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rainbowfic2016-08-18 08:45 am
starphotographs) wrote in rainbowfic2016-08-18 08:45 am
Meme Party 27, Olympic Gold 10
Name: starphotographs
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Fair Aug 18th Second Stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pierces/threewishes.html)
Characters: Kelsey (POV), Barclay
Colors: Meme party 27 (Feels), Olympic Gold 10 (athlete)
Word Count: 1,100ish
Rating: PG-13 (pottymouth technicality)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Sometimes, he thinks she makes things too simple.
Note: Any excuse is a good excuse to write BFF feels and Kelsey playing with her cybernetics.
The Weighing of “A Lot” and “Enough”
I’d been sitting at the computer since afternoon, working on a new powerpoint. My boss at the radio show wanted me to explain goblin sharks, and I told him I’d get back to him on that. It’s always easier this way. Even if it takes a full day’s work to get it halfway done. I’d been watching the sun move across the sky in still-frames. Look up once and the blue is dark. Look up again and the blue is light, the sun hurting your eyes. I looked again, and the sky is going yellow.
I went back to the sharks, watching them open their spring-loaded jaws. More still-frames of this ever-moving world.
The knock at the door is so loud that I almost dive under my desk. When I’m feeling a little less scattered, I turn to my left arm, and put in the keyboard command that turns on the speaker above my doorbell. My own voice, recorded just a week after my hands finally found it.
“WHO’S AT THE DOOR?”
Everyone told me the phrasing and the lack of inflection made it sound hostile. They also told me to keep it, that it suits me.
“Barry. You busy in there?”
I shake my head. Wait. Oops. That’s not how it works. I had a good laugh, then pulled out my phone. Disabled the electronic lock, texted him.
“Been busy all day. Probably shouldn’t still be. Come on in.”
Turning to face the couch, I looked at it for a while, then went to go sit on it, just as Barry opened the door. His hair was wet, and he was wearing his running clothes.
“Figured I’d drop in here instead of fucking with the treadmill today. It’s about the same distance.”
He smelled like sweat and fabric softener. It wasn’t really bad, but I needed to razz him a little.
“Vile stink.”
Laughing, he plopped down on the couch.
“Hello to you, too.”
He squinted and adjusted his bifocals, trying to see my computer screen.
“‘Nother Kelsey Class?”
I nodded.
“Goblin shark.”
Barry kicked off his sneakers, tucked his legs up on the couch and crossed them.
“Awesome. And… I don’t know. Must be nice.”
It was just us, so, like I always did, I slid back to a more comfortable gear. Out with the vocal cords, in with the projections.
“Sharks must be nice?”
He laughed a little.
“No… Well, yeah. I meant… Just being able to carry explanations around like that. You have any idea how many times I needed to explain all my vision shit to people? Gets old quick.”
I nudged him with my foot.
“Don’t explain. Just tell them that you can’t see something or need them to dim the lights.”
Barry shrugged.
“I have enough problems with looking like a cranky jerk. Can’t remember the last time I made a good first impression.”
I pulled up an image on my phone: a picture of us, small kids, sitting on the couch at his old house and watching a movie. Sinclair sent it to me a long time ago. I synched it to my onboard device, added a caption, and pointed my fingers at the wall.
“ON ME.”
That got another laugh out of him.
“Yeah, probably. And… Kelsey, look at that shit. Look how you could convey that without even saying anything.”
Neither of us spoke for a while after that. I let the image flicker away. We stared at different walls, fell back into different minds, but I could feel us sharing the same air. Almost a part of each other. Like old times.
Eventually, Barry cleared his throat.
“How’d you even decide?”
I took a few seconds to realize he was speaking, and remember what he’d said. Then started typing again.
“I was curious. I wanted to see where I’d go with it.”
He read the projection, then looked up at the ceiling. We both do that a lot. I should really put up some posters or something.
“You make it sound easy. I mean, look at me. I was told I could decide for myself if I wanted my eyes fixed, and I never got around to it. Now I just feel like it would cause more problems than it would solve.”
