(no subject)

Like the Bolt Busted Loose from the Lever
736 words
R

this is beginning to feel like the long winded blues of the never
this is beginning to feel like it's curling up slowly and finding a throat to choke
- TV On The Radio

( You should watch sometime. )

(no subject)

It's gray when he wakes up in the early evening.

That in itself isn't odd. Sometimes it's gray. Sometimes it rains. It happens in a place with weather. But there's something about the quality of the light that's both wrong and familiar, and for a few minutes he lies there staring up at the ceiling, Neil dozing warm against his side, trying to work out what it is.

At last he gets up and moves slowly over to the window, yawning and scratching idly at his bare chest and still only distantly confused--and then he looks out and sees the fog.

The gently falling ash, dusting the empty streets below like snow.

"Shit," he breathes, and then notices the encroaching twilight shade to the gray sky, and he knows exactly what it means. It had been late afternoon when he and Neil had fallen asleep tired and sweaty and tangled around each other, and he has no idea how long they've been asleep, but it doesn't feel like they have a lot of time left.

He practically launches himself back over to the bed, grabbing Neil by the shoulder and shaking him roughly. "Get up. Neil, get up."