Fiction: Electricity
Jan. 14th, 2013 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Electricity
Word count: 1,572
Rating: R for implied sexuality (it's all dialogue)
Prompt:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic Tyrian Purple 25, the Midas touch; Heart Gold 15, I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. - Roy Croft
Notes: So I guess my theme lately is doomed young love. That's what I get for writing character backstories. Though, actually, these two meet again later and may not be doomed. I'm not exactly happy with the choice of architecture for Dylan; I picked it a while back for something different and artistic for him to do, but it seems too practical now, especially since I know neither of these characters will be doing what they studied for in a few years! So I may revisit this later with a different artistic field for Dylan to study...
When he touched her she felt like gold.
He was studying architecture; she was studying engineering. “I want to be able to do something useful with my life,” she said. He was the artist, dreaming; she was relentlessly practical.
She wouldn’t tell him anything about her family, except that she was the only buffer between her parents. He told her all about the mom he’d lost and the mom he still had, the older sisters who still thought they could control his life. She sympathized, though she was an only child. He wished he could know what that was like.
Their fingers tingled with electricity when they touched and again when they parted.
—
“Dad,” said Moira. “Dad, will you shut up for a minute and let me talk?” She was pacing in her dorm room, staring alternately at her screen showing news from around the world, her window showing the quad with its light dusting of snow, and the marked-up calendar that covered her one empty wall.
“How dare you,” her father said. His voice came through as clear as though he was standing there right next to her, which was always a little annoying. “When I was your age I would never have spoken to my father this way.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet you said worse.” At least he was giving her a chance to get a word in edgewise. “Anyway, you wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps. Which is fine. But I don’t.”
“And just what is wrong with what I do?”
“Besides the fact that it’s illegal?”
“You never seemed to have a problem with that before.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes people learn morality when they grow up and see perspectives other than their parents’.” She sighed. This wasn’t going the way she envisioned at all—then again, things with her parents never did. “It’s not actually the illegality I object to. There are a lot of laws I disagree with. But that’s because they don’t involve hurting other people.”
“You can do my job without hurting people.”
“I don’t think you believe that.”
“But you’re my daughter. I’ve raised you to follow in my footsteps. It’s what I always imagined for you.”
She didn’t think he’d done a very good job of raising her to actually want what he wanted. Maybe if he’d actually been honest about it from the start… but arguing about that wasn’t going to do her any good. She rolled her head around her shoulders, cracking her neck. “I know, Dad, and I appreciate it. I know it’s because you care about me. But you have to realize that what you imagined for me isn’t the same thing I imagine for myself.”
He was quiet for a moment. She must have struck a nerve. Then he finally said, “This isn’t because of your mother, is it?”
“Mom?” She actually laughed out loud. “No, as a matter of fact, she doesn’t want me to be an engineer either. At least not this kind of engineer. She wants me to go into computer electronics or robotics or something. That’s where she thinks the money is.”
“Well, that’s absurd. The money is in my kind of work.”
“I think there’s money in both places, actually. And there’s money in engineering, though not as much. I don’t know if I can convince you guys of this, but money isn’t actually my main goal.”
“I guess it isn’t. But don’t you feel bad about not creating a legacy for me?”
She laughed again, this time fairly certain that he was kidding. “I think your legacy will be fine, Dad. What about Erik and Delilah? I know they’re not yours biologically, but I also know very well that they think of you as their dad. Erik would probably do whatever you asked him to.”
“Maybe.” They were quiet again for a moment. Moira knew they were both thinking of his unsuccessful attempts to have a child with Anya. Not that Moira knew the details—just that they’d tried and it hadn’t worked.
“Look, Dad, I have to get back to my homework. I can still come stay with you over winter break, right?”
“Your mother won’t yell at me for it?”
“If she tries, I’ll be the one to listen. I always am.”
“You are. Yes, of course you’re welcome. Delilah is excited to see you again.”
Moira grinned. “I can’t wait to see her, either. I have some excellently noisy toys for them.”
