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aftanithTitle: Watching a Classic Film
Author: AFTanith
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Pairing(s): Stelian Frost/Sparrow
Prompt(s): OTP Christmas 2015 Day 15. Watching a Classic Film
Warning(s): past suicidal ideation & various other potential triggers relating to abuse
Sparrow couldn't understand these people less if she tried. Today in his endless quest to make her enjoy this useless holiday, Frost had her watching a movie so old that it didn't even have color, and while Sparrow wasn't quite sure how long ago color television was invented, she was fairly sure it had been a couple of centuries ago at least. Surely it wasn't recent enough to make watching pre-color films a reasonable idea.
And yet here they were, sitting side-by-side on the couch as they watched what had to be one of the most boring movies ever made. Sure, it was quaint with its storybook opening and downright archaic plot point about an angel, of all things, but the last thing Sparrow wanted to be doing with her time was watch a man's life fall apart, and it seemed to her that's what Frost had her watching. It was a story of people from a bygone era going about their old-fashioned lives, with a sexist little boy who stumbled his way into a serious of miraculous rescues growing into a sexist little man who couldn't get ahead in a world full of more realistic men.
Perhaps the most frustrating bit of it, of course, was how selfless half of the characters were. It simply wasn't authentic; men who beat children once were men who beat children as a rule, and banks didn't refuse to foreclose on people's houses just to spare their families pain. And the idea of a family in a house that nice pretending they were poor was downright offensive.
"You're not enjoying it," Frost said after a while, and Sparrow cast a glance in his direction, feeling the faintest twinge of guilt. She wasn't being purposefully resistant, not that he'd ever believe it; she was just genuinely disinterested in what he seemed to be trying so hard to make her love.
"Not particularly," she admitted. "I'm sorry. But, honestly, I don't get why you like it. He doesn't exactly seem like the kind of protagonist you'd enjoy. He's... well, he's a sexist shit, but he's nobly humanitarian. Not really your type."
"How so?" Frost asked, a brow raised. "I have plenty of noble ideas, thank you very much, and they come with the added benefit of a distinct lack of misogyny."
She laughed. "What noble ideas are those, exactly, Frost? You're a fucking r--"
Sparrow cut herself off, horrified, and looked away, wide-eyed at her own slip. To her relief, Frost didn't press it, though she was completely sure he knew what she'd narrowly avoided calling him.
"Everyone likes this film, love--myself included--because everyone loves a David and Goliath story. Everyone loves to see an underdog win, and we all like a man with high ideals. We want to see him win in fiction because there's no way we can live up to his archetype in reality. It's a nice thought, to live on ideals like that, but no one actually wants to live that way; it's not worth skating by on pennies just to feel noble."
Sparrow held her tongue for a moment, debating whether or not she even dared respond after having just come so close to making such a big mistake. "I... would argue there's a lot more to being noble than feeling like you are. What that guy is doing--what he would be doing if he wasn't fictional, or what a real person would be doing if they bothered to live to those ideals--is life-saving. Keeping people in their houses, making sure they have enough money to eat and clothe themselves, should be worth more than--" She broke off, not even sure why she was talking; it wasn't as if she was going to convince him.
She could feel Frost's eyes on her in the silence, but he didn't speak again for a while. They let the movie unfold in front of them unimpeded, watched as the man grew up and lived through history Sparrow knew nothing about, even after almost a year of tutoring with Hyde. And as it all went on, her opinion only soured; the man, of course, even idealized as he was into an impossibly noble person in one respect, was vile in all the rest. She watched him berate his uncle and snipe at his wife and children, but it was at the words, "You call this a happy family? Why did we have to have all these kids?" that Sparrow felt the tell-tale constricting of her throat that came with the threat of tears, and she blinked them away. As much as it was bringing up memories she'd rather not have, she was even more invested in making sure Frost didn't find out about them, either. She didn't want him to see her cry.
Not that it seemed to be getting any better. Over the next few minutes, it quickly became clear exactly what kind of spiral the main character was in; he was, as the miserly old man put it, worth more dead than alive, and Sparrow bit down hard on her lip to keep herself under control. Why the hell was Frost making her watch a suicide movie?
The bastard even went to a bridge to do it, Sparrow realized, and the thought was so absurd that she had to laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frost turn to her with a frown, and she hoped she didn't look as close to tears as she felt she must. Fuck if she wasn't, though; her mind right now was drowning in things better off forgotten, words her mother had screamed at her, nights when the woman had thrown the furniture around the house in frustrated rage over Marie's impending death, the night Sparrow had spent on the bridge when she'd--
Another night best forgotten.
