(no subject)

[arqueete]

Just for the lulz, here's the rather stream-of-consciousness-y writing I did one day during chem and PE (which had become a study hall that day) that turned into the fic I just posted:

He'd thrown the essay in his desk drawer, piled a book and some loose papers on top of it. As he stepped out his front door, the sun shining on him only to be interrupted by a forceful blast of wind, he tried hard to think about anything else but realized he was trying so hard not to think about it he had started thinking about it again.

The essay had expressed little awkwardness or vagueness – just matter of fact, plain in language, almost formal in style. Moritz had stared at it so long beyond the phrases and words that stuck in his mind he could almost picture the very writing on the paper – not the rushed scribbling of a note passed in class but Melchior's measured, neat writing – the kind Moritz saw on his school papers or letters to relatives. It was almost as though Melchior took some pleasure in how uninhibited the language was, at how entirely brave it was to put down sins on paper, not in a drawl like a whisper behind closed doors but in bold neatness as though it were no different than an essay for Latin. It was those words, so bold and rebellious, and entirely unhindered in their truth that haunted Moritz even more than the illustrations.

But, the wind. It was windy today, rustling through his hair and pushing his hands into his pockets. Yet, the sun was bright in the sky today and surely it was nice enough for a walk in the park, anything to get far away from... that essay.

This wasn't fair, he decided. Entirely unfair – that seemed to be the story of his life lately. Perhaps ignorance really had been blissful. Perhaps it had been better to be haunted by stockings and vague desires than the reality of their existence. He thought perhaps Melchior should've warned him further – not even offered in the first place. But, then again, Moritz wasn't entirely sure Melchior understood the burden his essay imparted. Though Melchior eased his worries, reassuring him always that his feelings, however sinful or frightening or guilt-inducing they could become, were entirely normal and not unique to Moritz, Melchior himself seemed so at ease with the whole thing, dropping off-hand remarks about things he said he felt but never seemed to show. It almost made Moritz feel like he was being mocked sometimes, though there was nothing particularly mocking in Melchior's calm matter-of-fact tone --

Much like the essay. As if what Moritz's own brain and body put him through constantly in the pain of living day to day was not tortured enough, he had the essay to leave him with a yearning for things he couldn't experience and lingering fantasies that frightened him sometimes by being just too close to the people and situations of his reality.

Comments

[dulcinea]

...wow. I almost like this more than the fic you posted. XD It seems more raw, and I like the turn Moritz's thought take a little better, or maybe it's just the phrasing that makes them seem slightly different.

[arqueete.livejournal.com]

Wow XD Well, I liked some things about this draft but ditched them because it was being like the other fic with Melchy/Moritz only very subtly implied and that's not where I wanted to go with it. And a lot of it was more rambly than I liked and the only way for me to really fix that was rewriting it XD