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The Complete Fic Directory
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- The Price Of Friendship
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- Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
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- Stay (Oh Darlin')
- Study In Motion
- Summertime Feeling - S Club 7
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- That Night In Amsterdam/Do You Love Me? [Part Two]
- This
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- Twenty-Nine (And A Half)
- Under A Colourless Sky [Colourless]
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- What Did You Say This Time?
- What Will The Papers Say? [Purple]
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- The Wordsmith/Breathe In
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- Barlow's Music Shop Series
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Slow Dancing In A Burning Room
We both knew. We knew it wasn’t just one of those stupid little instants, one of those tiny little unbalances of life. We knew it wouldn’t be gone tomorrow or better in the morning. It wasn’t just a thunderstorm, rolling down across our lives then out to sea. This was the dwindling heartbeat of the relationship we had built together. All this time we had been working on it and now here it was, taking its last, longing, lingering breaths. It goes unspoken that it’s too late for us to plan a different course. The love is still there but some part of it got misplaced along the way; some strength or life or direction. We can’t keep this up anymore, although that’s what we would both like to imagine we could do. In a perfect world maybe – turns out there’s no such thing as perfect though, not even this tangled thing we shared for so long. And yet we had been so sure that’s what it was. Perfect. We were sure everything was perfect once. I’m not sure it’s anyone’s fault, least of all his. I hope it’s not mine. The shift was both tangible and removed from us. Little things, the littlest things. He doesn’t feel the same in my arms these days. I don’t fit into his. It’s not up to anyone else to help us now, it’s not even up to us to help ourselves. We should just bow out gracefully, share our last loving looks, remember them, walk away.
He’s the one who saw it first, just like he always does. It’s a quality that still makes me smile even as I admit defeat. I cross the room and can’t help but notice that that same defeat is written all over him. His shoulders are slumped silently, his eyes distant and bright. His head is turned as if he can see some path to a different future that he is, as yet, too uncertain to tread. He’s so beautiful when he’s thinking, so lost and so unreachable and so still. Howard slouches next to him. One look and I guess that Howard must know too, because he shifts without a smile, his eyes a brilliantly blank shade of blue. Howard. Waiting in the wings – I think it without bitterness. I almost think it with hope. At least I know he’d look after my Jay. Perhaps better than I ever did.
Jason nurses his drink, tracing his finger around the edge, shifts slightly and looks up, gives me a slow smile that softly fades to black. My hair falls across my eyes and the look is lost. Howard looks at his hands; ‘I’ll get the drinks in’ is half-sighed and half-announced as he pushes himself out of the booth, blurring into the crowd. Not that we’re aware of it. I think it’s then that he first mentions that it’s over. Maybe I chose not to notice him say it, maybe he didn’t say it after all. He tries to see past my fringe but our eyes just aren’t meant to meet any more. ‘Dance with me’ my fringe offers him with tender reluctance. The corner of his lips quirks just a fraction. ‘As the floor falls out from under us you mean?’ he murmurs, then pauses, ‘Sure. I’d like that’ he nods with a breath of a smile. My pulse stutters. Oh my dear – you, you so sweet and so silent and still the most beautiful man in any room you walk into. And yet we’re not sad. We’re resigned but contented as our hands close together. He leads me out to the floor. ‘Love, I’m going to miss this’ he sighs, his fingertips brush my cheek.
His hands are on my hips, my arms around his neck. Beautifully doomed we are as we dance together, so slow. You told me once I was ‘the dream’, the one that shone above them all. No one compares, you said, no one could or would or ever can. And I had smiled as I’d looked into your eyes with my ready reply ‘I looked at you and knew’ and then I named every mountain in the world that I would climb for you (and still would.) That’s why it hurts when you ask me ‘Was this nothing to you?’ and I whisper sharply ‘Don’t you dare think that of me’ with a curious air of unspoken loss. ‘Sorry’ he murmurs now (always apologising) and I notice with affection that he still leans into me that way he always does. He has to bend so far down just to reach me – his lean frame bowed gracefully above me. His half-breath of an apology stirs up a fond sort of guilt. How many times has he apologised for my faults? God I could be a bitch sometimes. Just coz I could. Just coz I knew he’d let me get away with it. And you did, didn’t you? Oh Jay. But I was no angel either, his eyes seem to mutter. And I remember his hands grasped tightly round my upper arms, his tears angry because I pushed him too far. Sometimes I didn’t understand why I was so good at hurting him. Maybe I still don’t. Maybe that’s why we’re here now, dancing our last dance with subdued longing for a different ending. ‘No one will ever compare though’ he says into the silence.
