"Baby Steps" - Emerald Cove fic
Aug. 20th, 2002 11:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mickeymSo, here it is. I honestly didn't expect to get it started this fast...but then, I'm often an overachiever when it comes to writing things I probably shouldn't ;-)
No smut yet. And it's very short. It's going to be building up -- more pieces. Possibly (probably?) a series of shorts.
For Brak, for the tapes and the encouragement :-)
Baby Steps
By Kim G.
Sun's gone down. The Shack's closed. Everyone you know is home, either getting ready for bed, or already there.
You're here, alone, on your beloved beach, knees pulled to your chest, sand gritting beneath your legs. It's comforting, this cool dampness surrounding you. Familiar. You don't usually feel lonely here; you can smell the salt in the air and you can hear the sound of the surf as it washes up against the beach.
Tonight, you're alone and it's…lonely.
I don't understand what you're saying.
Most people don't, you realize. And usually it doesn't bother you. But you met someone today…and you want him to understand you. You're not sure why it's important, but it feels like it is. Really important.
Jeff's cousin, Will.
"Will."
You say the name out loud, tasting it, then turn it over then silently in your mind. In his own way, he's as big a dork as you are. And you know you are – you're not completely oblivious, contrary to what your friends might think.
But more than…that. He's. He's--.
You grope around in your mind for the words you want, but they're not there. And that's *so* not fair; words are always there for you. They're like your board; always present, always a part of you. You reach out impulsively, clutch at the smooth, waxed surface laying next to you, fingers tracing over it slowly, reverently. As if you didn't know each and every line and curve to it already.
This makes you different from your friends.
But something else makes you different, too. And you…you sense it in Will, as well.
It's not something anyone can see. Or at least, you don't *think* they can see it. You wonder sometimes. You've heard people – other people, not your friends – talk about 'queers' and 'fags' and how they just KNEW that so-and-so was one. So it makes you wonder. If they really can see it, if it's something that shines in your eyes, or some aura that hovers around you, or what.
You're not sure. If that's what you are. So many words for it. Words are your friend…you have to remember that. Even the hateful ones; if you take them and make them *yours*, they lose power over you. Right? And you've seen, noticed, talking to Will…he understands the power of words.
Maybe. Maybe you can talk to him some more. And teach him how to understand you. You want him to. Because he's like you in so many ways. You can see that. Maybe it IS an aura, of sorts. Or something. You wish you knew. You wish you understood it all, so you could walk right up to him, feel confident, say what you need to say.
Maybe you should take small steps at first, though. Walk slowly.
Baby steps, your mom used to call them. When you need to approach something slow and easy.
One small step at a time.
Maybe…while you're taking small steps…Will can meet you halfway, and finish the steps with you.
~Fin~
No smut yet. And it's very short. It's going to be building up -- more pieces. Possibly (probably?) a series of shorts.
For Brak, for the tapes and the encouragement :-)
Baby Steps
By Kim G.
Sun's gone down. The Shack's closed. Everyone you know is home, either getting ready for bed, or already there.
You're here, alone, on your beloved beach, knees pulled to your chest, sand gritting beneath your legs. It's comforting, this cool dampness surrounding you. Familiar. You don't usually feel lonely here; you can smell the salt in the air and you can hear the sound of the surf as it washes up against the beach.
Tonight, you're alone and it's…lonely.
I don't understand what you're saying.
Most people don't, you realize. And usually it doesn't bother you. But you met someone today…and you want him to understand you. You're not sure why it's important, but it feels like it is. Really important.
Jeff's cousin, Will.
"Will."
You say the name out loud, tasting it, then turn it over then silently in your mind. In his own way, he's as big a dork as you are. And you know you are – you're not completely oblivious, contrary to what your friends might think.
But more than…that. He's. He's--.
You grope around in your mind for the words you want, but they're not there. And that's *so* not fair; words are always there for you. They're like your board; always present, always a part of you. You reach out impulsively, clutch at the smooth, waxed surface laying next to you, fingers tracing over it slowly, reverently. As if you didn't know each and every line and curve to it already.
This makes you different from your friends.
But something else makes you different, too. And you…you sense it in Will, as well.
It's not something anyone can see. Or at least, you don't *think* they can see it. You wonder sometimes. You've heard people – other people, not your friends – talk about 'queers' and 'fags' and how they just KNEW that so-and-so was one. So it makes you wonder. If they really can see it, if it's something that shines in your eyes, or some aura that hovers around you, or what.
You're not sure. If that's what you are. So many words for it. Words are your friend…you have to remember that. Even the hateful ones; if you take them and make them *yours*, they lose power over you. Right? And you've seen, noticed, talking to Will…he understands the power of words.
Maybe. Maybe you can talk to him some more. And teach him how to understand you. You want him to. Because he's like you in so many ways. You can see that. Maybe it IS an aura, of sorts. Or something. You wish you knew. You wish you understood it all, so you could walk right up to him, feel confident, say what you need to say.
Maybe you should take small steps at first, though. Walk slowly.
Baby steps, your mom used to call them. When you need to approach something slow and easy.
One small step at a time.
Maybe…while you're taking small steps…Will can meet you halfway, and finish the steps with you.
~Fin~
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Re: *Falls On Floor And Dies*
Date: 2002-08-21 09:16 am (UTC)And isn't it nice to know you won't be alone for that long bus ride to hell? ;-)