Я слышу голос, и он говорит мне: «Дойди до Рая!» (c)
Поттер одобрила, и вот оно - творение!
Наслаждаемся прочтением.
Всë обязательно сбудется / Everything will surely come true
Author - Fujin!!
Translation by Draco Klein ( Hito_Gin_Klein )
Beta reader - Kendra Lockheart
Pairing - Fred/George
Genre - romance
Rating - PG-13
Disclaimer - Everything belongs to Rowling
Size - midi
Status - completed
Status of translation - in process
стр 1-9/20
Everything will surely come true.
A quick turn of a handle - and the tiny droplets are bouncing off the floor and the tile of the walls. We have only one shower room for all of Gryffindor.
It is too small even for me and you. At least now. Because we've just ran inside, laughing with excitement, dropping the keys on the floor, and closing the door for the second time, and it immediately became unbearably hot here. There was clearly not enough air, and the little bludgers as the frightened birds were popped in the head.
"So, who came first?” You are laughing, you want to make a joke, but I am the only one to know how hysterically contracting the cheekbones, how the hands are shaking to the pain just imagining that we can be separate.
That we are one and one.
We dive into the shower and into the chilled water, hysterically laughing from the cold, stretching the spacey smiles. Looking at the thawing our-somebody else's eyes.
We.
And it has nothing to do with our, to each freckle, similarity. And it’s not our awkward relation, an intertwining of lives from the first day, eyes, and lips. It’s not the clarity of the synchronism in the movements and phrases that we've learned earlier than our brand smile.
It is just that we have one soul for two of us.
It is just that we have two names, again, for two of us. Choose whichever you like, it doesn't change the essence.
I wonder what's your name now? And mine?
Two names for two, let's play - choose one!
And we are standing under the burning cold streams, clinging to each other to the white scratches-stripes. And there is no desire to play anything and parse the names.
It’s enough to just know that you are that one, my little brother. I have two people like you – you and me, and two like me and they’re both mine too.
And the chilling drops are tangling in the hair, flowing down on the protruding shoulder-blades. And burning with the unbearably stuffy heat.
And something pulls to do only one thing - to press against even harder, even harder dig in you protruding shoulder-blades, on which the cold streamlets are flowing down.
To feel with the whole body – the same – body cell. To intertwine with lips to lips, to feel how our ribs dig into each other, threatening to finally grow together in the chest. Threatening to rip from the inability of that.
And feel only how your heart is beating in my chest.
And I would die of this happiness, but I have two lives.
And the heart is for both of us too. It is beating out there, between the accreted ribs, which are shivering in the febrile touches.
The ice cold vapor is rebounding from the walls as a weightless mist flowing from under the door.
And it seems as there is a bizarre creature with four arms, two pairs of the hungry eyes, one soul, one heart, one spasmodic breath. In fact, it’s a disgusting selfish monster.
We both, I know for sure, care only about how unbearably expanded, strengthened our - no, not the banal desire - our craving. How our breath is scratching the skin, how whimsically twisted the monstrous beast, threatening to devour everything around it. How craving, impossibly to the pain, craving, craving...
Finally to grow together, to dig into you with the whole body, the ribs into the ribs. To hear your heart in my chest.
Or let you in and hear yours in mine. The difference would still not be too noticeable. I know that the exact same aspiration is burning you from the inside with the relentless fire.
And craving, craving, so painfully, twisting inside out craving...
And it mustn't be, little brother, mustn't be.
***
- Listen, I got a cool transgressive artifact. Let's instead of Hogsmeade tomorrow go for a walk in London, eh?
***
Suppressed a giggle as the little sunny bunny flew off the walls. Swept through the abandoned corridors, and as always, quiet in the distance.
As always it happened again.
“Hush, hush ... Somebody will hear”, You bend, double with the laughter leaning toward me. You still smell like our soft flowing down soap and the cold shower. That time you came close and grabbed me so desperately, as if afraid to lose me.
Then you looked exactly the same way as you do now. As always.
“I am keeping silence. Ok. Get it out faster!”
“Be patient” Clicking my nose.
You carefully search through all the pockets, and finally get out a battered pack with a pathetic gesture. You feel two identical curved smirks. We have something to be proud of – it was not easy to get muggle cigarettes secretly from mother.
