Desmond David Hume. (ourmutualfriend) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-01-30 13:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
Who? Desmond & Charlie
Where? Their apartment.
When? After this text.
What? Sharing their feelings over the news of the plane crash and the graves, trying to comfort each other. Brief flash-forward on Desmond's part.
Rating? Potentially high.
Status? Closed, ongoing.
Desmond really didn't know what to do with this new information. It felt as if Maryanne's information had set off a flash, but he really wasn't sure if that was even how it worked, if there could be triggers, or if it was a completely random event.
Either way, he'd been heading back to the apartments when suddenly he found his head in a completely different place. A crumbling church, a grave- Charlie's name. He gave a soft sob of surprise- and then the numbers again. The apartment number. Charlie- Charlie- his voice, his laugh, the way he said his name, breathless and gasping- Charlie's lips, his hands, his bare skin, fingers in his hair- warmth and pleasure and-
He was standing in the middle of the street, trembling. He tried to catch his breath, leaning against a wall for a minute or two, trying to calm down. And then he changed direction, and headed for the church. He didn't want to look, he really didn't want to- but he had to. Not just because he really wanted the rest of the flash to happen- which he did, he really did, and he was trying not to think too much on what exactly that said about him. But he had to know, he had to know that he wasn't being lied to. He picked his way cautiously through the grave, some names unfamiliar to him, some he recognised- and then there it was. Charlie H. Pace. After the flash, he should have known the sob was coming, but the pained sound escaping him managed to surprise him again.
It wasn't real. It wasn't- Charlie was there, Charlie was alive- either that, or they were all dead, but- no. No, it couldn't be happening. He had to get out of there.
He wasn't even aware of how he'd made it back to the apartments until he was looking at those numbers on the door again. He was being ridiculous. A deep breath, he tried to pull himself together a bit before he went inside.
"Charlie? Are you here, Charlie?" he called out, trying his best to disguise the pain in his voice. He was fine, he was alive, and once he could confirm that again, it would all be fine.