Im STILL Feeling Some Kinda Way About Them. - Tumblr Posts
HE COULD BE A HALLUCINATION, a trick of the light, izzy simply seeing what he wants to see instead of what's in front of him. it wouldn't be the first time. when frenchie had been on stage, singing at the open mic as his hands moved gracefully over the neck of a worn guitar, izzy couldn't be certain. but as he approaches the alleged apparition, there are undeniable signs of substance.
the thin, subtle lines at the edges of frenchie's eyes, for example, are proof of lost time that izzy's delusions would never include. & then there's the simple fact that frenchie draws closer to him, opens his arms & pulls izzy into his chest, folding them neatly together. in all his dreams he has where frenchie returns to him, he always disappears before they can touch. so the only explanation is that this is not some spectre that izzy had conjured up out of pure loneliness ; this is real.
& izzy lets out a breath that feels like it's been held in for years, softening instantly at the contact. he allows himself to wrap his arms against the taller man's torso & cling to him tightly. & it feels different than it had before — frenchie's ribs aren't as narrow as the last time izzy had held him, & his skin smells cleaner than it ever did in the wilderness — but also the very same. the way that he fits right under frenchie's chin so that he can lean his head against izzy's is exactly the same; the way his voice sounds when he speaks is exactly the same.
❝ wouldn't be the strangest thing that's happened to us, ❞ he replies flatly, going for a wry attempt at humor. & he gives frenchie one tight squeeze before leaning back — just enough just to see his familiar eyes. ❝ what are you doing here ? i thought you were . . . ❞ he trails off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. the truth was that he had no idea where frenchie had been, or what he had been doing all this time. no one had heard from him since their rescue from the woods, & that had been decades ago. izzy hadn't even known for sure that frenchie was alive, & he certainly hadn't thought he would ever see him again. ❝ i didn't think you'd ever come back here, ❞ he says, settling for a close-enough approximation of what he really wanted to say.
"Am I dreaming or is that really you?" - @musecraft
THE FAMILIARITY of the voice gave him pause, momentarily leaving his guitar case half closed as he righted himself. The odds of- it couldn't be. He of all people wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like this. And yet the voice was too distinct to be anyone else.
Izzy often spoke in a low, hushed tone as if he were hoping not to be heard- ironic given how prone he was to yelling. But he didn't have to yell this time, or even raise his voice. The pub was quiet with all but the most devoted drunks remaining. A grin broke out across his face as he turned around, his free hand outstretched, beckoning him in for a hug.
He was older now- they both were but Izzy wore his like a chewed up dog toy. Had he not said something Frenchie likely wouldn't have recognized him.
The look of uncertainty was all too familiar, as if he thought Frenchie would yell "psyche" and push him to the ground like a schoolyard bully. It was only after Frenchie took another step toward him that Izzy accepted the invitation. He leaned down and, ever a creature of habit Izzy, nestled into the crook of his neck as he had hundreds of times before.
He rested his cheek against the side of Izzy's head. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey clung to Izzy almost as strongly as the pomade. Same brand he used in high school, if Frenchie had to wager. Were there not decades between them he may have kissed Izzy right there. But it had been far too long for that. "It'd be weird having the same dream, wouldn't it?"