“Love you, Mo.”
“Love you too, Dad.” She clicked off the headset, sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. She wasn’t actually going to do homework right now. Conversations with her parents always got her too riled up to sit still and focus. But she’d made plans. She blinked twice to call up her clock and smiled—it was exactly eight, and he was always on time.
As if summoned, Dylan opened the door that she’d left unlocked for him. He grinned, and she melted into his arms.
—
“No, this isn’t structurally sound. It would never hold. A strong wind would send the whole building to its knees.”
“Are you sure?”
“Which one of us is the engineer?”
“What about this wall?”
“Maybe if it was made of super-reinforced polycarbonate, but that’s hideously expensive.”
“I don’t care about expense. I’m the architect, not the builder.”
“Any builder is going to look at those plans and give the owner a bid that’s way more than the builder wants to pay. You’d never sell these plans. Look, just put another wall here, and you have your support.”
“But that’s ugly.”
“Really? I think it’s beautiful. It brings the building into better symmetry.”
“You only think it’s beautiful because it’s stronger.”
“And because you could actually sell it.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“But if you want to keep making your art, you have to earn some money at it.”
“I could get a day job.”
“You would hate that.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to let you support me.”
“Won’t that be emasculating?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
—
“Of course I’m working hard, Mom. You can’t survive in this program if you don’t.” Dylan rubbed his eyes. Talking to his mother always made him tired.
“But all you’re doing is drawing pictures.”
“There’s actually a lot of math involved.” Which he hadn’t known when he’d first chosen architecture. If he’d understood that his least-favorite subject would be so important when he’d fallen in love with Gothic cathedrals and Frank Lloyd Wright at the age of twelve, he would have looked for something else, but it was far, far too late now.
“And what are you going to do if you can’t get a job out of college?”
“I don’t know. Get a day job, I guess.” He thought of what he’d said to Moira. They’d both been joking. But it was a nice thing to imagine, letting his girlfriend support him.
His mother’s voice softened. “You could come home, you know. Stay with me and your sisters while you work on things. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Really?” That was a nice thought, too. “I’ll definitely consider that. Maybe if I can get a low-level job or apprenticeship or something I can stay at home and save money, too.”
“I would love that, sweetheart.”
“I do miss you, Mom.” There was a knock on his door. He pressed the button to silence the communicator while he called, “Come in!”
The door opened to reveal Moira, a tray from the food court in her hands and a mischievous glint in her eyes. There was a foot of snow outside. He understood her intent immediately.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. Study group. Yeah, I love you too.” He tossed away the communicator and, all his energy returning, rushed out the door to join Moira in sledding.
—
“Yes… oh, right there…”
“Here?”
Laughter. “You’re just teasing.”
“Mmhm.”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I kind of liked it.”
“Shall I try again?”
“Ow. No, it’s no fun without the surprise.”
“How’s this?”
“Oh!”
“I think you liked that.”
Gasps.
“Ahh. Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
—
They sat side-by-side on Dylan’s bed, an inch of space between them, both looking down at their hands. Dylan was the first to break the silence.
“Where’s the job, exactly?”
“New York City. It’s just an apprenticeship, technically, but it pays well enough and it could lead to bigger things.”
He nodded.
“And you’re going back to Seattle, right?” she said.
“Yeah. I have a couple of prospects there, and my mom is willing to let me stay at home as long as I want.”
“There have to be plenty of architectural jobs in New York.”
“I’ve tried. They don’t want me.” He rubbed at his eyes. He looked tired.
“I could find something for you in the firm I’m going to be working for…”
“No. Thank you, but no.” He put his hand over hers. “I don’t want to have to rely on you. I have to find my own way.”
“I know. I guess I always knew that.”
“You understand.”
“I do.” She turned, rested her hand lightly on his cheek, and kissed his lips. “If you ever come to New York, look me up.”
“And you, if you’re ever in Seattle.”
“I will.” She stood up and walked out of the room, and she didn’t look back.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!
