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dreamcatchingsMaybe BW fic doesn't actually count count, but I'm doing it anyway. This one is Dale for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noyoki_sato. It's long and was written in snippets at work so it might not be the best, but it's Dale. I love Dale.
I'll work on the girls tomorrow.
For years it seemed as though Dale was going to go through life as Don Quixote, loving only pure and chaste from afar. He would have been all right with that truly because all the people were beautiful and complicated and wonderful. He felt proud to just be able to watch them and speak to them and have them in his own way, which was always a bit on the odd side. The sad ones he loved most of all.
Blackwater was so small that it would have been impossible to find someone whose family hadn't passed through Peach in sorrow at some point. Or who would in future. Dale had his self-imposed rules about that. He loved every single person who passed over the threshold whether it was of their own volition or not, adored all who sat in the rooms or lay on the table, each on they buried or comforted, but it was a different sort of love and there was no lust in it. None of his peers stirred him either though he could not deny their beauty, the boys and girls alike. There was still a chasm there. He was friendly and courteous but always waiting for the tragedy to fall. The waiting made him separate from them.
When it came right down to it, there were two people he counted as his first. Dale knew that wasn't the actual way of counting, but he rarely did anything that could be considered normal anyway. He never minded being strange. So he had two, and he did love them both still even now as he loved everyone. One day his heart might run out of room. That was rhe day he feared. There would be no days after that. Death would welcome him. He had served it so well after all.
The first, the more important one in his mind even though nothing ever happened, was the boy. Dale never spoke to him, never even knew his name or got close enough to small him, but anytime they were in the same classroom or hallway or sidewalk, Dale would watch him and yearn. It was the boy, the thought of seeing the boy, that got him out of his dorm room on so many days when the panic threatened to take him over and the sun was so bright that his skin started to argue with him before the rays even touched it. The boy with the too long hair, a chestnut gleam in the light, slight of body and apart from the crush of everyone else, this boy who never had a name that Dale could fix to that hooded face, taught him about longing and lust without even a whisper of contact on his skin.
The second, who was his actual, physical first, was a girl with long dark hair and very sad eyes that always seemed too wet, as though at any time she could be pushed to tears. Dale had spent lots of time trying to find the source of that spring so he could try and dam it for her and spare her the sorrow. He had never liked seeing people upset and only wanted her to be happy. Her name was Marianna. At twenty they had been every bit as fumbling and awkward as he had imagined, especially when it came to making love. It was all elbows and knees, blushing and apologies. There was that drawn out moment when they realized that neither of them had any idea what they were doing. When they stopped trying so hard, though, it feel into place. Just for a little while. Then it fell apart as people and relationships are wont to do. She went wherever life took her, and Dale went where death took him, which was home to Blackwater and Peach. Dale would always return to Blackwater and Peach as long as they would have him.
It was strange for his thoughts to go back to all that now. It was Halloween night, and he had a graveyard to decorate as soon as the sun went down and then a party to not attend. In the following days there would funerals and mourners like always. The house was quiet without his mother there, but it was never lonely. Dale touched his hand to the window and hummed, thinking about the nameless boy and Marianna with her sad, wet eyes and was unsure which one of them he missed more at the moment. He wished them both well. He wished them love.
noyoki_sato. It's long and was written in snippets at work so it might not be the best, but it's Dale. I love Dale.I'll work on the girls tomorrow.
For years it seemed as though Dale was going to go through life as Don Quixote, loving only pure and chaste from afar. He would have been all right with that truly because all the people were beautiful and complicated and wonderful. He felt proud to just be able to watch them and speak to them and have them in his own way, which was always a bit on the odd side. The sad ones he loved most of all.
Blackwater was so small that it would have been impossible to find someone whose family hadn't passed through Peach in sorrow at some point. Or who would in future. Dale had his self-imposed rules about that. He loved every single person who passed over the threshold whether it was of their own volition or not, adored all who sat in the rooms or lay on the table, each on they buried or comforted, but it was a different sort of love and there was no lust in it. None of his peers stirred him either though he could not deny their beauty, the boys and girls alike. There was still a chasm there. He was friendly and courteous but always waiting for the tragedy to fall. The waiting made him separate from them.
When it came right down to it, there were two people he counted as his first. Dale knew that wasn't the actual way of counting, but he rarely did anything that could be considered normal anyway. He never minded being strange. So he had two, and he did love them both still even now as he loved everyone. One day his heart might run out of room. That was rhe day he feared. There would be no days after that. Death would welcome him. He had served it so well after all.
The first, the more important one in his mind even though nothing ever happened, was the boy. Dale never spoke to him, never even knew his name or got close enough to small him, but anytime they were in the same classroom or hallway or sidewalk, Dale would watch him and yearn. It was the boy, the thought of seeing the boy, that got him out of his dorm room on so many days when the panic threatened to take him over and the sun was so bright that his skin started to argue with him before the rays even touched it. The boy with the too long hair, a chestnut gleam in the light, slight of body and apart from the crush of everyone else, this boy who never had a name that Dale could fix to that hooded face, taught him about longing and lust without even a whisper of contact on his skin.
The second, who was his actual, physical first, was a girl with long dark hair and very sad eyes that always seemed too wet, as though at any time she could be pushed to tears. Dale had spent lots of time trying to find the source of that spring so he could try and dam it for her and spare her the sorrow. He had never liked seeing people upset and only wanted her to be happy. Her name was Marianna. At twenty they had been every bit as fumbling and awkward as he had imagined, especially when it came to making love. It was all elbows and knees, blushing and apologies. There was that drawn out moment when they realized that neither of them had any idea what they were doing. When they stopped trying so hard, though, it feel into place. Just for a little while. Then it fell apart as people and relationships are wont to do. She went wherever life took her, and Dale went where death took him, which was home to Blackwater and Peach. Dale would always return to Blackwater and Peach as long as they would have him.
It was strange for his thoughts to go back to all that now. It was Halloween night, and he had a graveyard to decorate as soon as the sun went down and then a party to not attend. In the following days there would funerals and mourners like always. The house was quiet without his mother there, but it was never lonely. Dale touched his hand to the window and hummed, thinking about the nameless boy and Marianna with her sad, wet eyes and was unsure which one of them he missed more at the moment. He wished them both well. He wished them love.
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