Ten days already?
10 December 2005 00:36![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cog_nomenThis story takes inspiration heavily from Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl, Which, as I am not Hans Christian Anderson, I can take no credit for writing. I'm not sure why this particular idea came to me in the way that it did, but I wanted to write a melancholy Christmas piece, and when I think 'sad' and 'christmas', I think of this story.
This is also an original work, so if there's a story that no one reads, I suppose this one is it.
Fandom: Original
Theme: Cold
Rating: PG
"I can't understand it, Bos." Eugene had come home late, entering the door solemnly. When he'd passed up the cheery living room with it's decorations for the holiday past in favor of the less seasonal kitchen, his sometime roommate had gotten curious. Following, he'd found Eugene with his head on the table, hiding his eyes from the light and lost in his own arms where they rested on the table.
"I told you to call in sick," The fair-haired private investigator tossed his sloppy ponytail off of his shoulder as he slid into the kitchen after the apartment's rightful owner. He shuffled through familiar cabinets, mussing their organization to gather all necessary elements for coffee. "The cold makes people crazy."
"People are always crazy, Bos." Joking was a step in the right direction, but Eugene did not lift his head, revealing that his troubles weren't superficial. Bosleigh got the coffee dripping, and then settled into the seat across from his dark haired companion. "It's a little girl." He explained at last, looking up to face the blue eyes watching him with concern.
"That's the worst part about being in the public service line of work." Standing to cross to his partner's side of the table, Bosleigh reached down to massage his shoulders encouragingly. He kept some attention on the sounds of the coffee brewing, the rest he focused on his companion. "You can't say no."
"Oh it's not like you can either," He sank his head further into his hands, starting to relax under the dexterous fingers coaxing his muscles free of their knots.
"Sure. People -expect- me to be a dick." The pun didn't work. Eugene only groaned, and shrugged the hands off of his shoulders.
"Coffee's done."
"So it is."
They knew each other well enough to know coffee particulars, Bosleigh wordlessly prepared the coffee for both of them, waiting for Eugene to be ready to explain. He settled the cup at the police officer's elbow, then retook his seat across the table from him, studying it's familiar surface as the silence grew.
Bosleigh considered how long they'd been together, how the apartment had gone from a strange place to more of a home than his own roach rest stop of an apartment. Eugene had given him a place that was healthy and clean to live in when his ex-wife had left him not enough money to rent a place that didn't smell like piss four days out of five, piss and mildew the rest of the time. He'd gone from sleeping alone, on a mattress that he'd rescued from a dumpster to a couch that was entirely too comfortable for it's own good, to a bed that belonged to a man who seemed to know him.
Since the divorce, he'd sworn he'd never have another woman. So far, there had been nothing to make him break that vow, and yet he wasn't alone. Not the way he'd expected to be. Eugene was everything that a woman dreamed of. He came from a wealthy family, was educated. He enjoyed his job, though it wasn't terribly well-paying he was a first class police investigator. He showed his Greek heritage gorgeously, built athletically as compared to Bosleigh's own scrawny nature. His complexion was a rich color, accented by wild, tight curls of dark hair.
Bosleigh had nothing but his easy smile, a silky-soft blonde ponytail, and several more questionable reference to tell him he was good looking. No one had ever called him beautiful that wasn't paid to. He wasn't ugly, not really, but he tended to blend in. It was small wonder he'd fallen head over teacups for the beautiful woman he'd married, and fallen just as hard in reverse when he found out what she'd really wanted him for.
Still, she'd gotten it. She was still taking his money. Probably would forever, she even had his dog, though he couldn't understand why she put up with an animal that hated her. Spite, he assumed.
With nothing to offer, he'd come to Eugene's attention. It was partially that which had allowed him to trust the other man long enough for their relationship - rocky as it had initially been - to start. Eugene couldn't take him for everything he had - Bosleigh had nothing.
Now he still had nothing, except Eugene. And that was enough for him.
"They found her outside." Eugene continued at last, snapping Bosleigh out of his thoughts. He had taken the mug into his hands, both of them wrapped around it to take the warmth from the cup. "Frozen."
"Poor thing." Bosleigh was sincere. He couldn't abide the death of a child, when it could be avoided. He closed his eyes and sighed, breath fogging over his hot cup, adding to the steam, pushing it out over the table. "How old was she?"
"Ten. Only ten." A pause, while coffee soothed down the emotions that rose at the thought of only a decade of life. "People just walked by her, Bosleigh. They remembered seeing her, but didn't help her."
"It's a busy time of year." He wasn't really defending them, but trying to rationalize in his own mind. "People are ready for parties and complaining about the cold as they go to and from their warm little houses." Bosleigh knew what it was like to be cold down to your core, felt a sympathetic shiver start to creep up his spine before he quelled it, almost pouring coffee down his front in his haste to have something warm. "They don't think when they pass a person in need. It's like they just shut off."
