Title: Unraveling Slowly
Genre[s]: drabble, angst, one-shot, character-centre
Spoiler[s]: Nothing really mentioned from the movie, never read the book.
A.N: The first time that I heard this song, the character of Johnny came to mind. I just had to write it, no matter what.
I am unbreakable, but it looks like I could sometime soon.
Poker chips and piano keys, the two great loves of his life caressed by callused fingertips, addictions aching passionately to be fed. But the one already in his heart was up in arms against this new passion taking residence in his heart, unable to be ousted.
And now here he sat on a familiar bench, blunt fingers merely ghosting over the worn black and ivory keys of his first love; head hunched forward and eyes slipping shut, shaggy bangs brushing lightly over his forehead catching in his eye-lashes, finally making the plunge with a connection of fingers to the keys. Eyes still shut, he was overwhelmed by a soft breath on his ear and the gentle scent of flowers washed over him like a spring mist. The gentle warmth of soft fingers running the knuckles of his hands, slowly adding pressure, drawing him deeper into the moment.
You are unreachable, about as possible as me touching the moon.
Loosing himself deeper and deeper in the fantasy, soft chords on the piano echoed around the once silent stage. Warms fingers slipped further up his arms over the fabric of his shirts. Soft breath caressing the shell of his ear ruffling the frayed-edged bangs caused him to tilt his head backward to basking in the presence behind him as the whispering grew louder and clearer, the repeat of the same word chanting over and over again: Max. Max. Max. Ma-..
"Stop it!" The sound of her screaming voice accusing him vibrated through his cranium. The soft tinkering of keys was replaced by the harsh slam of balled fists dropping violently down without a second thought in an effort to banish her back from wherever she had come from, from his heart. But in her eyes, those completely haunting, innocent, naive and completely human, making her more human than 99% of the outside population in a world becoming motivated more by looks than action, soul and heart.
Choking and shuddering goose bumps plaguing the surface of his skin, shrunken god tokens. You only know of the presence of shadows when you are subjected to the light, and all his pasttime in the ever present night had left him vulnerable to the strength of the light. And here he was now, blind and confused by this crack in the door tentatively opened by this sweet, amazing Penelope who was only looking to belong, to be accepted. A girl who could have been given the world but instead became shut away from it, hidden and locked away like a leper. She became destined just to watch life pass by as she waited for someone to just look at her, hoping for someone to accept her even if she wasn't allowed to accept herself. Being made to feel like a stranger in her own body.
"And if it doesn't work?"
"Then I will kill myself."
Kill myself. I will kill myself. Bringing his fists to clench his head, digging into his scalp as the look of absolute despair settled on the face of a girl who had yet to be granted the joys and pleasures of her life. She was so forthright that there was no way that she allowed herself to believe that she would find someone to love her for her and fight her own way out of this darkness. Resting his elbows heavily on the keys as the fingers in his hair clenched and then relaxed as much as possible with the weight of Atlas balanced delicately on his shoulders.
I am unraveling unbearably empty, and if this ground gives way I just hope that you'll catch me.
Even worst was Here he was, hoping that she would just show up one day and take him away. eExpecting her to save him was she was even more lost them himself. But he saw something inside of her that was so strong,; so bright he was eerily reminded of the sun. With similiaritesthe easey of a man turned vampire, he was shocked and repelled away from her. But oOnce again here he sat alone in the dark, per usual but now it only served to suffocate instead of protecting him with the recent turn of events. Gnawing on his lower lip as his hands slipped from his hair, effortlessly plummeting on to the keys;: palm, to knuckle, to fingertips. Poker chips and piano keys, one rough while the other smooth as one brought joy to his life and the other acting like a plague on his life. Stroking the smooth white strips, loosing himself in a memory as he falsely drummed away aimlessly and harshly but then in a moment, flash, the smoothness of the piano keys combined with the shock of warmth coating the tops of his fingers like silk. There was never a better sensation in the world then her fingers on his and her warm breath in his ear that much he was sure of.
You came and saved me tonight, defending all my life.
So here he sat at the piano bench in an attempt to better himself for a person who believed that she herself was worthy of absolutely nothing: not her life or honest affection from another. A monster was what she called herself, but if the truth would have it she was the closest thing to an angel that he had ever seen. He was a gambler, putting everything on the line for just that one lucky break that would put him back on top. That luck ruled everything with an iron fist, lacking a sense of empathy.
Oh finally I believe…
This couldn't be all that there was left in life: living from one big break to the next in hopes of one day carving out a name for himself. He had always seen himself as an adult since he left home at seventeen but as it turned out he still had quite a bit of growing up to do.
His gaze blinked back into recognition of the piano before him as he was pushed back into the present day, out of his mind and thoughts. Stopping suddenly, brunette hair and matching eyes flashed through his mind leaving with it the smell of wildflowers, he flexed his fingers quickly trying to catch any chance of her image or the scent before it drifted away. Licking his dry lips, he turned his attention to the keys as the tips of his fingers traced them one last time, before pulling the cover back over the keys, turning around, and moving on.