Oh fan fiction, you are incomparably terrible. Normally it’s pretty obvious the genres that attract such crappy fan service story lines – sci fi, fantasy, possibly Ace of Cakes – but a gritty urban crime drama? I guess anything is possible. Especially on the internet. And boy howdy, did I stumble on a polished ruby of an example of TOP NOTCH fan fiction in the following copy-pasted story yanked from a place that will bear no mention, for fear that some obsessive weirdo might discover my trackback and try to e-kill me with e-violence. …..enjoy(?)
Don’t Cry
“Just let me hold you,” Omar says. “For one more minute.”
They been playing around, and usually that works but this time Brandon’s not having it. He’s bored and restless and he’s physically exhausted from all of Omar’s lovey dovey attention. Too much of a good thing finally turned out to be too much of a good thing.
Omar doesn’t want him to go, and he’s running out of ideas. He never gets bored just laying in bed with his honey, breathing in, breathing out, or untangling his curls and tangling em up again over and over, or tilting him forward for a kiss, or bending him backward for another kiss, another, again again again till one thing lead to another and the bed torn apart and they all up inside each other ending the day the same way it began, or the other way around.
But now Brandon’s saying enuf is enuf, and that ain’t never happened before.
Omar goes through the list: he bullies him. He bribes him. He threatens him. He sweet-talks him. He pretends like he doesn’t care (oh no, wait, bad idea, that never works, because Omar DOES care and that’s something he just can’t fake.) So he goes through the list again, trying to do anything, anything to keep Brandon from going out tonight. Bully, threaten, bribe, sweet-talk, talk, talk, talk, talktalktalktalktalk. Stealing kisses in between, and damn once upon a time that was all it took.
Brandon still ain’t having it, so Omar resorts to the bottomest of the bottom-line: he gets down on his knees cries like a baby and begs Brandon not to go.
“Ok,” Brandon says, cuz this is an Omar he never ever wants to see again. “But tomorrow night we both go to the Greeks and we gonna play pinball ALL night, right?”
“Right”
“Right?”
“Right.”
“’ight, then. Gimme a kiss.”
Sometimes Omar can just about taste it. At least there are some things he knows he’ll never forget: the color of his hair. The deep dismay that never left his eyes, if you looked into ‘em deep enough. The pulse at the base of his throat. The smell of his skin in the morning.
The bus coughed up a loud wheeze as it pulled in to Philly. He wasn’t going to get off. He was going to stay on board all the way to NYC. Otherwise, he couldn’t trust himself not to head on back to Baltimore and all his secret places.
Omar had worried a fingernail into a bloody mess with his teeth. He switched hands and started on what was left, which wasn’t much by now. He needed the pain so he could stay awake and look out the window for all the hours it would take to get there.
It was several minutes before Omar realized the bus was back in traffic. He was nodding his head, chewing on a fingernail, trying once again to talk Brandon out of going to the Greeks.
“Just let me hold you,” he says to his reflection in the darkened window. “For one more minute.”
I really enjoyed this. It was interesting how “clingy” Omar was in this fanfic. Anyway, touching and very well written! Thank you.