Eugene sank back into silence, and Bosleigh did not break it. He was standing up to refill his cup, when Eugene caught his hand as he passed. Fingers twined, and he looked down at his seated companion, blue eyes meeting green. "Will you..."
"A...all right." He supposed he knew it was coming. That Eugene had brought some possession of the little girl's, expected him to use his gift. "All right, but let's sit in the living room. You know how I can get."
Wordlessly, Eugene released his fingers, after squeezing them reassuringly. When he stood, Bosleigh realized that it would be easier for the larger man to carry him. He had to suppress a sarcastic laugh when the thought crept up, unbidden, that he was -already- being carried by him. Both setting aside their cups, they headed for the living room, Eugene going for his discarded coat and pulling a plastic bag containing what Bos supposed was evidence that was about to be tampered with.
The private investigator settled on the fluffy, flower print couch where he'd slept so many times, elbows on his knees, braced. He didn't know what would happen when he touched it, but he suspected very little of it would be pleasant.
"Help me find her family, Bos. She should be home for the new year, don't you think?" Eugene pressed the plastic bag into his hand, and he saw it contained a tiny, dirty shirt. There was no blood, at least.
Taking a deep breath, Bosleigh undid the plastic grooves, green coming apart into blue and yellow. He upturned the bag, shaking the contents out onto his upturned fingers.
Cold.
Cold shocked through his body fast and hard enough to numb his toes, tense his muscles in a vigor that turned rapidly into jittering, hard shivers. He lost track of his body, his vision turning into a wash and dance of white snowflakes, pirouetting through the night in a complicated ballet that only they knew the steps to. He felt the bite of the wind against his cheeks, already numb, cutting deep. He expected to bleed from the sheer wind, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, he hugged his arms tight around himself.
It seemed to go on forever, the cold stinging through every inch of his body. Eventually, he stopped shaking, hands clutched tight and numb around his shoulders. The pain started to feel like warmth, almost. A fire deep in his muscles. It was almost as if he could go to sleep. He studied the ground, a smear of dark concrete from where he'd moved and brushed the perfect covering of white snow away from it. The concrete was dark, dirty. Overhead, there were bricks, but nothing stopped the relentless push of snow against his body. His teeth gave one last halfhearted chatter.
Memories that weren't his flooded back, a home, family that had once celebrated Christmas. He was sad that he'd missed it this year - lost track of time, even. The holiday had crept up on him like hunger did. He was thinking about the tree that he remembered, somehow, from when he was very little, when the warmth finally overtook his core.
There was a family there, in the snow. A woman he recognized as his grandmother stepped forward, holding out her hands. She hadn't been forgotten, and she was just in time. This whole six months of starving and freezing, it had all been a dream. Here was her family, and there was the tree. Why hadn't she realized that all she had to do was open her eyes, and it was Christmas morning, and a fire was burning in her fireplace - not at all like the fire that had burned down her house in her dreams. What a silly thing she'd been. What a silly thing...
"Bosleigh!" There was shaking. The vision ended, and his fingers uncurled at last, releasing the scant scrap of fabric to the floor. Shivering and chattering overcame him, every part of his body freezing. Eugene was shaking him, and his muscles screamed protest to being moved, the blood felt frozen in his veins, complaining and shooting ice through his body as it was forced to move.
Eugene made a noise that was suspiciously like a sob, and Bosleigh felt the weight of blankets settling over him, but it was a distant feeling. His eyelids felt heavy, everything seemed to move slowly when he tracked it with his vision. It was tough to pay attention to anything. He realized, somewhere, in the most sluggish of thoughts, that he must be freezing cold.
By the time thinking was easy again, Eugene had lit a fire and lifted his companion from the couch to a pile of hastily dragged pillows and blankets, arranged close to the fireplace. Bosleigh's teeth were chattering when the other man crawled in alongside him, gathering his body close in a manner that was distinctly protective. His hands obeyed him when he commanded them to go around Eugene's middle, clutching him as a drowning man might his savior.
He shivered, his muscles screaming as they warmed again.
"It's o-kay," he managed around his chattering, betraying teeth. "It's okay."
"Don't worry about it." Eugene pulled him closer, inching them toward the fireplace, his hands rubbing along Bosleigh's arms alternately, encouraging icy fire up each in turn, making his partner wince. "Shh, I'm sorry I made you do it."
He didn't attempt to talk again until the shivers had subsided, and he was resting calmly again, his face turned into Eugene's shoulder. It was reassuring here, this was his family, waiting for him here and on the right side of living. He leaned up to kiss Eugene, his lips warm again at last. He found dried tears on his partner's cheeks, and sighed gently against his skin.
