MASTER LIST OF ALL MY FICS
IF YOU WANT TO BE MISERABLE ABOUT THIAM YOU ARE IN THE RIGHT PLACE
FIRST MY PRIDE AND JOY FINALLY COMPLETED: Grieving from the Grace of God (the COLLECTION OMG)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Theo is drowning, because lately, isn't he always? The water fragments his vision and soaks into bronchioles like it belongs there. It logs his atria, puffs up his skin and disintegrates his fingertips. Theo sees the moon, waving mockingly from above the surface. Here, is retribution, served like sun-warmed river rocks sewn into pockets. Osmosis slowly replacing blood with water, swollen lungs and lips and teeth scrambling for traction in consciousness. Maybe this is what Tara felt. Hopefully, Theo thinks, this is worse. Just as he thinks the buzzing black in the corners of his eyes will consume him, a hand plunges into the river. It is strong, and bloody, and beautiful. Because Theo knows whose hand it is. Knows the blunt human nails and bitten off cuticles. Choking on relief and conflicting disappointment, Theo wonders if he should reach for salvation, or if salvation is something that could be done to him, something that could just happen. OR Theo reads the book, goes through hell, is in love with Liam the whole time and remembers what it feels like to be loved AKA me projecting my OCD on my comfort character.
NEW WORK FROM LIAM'S PERSPECTIVE
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
See, Liam can fantasize about what it would be like for Theo to let him in. He can think about what it would be like to hold this beautiful boy’s story in his hands, every sharp shard, and tell Theo that it was not his fault, can fantasize about what it would be like for Theo to believe him. But that doesn’t make it real.
He’s standing outside the hospital door again, with flowers and folded cardstock, but this time Theo is standing on the other side with a hand on the doorknob, eyes fixed on Liam through the little window. Here Liam stands, hoping against everything that Theo will let him in. But he won’t, or he hasn’t at least. Theo’s fingers tap the door knob, maybe jiggle it a little. But he never opens it. Theo reads his text, but he won’t reply.
Theo will come over, but won’t eat the m&ms, won’t tell Liam what is wrong.
Liam has become accustomed to waiting.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
He loses track of how long it’s been like this. Lonely like this. Hardly lucid. Quick burning pain that flees before morning. The moon cycles once, he thinks, or maybe almost once, before someone finds him. Taps on the window. Theo hardly raises an eyelid before letting it fall shut. “What Liam.” Liam is muffled in his response, breathing against the window. “I want to go to the beach.”
OR
Theo thinks hes being strung along and he kind of is until he isnt anymore (TW for self harm)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Theo is warm next to him. Warm and broad and tan. The sand sticks to him in ways Liam wants to study. He wants to stick to Theo in all the same ways. His gaze must be heated, because Theo cocks his head to meet his eyes, smirk cutting across his face. He sits forward from where he was leaning on his palms, dusting them together to scatter granules. OR Liam wants something more. Theo doesn't understand him. Angst ensues.
