Fandom: Heroes. Claim
: Sylar / Peter.
Challenge: No. 69 (bonito, the shtick, eh? [?]) . Unnatural disaster.
Warnings: lime a little too soft. Slash. Spoilers for the penultimate episode of the fifth season of "The Wall.
Words: 1140 words.
Summary: On there are numbers that start progressively losing meaning. Are viewed obliquely, are "Leave him alone, Peter. We caught " and are things that a normal situation would not. No feel. Not even arise. But that's not a normal situation and that world is definitely not normal.
Notes: OoC has left me. I know. I can feel it. Call X (?)
Two
weeks, three days and fifteen hours.
roams the streets with their hands in the pockets of his frayed jeans and at times looked lost at times uneasy through each portion of the city as if expecting to see someone still appear on field of view at any time. Assailed moments of apathy, euphoria, gives up and gets up again. Again and again. As a sick roller coaster that can not control. Sylar
usually seen from afar when that happens. The cold is still beating in his eyes, contempt swarms in every corner when sharing a room. Sometimes you discover laughing under his breath as if the air would have brought a private joke that Peter does not understand. Or maybe. And that's what makes it so humorous. Understand that Sylar laughs it.
a month, ten days, two hours.
Surrender is gaining ground, but aúny and move on. Only now are shorter expeditions. Before I could spend days without food or rest, just walking by the New York asleep for signs of life. Now most of the day is spent on top of a skyscraper looking without seeing the sky will not attend busy street movement, flashing lights of the city or voices of anonymous crowds under him ;.
Sylar is also changing. He no longer looks of contempt directed mockery or silently. It seems too tired even for that. The day before he spoke. He asked forgiveness.
And Peter can ensure that there had been so angry for months.
six months, twenty days, eighteen hours.
speak.
have begun to do so. Peter could not tell if that's good or bad. Probably the latter.
And is that Sylar is a problem. Is an aggravating problem which already are involved. With pessimistic thoughts that inevitably, at times, it spreads. For its apathy, its Peter, leave it, no way out of here . For your damned presence and remind a truth not want to hear.
If you look, Sylar that conveys with his eyes. If silent, the words float in the air between them and Peter can not quell much we may strive to leave the mind blank.
again.
Peter, let it.
And Peter does not want to quit.
One year, six months, twelve days, two hours.
Sylar begins to cease to be Sylar.
Sylar laughs sometimes absently, but apex and mocking. Sylar seems to speak to the silence each time raising his eyes to heaven with eyes gently closed and let nonexistent wind touch your skin. Sylar tries to understand and keep quiet when he needs it, Sylar guess the things I say before leaving his lips. Sylar smiles. Sylar. That can not be Sylar.
Who then?
is curious. I would say that almost (almost) likes him.
Three years, two months, twenty days, ten hours.
Sylar often joke about his future there. Saying what they do. What will they do when they run out of conversation topics. What the hell will they do with what remains of your fucking life together. Sylar
often says things about The Pillars of the Earth while both are lying on any roof watching a sky that always follows the same process. Bright blue, dark blue, sunset orange, black, and the process begins again. There may sail planes, no interference, no one will ever interrupt.
A Peter often wonders if Sylar is aware of that.
Probably. More than himself. So it seemed almost distracted when that day while lying on the roof, has come close enough to support her cheek against his shoulder and breathing on his neck with the lightness of who is on the verge of sleep , o.
know that no one interrupted. Not only Peter himself.
Four years, seven months, fourteen days, six hours.
Sometimes looking for Sylar. Sometimes Peter was looking for him.
Sometimes the touch of your hand is rough when you feel on the neck, settling there as if you just continue checking if it is real. Other times it's electrifying. Other less ─ ─ is warm and comforting.
earn many times is electrifying majority.
Sylar is a patient person. Do not know if it has always been, but at least the years it has been locked up there have been a patient person. But when the power is unleashed, this quality fades into the air. Sylar knows
a black coffee with a remote point of cocoa. A sleepless nights with the night air seeping through the open window. A conversation in a low voice, to gaze observers, it seems so faint smiles that can take a breath of wind. Sylar is strange. Inaccessible. As if, however much broken through to the last particle of his being with every kiss, not really do more to get away and contemplate from a distance to be aware that it can disappear at any time.
Peter does not like thinking about it. In
may disappear.
sure that half of things here would not be as entertaining if he leaves.
has lost count of how many days are locked up there. Maybe it's been five years now. Maybe not. Not sure.
But another thing we do is completely safe.
Sylar arms, strong and possessive, tied around with a need so strong that at times it seems that not even care to hurt. Soil against which Peter has the bare back is mortally cold. More when comparing the contrast with Sylar's body above him. Arch your back and every part of your body piercing come in contact with the skin of Sylar. Sylar collapses face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and bites, sending more shock to your nerve endings. Electricity, heat, oxygen suddenly scarce and can not take from another site other than the lips of Sylar. Breathe on them and smell like anticipation.
Today the wall has been broken for the first time when the hammer has hit Peter against it.
And likewise, knows that part of himself has broken through that wall that kept them locked up there, outside of a more complicated and inexplicable that he already had provided an there.
not fair.
Damn, is not fair.
But can not say that out loud, it would be improper. So hit back furiously against Sylar's lips "to kill the words is unable to speak more than thoughts.
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