![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gayalondiel_bakFandom: Third Star
Title: You Fell With Me
Character/Pairing: James/Davy
Length: c.1000 words
Rating: PG (language; also subject matter).
Spoilers: Spoilers for the film! Also for the inspiration piece.
Warnings: Well, the end of the film.
Disclaimer: Third Star belongs to the wonderful and inimitable Vaughan Sivell and Hattie Dalton, and Western Edge (and all the other studios that you tend to gather when scratching around the independent film industry for money, I guess, but it’s Mr Sivell’s really). No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love of one of the best films I’ve ever seen only.
Summary: Companion piece to Remember Where We Fell. James is waiting.
AN: My very dear![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
irisbleufic wrote the most amazing Third Star fic in Remember Where We Fell, and through hesitancy and fear I’ve only just got around to reading it. After I was done sobbing my heart out (seriously, I don’t know any other fanfic author who can so reliably make me cry) I realised that the other side of the story was loitering in my head. And she liked it enough to let me post it. So irisbleufic, friend, beta, mentor: this is yours.
Afterwards, you knew, know, will know, that he will follow.
When the salt has burned your lungs and faded. When the chill has seeped in and numbed you beyond cold, beyond shivering, beyond stillness. When the touch of Miles’ fingers in your shirt burns and then fades and is gone. When you’re spread across the heavens, sparks dancing in the firelight, atoms and dark matter and so much more, when you are outside time and space and everything in creation is before you, you know he will follow.
And if you’re honest, you knew before.
There’s a terrible part of you that wanted it before. When the plan wasn’t formed yet, when it was just you and Davy and sweat and skin and morphine, that first time you turned close to him and pressed lips to his skin and tasted salt, and fear, and desire, the thought flashed across your mind, dismissed just as quickly but never forgotten.
Come with me.
~~~
You almost asked him, the day you convinced him to go on the trip. When he slapped you on the back, laughing, and said it’s a huge risk, but I’m willing, it was on the tip of your tongue, burning like an ember.
Come with me. Come with me under the water. Come with me where the salt will rip your lungs to pieces and the cold will flood your skin and freeze your muscles and I will hold you, closer and tighter than anyone could possibly hold anyone else and we will be there, together.
I don’t want to do it on my own.
But you didn’t ask, because you knew he wouldn’t take you to Barafundle Bay if you told him the plan.
~~~
If not for the morphine, you would have asked him that night, in the tent, after they had all said no. You would have turned to him and whispered that you could go together, out in a blaze of glory, the two of you like fucking Romeo and fucking Juliet, tragic and beautiful. Everyone would hate him for it, but you’d love him, among the stars and across the galaxy and fuck Miles and his nothing, fuck Bill and his reincarnated mollusks, you would be together. Forever.
More than not being alone, you didn’t want to leave him alone. And he would be so alone.
But there’s no morphine, and that night he holds you so close you think he’s going to crush what little life there is left out of you, and so gently that his touch is like the brush of the feather you caught out of the air a lifetime ago, and however hard you try, you can’t make the words form through your screaming.
~~~
When you’re in the sea, you honestly think he’s coming too. Miles comes, and then Bill, and then there’s Davy wading out, and your eyes meet his and you know, you know he’s coming with you, not just while you die but where you go, he’ll be the last thing you see when your eyes close and the first thing you see when they open and you’re more than you’ve ever been. He’ll be there too, scattered particles, woven with your own, twisting and dancing and mingling so that you’re together in a way no two people have ever been.
And then he gets cramp, fucking cramp. Bill goes back for him, and all you can do is raise your hand, fingertips ducking out of the water into the chill of the air, a silent reach, a very final farewell.
Miles says you almost outlived Davy. You want to tell him everything. You say nothing.
He holds you, and as you drop underwater for the last time you see Davy run forward - to save you, to join you, to be with you always - but Bill holds him back, and so Miles is there but you’re still alone.
And then you’re nowhere.
And then you’re everywhere.
~~~
And now you’re here, in the stars and the light and the space in between matter, and you’re always and never, so it’s hard to keep track.
You’re aware of Chloe, grieving and happy at the same time. You catch a glimpse of her dancing with Miles, and it makes you smile. You didn’t know you could still smile.
You know before Bill does that he’s going to have a son, although you don’t know how you know. You pray he won’t call the boy James, knowing it would chip a tiny piece from his heart every time he said the name and remembered you. He doesn’t.
You feel it when your coffin is carried by your father and your three best friends. You know it’s the last human contact you’ll ever feel, because there’s nothing after this. You revel in the support of them wrapping you like a blanket, like being smothered in cotton wool, because you don’t want to be here, on your own. Even though you’re happier now.
You watch them drag your body from the water. Davy goes back for Miles and you see understanding, the last piece of the puzzle click into place, and five minutes too late, he sees the truth in Davy’s eyes. Later they move away, Miles to make phone calls, Bill to throw up and sob in the dunes, but Davy won’t let go and you think you can feel his hands on yours.
And then there’s nothing.
Nothing.
Until the night you wake, although you weren’t asleep, to the faintest tang of morphine on your imagined lips. You feel or remember or remember feeling hands fisting in your hair, like they did once before, like they will again, like they always will.
And you realise in that moment: you were waiting, because you always knew he would follow you.
