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Title: Moonlight
Author: chibibble
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: my writing ^^'
Summary: Ian's waiting for his three o'clock angel.
NPCs: Liam, Ian
Word Count: 360
Other: A drabble inspired by Mizzy Jagger's wonderful picture of the same name. Wrote it in ten minutes (you can tell D<) and it's not amazing. Feedback o3o?


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Ian was an idiot for ever coming. The receipt was still encased in his left hand, as it had been since he’d scaled the trellis outside his window half an hour ago, and he couldn’t bring himself to uncurl his fingers. He’d thought it would get easier, this masochistic waiting. He was wrong, and he wished he wasn’t here right now and that he’d just thrown the damn thing away while he had the chance and never looked up and seen that small, secretive smile meant for him alone, that he’d thought about all night underneath rumpled yellow covers as the digital alarm clock took an eternity to change its luminescent digits. There was a tired, aching sadness draining through his body as he stared listlessly into the dappled full moon and hoped she understood.

He knew that it was his heart he was holding in one clenched fist and his naïve little dream in the other splintered palm: both pathetic, broken weapons to be wielding.

“Sorry I’m late.” A voice tickled his ear, and he turned his abyss-like eyes towards it and yes, it was Liam who was smiling Ian’s soft, special smile and he let the scrap of cheap wretched paper flutter towards the grass like a dying parachute and let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding all this time. He couldn’t work out if he wanted to cry or hit him really hard in that stupidly six-packed stomach, and decided to do neither.

“I-it’s okay.” He replied, even though it wasn’t. But Liam’s arms were wrapped around his waist now, and he felt the longing, bitter sadness melt away because Liam made him so safe inside. Ian’s hands were lightly pressed against his chest; as if he could push him away at any second, and the moon lit up Liam’s beautiful, knowing eyes and the blush stark against his own pale face. He looked like an angel, his three o’ clock angel, with golden skin and a smile just for him.

And as Liam leaned towards him and their lips met, Ian couldn’t help but feel that his stupidly hopeful dream was coming true.

You friended me =o.
Ehhh...but have you tried to do so?
I thought about it a lot before I actually started writing it, so the ten minutes was spent rearranging lines in my head onto the keyboard. And I stared at your picture for five. So...really...this took an hour, XD.

I go back and get it afterwards, mostly. Sometimes it splurges out like word vomit and I spend forever altering each little thing so it sits right ^^'. But I'm a slow writer at the best of times.