mindsplinters (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mindsplinters) wrote2009-11-19 02:47 am
mindsplinters) wrote2009-11-19 02:47 am
Day Eighteen Cont'd
World: Angels
Rating: PG
Word Count: 729
Circumstance: Written at home
Rahab had never been much for deeply emotion-bearing confessions. They too often smacked of desperation to him. As the years went on, he just became more convinced that the louder the devotion was hollered, the less likely it would stand the test of time.
And Rahab knew time very well indeed. He had more than enough of it and then some extra stashed away for a rainy day. He could list dozens of relationships that he had enjoyed. Some of them he ended, some of them had been ended for him, but it was all the same in the end. It was hard to promise forever when you knew that only one person could deliver the literal definition of the word.
He remembered saying I love you to a few girls, maybe more than a few, and knew that he probably meant it at the time but he also knew that, more than likely, he had felt obligated to say it. It was some kind of rule, it seemed; if someone said they loved you, you had to say it back or risk looking like an asshole.
Which he was, admittedly, but he tried not to be too callous with his lovers. He tried not to promise things, was excessively careful to never say words that would lead to a possessive sort of forever. Admittedly, he failed at times. He never claimed to be perfect, after all, and he knew that, if he were honest with himself, he was closer to being an asshole than he should be comfortable with being. He had no head for dates, for one thing, could not remember anniversaries to save his life. His housekeeping habits were the stuff of a centuries-old bachelor and he was about as trainable as a goat. He had also been accused of emotional constipation, having an ego the size of Mount Everest, and being unable to commit. There was also the thing about his words and how they could hurt, how he spoke with willful disregard for the feelings or sensitivities of others.
Rahab wondered if the words he never said would hurt as much or if they hurt more because he never said them. Personally, he thought those were the best words. They fell under respectful and heartfelt and meant more in his head than anything he ever said aloud. Logical or not, he thought that his past lovers should have understood that about him.
Achaiah understood but that was not really something to be surprised over since Chai seemed to know an awful lot of things in general on an automatic basis. If he didn't, he definitely gave off the impression and Rahab was willing to buy into it. He loved Chai. Not in a creepy stalker way. Just in the quiet sort of way that you love your police partner or your best friend or your soldier buddy. He never said it and he never had to so it felt very natural and pressure-less.
Of course, things changed subtly when he realized that he also was in love with his lavender-haired best friend. Past relationships made him wonder if he should be saying things and he nearly asked the other man if he wanted to hear I love you. Luckily, Rahab caught himself before breaking is own good-sense rule and asking such a patently stupid question. If you had to ask it, then you might as well say it.
Then, one day, well after they had started kissing, Rahab caught himself saying, "Wouldn't know what to do with myself if you weren't around, Chai." A pause settled in between them, half a heartbeat long, and then Achaiah smiled. "You'd have to do your own laundry," he answered. They both knew what Rahab had really said and what he really meant but, for some reason, Chai let it go at that unspoken level. It might yet get them into trouble but, for now, it was enough that the words beneath were loud and clear.
Somehow, they were also as true as Rahab had ever made them and more. Maybe it would make sense one day, he thought, and maybe it never would. The main point remained; Chai was going to let him slide by on this for now. He figured this meant he would have to remember to pick up his socks for the next millennium now. It was the least he could do.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 729
Circumstance: Written at home
Rahab had never been much for deeply emotion-bearing confessions. They too often smacked of desperation to him. As the years went on, he just became more convinced that the louder the devotion was hollered, the less likely it would stand the test of time.
And Rahab knew time very well indeed. He had more than enough of it and then some extra stashed away for a rainy day. He could list dozens of relationships that he had enjoyed. Some of them he ended, some of them had been ended for him, but it was all the same in the end. It was hard to promise forever when you knew that only one person could deliver the literal definition of the word.
He remembered saying I love you to a few girls, maybe more than a few, and knew that he probably meant it at the time but he also knew that, more than likely, he had felt obligated to say it. It was some kind of rule, it seemed; if someone said they loved you, you had to say it back or risk looking like an asshole.
Which he was, admittedly, but he tried not to be too callous with his lovers. He tried not to promise things, was excessively careful to never say words that would lead to a possessive sort of forever. Admittedly, he failed at times. He never claimed to be perfect, after all, and he knew that, if he were honest with himself, he was closer to being an asshole than he should be comfortable with being. He had no head for dates, for one thing, could not remember anniversaries to save his life. His housekeeping habits were the stuff of a centuries-old bachelor and he was about as trainable as a goat. He had also been accused of emotional constipation, having an ego the size of Mount Everest, and being unable to commit. There was also the thing about his words and how they could hurt, how he spoke with willful disregard for the feelings or sensitivities of others.
Rahab wondered if the words he never said would hurt as much or if they hurt more because he never said them. Personally, he thought those were the best words. They fell under respectful and heartfelt and meant more in his head than anything he ever said aloud. Logical or not, he thought that his past lovers should have understood that about him.
Achaiah understood but that was not really something to be surprised over since Chai seemed to know an awful lot of things in general on an automatic basis. If he didn't, he definitely gave off the impression and Rahab was willing to buy into it. He loved Chai. Not in a creepy stalker way. Just in the quiet sort of way that you love your police partner or your best friend or your soldier buddy. He never said it and he never had to so it felt very natural and pressure-less.
Of course, things changed subtly when he realized that he also was in love with his lavender-haired best friend. Past relationships made him wonder if he should be saying things and he nearly asked the other man if he wanted to hear I love you. Luckily, Rahab caught himself before breaking is own good-sense rule and asking such a patently stupid question. If you had to ask it, then you might as well say it.
Then, one day, well after they had started kissing, Rahab caught himself saying, "Wouldn't know what to do with myself if you weren't around, Chai." A pause settled in between them, half a heartbeat long, and then Achaiah smiled. "You'd have to do your own laundry," he answered. They both knew what Rahab had really said and what he really meant but, for some reason, Chai let it go at that unspoken level. It might yet get them into trouble but, for now, it was enough that the words beneath were loud and clear.
Somehow, they were also as true as Rahab had ever made them and more. Maybe it would make sense one day, he thought, and maybe it never would. The main point remained; Chai was going to let him slide by on this for now. He figured this meant he would have to remember to pick up his socks for the next millennium now. It was the least he could do.