As the song draws to an end I rise up, lips pursed, eyes closed. It’s instinctive. But his lips don’t meet mine and I open my eyes. I look up at him, tears ready to fall. But he’s smiling, eyes shining. Blue and twinkly, they stop my tears before they have begun. I count the emotions there. Two loss, five sadness. Ten pride, seven thanks. Because we do have a lot to be grateful for. I mean...it was good, wasn’t it? It was good whilst it lasted, him and me. Maybe it’s over but we had it. We had it and we watched its flame flicker down, our very own candle – bright once – now a low burning wick. Let’s watch us burn out tonight. ‘You’ll cry tonight. We’ll both cry tonight. But we can cry. Until it gets better...’ he tells me. He’s always right. I’m never right. God, were we really so hopeless?! Tonight I will cry though. Tomorrow too. The day after? A lot. The weekend? Not so much. Maybe next week I won’t at all and I’ll think I’ve forgotten. But next month, next year, next love...oh I will always cry, from time to time. Because to cry about it is to acknowledge it was special, to recognise that, for a little while, it was ours. ‘Don’t you think we should be old enough to know what’s built to last?’ is the question I ask him. His smile is honest, ‘Markie, it lasted its time.’ His touch as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear reinforces the sentiment. Familiar and forgotten. He kisses my forehead; a goodnight to what was us.
I watch him leave. I feel the briefest, fluttering burn. Then comes the blackness, with a passion. It’s always the fade-to-black that gets you. The film is over but you can’t help but think that the characters still have a long, long way to go. I don’t need to watch the door close behind him to know he is gone. The room has exploded into nothingness, I can’t see the golden flecks of his heartbeat hopping in the stagnant air anymore.
I don’t know how I got back to the booth. My legs carried me, I suppose. Howard doesn’t look at me, doesn’t comment on Jay’s absence, just pushes a drink across the table. I take it without thanking him, then frown and take a breath – ‘You didn’t get a drink for Jay?’ I ask and he shakes his head. He’d known. He always knows. ‘You should go after him’ I sigh. It ripples across my drink. ‘I will’ Howard agrees without moving. He doesn’t have a drink of his own to gaze into, so instead he just watches my bowed head. With that I smile a strange sort of smile; ‘You love him, don’t you’ I say and Howard doesn’t blink. ‘I’ll love him one day’ he replies. I look up at him, eyes bright and confident; ‘And he’ll love you too...one day.’
He’s the one who saw it first, just like he always does. It’s a quality that still makes me smile even as I admit defeat. I cross the room and can’t help but notice that that same defeat is written all over him. His shoulders are slumped silently, his eyes distant and bright. His head is turned as if he can see some path to a different future that he is, as yet, too uncertain to tread. He’s so beautiful when he’s thinking, so lost and so unreachable and so still. Howard slouches next to him. One look and I guess that Howard must know too, because he shifts without a smile, his eyes a brilliantly blank shade of blue. Howard. Waiting in the wings – I think it without bitterness. I almost think it with hope. At least I know he’d look after my Jay. Perhaps better than I ever did.
Jason nurses his drink, tracing his finger around the edge, shifts slightly and looks up, gives me a slow smile that softly fades to black. My hair falls across my eyes and the look is lost. Howard looks at his hands; ‘I’ll get the drinks in’ is half-sighed and half-announced as he pushes himself out of the booth, blurring into the crowd. Not that we’re aware of it. I think it’s then that he first mentions that it’s over. Maybe I chose not to notice him say it, maybe he didn’t say it after all. He tries to see past my fringe but our eyes just aren’t meant to meet any more. ‘Dance with me’ my fringe offers him with tender reluctance. The corner of his lips quirks just a fraction. ‘As the floor falls out from under us you mean?’ he murmurs, then pauses, ‘Sure. I’d like that’ he nods with a breath of a smile. My pulse stutters. Oh my dear – you, you so sweet and so silent and still the most beautiful man in any room you walk into. And yet we’re not sad. We’re resigned but contented as our hands close together. He leads me out to the floor. ‘Love, I’m going to miss this’ he sighs, his fingertips brush my cheek.
