archiving older fic: Absolute (x-men)
Aug. 20th, 2001 08:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eve11Title: Absolute
Author: Eve11
Summary: A "Common People" story. Flashfic
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His moves are shuffles in the dark, and I pretend to sleep.
2:14 am.
The bedside clock is wrong. But all of them are. I can't find a single clock that is right, not one in the hundreds I've searched. Once I tried setting a few of them, but as soon as I hit the last button or stopped twisting the dial, the error in the display was as obvious as a scream. After a while, I matched it with a scream of my own. And then I stared at walls. Brown walls, then white walls, then brown ones again. But that was a long time ago. (five-hundred-fifty-six-million-nine-hundred-sixty-two-thousand-eight-hundred and eighty-eight)
He glides into bed beside me. I let out an over-loud breath as the covers shift.
2:15 am, the clock says confidently.
He puts his arm around me, and I can't help but flinch.
"Just me, hon," comes the raspy whisper. "Sorry I woke you."
"S'okay," I mumble into the pillow. I was awake, you know. How could I sleep? All I could do was notice the passing of the absolute. Thousands since he called with that stupid, stupid alibi ("One hour, I promise, and I'll be home..."). Fourteen-thousand-seven-hundred-forty-one. I didn't count them -- I can't; they slip away like water through my fingers if I try to count them. But knowing is as natural as seeing.
He reaches across me and turns on the alarm, sets it for seven.
Hours and minutes and seconds -- what are they but the turning of one planet at the edge of a puny galaxy? The moment I understood absolute was the moment I understood the truth. I've lived with the clocks since then. (five-hundred-twenty-nine-million-four-hundred-ninety-eight-thousand-one-hundred and ninety)
I know exactly how long he's been gone. I always do. And if I take a deep breath, feign that sleep release, I am sure I will smell her on him.
I close my eyes. If I take a deep breath...
But I can't. I open my eyes to a blur of red. I blink to focus.
2:16 am. I stare at those bright, wrong numbers on the clock, and I wonder how so many people can live so easily with the lie.
-------------------
Author: Eve11
Summary: A "Common People" story. Flashfic
----------------------
His moves are shuffles in the dark, and I pretend to sleep.
2:14 am.
The bedside clock is wrong. But all of them are. I can't find a single clock that is right, not one in the hundreds I've searched. Once I tried setting a few of them, but as soon as I hit the last button or stopped twisting the dial, the error in the display was as obvious as a scream. After a while, I matched it with a scream of my own. And then I stared at walls. Brown walls, then white walls, then brown ones again. But that was a long time ago. (five-hundred-fifty-six-million-nine-hundred-sixty-two-thousand-eight-hundred and eighty-eight)
He glides into bed beside me. I let out an over-loud breath as the covers shift.
2:15 am, the clock says confidently.
He puts his arm around me, and I can't help but flinch.
"Just me, hon," comes the raspy whisper. "Sorry I woke you."
"S'okay," I mumble into the pillow. I was awake, you know. How could I sleep? All I could do was notice the passing of the absolute. Thousands since he called with that stupid, stupid alibi ("One hour, I promise, and I'll be home..."). Fourteen-thousand-seven-hundred-forty-one. I didn't count them -- I can't; they slip away like water through my fingers if I try to count them. But knowing is as natural as seeing.
He reaches across me and turns on the alarm, sets it for seven.
Hours and minutes and seconds -- what are they but the turning of one planet at the edge of a puny galaxy? The moment I understood absolute was the moment I understood the truth. I've lived with the clocks since then. (five-hundred-twenty-nine-million-four-hundred-ninety-eight-thousand-one-hundred and ninety)
I know exactly how long he's been gone. I always do. And if I take a deep breath, feign that sleep release, I am sure I will smell her on him.
I close my eyes. If I take a deep breath...
But I can't. I open my eyes to a blur of red. I blink to focus.
2:16 am. I stare at those bright, wrong numbers on the clock, and I wonder how so many people can live so easily with the lie.
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