Sparrow watched the idiot run off screaming "Merry Christmas!" into the distance, and it was when he was kissing his kids after running home that she found herself unable to hold back the tears anymore. She couldn't even see the television anymore through her watery eyes, and Frost seemed to have been waiting for it; his arms were around her in an instant, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Why are you making me watch this?" she managed to get out without her voice breaking too horribly, but she knew that wouldn't last. She'd be sobbing soon and nearly incoherent, and what she really needed at this point was to be left alone to cry. She wasn't going to get that, though. Not from him.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice. He seemed to think the situation worse than it was, as if he'd never seen her cry before. "I didn't realize it would upset you this badly, love. Are you alright?" She nodded insistently, trying in vain to blink away the tears.
It was horrible, all of it. Every bad memory she had was crashing down on her at once, drowning her in sorrows while the fools on TV sang their foolishly religious holiday songs. "I'm so sorry, darling," he repeated, holding her tightly against his chest, "I should've realized this was a bad idea. You're..."
He fell silent, and Sparrow gave him a watery laugh. "I'm what, Frost? Fragile? Broken?"
She couldn't see him clearly, but she felt him stiffen against her. His fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping away the wet, reddened trails of tears. "Of course not," he said firmly, so much conviction in his voice that she actually almost believed him. "You've been through a lot, love, and I know it. And I know that you haven't told me all of it; maybe you haven't even told me most of what you've been through. I should've realized this might not be healthy for you. I didn't think."
Sparrow rolled her eyes, scowling through the tears. "I'm not suicidal, Frost."
She felt him brush a damp strand of hair from her face, his fingertips trailing over her skin. "I'm glad to hear it. But--"
"This is a terrible movie," she interrupted, her voice breaking. "A terrible fucking film. What's the point of it? To scare people out of killing themselves? Most of us would be better of dead, Frost, and we all fucking know it. Everyone on this side of the bridge wishes we were, anyway."
He drew back slightly, and she could feel his confusion in his posture even before she heard it in his voice. "What are you talking about?"
"Solares could drop dead, and everyone would be happier for it, wouldn't they? That's what you people want, and there aren't any reasons not to. It's a pipe dream, that stupid fucking plot; no one does that kind of good for other people. If anyone in Solares could actually make a wish like that--if I or anyone else had truly never been born--nobody's life would've been any different. Mom still would've gotten pregnant eventually, and Dad still would've left, and Marie would've died with the money or without it, and--" Her voice broke.
She should've jumped, that night, shouldn't she have? Marie was dead, her parents were who knew where, and all she was heading toward was this. The Culling, imprisonment, and Frost.
After a long moment of silence, Sparrow glanced up at him. He was staring at her with the strangest look on his face, as if he didn't have the slightest idea how to respond to her. He seemed to want, quite desperately, to comfort her--but he clearly couldn't find the words. And in a way, that realization was comforting itself; that even he knew he couldn't pretend there was anything in her life now worth living for was the most complete and utter confirmation she could have that it was true.
"Nothing to say?" she asked quietly, her lips curled into a tiny, mocking smile. "Not going to insist that everything's fine now that you're here for me?"
"I am," he said carefully, "but I know that's not what you want to hear."
"No, it's not. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." She let her head drop back against the back of the couch, and her eyelids fluttered shut. "This movie doesn't make any sense, Frost. So what if what's-his-name made an impact on his community that it would've sorely missed if he'd never been born? That isn't the way it works for most of us; nothing would've been different if I hadn't been born; the only thing that would've changed is that I never would've--" She sighed, cutting off the thought again. Now wasn't the time to confront him like that, surely? "It would've saved me quite a bit of pain."
"What about Suri?" She peeked an eye open and glanced at him, surprised. "She's out there somewhere, free for what might be the first time in her entire life. That's because of you; is it not enough?"
"I don't know," she answered, frowning. What right did he have to make such a reasonable point right now? "It doesn't feel like it's enough."
"So do more."
Her brows lifted, and now she opened her eyes fully as she turned to him. "More? You said to butt out of the Circle's business."
"Not with the Roughs. You keep telling me there are more people who need help out there; if what you did for Suri wasn't enough, you can start doing something for them. Isn't that what you want?"
She stared at him speculatively. He looked, oddly enough, perfectly sincere and more than a bit as if he was all but challenging her. What he was thinking, she didn't know... but the words were rapidly growing in her mind into something dangerously close to genuine inspiration. She would have to think quite a bit more about the idea from now on.
"I don't know, Frost. Just... enough with the fucking terrible movies, okay?"
The smile of concession he gave her looked rather sad. "Nothing but holiday fluff from now on, don't worry."
It wasn't much, but she supposed it would have to do.