I pointed at the ceiling, so he wouldn’t have to keep moving his head.
“Would it?”
A shrug.
“I don’t know. There’d be at least one thing I wouldn’t want to fuck with.”
“Looks like you decided after all.”
Barry considered that for a while.
“No. I didn’t. I just fucked around until I couldn’t change.”
“Do you want to change?”
He shrugged again.
“I feel like I should want to, you know?”
“Why?”
I watched him rearrange himself, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs. Long exhale.
“Because people change. If you don’t, everyone starts thinking there’s something wrong with you.”
I selected a bigger font.
“PEOPLE don’t change.”
Now he just looked confused.
“People change all the time. What, you were born with lights in your hands?”
(Jeez, I wish.)
“I’m not PEOPLE. I’m a PERSON. I did what I wanted. Nothing more. I decided I needed this. You don’t have to need lenses, if you don’t want to.”
We both sat looking up for a while. Barry sighed again.
“Like I said. You make it sound easy.”
I stretched my arm, cracked my elbow, then pointed up at the ceiling again.
“Because it can be. You have everything you need, or you don’t.”
He leaned forward again, rubbing his neck.
“Do I have everything I need, though?”
He had the job he made for himself. He had fathers. He had Zach. He finally had his health. His tinted lenses, his black-painted walls, his apartment complex with a pool on the ground floor. I had easy words and something better. I had the intact self they’d tried to fragment and put back together in wrong shapes. We had each other.
I pointed at the floor.
“YOU HAVE A LOT.”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Is a lot enough?”
He pulled his legs back up on the couch, smiled at the text on the rug like it was my face.
“For now, yeah, it is.” Pause to laugh. “...Be even better if you’d show me your shark slides, though.”
Suddenly overjoyed beyond belief, I lept up from my seat, crossed the room in about three strides, and flung myself at the computer chair.
When I calmed down a little, I gave thanks in my head. To the world. To myself.
Because that joy, the joy that flew me across rooms and wriggled in my hands and spine, was yet one more thing I’d always had.
So, in a way, I guess I’ve always had enough.
I hope he does, too.
Story: Universe B
Supplies and Styles: Graffiti (Lilith Fair Aug 18th Second Stage: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/pierces/threewishes.html)
Characters: Kelsey (POV), Barclay
Colors: Meme party 27 (Feels), Olympic Gold 10 (athlete)
Word Count: 1,100ish
Rating: PG-13 (pottymouth technicality)
Warnings: Choose not to warn.
Summary: Sometimes, he thinks she makes things too simple.
Note: Any excuse is a good excuse to write BFF feels and Kelsey playing with her cybernetics.
I’d been sitting at the computer since afternoon, working on a new powerpoint. My boss at the radio show wanted me to explain goblin sharks, and I told him I’d get back to him on that. It’s always easier this way. Even if it takes a full day’s work to get it halfway done. I’d been watching the sun move across the sky in still-frames. Look up once and the blue is dark. Look up again and the blue is light, the sun hurting your eyes. I looked again, and the sky is going yellow.
I went back to the sharks, watching them open their spring-loaded jaws. More still-frames of this ever-moving world.
The knock at the door is so loud that I almost dive under my desk. When I’m feeling a little less scattered, I turn to my left arm, and put in the keyboard command that turns on the speaker above my doorbell. My own voice, recorded just a week after my hands finally found it.
“WHO’S AT THE DOOR?”
Everyone told me the phrasing and the lack of inflection made it sound hostile. They also told me to keep it, that it suits me.
“Barry. You busy in there?”
I shake my head. Wait. Oops. That’s not how it works. I had a good laugh, then pulled out my phone. Disabled the electronic lock, texted him.
“Been busy all day. Probably shouldn’t still be. Come on in.”
Turning to face the couch, I looked at it for a while, then went to go sit on it, just as Barry opened the door. His hair was wet, and he was wearing his running clothes.
“Figured I’d drop in here instead of fucking with the treadmill today. It’s about the same distance.”
He smelled like sweat and fabric softener. It wasn’t really bad, but I needed to razz him a little.