“So what?” My eyes are burning with excitement probably no less brighter than yours. “Who will be first?”
“Oh, no, little brother Fred”, You carefully took one cigarette and began twirling it in the hands. “Let's first think up how to light it”.
So now I'm Fred and you are George? Again, even now, we are playing, right? Oh, you.
“Stupid question”, I am quickly pulling out the wand - yours, and whispering a short spell. “A girlfriend of our youngest knows a lot of useful things”.
A tiny tremulous flame lights up at the end of the cigarette. You move it here-there, gently inhaling the smoke.
You look at me the way, since childhood and so far, that everything inside me compresses from this look.
We are playing.
“What are you waiting for, whoever you are ... Fred?”
“No, I'm George. I think ...” Don't look this way. Because I'm starting to jump away from the mirrors.
“The smoke may be noticed.”
“Oh, Merlin! Who are you lying to, little brother? We're always thinking of the same”.
“Give it to me now!”
And I am roughly pulling you to me, clutching your wrist with the wild grip, greedily catching the cigarette. We've come here for this, right? Just for this.
Don't look like this, please.
I know that it mustn't be. I know how something is craving terribly inside, how we want it just for once ... Do not look like this, please. I won't.
And the smoke with the muddy steam is digging into the lungs, filling them. And making the whole world spin around us with a mad dance. Digging in the skin with the deadly nicotine.
And coming from the throat with a hoarse cough.
“How is it?”
“Try yourself...”
And you are looking for a while, as if not believing, on the proffered cigarette. And then with the feeling of a hot avalanche inhaling, clutching it even greedier than I did. I even know why.
Oh, yes. I promised to do not look like that.
***
“Hey, what is this smell coming from you?”
“It’s a secret”
“Wait a minute, it smells familiar...”
“Where did you get it?!”
“What do you mean there is no more?!”
“Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase”
“Three galleons apiece? But it’s a robbery!”
“I'll take two”
***
It started a long time ago. I think this disease had already been consuming us before our father, desperately blushing, handed the first bouquet of the pale violets to our mother.
I know for sure that during all this time our illness as a hot poison, only intensified. Now it twists us from the inside until the night, mangling the lips with the smiles.
I wonder whether our mother remembers that first bouquet?
They say that we are happy and completely without brakes. And in general they are right, who does not know the twins, that joking Weasleys? Who wasn't the part of the eternal jokes, who was not accustomed to the always annoying smirk?
That one which hurts like a knife, cutting in half the lips and lights up the eyes with the cheerful pixies. Of course not, no way that it is a tightly glued mask. We have learned to be amazingly honest, right, little brother?
It is rather to be a quality make-up, put over the years, ideally fitting the own skin. And even deeper - to our very heart. We just really like to joke.
It is just that from the childhood, from the very first day when I started to distinguish you from myself our life became hysteria under the quality make-up.
Because, judge for yourself, it is impossible that a person with a ripped arm, leg, life, so carelessly laughed all the time.
Judge for yourself – all of Hogwarts is laughing at our antics. Over the growing hysteria.
Why Ginny is by herself, Percy is by himself, Bill, Charlie, Ron? Even Pigwidgeon is by himself too. And there are two of us with the usual, cut in half smiles. And it is not clear why?
I know it's not your fault, Mom, and there is nothing we should forgive you for but...
What have you done.
Because the hysteria is increasing day after day, and the jokes are getting angrier. And we lose our minds completely from one look at each other.
And we are never apart.
Do you remember how we were going to be settled in the separate rooms? I think it would not help even then.
Charlie used to talk a lot about his dragons. Bill was a role model for all the kids. Ginny - everyone's favorite charm. Percy - a good boy, the pride of the family. Ron always needed the support and got caught up in the troubles.
And we were the twins.
***
“Oh, it's finally summer!”
“But I'll miss the school ...”
“Harry don't forget to write!”
“We'll come pick you up in the end of the summer!”
“I don't think it's a good idea, Ron.”
“Just a perfect one! Bye!”
***
Very close to the Burrow there is an amazing mountain range, ending with a cliff. In the summer we used to often run there, hiding from our constant fuss and secrets. After all, we need to rest sometimes.
