( imagined you saw me ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imaginedyou) wrote2005-01-05 12:41 pm
imaginedyou) wrote2005-01-05 12:41 pm
Entry tags:
dance into the fire [Lostprophets, firstlines1000]
title: dance into the fire
fandom: lostprophets
summary: "it dances with no direction, it flickers and teases, and just when you think you understand it, it changes."
notes: firstlines1000
+
It should hurt, but it doesn't.
It should burn; the molecules in the skin should be vibrating so fast your body interprets it as pain. It should sting and make him cringe, and he should pull his hand away, but he doesn't. The brunette just watches the flame of the lighter dance between his fingers, scorching flesh. If it hurts, he gives no indication of it. Perhaps the cold has turned him numb. Like people who have no nerves close to the surface of their skin, so they go to pick up a hot pan and don't realise they're burning themselves til they need to go to hospital, or they don't notice when the knife slips as they make dinner until they're bleeding and it's all over the food.
Ian plays with the fire almost idly; one might assume he was bored of it, if they didn't know any better. But it's one of few things that simply can't bore him. No matter where the two of you are, no matter how similar the reds and oranges, yellows and whites of the flames are, the fire is never the same twice. It dances with no direction, it flickers and teases, and just when you think you understand it, it changes. It can go out in an instant, with no warning, and it needs just the right combination of elements to be sustained.
You think the attraction for Ian, is finding a twin soul. If something like fire can have a soul that is. And you're pretty sure it can; it seems to have a life of it's own entirely, so why not a soul? It drives you crazy the way they mimic one another, flickering and changing, burning out only to be re-ignited, but you sit silently and say nothing. You try to work out time after time why you're still there, still tagging along, and find no answers. You had feelings, once, but you think the frosty nights and the constant changing numbed them too.
It's hard to think of being replaced by an element. Not even another person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. Not someone he simply could talk to more easily than you, or have the exact same sense of humour as. Just these flames that lash at you, as though mocking, that drown his eyes and his senses until his cares and worries are forgotten. This strange comfort that puts an ache in his finger as he holds the lighter, but a literal warmth to cling to even if he falls asleep outside once again because he doesn't dare go home.
If the situations soothed him, they tore at you. Driving a wedge between you, until you would follow, but barely even look at him. The fire would keep him warm and cloak the chilling hostility you felt towards him. He was ignorant to all else, and you convinced yourself eventually that you couldn't bear to be around someone so self-absorbed, dependant and oblivious.
You stand up and walk away, as he sits staring into the flames, obviously seeing something you are not. And his gaze never falters. It should hurt, but it doesn't.
+
fandom: lostprophets
summary: "it dances with no direction, it flickers and teases, and just when you think you understand it, it changes."
notes: firstlines1000
+
It should hurt, but it doesn't.
It should burn; the molecules in the skin should be vibrating so fast your body interprets it as pain. It should sting and make him cringe, and he should pull his hand away, but he doesn't. The brunette just watches the flame of the lighter dance between his fingers, scorching flesh. If it hurts, he gives no indication of it. Perhaps the cold has turned him numb. Like people who have no nerves close to the surface of their skin, so they go to pick up a hot pan and don't realise they're burning themselves til they need to go to hospital, or they don't notice when the knife slips as they make dinner until they're bleeding and it's all over the food.
Ian plays with the fire almost idly; one might assume he was bored of it, if they didn't know any better. But it's one of few things that simply can't bore him. No matter where the two of you are, no matter how similar the reds and oranges, yellows and whites of the flames are, the fire is never the same twice. It dances with no direction, it flickers and teases, and just when you think you understand it, it changes. It can go out in an instant, with no warning, and it needs just the right combination of elements to be sustained.
You think the attraction for Ian, is finding a twin soul. If something like fire can have a soul that is. And you're pretty sure it can; it seems to have a life of it's own entirely, so why not a soul? It drives you crazy the way they mimic one another, flickering and changing, burning out only to be re-ignited, but you sit silently and say nothing. You try to work out time after time why you're still there, still tagging along, and find no answers. You had feelings, once, but you think the frosty nights and the constant changing numbed them too.
It's hard to think of being replaced by an element. Not even another person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. Not someone he simply could talk to more easily than you, or have the exact same sense of humour as. Just these flames that lash at you, as though mocking, that drown his eyes and his senses until his cares and worries are forgotten. This strange comfort that puts an ache in his finger as he holds the lighter, but a literal warmth to cling to even if he falls asleep outside once again because he doesn't dare go home.
If the situations soothed him, they tore at you. Driving a wedge between you, until you would follow, but barely even look at him. The fire would keep him warm and cloak the chilling hostility you felt towards him. He was ignorant to all else, and you convinced yourself eventually that you couldn't bear to be around someone so self-absorbed, dependant and oblivious.
You stand up and walk away, as he sits staring into the flames, obviously seeing something you are not. And his gaze never falters. It should hurt, but it doesn't.
+
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no subject
Lol, I love how predictable I am that you knew it was Lee. Uh, did anyone have a doubt?
Mmmm s'why I didn't want to put an actual pairing though, because of the displacement and Ian's decline almost. Like not mentioning him by name give ambiguity to Lee, and the way he slips out of the scene, and out of Ian's life :)