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The Complete Fic Directory
- All I Do Each Night Is Rehearse The Pray Routine
- Appendicitis
- An Act Of Un-Remembrance
- Beginnings
- Better Than Today - Kylie Minogue
- Black
- Breathe Out
- Christmas Shopping
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- Dangling
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- Default Settings/Do You Love Me? [Part One]
- Displacement Theory [Blue]
- DJ (I Could Be Dancing) - Alphabeat
- Enchanted
- Ends (Loose And Otherwise) [Ends]
- Enemies
- Family
- Fine Time To Lose Your Mind - Jack McManus
- Fireworks
- Flat Tyres And Palm Prints [Birth]
- Flu
- Friends: A Dictionary [Friends]
- From Angels To The Moon/The Soup
- Green Light [Green]
- Hell Raisers
- Home Invasion
- Hours
- In My Veins
- Insides
- It Was The Death Of Something [Death]
- Just Like Children [Children]
- Kiss And Make Up
- The Last Time
- Lonely At Christmas
- Love Songs
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- Middles
- Midnight Sun
- Mistletoe
- Months Go By [Months]
- More Important Than Fear
- Muddied Stars [Brown]
- Not Enough
- Of Peacocks
- On The Subject Of Angels [Orange]
- Playing House [Parents]
- The Price Of Friendship
- The Prize
- Post-Match Analysis
- Puddles
- Red
- Secret Admirer
- Secret Agent Owen
- Shades
- Shine - Skies Of America
- Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
- Snap
- So Good To See You
- Stage Fright
- Stay (Oh Darlin')
- Study In Motion
- Summertime Feeling - S Club 7
- Sunrise
- Sunset
- Teammates
- That Night In Amsterdam/Do You Love Me? [Part Two]
- This
- Three Sets Of Three
- Twenty-Nine (And A Half)
- Under A Colourless Sky [Colourless]
- We Found Something That Belongs To You [Outsides]
- We Were Strangers Once [Strangers]
- Weeks
- What Did You Say This Time?
- What Will The Papers Say? [Purple]
- White Out [White]
- The Wordsmith/Breathe In
- Years
- Yellow
- Yesterday's Promise
- 3-0 Defeats
- Barlow's Music Shop Series
- Fanfiction Challenges
- The Postcard Prompts
- OT3, OT4 & OT5
- Stories By Band Member
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Hell Raisers
If I didn’t hold your hand I’m sorry. If I didn’t give you five more minutes, linger in corridors, convert to some discernable faith instead of just muttering curse words, I have lived to regret it. Sorry I didn’t chase away spiders or tedious guests, sorry I never thought to scare off those stupid little dreams I dared to entertain. Sorry I hoped. I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you more words or better words, that I wouldn’t send cards or flowers or tears. I’m sorry I wasn’t crying from the moment I walked away. I would have cried for you, God knows I would have cried. But I had lost you too many times over to believe it was worth the pain. You’ll come back, you always come back. But you don’t come back and I start to wonder if maybe the last time I see your face really will be that time. That time in that room, not holding your hand. Pale. I’m sorry you were so pale the last time we spoke. You were colourful before, dazzling and brilliant. Alive in the best possible ways. Although you were always such a fraught thing. A fractured thing. I never did work out how you survived, but you always did. You always did and you did it with flare. You survived like no one else survived, you lived like no one else lived. You survived me longer than anyone else, lived with me for longer than anyone else could bear. You and me, we rose hell, didn’t we? We rose hell and used the flames against each other. As though fire would flatter our brittle bodies. Every once in a while we would manage to stand still, to catch our breath and look around at the wreckage. We were always pleased with our work. If you weren’t having fun I’m sorry, but I think I was having the time of my life. It’s a fucking cliché and I’m sorry; you deserve a lot more than clichés. Because really you were a bassline in my head, the sort that spills out of the club and into the street and defies words. The sort that makes people want to dance for no reason at all. You made me want to dance. And you made me want to smile. I’m sorry if I never told you that before. You were beautiful too, did I mention that? I’m sorry for how beautiful you were; an uglier thing might have lasted longer but, God, you were beautiful and it could never have lasted. Your eyes, beady and dazzling, flash in and out of my consciousness like an echo. If I ever forget I’m sorry. I’m sorry that the world’s still turning at all. I woke up that morning and I thought the world had forgotten you, I will never understand how it just kept going. All the same, I don’t think I ever really could forget, am capable of forgetting. But I’m sorry if I end up only remembering the flames and the shadows they cast. I lied that night, you know? And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry it all ended in a screaming match when you hardly had the breath to speak. But we were always fighting, you and me. For each other and against. I hope you realised, somewhere in the back of your aching skull, that I only lied because I knew, with sudden clarity, there was nothing more I could do to fight for you. So I decided to fight against you instead, like everything was normal and you and me would emerge from the flames unscathed. The battle was over but I was still flinging my fists at the air between us. I’m not sorry if that’s the way you remember me; stupid and stubborn and fighting for you. There’s worse ways to be remembered. I don’t know if it counts for much now but I am sorry I didn’t wear a suit. I’m sorry I didn’t bow my head.
I was sorry to hear you leave tonight. Slipping through a gap in the curtains and out into a stale summer sky. I think out there you saw an outline of a life we could have lived. I think it was the last thing you glimpsed before you disappeared.