It’s an amazing place - we can stand on the edge until the very last sunset strokes, touching each other with our fingertips. To look down.
And the cliff is craving, pulling. Almost like you, twisting in front of the eyes like a fancy spiral. And ridiculously ripples in the eyes. And craving, craving.
It was funny to stand on the edge and feel two such strong and similar emotions at the same time. And the horror with a piercing wind, chilled the face. We stood there, and when we looked down and felt how instinctively shrunk the heart it seemed that we were about to figure out how to get rid of the poison eating us, spilled through the veins and echoing in the blood. Starting long ago, even before our birth.
All the time Charlie told us about his dragons. He talked about the amazing sensations that cover him next to these wild ancient monsters. About the horror and delight when you look at their slanted golden eyes.
The feeling of your own power, absolute power, when you climb on their rough back and fly - off a cliff - down.
All the time we were looking for a way to get rid of the averting feelings of inadequacy. There - inside.
We have tried so many things.
And we were standing. And looking down at the scurrying twisting spirals. And the horror with a piercing wind chilled the face.
And this feeling was so similar to the one that should be. To the impossible dream.
Charlie was telling...
A burning cigarette butt is flying down from the cliff in a funny desperate suicide. Why do we need two?
One short step, one sky for two above their heads. The rapidly coming ground and the thin contours of green blades-each individual stalk. One sweeping up and down the icy wave of terror and delight.
And following the swiftly dying cigarette butt a bizarre creature, a dragon, is flying down, down the cliff. Four-legged, four-armed, wild, ancient.
Little brother, it seems that we've found...
***
“What was it?!” - Molly was screaming, still trembling with the recent fear. – “What was it I am asking you?! What does it mean?!”
“You see, we ...”
“...We were testing one new trick...”
“Levitation candies...”
“...But it seems that we'll need to refine them.”
“Yeah”.
“What?! You could die, do you understand that?!”
“Mom, don't exaggerate.”
“Everything turned out fine.”
“I managed to levitate you in a meter from the ground! And just try to say anything else!”
“But Mom, we ...”
“Just try!! No more inventions!”
“Of course, of course.”
“Don't even try to joke! In your room, quickly!! And just try to come out of there!”
“Yes, we're going; don't be so nervous.”
***
The door slammed above our heads, stunned and blinded with a hard blow. Squeezing the tiny room around us.
It is a pity that my one-with-yours heart is desperately shrinking but not from it.
I rushed to the closet, frantically going through things, you fell prone on the bed. A hidden crumpled pack slipped into my hands by itself as wells as a wand with a trembling flame.
A cool breeze crept in through the slightly opened window. I walked away and lit a cigarette, wringing my hands. Then burst out laughing.
You were quietly whimpering on the bed, blubbing.
And I was standing at the window - the breeze was getting under my clothes, the cigarette was burning in my fingers. Standing and laughing.
Frantically, loud, and the makeup as a ridiculous tattoo dug into the heart. As a tattoo-mask-snake.
I have no more strength to listen to the shrill cry, so I close my ears with my hands.
Mother is still yelling downstairs.
At this point it may seem that we are very different, but I only laugh in response to you. Vice versa, it’s the culmination of all similar poison in our veins, but it is a pity that the heart now is breaking, scratching the ribs with its fragments for another reason.
I know to the last little dash why you are crying now, I feel all of you and a sheet under the supple body.
You are howling softly, shuddering, biting the wrists to the blood for us. Both of us.
And I am laughing, leaning against the door jamb also for us. Also for both.
I am hurt like you are, you would also like to laugh. However nothing would change if we switch places. Because the pain and laughter, and the breaking heart, and the fragments in the chest for both of us.
Mine with yours usual hysteria.
And something twists, forces to slip down the wall, clinging to its roughness with the crooked fingers, not because of the mother's screams, the punishment and the squeezing tiny room.
And surely not because her spell stopped us in several meters from the ground.
That was not it.
The fall to the culmination increased the burning out ocean inside, to the continuity brought us closer to each other. And it didn't blow up with a denouement.
Charlie lied – it wasn't it.
Not what we were looking for. Not what we haven't found.