His hands are on my hips, my arms around his neck. Beautifully doomed we are as we dance together, so slow. You told me once I was ‘the dream’, the one that shone above them all. No one compares, you said, no one could or would or ever can. And I had smiled as I’d looked into your eyes with my ready reply ‘I looked at you and knew’ and then I named every mountain in the world that I would climb for you (and still would.) That’s why it hurts when you ask me ‘Was this nothing to you?’ and I whisper sharply ‘Don’t you dare think that of me’ with a curious air of unspoken loss. ‘Sorry’ he murmurs now (always apologising) and I notice with affection that he still leans into me that way he always does. He has to bend so far down just to reach me – his lean frame bowed gracefully above me. His half-breath of an apology stirs up a fond sort of guilt. How many times has he apologised for my faults? God I could be a bitch sometimes. Just coz I could. Just coz I knew he’d let me get away with it. And you did, didn’t you? Oh Jay. But I was no angel either, his eyes seem to mutter. And I remember his hands grasped tightly round my upper arms, his tears angry because I pushed him too far. Sometimes I didn’t understand why I was so good at hurting him. Maybe I still don’t. Maybe that’s why we’re here now, dancing our last dance with subdued longing for a different ending. ‘No one will ever compare though’ he says into the silence.
As the song draws to an end I rise up, lips pursed, eyes closed. It’s instinctive. But his lips don’t meet mine and I open my eyes. I look up at him, tears ready to fall. But he’s smiling, eyes shining. Blue and twinkly, they stop my tears before they have begun. I count the emotions there. Two loss, five sadness. Ten pride, seven thanks. Because we do have a lot to be grateful for. I mean...it was good, wasn’t it? It was good whilst it lasted, him and me. Maybe it’s over but we had it. We had it and we watched its flame flicker down, our very own candle – bright once – now a low burning wick. Let’s watch us burn out tonight. ‘You’ll cry tonight. We’ll both cry tonight. But we can cry. Until it gets better...’ he tells me. He’s always right. I’m never right. God, were we really so hopeless?! Tonight I will cry though. Tomorrow too. The day after? A lot. The weekend? Not so much. Maybe next week I won’t at all and I’ll think I’ve forgotten. But next month, next year, next love...oh I will always cry, from time to time. Because to cry about it is to acknowledge it was special, to recognise that, for a little while, it was ours. ‘Don’t you think we should be old enough to know what’s built to last?’ is the question I ask him. His smile is honest, ‘Markie, it lasted its time.’ His touch as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear reinforces the sentiment. Familiar and forgotten. He kisses my forehead; a goodnight to what was us.
I watch him leave. I feel the briefest, fluttering burn. Then comes the blackness, with a passion. It’s always the fade-to-black that gets you. The film is over but you can’t help but think that the characters still have a long, long way to go. I don’t need to watch the door close behind him to know he is gone. The room has exploded into nothingness, I can’t see the golden flecks of his heartbeat hopping in the stagnant air anymore.
I don’t know how I got back to the booth. My legs carried me, I suppose. Howard doesn’t look at me, doesn’t comment on Jay’s absence, just pushes a drink across the table. I take it without thanking him, then frown and take a breath – ‘You didn’t get a drink for Jay?’ I ask and he shakes his head. He’d known. He always knows. ‘You should go after him’ I sigh. It ripples across my drink. ‘I will’ Howard agrees without moving. He doesn’t have a drink of his own to gaze into, so instead he just watches my bowed head. With that I smile a strange sort of smile; ‘You love him, don’t you’ I say and Howard doesn’t blink. ‘I’ll love him one day’ he replies. I look up at him, eyes bright and confident; ‘And he’ll love you too...one day.’