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Old 09-10-2006, 03:15 AM   #1
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Storm Clouds and Lightning Eyes-oneshot

ok, this is my first fic, comments would be greatly appreciated.


ok, I don't know or own larry, none of this is real, hence fiction.


I drudge through the rain soaked streets,

towards an obscure place a couple blocks away.

Hoping that it will lift my spirits and make me forget

about the unfortunate setting the city is in tonight.

The rain pours down on me. New York is enveloped in

another dark, stormy night. The moon, a slim

crescent, is concealed by dark gray phantasms,

trapping the faint glow in their clutches. The only

light is that of the lightning that rips the clouds

apart, and roars making me aware of its looming

presence. I ignore its call, and keep walking. Soon, I

find it, attached to closed stores, and vacant office

space, my haven. I walk in, putting my coat on the

rack and wiping the rain out of my long black hair. I

lead my way to a familiar corner booth, adjacent to

one of the windows. I sit and relax watching the

smoke drift lightly through the air. I lay my head

against the window, and listen to the rain as it

pounds out its own drumbeat to the soft saxophone

crooning in the direction of the dimly lit stage. The

imperturbable atmosphere makes the large room

seem much smaller. I hear the door open, and rays

of light coming from the street are scattered across

the floor, dancing to the soft steady drone of the

bass. I barely make out the figure that has entered

the club. It is a man with a light, even beard,

stunning features, short, full blonde hair, and a skull

earring dangling from his right ear. He is wearing a

heavy, black coat under which, a fitting shirt shows

off his physique. He sits in the corner alone and

rests his head against a wall, letting the soothing

music float all his cares away. I stare, captivated by

him. I’ve never seen him in here before. He scans

the room. His eyes moving fluidly, as though he’s

looking for someone. He turns and looks straight at

me, but I don’t look away. He burns a hole right

through me, and it feels as though he’s looking at

my soul and can read my thoughts. He leans

forward in his seat, looking to see if anyone is with

me. After he finds his answer, he sinks back, lights a

cigarette, and watches the band. His hands start

tapping the table, playing on a non-existent drum. I

watch him, and the beat he’s playing matches the

one pounding next to my ear. I shift slightly towards

the wall, looking out the window. The storm is slowly

clearing up, moving along to reveal the sharp light of

the moon. I lose myself in my thoughts and the

buzz of the music. I stare at the moon, thinking of

the day before. Suddenly I feel the booth sink,

accommodating the strange man. I turn quickly, and

his face is several inches from mine, I find myself

strangely at ease, staring directly into his silver-blue

eyes. He sits there staring at me, fixed, enchanted

by my exotic looks, and dark hair. I blink, and he

snaps back to reality and moves back into the booth,

laughing softly at himself and his abnormal actions.

“Hello, sorry about being so… oopfront. I’m

Larry.”

‘Wow.’ I think, ‘what an accent.’ His deep Irish

brogue dances melodically in my ear, and makes the


simple introduction intrigue me. I finally get past his

voice and respond. “That’s okay, nice to meet you.”

We sat there talking to each other, about trivial

things, like the weather, both casting secret glances

at each other. Listening to the band, commenting on

their style.

"How did you find this place? I’ve never seen you

here before." I ask.

“I try to keep meself low-key.”

“I bet that’s hard; with the looks you have, you

should be a model. What do you do, by the way?”

“Um… I hit things.”

I laugh but then I realize he’s not joking. I look at

him, puzzled. “You hit things?”

“Yes, I hit things.”

“And people pay you to hit things?”

“Very much so.”

“What type of things do you hit?” I gasp, “Oh my

gosh! Are you a hitman?!” My eyes growing wide.

“No, no. I hit mostly percussion things, but every

one and a while I get to hit a guy with an oversized

ego and big mouth.” He laughs half way through the

comment, obviously poking fun at someone I didn’t

know.

“So you’re a drummer. I’ve always liked drummer

boys.”

He chuckles at my compliment. His throaty laugh

filling our little corner.

“Well I like you, you’re so different from everyone

else, but in a good way. It separates you, makes you

special.”

I look down at the table fumbling for words, hoping

my crimson hot cheeks don’t give me away. I look

out the window, try to concentrate on the moment,

and get my head straight. When I finally get a hold of

myself, I turn back to him.

“Let me buy you a drink, what do you want?” he

offers.

I giggle, trying to stifle my laughter.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, that’s such a clichéd line.” I say, my

laughter fading, leaving him and I both feeling silly.

He sits back down, looking at me. And a new song

starts, a deep, hypnotizing type of song that pulls

you in on the first riff of the guitar. He shifts closer

to me while keeping his eyes on the band, our hips

touching. The song picks up, and Larry puts his hand

on both of our knees, slowly moving it onto mine.

The songs moves into its second verse, and he

moves his hand to the top of my thigh, flexing his

hand, massaging. The solo starts, and Larry’s hand

responds to the highs and lows of it. Moving slowly

down, closer, he feels me tense up. He moves his

hand back to the top, stroking my knee with his

thumb, still staring at the band. I put my hand on

his face, and he turns to me. Our faces are inches

apart again, but this time he kisses me, pressing our

lips together. I pull back smiling, and my lips, tasting

chocolate on them. “Sweet.” I say as my eyes open.

He moves in for another kiss, more passionate that

the last. Being as passionate he could in a dark

public place filled with smoke, with a musical

distraction. After several minutes, an out-of-breath

Larry stands up from the booth, and helps me out of

it. His arm around me, he leads toward the exit. We

both reach for our coats, which are coincidentally on

top of each other. He grabs my hand in his, and our

coats in another. He holds me close, and looks into

my dark brown eyes.

"What's your name?"

I move closer and whisper in his ear. He smirks, and

puts his hands around my waist and leads us out of

the club, asking as if he may have misheard it, "Ok...

Babydoll...”

And the storm has passed, the clouds

disappeared, and the sky is clear.
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Old 09-10-2006, 03:19 AM   #2
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*blushes shades of crimson, scarlet, maroon, magenta and.... purple.*
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Old 09-10-2006, 01:51 PM   #3
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that was very good, Targon!!!
it had a suprise ending because i thought you was writing it about yourself!
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Old 09-13-2006, 03:37 PM   #4
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Targon - honestly, I couldn't read it because of the way it's formatted, smashed to onse side like that makes it rather hard on these old eyes.
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Old 09-13-2006, 04:23 PM   #5
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It just turned out like that when i copied it on there, sorry
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Old 09-19-2006, 11:40 AM   #6
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Targon, very good, it reminds me of a classic love story
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Old 10-05-2006, 03:43 PM   #7
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I LOVE THAT....I only told that story to one person...How dare she publish it..LOL. God Bless!!

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Old 10-05-2006, 04:03 PM   #8
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