"It's like in the great stories... The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why."
aldiara on May 16th, 2011 02:48 am (UTC) Breathe In
"Come on," Tom teases. "Surely you've done this before."
Marc rolls his eyes. "Of course I have."
"When?"
Marc tries to think, which is difficult with Tom perched splay-legged on his lap. The joint dangles, ever so coolly, from a corner of his mouth, enveloping him in fragrant smoke.
"When I was younger," Marc says hoarsely, meaning as young as you; but when Tom leans down, blue eyes glinting, and softly exhales the smoke into Marc's open mouth, Marc digs his fingers into those messy curls and yanks him closer, deciding right now age doesn't matter. He breathes in deeply.