special unspoken without sound. (sensations) wrote in likeoh,
special unspoken without sound.

029 a sore heart and a hand to hold (marcus/jessica)

marcus flutie/jessica darling;
a sore heart and a hand to hold.

"i thought marcus was going to be in my life forever. then i thought i was wrong. now he’s back. but this time i know what’s certain: marcus will be gone again, and back again and again and again because nothing is permanent. especially people. strangers become friends. friends become lovers. lovers become strangers. strangers become friends once more, and over and over. tomorrow, next week, fifty years from now, i know i’ll get another one-word postcard from marcus, because this one doesn’t have a period signifying the end of the sentence. or the end of anything at all."

the casualty; cursive.
night time triggers the land mines-bedroom wounds.
lovers like brigadiers, marching two by two.
a soldier's down, flood gates burst.
i've said some things i wish you'd never heard.

out of the question; mumm-ra.
if you believe me look in my eyes;
as you deny me, don't breathe a sigh.
you can't be the reason.
you won't be the reason for all the things i said.

hymn #101; joe pug.
i've come to be the stranger that you keep.
i've come from down the road, and my footsteps never slowed.
before we met, i knew we'd meet.
i've come to say exactly what i mean and i mean so many things.

leave the earth behind you and take a walk into the sunshine; ballboy.
when i hold you in my arms and pretend that i am sleeping,
well i hope you understand.
underneath the sheets with your hopes and your fears and inadequacies.
are you happy with your life?

halcyon (beautiful days); mono

wicked game; giant drag.
no one could save me but you - strange what desire will make foolish people do.
i never dreamed that i'd meet somebody like you.
and i don't want to fall in love; no, i don't want to fall in love.
what a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.

come right out and say it; relient k.
i better rest my eyes, 'cause i'm growing weary of this point you've been trying to make.
so rather than imply, why don't you just verbalize all the things that you're trying to say?
thought this would turn out so well but i'm beginning to see that instead, it's trouble.
into a pattern we fell - of prolonging the inevitable.

the rat within the grain; damien rice.
i wouldn't want you to want to be wanted by me.
i wouldn't want you to worry - you'd be drowned within my sea.
i only wanted to be wonderful, in wonderful is true.
in truth, i only really wanted to be wanted by you.

a sore heart and a hand to hold zip

"semantics aside, any sexual activity is a miracle considering the neutering effect of the run-in with sierra. and the state of my hair. not to mention that the accutane is failing and i had a throbbing bubo on the tip of my nose. buboes are the red, raging, open sores that marked the black death, my favorite of all the medieval plagues. when the bubo turned black, you were doomed (hence the name), and no one would dare come close to the infected corpse, not even for a burial. you were lucky if someone even bothered to throw a sheet over you.

i babbled about all of this to marcus recovered from coming because it was better than a conversation compromised of apologies. (his for fucking sierra, mine for retroactively punishing him for it.) he didn't react to my rambling, so i didn't think he was listening. or rather, i was hoping that he wasn't capable listening after being laid so powerfully by the love of his life. but then he sat up in the twisted sheets and put his lips to my nose, lightly kissing my cyst.

"i'd bury you."

p.s. this was originally a ficmix but the fic got too big. :O expect it later. along with a hope/marcus companion fanmix to this one.
Tags: book: sloppy firsts, fanmix, fiction: jessica/marcus

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