Two Hearts
Oct. 21st, 2008 06:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
l0v3l1k3w1nt3r.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
wl_fanfictionPairing: Brad/Ryan
Summary: Brad wants Ryan back; Ryan's not sure if he ever could...
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1080
Background notes: Based on two songs; 'Unity' by Kelly Rowland and 'Better in Time' by Leona Lewis
---
The phone dangled from the chord, the dial tone emitting faintly into the air like the far away squeal of boiling water. The TV was close to an inaudible volume. Its cable signal was of poor quality, jets of white light shooting across the screen, blurring the faces of the late night TV salesman. Brad barely noticed; it was as if he had fallen into suspended animation on his couch, his body resting sideways on its velour fabric, the palm of his hand grinding against his cheek. It was past midnight, and he would have to go to work in five hours. But Brad had waged war with his bloodshot eyes, forcing them to keep open. Weak with fatigue, his hand slowly reached for the raven colored phone, his thumb punching in every number button with firm and equal amounts of pressure. Brad held the receiver against his ear, letting his eyes rest for a moment as he waited. It was a pain to pry them open again; his eyes felt dry and barren after all the tears he had cried. With no luck, Brad set the phone back down, not even attempting to put it properly back into its seat. Adjusting himself on the couch, he continued to wait in the resonating light of the TV set, waiting for Ryan Stiles' call.
'Perhaps this was a mistake....' Ryan hadn't been thinking clearly the entire time, as he waled along the airport terminal, ticket an suitcase in hand. All he knew was that he felt the sparks between him and Brad had disappeared, and Ryan craved for something new, exciting, fresh. Ryan wasn't exactly sure how a flight to Toronto was going to help, but as long as he was in Los Angeles he would never be able to think clearly. Possibly due to the head turning punch Brad had given him as a parting present, or the thick, polluted smog in the air. Once he reached his destination, Ryan wasn't sure what he was going to do next. Most likely, he could stay with his dear friend Colin, if he weren't off doing another random cameo in another Canadian film. Hopefully, his tour with Brad wouldn't start until half a year from now.
He sat down at the waiting dock, the soles of his feet aching after all the walking he had done. Ryan wished he had gotten an earlier flight; due to the upcoming winter vacation, the terminal seemed packed, even at this hour of the night. In his isolation, Ryan couldn't hold back reminiscing once more of Brad's memory. Three years had felt like an eternity. Ryan didn't know when his love for Brad diminished. Brad was faithful, supportive, and the greatest lover anyone could dream of. But loving Brad slowly, unwillingly, turned into routine, to the point where Ryan felt famished. Not wanting to be burdened with these innermost feelings, he came clean, trying to salvage what remained of their relationship. Ryan didn't love him as much as he used to, but he still cared deeply for the man. Brad, nonetheless, was upset with Ryan's decision to leave, begging, pleading, getting as frustrated as to punching him across the cheek. Convinced that he needed time to breathe, Ryan took his pre-booked ticket, packed his things, and left without saying a word. This was what was best, he thought. Both of them would heal eventually. He hoped.
Turning his head in all directions, Ryan couldn't find one clock in his area, which was odd, considering he was in an airport. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell, flipped up the top, and held down the power button for a few seconds. After the arrival of the welcome screen, Ryan had noticed seven missed calls, all from the same number. Greatly saddened, he flipped the phone shut, not even bothering to double check for the time again.
'Guaranteed to make your honey smile, or your money back!' The announcer's tone of voice was cheesy as his smile, a pearl necklace now in display on the screen. Brad scoffed. Ryan had never been materialistic, and he had been happy. Or so he thought. He sighed, his eyes fluttering as they screamed for rest. The dial tone told him he had to be more patient. Ryan would call back, it assured. Ryan just needed time to get his head together; perhaps Ryan had even shamefully gotten back to the habit of smoking weed again. Brad had found no evidence of Ryan getting back on the habit recently, and if he had, plus generated more energy and alertness, he would've hopped into a cab as soon as he could, drive to the airport and attempt to stop the plane with his bare hands. But Brad knew he didn't have to take it to that extreme. Ryan was as able to let go of him as he was able to let go of Ryan. Besides, the human body can take oh so much, and Brad was finding his vision and focus getting hazier. The voices on the TV began to familiarize as foreign languages, his head slowly slipping off his hand to rest on the soft, fluffy throw pillows.
Thirty more minutes. What a pain it was to have to walk again. As it was crucial, Ryan had had to check his cell phone again for the time. There was no escaping it. Ryan felt terrible that he hadn't said goodbye to Brad properly. He felt like such a fool for leaving his phone closed the entire time. With a moment's hesitation, Ryan knew that Brad may have fallen asleep by now, and hoped the phone was loud enough to wake him. But with what he had done, with having abandoning Brad so selfishly, Ryan felt it was necessary to have a word of farewell before he left, for consideration. He dialed Brad's number as he walked along, the keypad clicking away. Ryan held the phone up to his ear, thinking of what he should say the moment Brad picked up the phone. Should he keep it short and simple, or was it better if he tried to speak with Brad for as long as he could? Or would it be too awkward if Ryan did that? Either way, Ryan was excited to get a chance to hear Brad's voice. Oddly, too excited, for a phone call that was supposed to issue a farewell. He waited patiently.
