Back-from-the-dead Narry snippet
Dec. 23rd, 2017 05:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rose_tintedglasses*pushes a stack of paper across the table* here’s 500 words of a very rough draft of back-from-the-dead narry that I wrote today. (Heads up: I don’t know where in the timeline this happens, so it could be a medium sized spoiler or it could be a fairly small spoiler.)
———
“The accident feels like a missing piece but the In-Between doesn’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel like I’m forgetting something, it feels like there’s nothing to remember.”
“Oh.” Niall tries wrapping his head around the idea that there’s no kind of afterlife. It doesn’t fit with how many early Sunday mornings he has sat in a church and that feeling that he would get when the sunrise would reach just the right latitude to send sunbeams bursting through the stained glass windows. He can remember so tangibly the warmth that would spread through him, the feeling that someone was watching over him. The thought that there’s no one leaves him feeling cold.
But who is he to tell Harry he’s wrong? Harry, who’s actually died, who isn’t hinging it all on scattered, half-asleep light.
He pushes the existential crisis aside when Harry says, “I don’t even know why I came back. Why me and not them? I don’t deserve it.”
“Harry,” Niall’s voice cracks slightly and his heart along with it. “Of course you do. I don’t know why you came back either, but I’m so glad you did.” The more selfish part of Niall says I’m glad it was you and not them. Niall does his best to ignore it, mostly because he knows deep down that it’s true.
“Sometimes, I wish it was them that came back, though. Mom or Gemma—they’d know what to do.” Harry turns his head towards Niall, tears making his eyes glossy. “Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Niall shoves away all of the Biblical teachings and the stories about people being sent back to earth to fulfill some ultimate purpose. He thinks that if they were true, Harry would probably know about it already. “Maybe you’re not supposed to do anything,” he says instead, feeling inept. “Maybe you’re just supposed to live your life like you would have before the accident.”
“But how?” Harry’s bottom lip quivers before he bites down on it hard. “It’s not the same. It can’t be, not while they’re gone. And how do I—it was my fault Niall. How do I move past that? It’s always right here.” Harry taps at his chest.
Niall pulls Harry into a hug, squeezing him harder than he used to. It’s like that now, like every time he touches Harry, he’s afraid he’s going to disappear again. Like maybe if he holds on tight enough, he can make Harry stay. “Oh, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“I don’t want it to be me,” Harry chokes out through the sobs welling in his throat. “I don’t want to be back here. Not without them.”
Pain pulls at Niall’s sternum, threatening to cleave him in half. But it’s not about him. Or at least, he can’t let it be. Not when Harry’s sobbing into his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs to Harry. “It’s going to be okay.”
But he doesn’t know if either of them believe it.
———
“The accident feels like a missing piece but the In-Between doesn’t feel like that. It doesn’t feel like I’m forgetting something, it feels like there’s nothing to remember.”
“Oh.” Niall tries wrapping his head around the idea that there’s no kind of afterlife. It doesn’t fit with how many early Sunday mornings he has sat in a church and that feeling that he would get when the sunrise would reach just the right latitude to send sunbeams bursting through the stained glass windows. He can remember so tangibly the warmth that would spread through him, the feeling that someone was watching over him. The thought that there’s no one leaves him feeling cold.
But who is he to tell Harry he’s wrong? Harry, who’s actually died, who isn’t hinging it all on scattered, half-asleep light.
He pushes the existential crisis aside when Harry says, “I don’t even know why I came back. Why me and not them? I don’t deserve it.”
“Harry,” Niall’s voice cracks slightly and his heart along with it. “Of course you do. I don’t know why you came back either, but I’m so glad you did.” The more selfish part of Niall says I’m glad it was you and not them. Niall does his best to ignore it, mostly because he knows deep down that it’s true.
“Sometimes, I wish it was them that came back, though. Mom or Gemma—they’d know what to do.” Harry turns his head towards Niall, tears making his eyes glossy. “Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Niall shoves away all of the Biblical teachings and the stories about people being sent back to earth to fulfill some ultimate purpose. He thinks that if they were true, Harry would probably know about it already. “Maybe you’re not supposed to do anything,” he says instead, feeling inept. “Maybe you’re just supposed to live your life like you would have before the accident.”
“But how?” Harry’s bottom lip quivers before he bites down on it hard. “It’s not the same. It can’t be, not while they’re gone. And how do I—it was my fault Niall. How do I move past that? It’s always right here.” Harry taps at his chest.
Niall pulls Harry into a hug, squeezing him harder than he used to. It’s like that now, like every time he touches Harry, he’s afraid he’s going to disappear again. Like maybe if he holds on tight enough, he can make Harry stay. “Oh, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. There’s nothing you could have done.”
“I don’t want it to be me,” Harry chokes out through the sobs welling in his throat. “I don’t want to be back here. Not without them.”
Pain pulls at Niall’s sternum, threatening to cleave him in half. But it’s not about him. Or at least, he can’t let it be. Not when Harry’s sobbing into his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs to Harry. “It’s going to be okay.”
But he doesn’t know if either of them believe it.
no subject
Date: 2017-12-23 11:48 pm (UTC)I love Niall having lingering Catholic instincts, and the part where he's thinking about the feeling of God was so beautifully written:
It doesn’t fit with how many early Sunday mornings he has sat in a church and that feeling that he would get when the sunrise would reach just the right latitude to send sunbeams bursting through the stained glass windows. He can remember so tangibly the warmth that would spread through him, the feeling that someone was watching over him. The thought that there’s no one leaves him feeling cold.
it's just so so beautiful. and oh god poor harry, with his guilt and uncertainty and grief. I just reread it and registered the part about it being Harry's fault that they're gone - oh god!!!!! I crave the angst. I'm so looking forward to reading more of this.
no subject
Date: 2017-12-24 12:16 am (UTC)And yes! That was the only thing I ever liked about 7am mass was that moment, especially when it hit with the gospel.
I’m looking forward to writing more, so that’s exciting because I haven’t been inspired in a while!
no subject
Date: 2017-12-24 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-12-24 02:42 pm (UTC)