3 Works by crazyphalanges
Listing Works
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Summary
Dara sits up, but doesn’t get off the bed. Noam knows Dara’s not a relationship person; even if he hadn’t outright told him last night as they pushed through the door to the suite, his hands on either side of Noam’s face and his eyes more sober than they’d been the whole night, it was pretty damn clear to anyone with a hint of observational skill. Dara is not a lover. He is a jagged diamond sculpture that lovers throw themselves against and shatter, and Noam is the next in line.
Still, he can’t help but hope, hope, hope that Dara felt even a fraction of what he did last night.
Dara’s face turns just enough to glance at Noam out of the corner of his eye. Noam holds his breath, but Dara just turns away, pushing both hands through his hair and muttering a “Fuck” under his breath.
“Can you cook?” Dara asks, voice raspy. “Nevermind, that doesn’t matter. Invite me to stay over for breakfast. Now, before I change my mind.”
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Dara's the lead singer of the hot new indie-rock band The Fever King, and an alum of Noam's university. Noam gets dragged to a concert, and both of them get in too deep.
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Ames grins, tossing another gummy into her mouth. “You hate him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Dara says.
“You do--oh my god, you totally do!” She laughs. “You were all cold eyes at him--like that!--and you barely said a thing to him. You gotta admit it was assholish, even for you.”Dara shakes his head. “I don’t hate him.”
“But?”But Lehrer shoved a file on his background at Dara a few weeks back at a dinner reservation he’d arranged for them. First time in God knows how long they’d spent time together, especially since the campaign began, and despite everything Dara marked the date down on his calendar with red pen. Lehrer told him, between sips of vintage wine, “He’s an orphan--just like you.”
Except Dara isn’t an orphan, and his father doesn’t make slip ups. Lehrer’s marble eyes glinted above the rim of his glass.
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basically it's just the story if it was set in our time and there are no witchings. dara falling in love with noam w/out the telepathy and the need to take down a nation, but with the alcohol, the abuse, and the terrible communication.
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Summary
Ash was never good at asking for help. As he’s clutching Eiji’s letter in one hand and his bleeding stomach in another, he decides that maybe it’s time to learn.
Alternatively: Ash calls a fucking ambulance.