Word count: 1,572
Rating: R for implied sexuality (it's all dialogue)
Prompt:
rainbowfic Tyrian Purple 25, the Midas touch; Heart Gold 15, I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. - Roy CroftNotes: So I guess my theme lately is doomed young love. That's what I get for writing character backstories. Though, actually, these two meet again later and may not be doomed. I'm not exactly happy with the choice of architecture for Dylan; I picked it a while back for something different and artistic for him to do, but it seems too practical now, especially since I know neither of these characters will be doing what they studied for in a few years! So I may revisit this later with a different artistic field for Dylan to study...
When he touched her she felt like gold.
He was studying architecture; she was studying engineering. “I want to be able to do something useful with my life,” she said. He was the artist, dreaming; she was relentlessly practical.
She wouldn’t tell him anything about her family, except that she was the only buffer between her parents. He told her all about the mom he’d lost and the mom he still had, the older sisters who still thought they could control his life. She sympathized, though she was an only child. He wished he could know what that was like.
Their fingers tingled with electricity when they touched and again when they parted.
—
“Dad,” said Moira. “Dad, will you shut up for a minute and let me talk?” She was pacing in her dorm room, staring alternately at her screen showing news from around the world, her window showing the quad with its light dusting of snow, and the marked-up calendar that covered her one empty wall.
“How dare you,” her father said. His voice came through as clear as though he was standing there right next to her, which was always a little annoying. “When I was your age I would never have spoken to my father this way.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I bet you said worse.” At least he was giving her a chance to get a word in edgewise. “Anyway, you wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps. Which is fine. But I don’t.”
“And just what is wrong with what I do?”
“Besides the fact that it’s illegal?”
“You never seemed to have a problem with that before.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes people learn morality when they grow up and see perspectives other than their parents’.” She sighed. This wasn’t going the way she envisioned at all—then again, things with her parents never did. “It’s not actually the illegality I object to. There are a lot of laws I disagree with. But that’s because they don’t involve hurting other people.”
“You can do my job without hurting people.”
“I don’t think you believe that.”
“But you’re my daughter. I’ve raised you to follow in my footsteps. It’s what I always imagined for you.”
She didn’t think he’d done a very good job of raising her to actually want what he wanted. Maybe if he’d actually been honest about it from the start… but arguing about that wasn’t going to do her any good. She rolled her head around her shoulders, cracking her neck. “I know, Dad, and I appreciate it. I know it’s because you care about me. But you have to realize that what you imagined for me isn’t the same thing I imagine for myself.”
He was quiet for a moment. She must have struck a nerve. Then he finally said, “This isn’t because of your mother, is it?”
“Mom?” She actually laughed out loud. “No, as a matter of fact, she doesn’t want me to be an engineer either. At least not this kind of engineer. She wants me to go into computer electronics or robotics or something. That’s where she thinks the money is.”
“Well, that’s absurd. The money is in my kind of work.”
“I think there’s money in both places, actually. And there’s money in engineering, though not as much. I don’t know if I can convince you guys of this, but money isn’t actually my main goal.”
“I guess it isn’t. But don’t you feel bad about not creating a legacy for me?”
She laughed again, this time fairly certain that he was kidding. “I think your legacy will be fine, Dad. What about Erik and Delilah? I know they’re not yours biologically, but I also know very well that they think of you as their dad. Erik would probably do whatever you asked him to.”
“Maybe.” They were quiet again for a moment. Moira knew they were both thinking of his unsuccessful attempts to have a child with Anya. Not that Moira knew the details—just that they’d tried and it hadn’t worked.
“Look, Dad, I have to get back to my homework. I can still come stay with you over winter break, right?”
“Your mother won’t yell at me for it?”
“If she tries, I’ll be the one to listen. I always am.”
“You are. Yes, of course you’re welcome. Delilah is excited to see you again.”
Moira grinned. “I can’t wait to see her, either. I have some excellently noisy toys for them.”
“Love you, Mo.”