"She's found her family." He still felt cold, but somehow happy. They spent the whole night bundled up together, when the fire burned down low, Bosleigh was warmed.
This is also an original work, so if there's a story that no one reads, I suppose this one is it.
Fandom: Original
Theme: Cold
Rating: PG
"I can't understand it, Bos." Eugene had come home late, entering the door solemnly. When he'd passed up the cheery living room with it's decorations for the holiday past in favor of the less seasonal kitchen, his sometime roommate had gotten curious. Following, he'd found Eugene with his head on the table, hiding his eyes from the light and lost in his own arms where they rested on the table.
"I told you to call in sick," The fair-haired private investigator tossed his sloppy ponytail off of his shoulder as he slid into the kitchen after the apartment's rightful owner. He shuffled through familiar cabinets, mussing their organization to gather all necessary elements for coffee. "The cold makes people crazy."
"People are always crazy, Bos." Joking was a step in the right direction, but Eugene did not lift his head, revealing that his troubles weren't superficial. Bosleigh got the coffee dripping, and then settled into the seat across from his dark haired companion. "It's a little girl." He explained at last, looking up to face the blue eyes watching him with concern.
"That's the worst part about being in the public service line of work." Standing to cross to his partner's side of the table, Bosleigh reached down to massage his shoulders encouragingly. He kept some attention on the sounds of the coffee brewing, the rest he focused on his companion. "You can't say no."
"Oh it's not like you can either," He sank his head further into his hands, starting to relax under the dexterous fingers coaxing his muscles free of their knots.
"Sure. People -expect- me to be a dick." The pun didn't work. Eugene only groaned, and shrugged the hands off of his shoulders.
"Coffee's done."
"So it is."
They knew each other well enough to know coffee particulars, Bosleigh wordlessly prepared the coffee for both of them, waiting for Eugene to be ready to explain. He settled the cup at the police officer's elbow, then retook his seat across the table from him, studying it's familiar surface as the silence grew.
Bosleigh considered how long they'd been together, how the apartment had gone from a strange place to more of a home than his own roach rest stop of an apartment. Eugene had given him a place that was healthy and clean to live in when his ex-wife had left him not enough money to rent a place that didn't smell like piss four days out of five, piss and mildew the rest of the time. He'd gone from sleeping alone, on a mattress that he'd rescued from a dumpster to a couch that was entirely too comfortable for it's own good, to a bed that belonged to a man who seemed to know him.
Since the divorce, he'd sworn he'd never have another woman. So far, there had been nothing to make him break that vow, and yet he wasn't alone. Not the way he'd expected to be. Eugene was everything that a woman dreamed of. He came from a wealthy family, was educated. He enjoyed his job, though it wasn't terribly well-paying he was a first class police investigator. He showed his Greek heritage gorgeously, built athletically as compared to Bosleigh's own scrawny nature. His complexion was a rich color, accented by wild, tight curls of dark hair.
Bosleigh had nothing but his easy smile, a silky-soft blonde ponytail, and several more questionable reference to tell him he was good looking. No one had ever called him beautiful that wasn't paid to. He wasn't ugly, not really, but he tended to blend in. It was small wonder he'd fallen head over teacups for the beautiful woman he'd married, and fallen just as hard in reverse when he found out what she'd really wanted him for.
Still, she'd gotten it. She was still taking his money. Probably would forever, she even had his dog, though he couldn't understand why she put up with an animal that hated her. Spite, he assumed.
With nothing to offer, he'd come to Eugene's attention. It was partially that which had allowed him to trust the other man long enough for their relationship - rocky as it had initially been - to start. Eugene couldn't take him for everything he had - Bosleigh had nothing.
Now he still had nothing, except Eugene. And that was enough for him.
"They found her outside." Eugene continued at last, snapping Bosleigh out of his thoughts. He had taken the mug into his hands, both of them wrapped around it to take the warmth from the cup. "Frozen."
"Poor thing." Bosleigh was sincere. He couldn't abide the death of a child, when it could be avoided. He closed his eyes and sighed, breath fogging over his hot cup, adding to the steam, pushing it out over the table. "How old was she?"
"Ten. Only ten." A pause, while coffee soothed down the emotions that rose at the thought of only a decade of life. "People just walked by her, Bosleigh. They remembered seeing her, but didn't help her."
"It's a busy time of year." He wasn't really defending them, but trying to rationalize in his own mind. "People are ready for parties and complaining about the cold as they go to and from their warm little houses." Bosleigh knew what it was like to be cold down to your core, felt a sympathetic shiver start to creep up his spine before he quelled it, almost pouring coffee down his front in his haste to have something warm. "They don't think when they pass a person in need. It's like they just shut off."
