то, что я хочу выйти замуж за книги Али Смит-это совсем не новость, а банальный и постоянный факт). И даже не суть, что это фик с моим отпшным отп, потому что это спокойно можно читать как ориджинал, но все же, это настолько Брендон и настолько Спенсер, и...
Spencer gets so angry he rips off his own head and throws it across the room. It’s childish and stupid, and he thinks he might have made a crack in the plaster where his skull hit the wall. He’s still fuming though, his anger spurting out in hot jets, staining the carpet beneath him. He watches, still breathing heavily with rage, as his body stands poised for a second before wandering over and slumping down next to him, patting his hair absently.
“Well that was fucking dumb,” he says, and his severed neck nods limply.
и
When Spencer frowned Ryan only tapped his head again, and laughed a little, which was Spencer’s cue to pull the laugh right off of his face and shove it down his throat. But Ryan swallowed it easily, eyes bright, and then he laughed more, threw some of it right at Spencer so it hit him in the face.