Title: Boys of Summer
Disclaimer: I’m still in the habit of not saying any names, but the deal is the same. Don’t own them, don’t know them, don’t want it to happen
Summary: A mistake, a confession, and the beginning of a journey. (Prequel to ‘Hard to Breathe’)
Fandom/Pairing: Savage Garden/Implied Darren/Daniel
Genre: Angst
Rating: G (This is as mild as it gets folks ;) )
Warnings: Slash undertones. (That means two guys liking each other. Like that sort of thing, read on, if not, go away...)
Chapters: 1/1


There is nothing quite as sobering as when you realize that there is absolutely no sound, no white noise, not even a whisper of breath through tired lungs. It’s like standing on the very edge of death and beyond, yet just looking in from the front window. Not even the constant steady pounding of blood running through veins couldn’t break through the depth. It’s the sensation of cotton stuffed inside your ears, and all you can do is claw at it and hope that you can dig it free.

I wasn’t the only one in the room though, and that made it even more unnerving. Your face was totally blank, your eyes carefully studying the wall across from you as you crouched in that old chair, cigarette in one hand while the other balanced hanging slightly off of your knee. The position was probably uncomfortable to you, but you didn’t look like you minded it at all.

You took a drag from the white cylinder, blowing the smoke away as the ash was flicked into the ceramic tray on the table. In times past you would have shaken it off and simply laughed at me for what I had let slip off of my tongue, but things were different, strained. Any other time you would have ignored me, but you had let me creep through that little crack that had developed over the years. I could have ripped you apart from the inside, but you wouldn’t have let me.

I watched a bead of sweat run down your chest, your shirt still hanging over the back of the chair from the night before. The temperature had been slowly rising from the week before, and we both had known that we had lost the tepid perfect days of late spring. It was my fault that it was more then just the air that had grown rather stale between us, but perhaps I was the only one who could see you changing.

It was my mistake for not seeing what was really in front of my face the entire time, but I will never forget how dead your eyes were when I told you, right before to refused to look at me again. I was forced to put up with only being presented with your profile, your mussed honey hair and tanned skin. I had been compelled, I had been stupid.

I had told you that it was over, I had to open my options, and that meant not having someone to depend on or to depend on me. You already knew that I wasn’t worth it for that anyway, but somehow we had made it work until then. My mind was on autopilot, zero emotion, even less thought. It wasn’t about truths, it was about desires and tainted views. Open options...that’s the nice way of saying I thought I didn’t want to be *attached* to anyone.

Watching your calm movements, fingers drifting slowly, I wanted to make some sound, something to break the air around us. Wanted to cut it to slivers with a hacksaw really, but in another way I didn’t want to disturb your demeanor. I had wondered for long moments if what I said had even filtered through your shell that you constantly hid behind, but I should have known better then to underestimate you. Your silence was because the cogs were whirring in your mind, greased so heavily that the gears slid constantly without friction. That was your perfect world, a well oiled machine that made no heat, caused no problems.

I had never envisioned a perfect world, a decent place where nothing ever went wrong and everyone was forever happy. We were pulled by different things though, you and your ideals, me and my blind ambition. I didn’t even know what I wanted half the time, but I would have gladly scrambled through the dark for it. Perhaps it was just another craving hiding deep within me that couldn’t stand what I already had. I could never have perfection, but I wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

I muttered more under my breath, knowing that you could hear me as if I was laying on your chest again. I blew away the dreams, the memories that had started the ride, what had driven us in the first place. I said more then I was supposed to, and yet still you sat there almost in defiance as I was cracking at my seams. I didn’t understand then, and I didn’t until much later, that’s just the way you always were. You were the strong one in your silence, you weren’t supposed to fall apart under the pressure, you weren’t allowed.

You stood and walked over to me, resting your hand on the table in front of me, your head dipping to meet my eyes as you ground out your cigarette, a small waif of smoke rising. You tapped your fingers for a moment, staring me down as I swallowed uneasily. Even I hadn’t realized how daunting you could be under certain circumstances.

“You’re right, it’s over and done. Check mate.”

You lifted the hand from the table, a stone carved chess piece sitting where your hand had been sitting. You had been holding it from the beginning, balanced on your fingertips as your hand had lain loosely across your knee. I wrapped my fingers around the warm stone, feeling the figure of the horse, its head held high. My eyes had drifted back up to yours slowly, my cover starting to waver. I asked what you had meant, what it all meant.

“The king doesn’t always win. Sometimes it is left up to the knight to charge back in, save the situation if you will. You can’t always put everything on the king, because even stone crumbles away under pressure.”

Your words were soft, nearly taunting, but I knew that’s not how you had meant them. You moved away again, pulling your shirt over your head as you walked to the door. You pushed your sunglasses to a better position on your nose before turning to me one last time.

“My love for you will still be strong, even after the boys of summer are gone...”

The door shut, and you were gone, gone until the next show, the next round. If only I’d seen....If only...