Fanfiction: "Break"
Mar. 2nd, 2020 01:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deemoyzaTitle: "Break" (666 words) [AO3]
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transistor
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences / No Warnings Apply
Characters: Red, Subject
Relationships: Red/Subject
Summary: She had little need of the Bracket Towers break room for its intended purpose, but she did need the privacy it offered, the quiet, the shelter from his gaze.
The space to break down.
In-canon, one-shot, angst.
Excerpt below the cut.
Her smile was genuine, a moment of levity in a disappearing world. But it quickly faded as she turned away from him and slipped into the restroom.
It took a second for the sensor to detect her presence; then, with a soft click, the lights came on, glinting off the pristine tile floor, sterile and harsh. The restroom was cold — or perhaps it was just her, the sweat on her arms and back evaporating in the absence of the jacket. His jacket. Or perhaps it was the shiver that had run through her all night, trembling beneath her skin and pulling at her muscles, since she materialized by the bay, disoriented and — in a sense, in a very physical sense — alone.
She glanced in the mirror and smoothed back her hair, and noticed the corners of her mouth twitching into a grimace, contortions she felt all the way to her heart. She had little need of this room for its intended purpose — she'd seen to that before leaving her apartment — but she did need the privacy it offered, the quiet, the shelter from his gaze.
The space to break down.
The tears came quickly, and her features twisted further, until she couldn't bear to look at her reflection, and instead, leaned against the far wall, sliding to the floor as her strength ebbed.
She couldn't form words anymore, but her throat was still capable of producing sounds — raw sounds, heartrending sounds, sounds she'd never made before, sounds born only of confusion and fear and pain. She pressed her hands to her mouth to try to muffle her cries, to try to dull the edges of each one, even as they wracked her body. She didn't want him to hear. She didn't want him to worry.
She didn't want him to know how much she needed him here, right now, as he used to be, to hold her and warm her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
She didn't want him to know she knew it wasn't going to be.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transistor
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences / No Warnings Apply
Characters: Red, Subject
Relationships: Red/Subject
Summary: She had little need of the Bracket Towers break room for its intended purpose, but she did need the privacy it offered, the quiet, the shelter from his gaze.
The space to break down.
In-canon, one-shot, angst.
Excerpt below the cut.
Her smile was genuine, a moment of levity in a disappearing world. But it quickly faded as she turned away from him and slipped into the restroom.
It took a second for the sensor to detect her presence; then, with a soft click, the lights came on, glinting off the pristine tile floor, sterile and harsh. The restroom was cold — or perhaps it was just her, the sweat on her arms and back evaporating in the absence of the jacket. His jacket. Or perhaps it was the shiver that had run through her all night, trembling beneath her skin and pulling at her muscles, since she materialized by the bay, disoriented and — in a sense, in a very physical sense — alone.
She glanced in the mirror and smoothed back her hair, and noticed the corners of her mouth twitching into a grimace, contortions she felt all the way to her heart. She had little need of this room for its intended purpose — she'd seen to that before leaving her apartment — but she did need the privacy it offered, the quiet, the shelter from his gaze.
The space to break down.
The tears came quickly, and her features twisted further, until she couldn't bear to look at her reflection, and instead, leaned against the far wall, sliding to the floor as her strength ebbed.
She couldn't form words anymore, but her throat was still capable of producing sounds — raw sounds, heartrending sounds, sounds she'd never made before, sounds born only of confusion and fear and pain. She pressed her hands to her mouth to try to muffle her cries, to try to dull the edges of each one, even as they wracked her body. She didn't want him to hear. She didn't want him to worry.
She didn't want him to know how much she needed him here, right now, as he used to be, to hold her and warm her and tell her everything was going to be all right.
She didn't want him to know she knew it wasn't going to be.
