keeper of the dalton keys

To Breathe Again (Jogan Fluff)

For the first week after Julian comes back from the dead, they refuse to be apart. Or, rather, Logan refuses to be apart from Julian. He bore every night in the hospital, after all, without any grasp on daylight. When Julian slept on, Logan’s world went to sleep with him when Logan couldn’t. Now, he feels like he’s yet to wake up, though his head is crept over with the same, musty insecurities as the sun returns to shine regularly. 

Understanding, though, comes faster than he expected it to- he might just break Julian if he’s not careful. Julian’s door is always open, after all. It’s a silent invitation for Logan to find his way in. Julian is doing his best to move on with his life, trying not to think about the time he lived in fear. It’s safer that way, Logan sees as he sits on Julian’s bed, reading. Whatever brittle, explosive romance that Logan’s used to, it doesn’t work anymore. Not when Julian’s shadow practically trembles, threatening to become unseamed from the walls it knows too well. This is going to have to be slow, steady as the heartbeat he won back. Logan’s going to have to learn to interweave his own pulse with that one, even if they dance side by side like raindrops in the night and Logan always finds himself wary of physical contact.

“Can I kiss you?” He wants to ask. “Can I please hold you?”

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Shakespeare

For Sperril Week, Day 1- Just Friends. 

I know I’m late, but I’ll do my best to catch up. 

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She smiled at him as he went through the stack of books, his expression like that of a kid in a candy store. It was quiet here, and no one else was around. The light fell through the windows in fat, fallen pillars that leaned heavily on the shelves, which stood open and long like the skeleton of an old house. He was happy here, and it made her happy. He wasn’t like the other boys, who spoke to her guardedly and took care not to trip over their words. He wasn’t smarter or more charming than they were, for not one person had gotten used to her presence in an all-boy’s school. Still, she saw something in him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

Unfortunately, he had the book that she had been looking for- the school library’s remaining hardcover version of The Complete Works of Shakespeare. She would go ahead and check out the paperback, but this was a rather thick volume. She secretly reveled in the solid, unyielding weight in her hands. She mostly checked it out for the neatly printed sonnets, the little words tightly woven with thin, firm threads in pieces of lace. No one could doubt the joys of possessing all of the sleepless and ageless muses of the English language all in one volume, though. There was something about having all of those great tragedies and comedies bound together, like a choir of angels in a league of their own. 

This trip to the library wasn’t for an assignment. Like all of the other, more lonely visits, she came for the company of the books of poetry that no one else in the school seemed to touch unless academic needs dictated them to do so. Maybe if she asked nicely, he would be willing to yield the book to her. He already had a great number of poetry books, actually, now that she examined his stack more closely.

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