Pixie Dust
1/1
There was an empty glass of red wine on the coffee table. The bottle was in the trash. The high-rise apartment was silent except for the constant hum of the refrigerator and Ryan’s breathing.
Tired of sitting on the couch, waiting, Ryan got to his feet. He walked over to one of the floor to ceiling windows, breath uneven. They still scared the hell out of him, like he’d fall out of the building at any moment and smack his head onto the concrete sidewalk of the street below; instantaneous death. A mere touch could shatter it all.
Brendon said the fear of heights was worth it for the view. New York City was beautiful this high up for sure, but the look on Brendon’s face when he first saw the skyline at night was the only thing that convinced Ryan to sign on the dotted line.
He hadn’t called tonight.
He’d been in London nearly two months with work and he called Ryan once every three days. Just not today.
Twenty-seven floors up and people look like ants – if you can even see them. Lights on cars are like fireflies.
Ryan wondered what the glass would look like if he went crashing through it – maybe pixie dust. Would his body look like a falling angel, or one of those poor birds who can’t see the window in time to stop the impending fate of a broken neck?
Why hadn’t he called?
Two months was a lonely length of time. Had Brendon found himself a nice British boy to keep his bed warm while Ryan couldn’t find enough blankets to stop his feet from freezing? Did the distance claw its way through Brendon’s insides the way it shredded Ryan? Was Ryan always plaguing Brendon’s thoughts the way he drove Ryan insane?
Ryan’s hands balled into fists and he shut his eyes tightly. No, Brendon would never do anything to hurt him so devastatingly. Surely not.
“You okay?” a voice whispered into Ryan’s ear. He jumped and Brendon snaked his arms around Ryan’s middle.
“Bren?” Ryan asked shakily. Brendon placed a kiss on Ryan’s cheek.
“Yeah.” Ryan’s hands reached up and folded over Brendon’s. The contact drenched Ryan in relief, and elation at the actuality of reunion.
“I missed you, Ry.” Ryan smiled and gently pushed Brendon’s arms away so he could turn to face him. Brendon was obviously tired from spending all those hours on the plane, but his smile was so bright, it gave Ryan the same butterflies he’d gotten on their first date.
Brendon then leaned in and attached their lips. Ryan wondered if the building were to implode right then and there, would he and Brendon become one indistinguishable mess of blood and skin, or would it all be more poetic somehow? Would they burn like stars or potassium in a high school science class?
“I missed you too,” Ryan murmured against Brendon’s lips, the latter still blissfully unaware of his partner’s poisonous thoughts.
After all, Brendon was more concerned with finding the perfect moment to remove the small platinum weight in his back pocket than imagining what human pixie dust would look like.
Tired of sitting on the couch, waiting, Ryan got to his feet. He walked over to one of the floor to ceiling windows, breath uneven. They still scared the hell out of him, like he’d fall out of the building at any moment and smack his head onto the concrete sidewalk of the street below; instantaneous death. A mere touch could shatter it all.
Brendon said the fear of heights was worth it for the view. New York City was beautiful this high up for sure, but the look on Brendon’s face when he first saw the skyline at night was the only thing that convinced Ryan to sign on the dotted line.
He hadn’t called tonight.
He’d been in London nearly two months with work and he called Ryan once every three days. Just not today.
Twenty-seven floors up and people look like ants – if you can even see them. Lights on cars are like fireflies.
Ryan wondered what the glass would look like if he went crashing through it – maybe pixie dust. Would his body look like a falling angel, or one of those poor birds who can’t see the window in time to stop the impending fate of a broken neck?
Why hadn’t he called?
Two months was a lonely length of time. Had Brendon found himself a nice British boy to keep his bed warm while Ryan couldn’t find enough blankets to stop his feet from freezing? Did the distance claw its way through Brendon’s insides the way it shredded Ryan? Was Ryan always plaguing Brendon’s thoughts the way he drove Ryan insane?
Ryan’s hands balled into fists and he shut his eyes tightly. No, Brendon would never do anything to hurt him so devastatingly. Surely not.
“You okay?” a voice whispered into Ryan’s ear. He jumped and Brendon snaked his arms around Ryan’s middle.
“Bren?” Ryan asked shakily. Brendon placed a kiss on Ryan’s cheek.
“Yeah.” Ryan’s hands reached up and folded over Brendon’s. The contact drenched Ryan in relief, and elation at the actuality of reunion.
“I missed you, Ry.” Ryan smiled and gently pushed Brendon’s arms away so he could turn to face him. Brendon was obviously tired from spending all those hours on the plane, but his smile was so bright, it gave Ryan the same butterflies he’d gotten on their first date.
Brendon then leaned in and attached their lips. Ryan wondered if the building were to implode right then and there, would he and Brendon become one indistinguishable mess of blood and skin, or would it all be more poetic somehow? Would they burn like stars or potassium in a high school science class?
“I missed you too,” Ryan murmured against Brendon’s lips, the latter still blissfully unaware of his partner’s poisonous thoughts.
After all, Brendon was more concerned with finding the perfect moment to remove the small platinum weight in his back pocket than imagining what human pixie dust would look like.
♠ ♠ ♠
I don't even know.