And the lust, the carving only increased because of that. Mangling the lips with a smile, turning out everything inside, clinging to you with the angry fingers between the ribs.
The traction increased, grew grotesque. Forcing to want - to the tremor at the knees - to break into a hot whirlwind, tearing everything inside. To touch the freckles with cold lips. To dig with the claws into the soft supple body, getting stuck in the intestines and blood, to get to the very heart. And finally squeeze it, our, one for two, a plaintively trembling in the clutches.
We have such a soft skin – to bite, leaving the fading marks.
What have you done, mother.
And still it doesn't work out for us to fix it, little brother.
And we will have to live with it. Live.
***
“Ron, good luck to you! Keep an eye on Ginny!”
“And you be aware! If I only I'll find out that you started it again ...”
“Percy, You are such a good boy!”
“So ...”
“Of course, of course.”
***
The new school year met us with the hundreds of students, with endless jokes, flung-open Hogwarts. With the endless news of the reborn Voldemort.
But in general nothing has changed - all the same jokes, the same antics. Adjusted for years to each word.
Only with the last joke we brought Katie Bell to tears.
She has no idea about our hysteria. About your stupid freckles and blue eyes.
Lee Jordan sticks to us with the affectionate rumors and constantly talks and talks ... We don't give him a chance to get a word in.
He says this year there will be a ball.
“So?” As if by the way with a half-whisper in the ear, in the center of the living room. “Who shall we go with?”
“Let' talk about it later.” Soft, but only our - mine! Smile with the corners of the lips. Not sarcastic - just a little bit. “Don't you see I'm studying astronomy?”
“Oh come on,” To press the nose against the temple, breathing heavily, trying to catch the unruly strands with the lips. Let them look. We are brothers - we are allowed. “Come on, tell me already, who do you have an eye on.”
“Well, let it be Alicia,” You stuck your nose again in the textbook. Oh yeah, you also take astronomy exams for both of us. “The discussion is closed.”
“As you say, little brother.” And shouting across the room. “Alicia, will you go with me to the ball?”
A short evaluating glance and a quick nod. Faint smile on your lips. Spacey look from Jordan who sat near by.
Fool, how can she distinguish us, when even we are not able to do so?
Наслаждаемся прочтением.
Всë обязательно сбудется / Everything will surely come true
Author - Fujin!!
Translation by Draco Klein ( Hito_Gin_Klein )
Beta reader - Kendra Lockheart
Pairing - Fred/George
Genre - romance
Rating - PG-13
Disclaimer - Everything belongs to Rowling
Size - midi
Status - completed
Status of translation - in process
стр 1-9/20
Everything will surely come true.
A quick turn of a handle - and the tiny droplets are bouncing off the floor and the tile of the walls. We have only one shower room for all of Gryffindor.
It is too small even for me and you. At least now. Because we've just ran inside, laughing with excitement, dropping the keys on the floor, and closing the door for the second time, and it immediately became unbearably hot here. There was clearly not enough air, and the little bludgers as the frightened birds were popped in the head.
"So, who came first?” You are laughing, you want to make a joke, but I am the only one to know how hysterically contracting the cheekbones, how the hands are shaking to the pain just imagining that we can be separate.
That we are one and one.
We dive into the shower and into the chilled water, hysterically laughing from the cold, stretching the spacey smiles. Looking at the thawing our-somebody else's eyes.
We.
And it has nothing to do with our, to each freckle, similarity. And it’s not our awkward relation, an intertwining of lives from the first day, eyes, and lips. It’s not the clarity of the synchronism in the movements and phrases that we've learned earlier than our brand smile.
It is just that we have one soul for two of us.
It is just that we have two names, again, for two of us. Choose whichever you like, it doesn't change the essence.
I wonder what's your name now? And mine?
Two names for two, let's play - choose one!
And we are standing under the burning cold streams, clinging to each other to the white scratches-stripes. And there is no desire to play anything and parse the names.
It’s enough to just know that you are that one, my little brother. I have two people like you – you and me, and two like me and they’re both mine too.
And the chilling drops are tangling in the hair, flowing down on the protruding shoulder-blades. And burning with the unbearably stuffy heat.
And something pulls to do only one thing - to press against even harder, even harder dig in you protruding shoulder-blades, on which the cold streamlets are flowing down.
