|Ten Days to Say I Love You
Author: Suicidal Muffin-chan PM
Bret Davis is given only ten days to confess to his long-time crush. Of course, there are other complications, starting with the fact that they've never spoken and ending with the fact that he's a ghost. Slash.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Chapters: 7 - Words: 15,685 - Reviews: 25 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 23 - Updated: 10-11-11 - Published: 12-13-09 - id: 2751967
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So there's a story behind why this chapter's ending kind of blows... Basically, I stopped writing there at around 5am last night/yesterday morning. Although I had planned for there to be more added on to the end, when I woke, I couldn't remember any of it. So, since I know that if I keep trying I'll only hold onto this mostly finished chapter for another year, I figured I may as well give up now.
tl;dr- I'm stupid. Here's a chapter.
"You're nearly there," a feminine voice whispered.
I started, looking around me wildly. I might as well not have bothered: it was the same foggy grey place that it always was when I heard her speak. Why should now be any different?
The woman was a little closer to me, and there was an unsettling smile on her pretty face. It was already weird that she watched Taylor and me so closely, but the smile was just borderline creepy.
"What do you mean, nearly?" I asked. "I did what you said—I told him. That was what you wanted, right?"
"Telling him is only half the trial. There's more…" Her voice trailed off before I could even ask what more she could possibly want from me.
I woke slowly. My entire body felt warm and comfortable, and I didn't want to leave the peaceful sleeping state I'd found. Even the weird dream hadn't been enough to convince me to stir entirely just yet.
Taylor was still sleeping; I could tell from the evenness of his soft breath against my skin or that the only movement I felt from him was his ribcage swelling beneath my arm. I sighed happily and tightened my arm around him, snuggling closer. I had never been happier than I felt in that moment with him in my arms; it even outweighed what I felt when he told me he wanted to be with me. Then, I'd been plagued by the thought that I would never grant his wish, but while I was holding him, I knew that there was nothing that would ever stop me.
I lay there for a while longer until he finally woke, as well, with a soft, sleepy noise and a shift before he burrowed into me again. I smiled and held him close.
"Good morning," I murmured.
He hummed in response, motionless again. Knowing that he was so reluctant to end the embrace only made me even happier, a difficult feat that he somehow managed with ease.
"Did you sleep well?"
For a while, he was silent, his eyes closed once more. When he finally opened them—I could feel his eyelashes fluttering against my neck—he said, "Yeah, actually."
It was my turn to hum, and I did so with a smile. I didn't know how long we lay there before I began toying with the links of the chain that held us together. They were soundless, without any clangs or chinks associated with traditional chains, and they were warm rather than cold. Although they were tangible, for the most part, they didn't feel like the metal they resembled; they were simply, solidly, there.
"How is your wrist?" I asked eventually, recalling that it had been chafed.
"It's fine." He lifted his arm to my face, the cuff sliding up his arm enough for me to see the bandages. At least he was taking care of it. "I didn't want a repeat."
I smiled and entertained myself by playing with his hair. He didn't seem to mind, and so I let myself continue with it for a while. An hour seemed to pass, and we didn't even speak. This, I knew, was real happiness. Still, it was a little unhealthy to spend all day wasting away in bed.
"We should get up," I murmured quietly.
"Yeah," he agreed, although neither of us moved as if we planned to get out of bed. Instead, he nestled closer to me; it was clear he was as comfortable as I was.
We lay for longer still, falling silent again. It was his turn to break that silence this time, however.
"Tell me about what your life was like," he said.
"Um… it was nothing to talk about, really. I already told you about my family… We live—uh, lived, in my case—just a couple blocks from here. We're… pretty normal, as far as families go, I guess. And I was pretty commonplace, too. Average grades, average at sports, average at pretty much everything. In fact, dying may have been the one interesting thing I ever did."
Taylor hummed, meanwhile drawing a pattern on my arm. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it took your death to get me to see you."
"Yeah, I am, too… but there's nothing we can do about it now."
Taylor nodded. "I'm just glad we're together for now, however short-lived it may be."
His words reminded me of the lady's warning: there was still something more that I had to do. I'd already told him I loved him, so what more was there? I had only been ordered to tell him, and nothing more, so I was at a loss now.
But besides that, what was there to lose if I didn't follow through? They had not told me what the consequences for my inaction were yet. Of course, I'd assumed they were bad, but that was more or less because I figured that everything in the afterlife must be made of awful. Now, though, I was aware enough to realise that the warnings didn't include any threats. Perhaps they were only playing with me, I supposed…
"Is something wrong?" Taylor asked.
"No, it's nothing." Or at least nothing I thought I should talk about.
He just shrugged, although his eyes told me he wasn't convinced. I was grateful for once that he wasn't the straightforward type who would stop at nothing to discover all my secrets. Most of the time, I wanted him to question me, but today was a different story.
Suddenly, he said, "I want to meet your parents."
"Wh-what?" I sputtered.
"I should go see them. You can tell me what to say, but I think that your parents should know their child is alright. Or, well… at least in as little pain as they could imagine." I raised an eyebrow, giving him a concerned look. "I'll be careful with what I say. I won't tell them that you're hanging around me like a weed, or that you're a ghost. I'll just say that I have a feeling or a hunch or something."
"I don't think my dad's going to believe you either way," I muttered. He was a no-nonsense kind of man, and he wasn't going to believe ghost stories or "hunches." He never had been the type. My mother would believe it much more easily, especially if it was something good. She was always into astrology and fortune-telling and the like, always reading about brighter sunshine and greener pastures. The only thing they agreed upon, I'd used to think, was that the simple pleasures in life were the ones worth enjoying. Aside from that, they were complete opposites, but it somehow worked for them.
"I still think I should talk to them. I mean, they aren't any worse than my mom, are they?"
I nearly snorted at that. My parents were nothing like Taylor's mother. They were doting and supportive, even if my father sometimes had to work to control his temper when I did something stupid. When I had come out to them, Mom had cried, but she was forcing herself to smile, and Dad had done his best to pretend it didn't bother him. Then, eventually, it really did stop bothering them. I don't think they ever got over the idea of not having grandchildren, but considering my premature death, it wasn't as if they would have had any had I been straight.
"No, they're nothing like her. They'd like you, I think."
"So, then, you'll let me meet them?"
"That wasn't really—"
"Come on." The words were almost, but not quite, a whine, and Taylor owned so much of me that I couldn't decline him again.
"Alright. We'll go tomorrow, but prepare yourself. Mom's a cryer and Dad likes to raise his voice."
He smiled brilliantly. In one of the cutest moves I'd ever witnessed, he kissed my nose lightly—the first kiss we'd shared, even if it wasn't lips on lips—and squirmed out of my arms. "Well, if we're going tomorrow, I have to finish my homework now. You interrupted me last night." Sure enough, he sat down in his desk chair. It wasn't long before I could tell he was fast at work, and I allowed myself a slight laugh.
I didn't bother apologising. Instead, I rolled out of bed and padded over to him. I took my seat at his feet complacently. When he was finished, I'd have to make sure he ate and drank something, and then we could get back to cuddling. I had never known before that I would be so addicted to such a simple comfort. I guess I was more like my parents than I had thought.