Author: AFTanith
Fandom: Parabellum (original fiction)
Pairing(s): Stelian Frost/Sparrow
Prompt(s): OTP Christmas 2015 Day 15. Watching a Classic Film
Warning(s): past suicidal ideation & various other potential triggers relating to abuse
Sparrow couldn't understand these people less if she tried. Today in his endless quest to make her enjoy this useless holiday, Frost had her watching a movie so old that it didn't even have color, and while Sparrow wasn't quite sure how long ago color television was invented, she was fairly sure it had been a couple of centuries ago at least. Surely it wasn't recent enough to make watching pre-color films a reasonable idea.
And yet here they were, sitting side-by-side on the couch as they watched what had to be one of the most boring movies ever made. Sure, it was quaint with its storybook opening and downright archaic plot point about an angel, of all things, but the last thing Sparrow wanted to be doing with her time was watch a man's life fall apart, and it seemed to her that's what Frost had her watching. It was a story of people from a bygone era going about their old-fashioned lives, with a sexist little boy who stumbled his way into a serious of miraculous rescues growing into a sexist little man who couldn't get ahead in a world full of more realistic men.
Perhaps the most frustrating bit of it, of course, was how selfless half of the characters were. It simply wasn't authentic; men who beat children once were men who beat children as a rule, and banks didn't refuse to foreclose on people's houses just to spare their families pain. And the idea of a family in a house that nice pretending they were poor was downright offensive.
"You're not enjoying it," Frost said after a while, and Sparrow cast a glance in his direction, feeling the faintest twinge of guilt. She wasn't being purposefully resistant, not that he'd ever believe it; she was just genuinely disinterested in what he seemed to be trying so hard to make her love.
"Not particularly," she admitted. "I'm sorry. But, honestly, I don't get why you like it. He doesn't exactly seem like the kind of protagonist you'd enjoy. He's... well, he's a sexist shit, but he's nobly humanitarian. Not really your type."
"How so?" Frost asked, a brow raised. "I have plenty of noble ideas, thank you very much, and they come with the added benefit of a distinct lack of misogyny."
She laughed. "What noble ideas are those, exactly, Frost? You're a fucking r--"
Sparrow cut herself off, horrified, and looked away, wide-eyed at her own slip. To her relief, Frost didn't press it, though she was completely sure he knew what she'd narrowly avoided calling him.
"Everyone likes this film, love--myself included--because everyone loves a David and Goliath story. Everyone loves to see an underdog win, and we all like a man with high ideals. We want to see him win in fiction because there's no way we can live up to his archetype in reality. It's a nice thought, to live on ideals like that, but no one actually wants to live that way; it's not worth skating by on pennies just to feel noble."
Sparrow held her tongue for a moment, debating whether or not she even dared respond after having just come so close to making such a big mistake. "I... would argue there's a lot more to being noble than feeling like you are. What that guy is doing--what he would be doing if he wasn't fictional, or what a real person would be doing if they bothered to live to those ideals--is life-saving. Keeping people in their houses, making sure they have enough money to eat and clothe themselves, should be worth more than--" She broke off, not even sure why she was talking; it wasn't as if she was going to convince him.
She could feel Frost's eyes on her in the silence, but he didn't speak again for a while. They let the movie unfold in front of them unimpeded, watched as the man grew up and lived through history Sparrow knew nothing about, even after almost a year of tutoring with Hyde. And as it all went on, her opinion only soured; the man, of course, even idealized as he was into an impossibly noble person in one respect, was vile in all the rest. She watched him berate his uncle and snipe at his wife and children, but it was at the words, "You call this a happy family? Why did we have to have all these kids?" that Sparrow felt the tell-tale constricting of her throat that came with the threat of tears, and she blinked them away. As much as it was bringing up memories she'd rather not have, she was even more invested in making sure Frost didn't find out about them, either. She didn't want him to see her cry.
Not that it seemed to be getting any better. Over the next few minutes, it quickly became clear exactly what kind of spiral the main character was in; he was, as the miserly old man put it, worth more dead than alive, and Sparrow bit down hard on her lip to keep herself under control. Why the hell was Frost making her watch a suicide movie?
The bastard even went to a bridge to do it, Sparrow realized, and the thought was so absurd that she had to laugh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Frost turn to her with a frown, and she hoped she didn't look as close to tears as she felt she must. Fuck if she wasn't, though; her mind right now was drowning in things better off forgotten, words her mother had screamed at her, nights when the woman had thrown the furniture around the house in frustrated rage over Marie's impending death, the night Sparrow had spent on the bridge when she'd--
Another night best forgotten.