“Love you too, Dad.” She clicked off the headset, sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. She wasn’t actually going to do homework right now. Conversations with her parents always got her too riled up to sit still and focus. But she’d made plans. She blinked twice to call up her clock and smiled—it was exactly eight, and he was always on time.
As if summoned, Dylan opened the door that she’d left unlocked for him. He grinned, and she melted into his arms.
—
“No, this isn’t structurally sound. It would never hold. A strong wind would send the whole building to its knees.”
“Are you sure?”
“Which one of us is the engineer?”
“What about this wall?”
“Maybe if it was made of super-reinforced polycarbonate, but that’s hideously expensive.”
“I don’t care about expense. I’m the architect, not the builder.”
“Any builder is going to look at those plans and give the owner a bid that’s way more than the builder wants to pay. You’d never sell these plans. Look, just put another wall here, and you have your support.”
“But that’s ugly.”
“Really? I think it’s beautiful. It brings the building into better symmetry.”
“You only think it’s beautiful because it’s stronger.”
“And because you could actually sell it.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“But if you want to keep making your art, you have to earn some money at it.”
“I could get a day job.”
“You would hate that.”
“Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to let you support me.”
“Won’t that be emasculating?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
—
“Of course I’m working hard, Mom. You can’t survive in this program if you don’t.” Dylan rubbed his eyes. Talking to his mother always made him tired.
“But all you’re doing is drawing pictures.”
“There’s actually a lot of math involved.” Which he hadn’t known when he’d first chosen architecture. If he’d understood that his least-favorite subject would be so important when he’d fallen in love with Gothic cathedrals and Frank Lloyd Wright at the age of twelve, he would have looked for something else, but it was far, far too late now.
“And what are you going to do if you can’t get a job out of college?”
“I don’t know. Get a day job, I guess.” He thought of what he’d said to Moira. They’d both been joking. But it was a nice thing to imagine, letting his girlfriend support him.
His mother’s voice softened. “You could come home, you know. Stay with me and your sisters while you work on things. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Really?” That was a nice thought, too. “I’ll definitely consider that. Maybe if I can get a low-level job or apprenticeship or something I can stay at home and save money, too.”
“I would love that, sweetheart.”
“I do miss you, Mom.” There was a knock on his door. He pressed the button to silence the communicator while he called, “Come in!”
The door opened to reveal Moira, a tray from the food court in her hands and a mischievous glint in her eyes. There was a foot of snow outside. He understood her intent immediately.
“I’ve got to go, Mom. Study group. Yeah, I love you too.” He tossed away the communicator and, all his energy returning, rushed out the door to join Moira in sledding.
—
“Yes… oh, right there…”
“Here?”
Laughter. “You’re just teasing.”
“Mmhm.”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I kind of liked it.”
“Shall I try again?”
“Ow. No, it’s no fun without the surprise.”
“How’s this?”
“Oh!”
“I think you liked that.”
Gasps.
“Ahh. Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
—
They sat side-by-side on Dylan’s bed, an inch of space between them, both looking down at their hands. Dylan was the first to break the silence.
“Where’s the job, exactly?”
“New York City. It’s just an apprenticeship, technically, but it pays well enough and it could lead to bigger things.”
He nodded.
“And you’re going back to Seattle, right?” she said.
“Yeah. I have a couple of prospects there, and my mom is willing to let me stay at home as long as I want.”
“There have to be plenty of architectural jobs in New York.”
“I’ve tried. They don’t want me.” He rubbed at his eyes. He looked tired.
“I could find something for you in the firm I’m going to be working for…”
“No. Thank you, but no.” He put his hand over hers. “I don’t want to have to rely on you. I have to find my own way.”
“I know. I guess I always knew that.”
“You understand.”
“I do.” She turned, rested her hand lightly on his cheek, and kissed his lips. “If you ever come to New York, look me up.”
“And you, if you’re ever in Seattle.”
“I will.” She stood up and walked out of the room, and she didn’t look back.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!