bigblackcloud
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I left all my photographs in your penthouse, because you were dead set on having me as your secret, private photographer (“I’ve always wanted an album of pictures no one else has ever seen but me,” you’d said), and with them, my heart. Yes, I left my heart with you that evening, tucked inside my little chest of polaroids, because sitting there in that orange chair is where I realised I was slowly but surely falling in love with you.
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Graham feels like a caged animal. He’s always thought that if he were to be reincarnated as something, he’d choose a praying mantis, so he could get killed right after mating. Seems about right, really. The particular feeling of being so desperate he could crawl out of his own skin had gotten worse that one afternoon, after coming face to face with one of his most shameful little weaknesses: that blond lad with the earring and the pretty nose.
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Damon doesn’t know him, doesn’t know him at all, and yet he finds himself wondering if he’s glad to still be here, whether something had changed in him after waking up on some hospital or some stretch of beach, after hearing his own breath, after having to face that he was still living.
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“I want you to teach me how to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Play like that. The guitar, I mean.” He crouched down to my eye level. From there, I could see his face a little better, though I made an effort not to stare too much. “Come to my house and teach me,” Damon continued, “I’ve got a bit of space in my gran’s garage— It’s pretty decent.”
“I don’t know you,” I repeated.
“Didn’t we just go over this?” He asked, scratching his cheek and looking a little discouraged.
“Yes, but I— I’m just trying to be careful. You can’t expect me to just say yes to—”
“I’ll pay you.”
Hm.
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Where Mac falls desperately in love with the brother of the woman he hooked up with.
Recent bookmarks
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When Paul was nine years old, he watched John Lennon sing Twist and Shout on Sunday Night at the London Palladium.
Where Paul is a rising singer in the 1970s who grew up idolizing performer-turned-producer John Lennon.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 17,575
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 214
- Kudos:
- 1,893
- Bookmarks:
- 236
- Hits:
- 18,335
Bookmarked by bigblackcloud
15 Jul 2026
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A weekend at Mendips that should have been like any other.
Bookmarked by bigblackcloud
10 Jul 2026
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Fill for this fic-a-thon prompt:
Someone in John’s staff sells his diaries to the press in the 70s. They’re printed in the papers. They contain his feelings about Paul. They are him pining over Paul. Paul reads them.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 48,195
- Chapters:
- 9/9
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 559
- Kudos:
- 2,140
- Bookmarks:
- 508
- Hits:
- 40,178
Bookmarked by bigblackcloud
05 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
This author has an innate ability for describing indescribable feelings. Absolutely beautiful
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Damon chewed his lip. It felt sort of wrong, talking about Graham in the middle of a shag with someone else—especially when that someone else was Liam Gallagher—but, well…
Bookmarked by bigblackcloud
02 Jul 2026
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The first night is a surprise.
Bookmarked by bigblackcloud
21 Jan 2026