What comes first is only more worrying, sending something with sharp legs made of ice crawling up and down his spine. Danny laughing, and talking faster. Responding. Suddenly shrill at what little Steve had just said. Managed to ask. To try and shove his foot in there. Even if everyone the world over would have been able to tell he was full of bullshit for what he just said. For the way he couldn't even make it believable.
But Danny is laughing, grinning in a stretch that is not happy, threatens to shred Danny's face and Steve's lungs. While laughing and it's not in a good way either. Throwing his words back at him suddenly. Before.
Before.
Before.
It's like. . .
It's like a bomb detonating too close to you.
Knowing you can't run or jump far enough no matter how hard you try.
The impact slamming into you so hard that everything that comes after it skews out of order. The brain, fragile, delicate mass that it is, still reeling from the trauma and not even able to assess its own, or the body's damage. But other things still work. Firing off like a roulette wheel, catching bits and pieces, and flinging them across the suddenly pitched upside down board. It's the only thing that runs into his head first. The dumpster, and a bomb.
Because Danny opened his mouth, laughing, high pitched, and then he said. There were words. Some that made a lot of sense, like I thought, you know, I could handle it, for the cover. Steve knew that. Ha believed it. Let himself. Chose wrong for both of them. But he can't have said, I’m talking about not being able to keep my fucking hands off you, because that makes no sense. Because Danny doesn't want to touch him. Because Danny doesn't. Danny isn't. He'd know. He knew everything.
He knew everything, just enough to feel the room spin, the darkness in the adjoining rooms, windows, loft closing in on the yellow light at I know I shouldn’t want you, but I do and suddenly there is no air. Danny is ranting. Ranting about something. Their friendship? Hitting him? The job? Steve can't even. The words are filling up the room. White noise in his head. He can hear them. It just keeps repeating.
I shouldn’t want you, but I do I shouldn’t want you, but I do I shouldn’t want you, but I do
Leveling off everything left in his head, in the room. Danny's face still perfectly clear in front of his face, hands moving to fast, face too flushed. He needs to move. Needs to say something. Can't breathe in. Must have gone insane in the last few seconds. Because. Because. Because. Danny. Just. Danny said. Danny. Is so far away. Danny. Looks terrified.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2015-10-22 03:51 am (UTC)What comes first is only more worrying, sending something with sharp legs made of ice crawling up and down his spine. Danny laughing, and talking faster. Responding. Suddenly shrill at what little Steve had just said. Managed to ask. To try and shove his foot in there. Even if everyone the world over would have been able to tell he was full of bullshit for what he just said. For the way he couldn't even make it believable.
But Danny is laughing, grinning in a stretch that is not happy, threatens to shred Danny's face and Steve's lungs. While laughing and it's not in a good way either. Throwing his words back at him suddenly. Before.
Before.
Before.
It's like. . .
It's like a bomb detonating too close to you.
Knowing you can't run or jump far enough no matter how hard you try.
The impact slamming into you so hard that everything that comes after it skews out of order. The brain, fragile, delicate mass that it is, still reeling from the trauma and not even able to assess its own, or the body's damage. But other things still work. Firing off like a roulette wheel, catching bits and pieces, and flinging them across the suddenly pitched upside down board. It's the only thing that runs into his head first. The dumpster, and a bomb.
Because Danny opened his mouth, laughing, high pitched, and then he said. There were words. Some that made a lot of sense, like I thought, you know, I could handle it, for the cover. Steve knew that. Ha believed it. Let himself. Chose wrong for both of them. But he can't have said, I’m talking about not being able to keep my fucking hands off you, because that makes no sense. Because Danny doesn't want to touch him. Because Danny doesn't. Danny isn't. He'd know. He knew everything.
He knew everything, just enough to feel the room spin, the darkness in the adjoining rooms, windows, loft closing in on the yellow light at I know I shouldn’t want you, but I do and suddenly there is no air. Danny is ranting. Ranting about something. Their friendship? Hitting him? The job? Steve can't even. The words are filling up the room. White noise in his head. He can hear them. It just keeps repeating.
I shouldn’t want you, but I do
I shouldn’t want you, but I do
I shouldn’t want you, but I do
Leveling off everything left in his head, in the room. Danny's face still perfectly clear in front of his face, hands moving to fast, face too flushed. He needs to move. Needs to say something. Can't breathe in. Must have gone insane in the last few seconds. Because. Because. Because. Danny. Just. Danny said. Danny. Is so far away. Danny. Looks terrified.
Danny.
Wants him?