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Entry tags:
TDIR: The Right Thing
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Will watched his friend sleep. For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
light_at_last fanworkathon.
If Bran remembered, they might be more. They could be -- they could be closer, closer than friends, closer than brothers. They could've been --
Will tried not to think about it. He was perched on the end of Bran's bed, watching him sleep, stealing the moment of quiet when the only sounds were Bran's breathing and the slow tick of a clock. There're too many things you can never tell him, he reminded himself, ignoring the sick ache that he always got when he let himself think about it. Hesitantly, he reached out: his fingers barely brushed Bran's before he pulled away.
"We were once, you know," he said aloud, not sure if he was speaking to Bran or to himself. "I felt you. I knew that we were -- just right. Like Merriman and Arthur. We were meant to work together, to be side by side, and now -- "
He broke off, shaking his head impatiently. He touched Bran's hand again, less tentatively now, feeling the warm smoothness of his skin. Then he got up, slowly, so that the change in the shape of the mattress wouldn't disturb his friend.
"I won't do this again," he said, firmly, and went to the camp bed made up for him. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he listened to the sound of Bran's breathing and told himself that he was doing the right thing.
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Will watched his friend sleep. For the
light_at_last fanworkathon.If Bran remembered, they might be more. They could be -- they could be closer, closer than friends, closer than brothers. They could've been --
Will tried not to think about it. He was perched on the end of Bran's bed, watching him sleep, stealing the moment of quiet when the only sounds were Bran's breathing and the slow tick of a clock. There're too many things you can never tell him, he reminded himself, ignoring the sick ache that he always got when he let himself think about it. Hesitantly, he reached out: his fingers barely brushed Bran's before he pulled away.
"We were once, you know," he said aloud, not sure if he was speaking to Bran or to himself. "I felt you. I knew that we were -- just right. Like Merriman and Arthur. We were meant to work together, to be side by side, and now -- "
He broke off, shaking his head impatiently. He touched Bran's hand again, less tentatively now, feeling the warm smoothness of his skin. Then he got up, slowly, so that the change in the shape of the mattress wouldn't disturb his friend.
"I won't do this again," he said, firmly, and went to the camp bed made up for him. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he listened to the sound of Bran's breathing and told himself that he was doing the right thing.
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