To feel with the whole body – the same – body cell. To intertwine with lips to lips, to feel how our ribs dig into each other, threatening to finally grow together in the chest. Threatening to rip from the inability of that.
And feel only how your heart is beating in my chest.
And I would die of this happiness, but I have two lives.
And the heart is for both of us too. It is beating out there, between the accreted ribs, which are shivering in the febrile touches.
The ice cold vapor is rebounding from the walls as a weightless mist flowing from under the door.
And it seems as there is a bizarre creature with four arms, two pairs of the hungry eyes, one soul, one heart, one spasmodic breath. In fact, it’s a disgusting selfish monster.
We both, I know for sure, care only about how unbearably expanded, strengthened our - no, not the banal desire - our craving. How our breath is scratching the skin, how whimsically twisted the monstrous beast, threatening to devour everything around it. How craving, impossibly to the pain, craving, craving...
Finally to grow together, to dig into you with the whole body, the ribs into the ribs. To hear your heart in my chest.
Or let you in and hear yours in mine. The difference would still not be too noticeable. I know that the exact same aspiration is burning you from the inside with the relentless fire.
And craving, craving, so painfully, twisting inside out craving...
And it mustn't be, little brother, mustn't be.
***
- Listen, I got a cool transgressive artifact. Let's instead of Hogsmeade tomorrow go for a walk in London, eh?
***
Suppressed a giggle as the little sunny bunny flew off the walls. Swept through the abandoned corridors, and as always, quiet in the distance.
As always it happened again.
“Hush, hush ... Somebody will hear”, You bend, double with the laughter leaning toward me. You still smell like our soft flowing down soap and the cold shower. That time you came close and grabbed me so desperately, as if afraid to lose me.
Then you looked exactly the same way as you do now. As always.
“I am keeping silence. Ok. Get it out faster!”
“Be patient” Clicking my nose.
You carefully search through all the pockets, and finally get out a battered pack with a pathetic gesture. You feel two identical curved smirks. We have something to be proud of – it was not easy to get muggle cigarettes secretly from mother.
“So what?” My eyes are burning with excitement probably no less brighter than yours. “Who will be first?”
“Oh, no, little brother Fred”, You carefully took one cigarette and began twirling it in the hands. “Let's first think up how to light it”.
So now I'm Fred and you are George? Again, even now, we are playing, right? Oh, you.
“Stupid question”, I am quickly pulling out the wand - yours, and whispering a short spell. “A girlfriend of our youngest knows a lot of useful things”.
A tiny tremulous flame lights up at the end of the cigarette. You move it here-there, gently inhaling the smoke.
You look at me the way, since childhood and so far, that everything inside me compresses from this look.
We are playing.
“What are you waiting for, whoever you are ... Fred?”
“No, I'm George. I think ...” Don't look this way. Because I'm starting to jump away from the mirrors.
“The smoke may be noticed.”
“Oh, Merlin! Who are you lying to, little brother? We're always thinking of the same”.
“Give it to me now!”
And I am roughly pulling you to me, clutching your wrist with the wild grip, greedily catching the cigarette. We've come here for this, right? Just for this.
Don't look like this, please.
I know that it mustn't be. I know how something is craving terribly inside, how we want it just for once ... Do not look like this, please. I won't.
And the smoke with the muddy steam is digging into the lungs, filling them. And making the whole world spin around us with a mad dance. Digging in the skin with the deadly nicotine.
And coming from the throat with a hoarse cough.
“How is it?”
“Try yourself...”
And you are looking for a while, as if not believing, on the proffered cigarette. And then with the feeling of a hot avalanche inhaling, clutching it even greedier than I did. I even know why.
Oh, yes. I promised to do not look like that.
***
“Hey, what is this smell coming from you?”
“It’s a secret”
“Wait a minute, it smells familiar...”
“Where did you get it?!”
“What do you mean there is no more?!”
“Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase”
“Three galleons apiece? But it’s a robbery!”
“I'll take two”
***
It started a long time ago. I think this disease had already been consuming us before our father, desperately blushing, handed the first bouquet of the pale violets to our mother.
I know for sure that during all this time our illness as a hot poison, only intensified. Now it twists us from the inside until the night, mangling the lips with the smiles.