The phone rang.
Summary: Brad wants Ryan back; Ryan's not sure if he ever could...
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1080
Background notes: Based on two songs; 'Unity' by Kelly Rowland and 'Better in Time' by Leona Lewis
---
The phone dangled from the chord, the dial tone emitting faintly into the air like the far away squeal of boiling water. The TV was close to an inaudible volume. Its cable signal was of poor quality, jets of white light shooting across the screen, blurring the faces of the late night TV salesman. Brad barely noticed; it was as if he had fallen into suspended animation on his couch, his body resting sideways on its velour fabric, the palm of his hand grinding against his cheek. It was past midnight, and he would have to go to work in five hours. But Brad had waged war with his bloodshot eyes, forcing them to keep open. Weak with fatigue, his hand slowly reached for the raven colored phone, his thumb punching in every number button with firm and equal amounts of pressure. Brad held the receiver against his ear, letting his eyes rest for a moment as he waited. It was a pain to pry them open again; his eyes felt dry and barren after all the tears he had cried. With no luck, Brad set the phone back down, not even attempting to put it properly back into its seat. Adjusting himself on the couch, he continued to wait in the resonating light of the TV set, waiting for Ryan Stiles' call.
'Perhaps this was a mistake....' Ryan hadn't been thinking clearly the entire time, as he waled along the airport terminal, ticket an suitcase in hand. All he knew was that he felt the sparks between him and Brad had disappeared, and Ryan craved for something new, exciting, fresh. Ryan wasn't exactly sure how a flight to Toronto was going to help, but as long as he was in Los Angeles he would never be able to think clearly. Possibly due to the head turning punch Brad had given him as a parting present, or the thick, polluted smog in the air. Once he reached his destination, Ryan wasn't sure what he was going to do next. Most likely, he could stay with his dear friend Colin, if he weren't off doing another random cameo in another Canadian film. Hopefully, his tour with Brad wouldn't start until half a year from now.
He sat down at the waiting dock, the soles of his feet aching after all the walking he had done. Ryan wished he had gotten an earlier flight; due to the upcoming winter vacation, the terminal seemed packed, even at this hour of the night. In his isolation, Ryan couldn't hold back reminiscing once more of Brad's memory. Three years had felt like an eternity. Ryan didn't know when his love for Brad diminished. Brad was faithful, supportive, and the greatest lover anyone could dream of. But loving Brad slowly, unwillingly, turned into routine, to the point where Ryan felt famished. Not wanting to be burdened with these innermost feelings, he came clean, trying to salvage what remained of their relationship. Ryan didn't love him as much as he used to, but he still cared deeply for the man. Brad, nonetheless, was upset with Ryan's decision to leave, begging, pleading, getting as frustrated as to punching him across the cheek. Convinced that he needed time to breathe, Ryan took his pre-booked ticket, packed his things, and left without saying a word. This was what was best, he thought. Both of them would heal eventually. He hoped.
Turning his head in all directions, Ryan couldn't find one clock in his area, which was odd, considering he was in an airport. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell, flipped up the top, and held down the power button for a few seconds. After the arrival of the welcome screen, Ryan had noticed seven missed calls, all from the same number. Greatly saddened, he flipped the phone shut, not even bothering to double check for the time again.
'Guaranteed to make your honey smile, or your money back!' The announcer's tone of voice was cheesy as his smile, a pearl necklace now in display on the screen. Brad scoffed. Ryan had never been materialistic, and he had been happy. Or so he thought. He sighed, his eyes fluttering as they screamed for rest. The dial tone told him he had to be more patient. Ryan would call back, it assured. Ryan just needed time to get his head together; perhaps Ryan had even shamefully gotten back to the habit of smoking weed again. Brad had found no evidence of Ryan getting back on the habit recently, and if he had, plus generated more energy and alertness, he would've hopped into a cab as soon as he could, drive to the airport and attempt to stop the plane with his bare hands. But Brad knew he didn't have to take it to that extreme. Ryan was as able to let go of him as he was able to let go of Ryan. Besides, the human body can take oh so much, and Brad was finding his vision and focus getting hazier. The voices on the TV began to familiarize as foreign languages, his head slowly slipping off his hand to rest on the soft, fluffy throw pillows.
Thirty more minutes. What a pain it was to have to walk again. As it was crucial, Ryan had had to check his cell phone again for the time. There was no escaping it. Ryan felt terrible that he hadn't said goodbye to Brad properly. He felt like such a fool for leaving his phone closed the entire time. With a moment's hesitation, Ryan knew that Brad may have fallen asleep by now, and hoped the phone was loud enough to wake him. But with what he had done, with having abandoning Brad so selfishly, Ryan felt it was necessary to have a word of farewell before he left, for consideration. He dialed Brad's number as he walked along, the keypad clicking away. Ryan held the phone up to his ear, thinking of what he should say the moment Brad picked up the phone. Should he keep it short and simple, or was it better if he tried to speak with Brad for as long as he could? Or would it be too awkward if Ryan did that? Either way, Ryan was excited to get a chance to hear Brad's voice. Oddly, too excited, for a phone call that was supposed to issue a farewell. He waited patiently.
The phone rang.
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