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A Bittersweet Longing
Aug. 4th, 2009 06:49 am07-24-2009, 04:18 PM | ||||
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 A Bittersweet LongingMood Prompt: Bittersweet Word Prompt: Rejected Expression Prompt: Here I stand like an open book, is there something here you might have overlooked? Part of the summer contest at Whedonverse and Beyond found here: www.whedonverseandbeyond.net/forum/showthread.php A Bittersweet Longing, by Pat BtVS, Willow PoV, PG (July 2009) Every morning I waited for him to saunter off his house, and every time he hurriedly joined me; chivalrous and content, he always proposed to carry my lunch box, and made me believe in the tales of old of princess with their prince charming. Going to school with Xander was the highlight of my days, listening to him describe the latest Scoobidou television adventures to me, compensating for the fact that my dear parents wouldn’t allow a tv set anywhere in their precious little home was the highlight of my lunch hours. Having him teasingly work along me on our homeworks was of course a little bit wasted in terms of time and efficiency but oh so entertaining… Today we still joke. Last night we had pizza. Tonight, we have to meet at the Bronze. Tomorrow we will have a research session. The entertainment is now provided by seeing my knight in a not so shining armor fumbling around the slayer, slave to Cordelia’s desire, earnest in being a part of this group of misfits we became almost without notice, one little fight at a time. For the last few years I have grown, my body filling, my hair floating in the breeze with much more volume, my fingers long and lean itching to dance on his skin, my lips fuller and eager to be ravished. And with every passing week, it appears that what I could offer him will just be overlooked lost in the rubbles of life, buried behind the needs of the world, the hormones riding him so hard. I’ve lingered for so long just to realize what I was waiting for; I’ve delayed telling Xander because I did not know how to distinguish between my so comforting friendship with him, my late hero worship of the boy, my newfound love for the man. If I must suffer through this turmoil then I want him to do so with me. I want to understand while Xander Harris wouldn’t see me, the real me, the caring me, the one that loves him and wish he’d love me back. The End (350) |