Title: You Fell With Me
Character/Pairing: James/Davy
Length: c.1000 words
Rating: PG (language; also subject matter).
Spoilers: Spoilers for the film! Also for the inspiration piece.
Warnings: Well, the end of the film.
Disclaimer: Third Star belongs to the wonderful and inimitable Vaughan Sivell and Hattie Dalton, and Western Edge (and all the other studios that you tend to gather when scratching around the independent film industry for money, I guess, but it’s Mr Sivell’s really). No ownership is implied or inferred. This is done for love of one of the best films I’ve ever seen only.
Summary: Companion piece to Remember Where We Fell. James is waiting.
AN: My very dear
irisbleufic wrote the most amazing Third Star fic in Remember Where We Fell, and through hesitancy and fear I’ve only just got around to reading it. After I was done sobbing my heart out (seriously, I don’t know any other fanfic author who can so reliably make me cry) I realised that the other side of the story was loitering in my head. And she liked it enough to let me post it. So irisbleufic, friend, beta, mentor: this is yours.Afterwards, you knew, know, will know, that he will follow.
When the salt has burned your lungs and faded. When the chill has seeped in and numbed you beyond cold, beyond shivering, beyond stillness. When the touch of Miles’ fingers in your shirt burns and then fades and is gone. When you’re spread across the heavens, sparks dancing in the firelight, atoms and dark matter and so much more, when you are outside time and space and everything in creation is before you, you know he will follow.
And if you’re honest, you knew before.
There’s a terrible part of you that wanted it before. When the plan wasn’t formed yet, when it was just you and Davy and sweat and skin and morphine, that first time you turned close to him and pressed lips to his skin and tasted salt, and fear, and desire, the thought flashed across your mind, dismissed just as quickly but never forgotten.
Come with me.
~~~
You almost asked him, the day you convinced him to go on the trip. When he slapped you on the back, laughing, and said it’s a huge risk, but I’m willing, it was on the tip of your tongue, burning like an ember.
Come with me. Come with me under the water. Come with me where the salt will rip your lungs to pieces and the cold will flood your skin and freeze your muscles and I will hold you, closer and tighter than anyone could possibly hold anyone else and we will be there, together.
I don’t want to do it on my own.
But you didn’t ask, because you knew he wouldn’t take you to Barafundle Bay if you told him the plan.
~~~
If not for the morphine, you would have asked him that night, in the tent, after they had all said no. You would have turned to him and whispered that you could go together, out in a blaze of glory, the two of you like fucking Romeo and fucking Juliet, tragic and beautiful. Everyone would hate him for it, but you’d love him, among the stars and across the galaxy and fuck Miles and his nothing, fuck Bill and his reincarnated mollusks, you would be together. Forever.
More than not being alone, you didn’t want to leave him alone. And he would be so alone.
But there’s no morphine, and that night he holds you so close you think he’s going to crush what little life there is left out of you, and so gently that his touch is like the brush of the feather you caught out of the air a lifetime ago, and however hard you try, you can’t make the words form through your screaming.
~~~
When you’re in the sea, you honestly think he’s coming too. Miles comes, and then Bill, and then there’s Davy wading out, and your eyes meet his and you know, you know he’s coming with you, not just while you die but where you go, he’ll be the last thing you see when your eyes close and the first thing you see when they open and you’re more than you’ve ever been. He’ll be there too, scattered particles, woven with your own, twisting and dancing and mingling so that you’re together in a way no two people have ever been.
And then he gets cramp, fucking cramp. Bill goes back for him, and all you can do is raise your hand, fingertips ducking out of the water into the chill of the air, a silent reach, a very final farewell.
Miles says you almost outlived Davy. You want to tell him everything. You say nothing.
He holds you, and as you drop underwater for the last time you see Davy run forward - to save you, to join you, to be with you always - but Bill holds him back, and so Miles is there but you’re still alone.
And then you’re nowhere.
And then you’re everywhere.
~~~
And now you’re here, in the stars and the light and the space in between matter, and you’re always and never, so it’s hard to keep track.
You’re aware of Chloe, grieving and happy at the same time. You catch a glimpse of her dancing with Miles, and it makes you smile. You didn’t know you could still smile.
You know before Bill does that he’s going to have a son, although you don’t know how you know. You pray he won’t call the boy James, knowing it would chip a tiny piece from his heart every time he said the name and remembered you. He doesn’t.
You feel it when your coffin is carried by your father and your three best friends. You know it’s the last human contact you’ll ever feel, because there’s nothing after this. You revel in the support of them wrapping you like a blanket, like being smothered in cotton wool, because you don’t want to be here, on your own. Even though you’re happier now.
You watch them drag your body from the water. Davy goes back for Miles and you see understanding, the last piece of the puzzle click into place, and five minutes too late, he sees the truth in Davy’s eyes. Later they move away, Miles to make phone calls, Bill to throw up and sob in the dunes, but Davy won’t let go and you think you can feel his hands on yours.
And then there’s nothing.
Nothing.
Until the night you wake, although you weren’t asleep, to the faintest tang of morphine on your imagined lips. You feel or remember or remember feeling hands fisting in your hair, like they did once before, like they will again, like they always will.
And you realise in that moment: you were waiting, because you always knew he would follow you.