Eugene sank back into silence, and Bosleigh did not break it. He was standing up to refill his cup, when Eugene caught his hand as he passed. Fingers twined, and he looked down at his seated companion, blue eyes meeting green. "Will you..."
"A...all right." He supposed he knew it was coming. That Eugene had brought some possession of the little girl's, expected him to use his gift. "All right, but let's sit in the living room. You know how I can get."
Wordlessly, Eugene released his fingers, after squeezing them reassuringly. When he stood, Bosleigh realized that it would be easier for the larger man to carry him. He had to suppress a sarcastic laugh when the thought crept up, unbidden, that he was -already- being carried by him. Both setting aside their cups, they headed for the living room, Eugene going for his discarded coat and pulling a plastic bag containing what Bos supposed was evidence that was about to be tampered with.
The private investigator settled on the fluffy, flower print couch where he'd slept so many times, elbows on his knees, braced. He didn't know what would happen when he touched it, but he suspected very little of it would be pleasant.
"Help me find her family, Bos. She should be home for the new year, don't you think?" Eugene pressed the plastic bag into his hand, and he saw it contained a tiny, dirty shirt. There was no blood, at least.
Taking a deep breath, Bosleigh undid the plastic grooves, green coming apart into blue and yellow. He upturned the bag, shaking the contents out onto his upturned fingers.
Cold.
Cold shocked through his body fast and hard enough to numb his toes, tense his muscles in a vigor that turned rapidly into jittering, hard shivers. He lost track of his body, his vision turning into a wash and dance of white snowflakes, pirouetting through the night in a complicated ballet that only they knew the steps to. He felt the bite of the wind against his cheeks, already numb, cutting deep. He expected to bleed from the sheer wind, his vision narrowed to a tunnel, he hugged his arms tight around himself.
It seemed to go on forever, the cold stinging through every inch of his body. Eventually, he stopped shaking, hands clutched tight and numb around his shoulders. The pain started to feel like warmth, almost. A fire deep in his muscles. It was almost as if he could go to sleep. He studied the ground, a smear of dark concrete from where he'd moved and brushed the perfect covering of white snow away from it. The concrete was dark, dirty. Overhead, there were bricks, but nothing stopped the relentless push of snow against his body. His teeth gave one last halfhearted chatter.
Memories that weren't his flooded back, a home, family that had once celebrated Christmas. He was sad that he'd missed it this year - lost track of time, even. The holiday had crept up on him like hunger did. He was thinking about the tree that he remembered, somehow, from when he was very little, when the warmth finally overtook his core.
There was a family there, in the snow. A woman he recognized as his grandmother stepped forward, holding out her hands. She hadn't been forgotten, and she was just in time. This whole six months of starving and freezing, it had all been a dream. Here was her family, and there was the tree. Why hadn't she realized that all she had to do was open her eyes, and it was Christmas morning, and a fire was burning in her fireplace - not at all like the fire that had burned down her house in her dreams. What a silly thing she'd been. What a silly thing...
"Bosleigh!" There was shaking. The vision ended, and his fingers uncurled at last, releasing the scant scrap of fabric to the floor. Shivering and chattering overcame him, every part of his body freezing. Eugene was shaking him, and his muscles screamed protest to being moved, the blood felt frozen in his veins, complaining and shooting ice through his body as it was forced to move.
Eugene made a noise that was suspiciously like a sob, and Bosleigh felt the weight of blankets settling over him, but it was a distant feeling. His eyelids felt heavy, everything seemed to move slowly when he tracked it with his vision. It was tough to pay attention to anything. He realized, somewhere, in the most sluggish of thoughts, that he must be freezing cold.
By the time thinking was easy again, Eugene had lit a fire and lifted his companion from the couch to a pile of hastily dragged pillows and blankets, arranged close to the fireplace. Bosleigh's teeth were chattering when the other man crawled in alongside him, gathering his body close in a manner that was distinctly protective. His hands obeyed him when he commanded them to go around Eugene's middle, clutching him as a drowning man might his savior.
He shivered, his muscles screaming as they warmed again.
"It's o-kay," he managed around his chattering, betraying teeth. "It's okay."
"Don't worry about it." Eugene pulled him closer, inching them toward the fireplace, his hands rubbing along Bosleigh's arms alternately, encouraging icy fire up each in turn, making his partner wince. "Shh, I'm sorry I made you do it."
He didn't attempt to talk again until the shivers had subsided, and he was resting calmly again, his face turned into Eugene's shoulder. It was reassuring here, this was his family, waiting for him here and on the right side of living. He leaned up to kiss Eugene, his lips warm again at last. He found dried tears on his partner's cheeks, and sighed gently against his skin.
"She's found her family." He still felt cold, but somehow happy. They spent the whole night bundled up together, when the fire burned down low, Bosleigh was warmed.
