10 Works by dicktective
Listing Works
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The Byers end up staying in California in 1986. When Will runs into Mike again during his first week at college, he is forced to confront what it means to have Mike in his life after years of distance have pushed them apart.
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Jonathan feels it like a held breath. The want is there. It’s been there all night, humming low and constant. On the dance floor. At the bar. In the way Steve’s hand had lingered at his waist longer than necessary as they stumbled into the kitchen.
But wanting and admitting are two different things.
Steve reaches out finally—not for his face, not for his waist—but for his wrist. His fingers curl loosely around it, thumb brushing once over the inside like he’s checking for a pulse.
“You’re drunk,” he says, voice steady.
Jonathan’s laugh is soft and incredulous. “And?”
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Jonathan moves like he’s trying to recreate a painting he’s never seen, one that’s been vaguely described to him. And Steve thinks that there’s some part, deep down, that does remember him, because, as unfamiliar with this person as he is, Jonathan still kisses him the way he used to.
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Jonathan Alonzo Byers is going to kill himself on Saturday, November 12th, 1983. Or he might if he doesn’t spend the night in a jail cell. Because on top of everything else—his brother disappearing and turning up dead, his mother losing her god damn mind, Nancy convincing him his mother might have a point, some fucking portal in the woods opening up to another fucking dimension, Steve fucking Harrington calling him a screw up and a queer, at least two of his fingers feeling broken, and the handcuffs digging into his wrists during the uncomfortable ride in the backseat of a police car—he’s got a fucking boner.
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5 times Jonathan thought about killing himself and 1 time Steve thought about killing Jonathan.
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Steve sort of feels like maybe he spent his whole life mourning what his father was and now that he’s dead, maybe it’ll be like Jonathan said. Maybe he’ll need to mourn everything he wasn’t.
Or: Steve's dad dies suddenly and he doesn't know how to process his grief. Jonathan, however, is there to help hold him together.
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“You know…” Jonathan says, eyes not quite reaching Steve’s face, staring at his throat or maybe his mouth.
It’s raining again, harder this time. Water drums against the roof in a heavy, relentless rhythm. The wind carries it in sideways, and Steve shifts to keep the front of his clothes dry. Jonathan holds the joint out between them, and Steve takes it, setting it to his lips. He sucks in hard.
Jonathan’s fingers continue the abandoned thought, reaching out to brush against Steve’s neck. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, half on purpose, trying to hold the weed in, and half in surprise at the casual way Jonathan’s finger traces the still-red skin across his neck.
“It looks like you tried to off yourself,” he says finally, hand falling away.
Steve blinks, exhaling harshly. The smoke mixes with the mist in the air, curling around both of them before vanishing into the trees.
Jonathan’s mouth tilts into an amused grin, and Steve mirrors the expression before they both burst into laughter.
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He knows leaving town when he did was the weakest thing he’s ever done. It was the easiest way out. A simple solution that wasn’t fair to either of them. He knows that, he knows.
Because he doesn’t know how to let himself want something that he doesn’t think he deserves; doesn’t know how to tell himself no, either. It’s why he reacted the way he did–why he always presses forward and pulls away simultaneously. Hurts himself and hurts others in the process.
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The point is that the thing he really likes about Chester, really really likes, is that Chester is nice to him.
And maybe that’s kind of sad.
Fuck. It’s definitely sad.
It’s maybe the saddest thing he’s ever thought.
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He turns to Liam. “We could come up with a points system, we don't even have to do anything outside of what has set points. The interviewers would hate it. Or, are you too... chicken?"
Liam rolls his eyes, but smiles and gives Louis a pointed look. "No, Louis."
And that's the end of it.
Until a week later.
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needing is one thing (getting's another) by dicktective
Fandoms: One Direction (Band), TiMER (2009)
08 Feb 2014
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It’s hard not to stare at your wrist when there is a small, futuristic, piece of metal imbedded in the skin there, like something out of a science fiction novel. Louis’ TiMER has never changed: four sections of dashes blinking the seconds away, completely blank until his soulmate gets their TiMER too.