So far only Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody has been the only thing to receive unanimous approval. Apparently they each have different tastes, because the music has been jumping from the Beatles, to Eminem, to Mozart, to Madonna, to Shania Twain. It’s been nearly two years, but you still feel drawn to him the hook he embedded into your soul by casting his pencil over the pages of an unwitting concert program that fateful day so long ago is still there, buried deep, and you’re dangerously close to throwing dignity to the wind.Īt the start of the affair, the music had been mellow and vaguely like something you’d hear in an elevator, until a group of music students hijacked the sounds system. He still looks great, despite the ridiculously short-cropped hair, and with every moment he’s in your sight you find it harder to not approach him, not make your presence known. ![]() You wonder what could have prompted such an act of self-mutilation (for mutilation it is, o his poor lost golden beauty!) and a part of you makes a secret, selfish wish that it’s something that could deliver him back into your arms. Besides, your friends were going and you hadn’t seen them for a while, being busy on tour, and it’s not as if you had anywhere else to be now that you no longer have to play until your fingers freeze onto the fingerboard just to pay for tomorrow’s dinner.Īt first you don’t really believe it’s him, although there’s no mistaking that hair and that smile, not when you’d lived with it for months and remember the shining, glorious taste of both. For that reason alone he would have actively stayed away (you’ve never understood why he never made any effort to make friends at school) but a guest artist whose work you’d once heard him admire is there, socializing as a PIFA alumnus and coincidentally also promoting his new book, so there’d been a chance that even the elusive Justin Taylor would deign to make an appearance that night, however brief. It’s a semi-formal mixer for the art students at PIFA. Later you would try to tell yourself that hadn’t really expected to see him, much less were looking for him, but you will conceded that you weren’t at all surprised to spot his familiar figure from across the lawn. But I wanted to see if this would work, and the style kind of suited the fic. I hope it won’t be too difficult to follow- if it is, I heartily apologize. The POV switches between three characters, and it’ll be pretty clear when I change character. Just to warn you, I’ve been my usual experimental self and played around with POVs. ![]() ![]() The title is from the song “You and Me” by Lifehouse, which I can’t stop listening to right now even though I’m not a big one for ballads. Set in late S4, so spoilers up to about 409. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes, and promise to replenish the condom and lube supply when I’m done.Īuthor's Notes: Written for 25fluffyfics. Something in them changed, glazed over, and you feel a rush of fear because it reminds you of that one time, when you were together, that he had a really bad nightmare.īeta: The lovely and most exceptional beathen *huggles* All remaining mistakes are mine alone.ĭisclaimer: Queer as Folk and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Showtime, Cowlip Productions and their affiliates. Summary: You wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t been staring at his eyes.
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