oneshots and short stories

Time To Come ~Jeamus by bjfunkyfresh

I've gotten permission from the author to post this oneshot.  I will also take submissions on my tumblr or on here if you ever don't feel like posting something yourself. Anyway go see the author Eva on Tumblr at bjfunkyfresh -or Kurumaka-  as she wrote this wonderful piece. Nothing was changed and I really think everyone should go check out her blog! Oh and by the way its sad. Youre welcome, and thanks for letting me use your piece Eva youre rad as hell.

The soft breeze runs through the window cracked open and makes all the vine colored curtains inside flutter around.

Two young men sit in a set of armchairs, looking through the stained glass.

They look nothing alike; one is a short blond and the other is a tall blacknet. They are both pale, though, one more than the other.

The blond rises an arm and rubs his runny nose. He coughs. “You know, I don’t get ill normally…” he muses quietly.

The answer he gets from the other is a small moan, like from someone who was half-asleep.

"But with things like this, it’s not really surprising," the blond continues nonetheless. He flicks a strand of bright hair, greasy and messy, out of his face.

He leans further into the old armchair, rests his arms on each side and glances at his companion momentarily.

He sighs.

"I miss you being vocal, you know," he addresses the other man. "You’d always yell at me ‘Seamus, don’t do this, Seamus, don’t do that!’ I miss it, y’know? Even if I did always tell you you were annoying, you weren’t really."

He stretches his arm and runs his fingers over the other’s arm. He pulls back immediately after the other snaps his head up, eyes boring right into his own ones.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Seamus laughs sadly. "No touching, I forgot. I miss touching you, I guess… We used to hold hands all the time," he reminisces. "You’d get all flustered and let go whenever someone was around, though. It was cute." He smiles, and in that moment, looks more like an old man on his death bed than a twenty-something year old man sitting in a living room.

"It’s a shame we can’t do that anymore. I miss that, too."

He has to stop talking, overcome by a coughing fit. Not that he had anything else to say anyway. He runs his fingers over the sewn armrest absently, the other hand used to silence his coughs.

He remembers what it used to be in the past. When him and James were a couple, a happy couple, living a dream life. He wants to go back to it, but the reality is never so easy. The reality is harsh.

He sighs again when his coughing subsides and turns to look at James. Dead eyes stare back at him, the tatters that used to be James’ clothes hang over his rotting skin. His favorite, trademark beanie slipped so far down that it almost covered the milky eyes, sunken into the bony skull.

James struggles weakly in his binds as he does from time to time. He’s trying to reach out and grab Seamus, but the leather straps on his wrists and ankles and torso don’t let him.

"I don’t know where it went so horribly bad," Seamus mutters. He’s caught up in a coughing fit yet again, but this time when he pulls the hand away from his mouth, there’s crimson droplets contrasting on his pale skin.

"But, it seems like it’s my time, too," he finishes.

He reaches out and takes a hols of James’ hand, despite the growls he gets. “It’s been a good run. I’m coming, love,” he says as tears start to roll down his cheeks.

The soft breeze from outside is making the dark curtains rise and fall chaotically, the material obstructing the window from time to time and the horde of zombies lurking around the silent street behind it.

The sun is setting and with it, another life.

I'm so sorry, more fics will be coming soon I swear I'm trying not to be a lazy fuck....