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[colbearlo.livejournal.com]

Title: It Goes Like This
Description: The word 'falling' doesn't pertain to just tripping anymore, and Stephen's not sure how he and his heart are going to handle it.
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Rating: PG
A/N: Written in seven minutes while listening to the song All the Same by Sick Puppies on repeat. Just some pretty words with some meanings =)
Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

 

 

However long you stay

Is all that I am.

- - &;

It’s within those cold nights, the moon lolling and Jon’s cold hands intertwined with the loose threads of his jacket, when Stephen learns that falling doesn’t have to hurt.

It’s the color yellow and a cloud’s wistful grin, his glasses cast aside and doe eyes more permeable than before, that Stephen accepts fallibility – because Jon scoffs at immortality and Stephen doesn’t want to spend eternity alone.

It’s the hot mug of coffee, throat raw from screaming things he doesn’t believe, straight countenance chipping away, that Stephen can’t breathe – not in the way Jon begs for his inhaler while still choking on laughter, nor how his lungs stuttered when Jon told him it’s okay, but in the way he holds out for as long as he can before the other him stops squirming and sleeps.

It’s connected by miles of crosswords, newfangled vowels and hours nipping at his fingertips. How Jon can’t contain the pink glee spreading across his cheeks as Stephen warns him no, don’t tell me! It’s when Jon pouts before smiling, nearly bursting from the awing expanse of knowledge within his mind, when Stephen takes a second longer than necessary, puts down the wrong letter – "No, no! It’s –" "Let a man think for a second, Stewart." – just to see the spark flicker beneath each boyish glance.

It’s when Jon stays later than usual, back bent at an awkward angle and Stephen leans against the door frame. He can see the dark smudges forming beneath the man’s cerulean eyes, but knows Jon is infinitely bound to the musings of his mind. It’s the way Jon says I can’t that makes Stephen want to push, push until he can get the older man’s eyes to flutter close. It’s a game that’s tempting to his feline tendencies, so he strokes each syllable into the coo of a newsman lullaby. It’s the desperate gnawing on a pencil trying to hide a yawn, the tepid coffee and Stephen’s insistence of staying too, that Jon learns how to sigh.

It’s where Jon is asleep and Stephen keeps his eyes open, trapped in a paradox and the water’s rising, and the younger man doesn’t mind wading in these frigid waters until Jon awakes.