I wonder whether our mother remembers that first bouquet?
They say that we are happy and completely without brakes. And in general they are right, who does not know the twins, that joking Weasleys? Who wasn't the part of the eternal jokes, who was not accustomed to the always annoying smirk?
That one which hurts like a knife, cutting in half the lips and lights up the eyes with the cheerful pixies. Of course not, no way that it is a tightly glued mask. We have learned to be amazingly honest, right, little brother?
It is rather to be a quality make-up, put over the years, ideally fitting the own skin. And even deeper - to our very heart. We just really like to joke.
It is just that from the childhood, from the very first day when I started to distinguish you from myself our life became hysteria under the quality make-up.
Because, judge for yourself, it is impossible that a person with a ripped arm, leg, life, so carelessly laughed all the time.
Judge for yourself – all of Hogwarts is laughing at our antics. Over the growing hysteria.
Why Ginny is by herself, Percy is by himself, Bill, Charlie, Ron? Even Pigwidgeon is by himself too. And there are two of us with the usual, cut in half smiles. And it is not clear why?
I know it's not your fault, Mom, and there is nothing we should forgive you for but...
What have you done.
Because the hysteria is increasing day after day, and the jokes are getting angrier. And we lose our minds completely from one look at each other.
And we are never apart.
Do you remember how we were going to be settled in the separate rooms? I think it would not help even then.
Charlie used to talk a lot about his dragons. Bill was a role model for all the kids. Ginny - everyone's favorite charm. Percy - a good boy, the pride of the family. Ron always needed the support and got caught up in the troubles.
And we were the twins.
***
“Oh, it's finally summer!”
“But I'll miss the school ...”
“Harry don't forget to write!”
“We'll come pick you up in the end of the summer!”
“I don't think it's a good idea, Ron.”
“Just a perfect one! Bye!”
***
Very close to the Burrow there is an amazing mountain range, ending with a cliff. In the summer we used to often run there, hiding from our constant fuss and secrets. After all, we need to rest sometimes.
It’s an amazing place - we can stand on the edge until the very last sunset strokes, touching each other with our fingertips. To look down.
And the cliff is craving, pulling. Almost like you, twisting in front of the eyes like a fancy spiral. And ridiculously ripples in the eyes. And craving, craving.
It was funny to stand on the edge and feel two such strong and similar emotions at the same time. And the horror with a piercing wind, chilled the face. We stood there, and when we looked down and felt how instinctively shrunk the heart it seemed that we were about to figure out how to get rid of the poison eating us, spilled through the veins and echoing in the blood. Starting long ago, even before our birth.
All the time Charlie told us about his dragons. He talked about the amazing sensations that cover him next to these wild ancient monsters. About the horror and delight when you look at their slanted golden eyes.
The feeling of your own power, absolute power, when you climb on their rough back and fly - off a cliff - down.
All the time we were looking for a way to get rid of the averting feelings of inadequacy. There - inside.
We have tried so many things.
And we were standing. And looking down at the scurrying twisting spirals. And the horror with a piercing wind chilled the face.
And this feeling was so similar to the one that should be. To the impossible dream.
Charlie was telling...
A burning cigarette butt is flying down from the cliff in a funny desperate suicide. Why do we need two?
One short step, one sky for two above their heads. The rapidly coming ground and the thin contours of green blades-each individual stalk. One sweeping up and down the icy wave of terror and delight.
And following the swiftly dying cigarette butt a bizarre creature, a dragon, is flying down, down the cliff. Four-legged, four-armed, wild, ancient.
Little brother, it seems that we've found...
***
“What was it?!” - Molly was screaming, still trembling with the recent fear. – “What was it I am asking you?! What does it mean?!”
“You see, we ...”
“...We were testing one new trick...”
“Levitation candies...”
“...But it seems that we'll need to refine them.”
“Yeah”.
“What?! You could die, do you understand that?!”
“Mom, don't exaggerate.”
“Everything turned out fine.”
“I managed to levitate you in a meter from the ground! And just try to say anything else!”
“But Mom, we ...”
“Just try!! No more inventions!”
“Of course, of course.”
“Don't even try to joke! In your room, quickly!! And just try to come out of there!”