“Vile stink.”
Laughing, he plopped down on the couch.
“Hello to you, too.”
He squinted and adjusted his bifocals, trying to see my computer screen.
“‘Nother Kelsey Class?”
I nodded.
“Goblin shark.”
Barry kicked off his sneakers, tucked his legs up on the couch and crossed them.
“Awesome. And… I don’t know. Must be nice.”
It was just us, so, like I always did, I slid back to a more comfortable gear. Out with the vocal cords, in with the projections.
“Sharks must be nice?”
He laughed a little.
“No… Well, yeah. I meant… Just being able to carry explanations around like that. You have any idea how many times I needed to explain all my vision shit to people? Gets old quick.”
I nudged him with my foot.
“Don’t explain. Just tell them that you can’t see something or need them to dim the lights.”
Barry shrugged.
“I have enough problems with looking like a cranky jerk. Can’t remember the last time I made a good first impression.”
I pulled up an image on my phone: a picture of us, small kids, sitting on the couch at his old house and watching a movie. Sinclair sent it to me a long time ago. I synched it to my onboard device, added a caption, and pointed my fingers at the wall.
“ON ME.”
That got another laugh out of him.
“Yeah, probably. And… Kelsey, look at that shit. Look how you could convey that without even saying anything.”
Neither of us spoke for a while after that. I let the image flicker away. We stared at different walls, fell back into different minds, but I could feel us sharing the same air. Almost a part of each other. Like old times.
Eventually, Barry cleared his throat.
“How’d you even decide?”
I took a few seconds to realize he was speaking, and remember what he’d said. Then started typing again.
“I was curious. I wanted to see where I’d go with it.”
He read the projection, then looked up at the ceiling. We both do that a lot. I should really put up some posters or something.
“You make it sound easy. I mean, look at me. I was told I could decide for myself if I wanted my eyes fixed, and I never got around to it. Now I just feel like it would cause more problems than it would solve.”
I pointed at the ceiling, so he wouldn’t have to keep moving his head.
“Would it?”
A shrug.
“I don’t know. There’d be at least one thing I wouldn’t want to fuck with.”
“Looks like you decided after all.”
Barry considered that for a while.
“No. I didn’t. I just fucked around until I couldn’t change.”
“Do you want to change?”
He shrugged again.
“I feel like I should want to, you know?”
“Why?”
I watched him rearrange himself, crossing his arms and stretching out his legs. Long exhale.
“Because people change. If you don’t, everyone starts thinking there’s something wrong with you.”
I selected a bigger font.
“PEOPLE don’t change.”
Now he just looked confused.
“People change all the time. What, you were born with lights in your hands?”
(Jeez, I wish.)
“I’m not PEOPLE. I’m a PERSON. I did what I wanted. Nothing more. I decided I needed this. You don’t have to need lenses, if you don’t want to.”
We both sat looking up for a while. Barry sighed again.
“Like I said. You make it sound easy.”
I stretched my arm, cracked my elbow, then pointed up at the ceiling again.
“Because it can be. You have everything you need, or you don’t.”
He leaned forward again, rubbing his neck.
“Do I have everything I need, though?”
He had the job he made for himself. He had fathers. He had Zach. He finally had his health. His tinted lenses, his black-painted walls, his apartment complex with a pool on the ground floor. I had easy words and something better. I had the intact self they’d tried to fragment and put back together in wrong shapes. We had each other.
I pointed at the floor.
“YOU HAVE A LOT.”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Is a lot enough?”
He pulled his legs back up on the couch, smiled at the text on the rug like it was my face.
“For now, yeah, it is.” Pause to laugh. “...Be even better if you’d show me your shark slides, though.”
Suddenly overjoyed beyond belief, I lept up from my seat, crossed the room in about three strides, and flung myself at the computer chair.
When I calmed down a little, I gave thanks in my head. To the world. To myself.
Because that joy, the joy that flew me across rooms and wriggled in my hands and spine, was yet one more thing I’d always had.
So, in a way, I guess I’ve always had enough.
I hope he does, too.