Sparrow watched the idiot run off screaming "Merry Christmas!" into the distance, and it was when he was kissing his kids after running home that she found herself unable to hold back the tears anymore. She couldn't even see the television anymore through her watery eyes, and Frost seemed to have been waiting for it; his arms were around her in an instant, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Why are you making me watch this?" she managed to get out without her voice breaking too horribly, but she knew that wouldn't last. She'd be sobbing soon and nearly incoherent, and what she really needed at this point was to be left alone to cry. She wasn't going to get that, though. Not from him.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice. He seemed to think the situation worse than it was, as if he'd never seen her cry before. "I didn't realize it would upset you this badly, love. Are you alright?" She nodded insistently, trying in vain to blink away the tears.
It was horrible, all of it. Every bad memory she had was crashing down on her at once, drowning her in sorrows while the fools on TV sang their foolishly religious holiday songs. "I'm so sorry, darling," he repeated, holding her tightly against his chest, "I should've realized this was a bad idea. You're..."
He fell silent, and Sparrow gave him a watery laugh. "I'm what, Frost? Fragile? Broken?"
She couldn't see him clearly, but she felt him stiffen against her. His fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping away the wet, reddened trails of tears. "Of course not," he said firmly, so much conviction in his voice that she actually almost believed him. "You've been through a lot, love, and I know it. And I know that you haven't told me all of it; maybe you haven't even told me most of what you've been through. I should've realized this might not be healthy for you. I didn't think."
Sparrow rolled her eyes, scowling through the tears. "I'm not suicidal, Frost."
She felt him brush a damp strand of hair from her face, his fingertips trailing over her skin. "I'm glad to hear it. But--"
"This is a terrible movie," she interrupted, her voice breaking. "A terrible fucking film. What's the point of it? To scare people out of killing themselves? Most of us would be better of dead, Frost, and we all fucking know it. Everyone on this side of the bridge wishes we were, anyway."
He drew back slightly, and she could feel his confusion in his posture even before she heard it in his voice. "What are you talking about?"
"Solares could drop dead, and everyone would be happier for it, wouldn't they? That's what you people want, and there aren't any reasons not to. It's a pipe dream, that stupid fucking plot; no one does that kind of good for other people. If anyone in Solares could actually make a wish like that--if I or anyone else had truly never been born--nobody's life would've been any different. Mom still would've gotten pregnant eventually, and Dad still would've left, and Marie would've died with the money or without it, and--" Her voice broke.
She should've jumped, that night, shouldn't she have? Marie was dead, her parents were who knew where, and all she was heading toward was this. The Culling, imprisonment, and Frost.
After a long moment of silence, Sparrow glanced up at him. He was staring at her with the strangest look on his face, as if he didn't have the slightest idea how to respond to her. He seemed to want, quite desperately, to comfort her--but he clearly couldn't find the words. And in a way, that realization was comforting itself; that even he knew he couldn't pretend there was anything in her life now worth living for was the most complete and utter confirmation she could have that it was true.
"Nothing to say?" she asked quietly, her lips curled into a tiny, mocking smile. "Not going to insist that everything's fine now that you're here for me?"
"I am," he said carefully, "but I know that's not what you want to hear."
"No, it's not. I don't want to hear anything you have to say." She let her head drop back against the back of the couch, and her eyelids fluttered shut. "This movie doesn't make any sense, Frost. So what if what's-his-name made an impact on his community that it would've sorely missed if he'd never been born? That isn't the way it works for most of us; nothing would've been different if I hadn't been born; the only thing that would've changed is that I never would've--" She sighed, cutting off the thought again. Now wasn't the time to confront him like that, surely? "It would've saved me quite a bit of pain."
"What about Suri?" She peeked an eye open and glanced at him, surprised. "She's out there somewhere, free for what might be the first time in her entire life. That's because of you; is it not enough?"
"I don't know," she answered, frowning. What right did he have to make such a reasonable point right now? "It doesn't feel like it's enough."
"So do more."
Her brows lifted, and now she opened her eyes fully as she turned to him. "More? You said to butt out of the Circle's business."
"Not with the Roughs. You keep telling me there are more people who need help out there; if what you did for Suri wasn't enough, you can start doing something for them. Isn't that what you want?"
She stared at him speculatively. He looked, oddly enough, perfectly sincere and more than a bit as if he was all but challenging her. What he was thinking, she didn't know... but the words were rapidly growing in her mind into something dangerously close to genuine inspiration. She would have to think quite a bit more about the idea from now on.
"I don't know, Frost. Just... enough with the fucking terrible movies, okay?"
The smile of concession he gave her looked rather sad. "Nothing but holiday fluff from now on, don't worry."
It wasn't much, but she supposed it would have to do.