“Yes, we're going; don't be so nervous.”
***
The door slammed above our heads, stunned and blinded with a hard blow. Squeezing the tiny room around us.
It is a pity that my one-with-yours heart is desperately shrinking but not from it.
I rushed to the closet, frantically going through things, you fell prone on the bed. A hidden crumpled pack slipped into my hands by itself as wells as a wand with a trembling flame.
A cool breeze crept in through the slightly opened window. I walked away and lit a cigarette, wringing my hands. Then burst out laughing.
You were quietly whimpering on the bed, blubbing.
And I was standing at the window - the breeze was getting under my clothes, the cigarette was burning in my fingers. Standing and laughing.
Frantically, loud, and the makeup as a ridiculous tattoo dug into the heart. As a tattoo-mask-snake.
I have no more strength to listen to the shrill cry, so I close my ears with my hands.
Mother is still yelling downstairs.
At this point it may seem that we are very different, but I only laugh in response to you. Vice versa, it’s the culmination of all similar poison in our veins, but it is a pity that the heart now is breaking, scratching the ribs with its fragments for another reason.
I know to the last little dash why you are crying now, I feel all of you and a sheet under the supple body.
You are howling softly, shuddering, biting the wrists to the blood for us. Both of us.
And I am laughing, leaning against the door jamb also for us. Also for both.
I am hurt like you are, you would also like to laugh. However nothing would change if we switch places. Because the pain and laughter, and the breaking heart, and the fragments in the chest for both of us.
Mine with yours usual hysteria.
And something twists, forces to slip down the wall, clinging to its roughness with the crooked fingers, not because of the mother's screams, the punishment and the squeezing tiny room.
And surely not because her spell stopped us in several meters from the ground.
That was not it.
The fall to the culmination increased the burning out ocean inside, to the continuity brought us closer to each other. And it didn't blow up with a denouement.
Charlie lied – it wasn't it.
Not what we were looking for. Not what we haven't found.
And the lust, the carving only increased because of that. Mangling the lips with a smile, turning out everything inside, clinging to you with the angry fingers between the ribs.
The traction increased, grew grotesque. Forcing to want - to the tremor at the knees - to break into a hot whirlwind, tearing everything inside. To touch the freckles with cold lips. To dig with the claws into the soft supple body, getting stuck in the intestines and blood, to get to the very heart. And finally squeeze it, our, one for two, a plaintively trembling in the clutches.
We have such a soft skin – to bite, leaving the fading marks.
What have you done, mother.
And still it doesn't work out for us to fix it, little brother.
And we will have to live with it. Live.
***
“Ron, good luck to you! Keep an eye on Ginny!”
“And you be aware! If I only I'll find out that you started it again ...”
“Percy, You are such a good boy!”
“So ...”
“Of course, of course.”
***
The new school year met us with the hundreds of students, with endless jokes, flung-open Hogwarts. With the endless news of the reborn Voldemort.
But in general nothing has changed - all the same jokes, the same antics. Adjusted for years to each word.
Only with the last joke we brought Katie Bell to tears.
She has no idea about our hysteria. About your stupid freckles and blue eyes.
Lee Jordan sticks to us with the affectionate rumors and constantly talks and talks ... We don't give him a chance to get a word in.
He says this year there will be a ball.
“So?” As if by the way with a half-whisper in the ear, in the center of the living room. “Who shall we go with?”
“Let' talk about it later.” Soft, but only our - mine! Smile with the corners of the lips. Not sarcastic - just a little bit. “Don't you see I'm studying astronomy?”
“Oh come on,” To press the nose against the temple, breathing heavily, trying to catch the unruly strands with the lips. Let them look. We are brothers - we are allowed. “Come on, tell me already, who do you have an eye on.”
“Well, let it be Alicia,” You stuck your nose again in the textbook. Oh yeah, you also take astronomy exams for both of us. “The discussion is closed.”
“As you say, little brother.” And shouting across the room. “Alicia, will you go with me to the ball?”
A short evaluating glance and a quick nod. Faint smile on your lips. Spacey look from Jordan who sat near by.
Fool, how can she distinguish us, when even we are not able to do so?
@темы: творчество, English; Translations