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| a.connor a.doyle a.lindsey a.oz a.spike a.wesley a.xander a.other three.somes het.fic character.study |
| Memories and glue, and holding on An A/S LJ drabble, by Julissak Rated PG Spike can never be an addict, he knows. Not an addict addict. Smoking, drinking, being an arse when others are too busy playing blind and following the herd, but never for this. Saving the world; one kitten at a time. He lacks. The body-deep desperation to lend a hand in something good, the simple urge. He lacks, lacks, lacks. He lacks the dedication. And then there’s Angel. There’s a certain stilled chilliness that clings to him like smog, like honey, like sticky things and glue; beneath him the grass is attached to the soles of his boots with an intensity that insists futility and resistance (let go, let go), and so he stands. Angel’s just next to him, coat flapping around him like a cloak, liquid and black as everything else (it’ll slip through his fingers, but it’ll still taint, mark, he’s sure), and then he speaks. Words that have been spoken, some faraway time, and his jaw set as sure. It’s utterly unpredictable, and it makes him remember why he’s loved this man before. Things feel bleak, but their hands are still soft. -end Feedback |