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11 juillet 2010 7 11 /07 /juillet /2010 14:34

Et voilà un nouvel OS d'inspiration indochochinoise, mai sen anglais cette fois-ci! x)

 

 

 

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Title: Electrastar
Author: foolbutsane (c'est moi ^^)
Beta-reader: Foui_the_brave
Genre: songfic
Main characters: Martin/Ola, Mattias (OC), and Leari and Jepson do a very short apparition. (Ils font tous parti de The Ark.)
Rating: G
Summary: The story happens many years away in the future. It could be the continuation of Valentine's Day. Quite sad.
Disclaimer: This story never happened (and I hope it would not happen) and it’s all lies. I don’t own Martin, Ola, Jepson, nor Leari: they belong to themselves. I don’t own the song, Electrastar: it belongs to Indochine. I just own Mattias and the story. Tell me if you want to copy it.
A/N: I change of idea many times before writing this fic. At the beginning, there was much more action, and it wasn’t so sad. And it wasn’t a songfic. I don’t know if I did the good choice, cause I feel quite… unsure about this story. So tell me what you think about it.
Thanks to Foui_the_brave, Indochine, and The Ark.




The last rays of the sun lighted the floor of the living room. Our living room. Well, maybe it's better to say my living room, since you left several months ago. I didn't want you to leave. You must believe me. I really didn't want you to leave our flat. But I had to do this. For your own good. The sun is now hiding behind some clouds. The room is suddenly darker, and so are my thoughts. The last events between us are coming to my mind and I'm feeling worse and worse. But the sky, in its greatness, makes the wind blow and the clouds move. And the sun re-appears and lights up both the room and my mind: it's not the last events that I remember now, but our best moments.

***   ***   ***

-Martin!
-Yes?
-It's the summer! he shouted, very happy.
-I know Ola, it's July. So it's quite obvious that's it's summer, I answered a bit dry.
-I know, I'm not stupid. What I mean, it's that today is the first sunny day for a long time. It's been raining for weeks. It was even raining during Midsommar.

Realizing that I was not really listening, he came closer to me. I suddenly felt his hands round my waist and his breath on my ear.

-Martin, tell me what's worrying you.
-I want Mattias to have real holidays… I mean not staying all the time in Malmö. But we can't take any vacation now with the prep for the tour and so on. And I don't know what to do. I promised him, you understand? I said, ready to cry.
-Ssssch, I don't want to see any tears in your eyes. It's nothing to worry about, really.
-Huh?
-I phoned my parents earlier today and they would be really happy if Mattias could spend a week or more with them. You know how crazy about their grandson they are.

He laughed softly, certainly reminded of how his parents acted every time they saw our son. The sound of his laugh calmed me down a bit and I smiled.

-So we just have to send him to Rottne, he concluded before kissing my earlobe.

His hands moved until reaching my belt while his lips were moving to my neck and then to my shoulders. His fingers quickly opened my jeans and began to… when a boy's shout stopped us. We both smiled.

-Daddies! I finished my painting!

***   ***   ***

I give a jump and look around. I'm quite sure I heard Mattias shouting, even if I know it's impossible: he's at Jepson's house. But it seemed so real. So maybe everything was just a big dream, or better said, a big nightmare, and Mattias is playing in his room, and Ola is in front of the piano, thinking of a new song. I'm leaving the living room: I just want to see if it's true or not. If Ola is still here or not. I know he isn't but… but… I can't help myself good hoping. Just when I'm about to open the door of the piano room, the phone rings. I don't know what to do: enter or not enter the room, answer or not answer the phone. I know that both of them will bring me back to reality so I decide to answer: at least the guy who's calling won't have to dial my phone number again.

-Hi Martin! It's Jepson.
-Hi, what are you calling for? A problem with Mattias? I ask, seriously worried.
-Sort of. He misses you. I tried to explain him the whole thing but he refused to understand. He's just crying and shouting after you… you and Ola.
-… Sorry, I can't come, I say with a low voice.
-Please Martin. Your son needs you, you have to come. You haven't gone out for weeks and the summer is sunny and warm. I'm sure you'll feel better if you go out for a walk over here.
-Jepson… I can't leave the flat… I just can't.

I looked at the door and hang up. Should I go out or not? Jepson's words are twirling around in my head. I walk slowly towards it and stared during, I don't know, maybe ten minutes. Finally I turn the key inside the door: I'm much better locked up in the flat.



Je reste enfermé chez moi et je ne sors pas [I stay locked up at home and I don’t go out]
J'attends comme la fin du monde et je ne sais pas [I wait like the end of the world and I don’t know]
Combien de temps ça prendra mais je ne l'oublie pas [How long it would take but I don’t forget]
Parfois la nuit on s'ennuie et ça ne plait pas [Sometimes, the night, we’re bored and we don't like it]
Non ça ne vous plait pas [No you don’t like it]
oh oh oh
oh oh oh




I'm laying on our bed… well my bed. I really must learn to talk in the first person singular, not plural. We're not together any longer. I'm staring at the ceiling. It's white, totally white, totally innocent… not like me, not like you. But even if we were guilty of certain things, I don't think we deserved what happened to us. I close my eyes: this ceiling is really too white and it hurts: I should paint it. Now that I'm temporary blind, I let my brain do what it wants, imagine what it can. But it seems that it can't imagine anything, cause it brings back some memories. Memories I had forgotten, or hidden, I don't know. Memories of us. Last summer. When we had sent Mattias to Rottne.

***   ***   ***

I was laying on the same bed, staring at the same ceiling, but not thinking of the same things. I don't remember what I was thinking about, probably the autumn tour, or maybe you, or both. The thing is that I was thinking when I heard some piano notes through the silent flat. You were playing some new song, and from time to time I could hear your voice. I decided to spy on you a bit. I knew that you didn't like someone watching you while you were composing, but I so loved watching you play. So that's why I slowly opened the door of the piano room and spent almost half-an-hour watching you. Finally, you noticed me and looked at me with accusing eyes. But you were smiling. And so was I. You came closer to me, slowly, very slowly and at the end, your lips touched mine. We began to kiss softly, gently, and then more and more fierily, more and more passionately. Your hands were touching every part of my body as if they were discovering it. When you stopped the kiss, I tried to kiss you another time, cause I already missed your lips. But you had decided something else and started to lick my ear, my face, my neck… I was groaning louder and louder and with a satisfied look, you kissed me again. Very softly this time. I pushed your head to make it deeper but you refused. Instead, you kissed my shoulders through my T-shirt. While doing this, you coughed a bit. I didn't notice it at the moment, I didn't ask you if everything was all right. I should have. And I just forgot it. I shouldn't: it was the first sign.

The evening, when I woke up after hours of love with you, I took all our clothes and put them in the machine. I noticed some blood on my T-shirt. I didn't really care: I just wondered how I had done it. And I didn't see that the blood marks were exactly where you coughed some hours before. The second sign. And I missed it. Again. I will never forgive myself.

***   ***   ***

I open my eyes. The white ceiling is still here, staring at me. Maybe I should paint your eyes on it. So instead of a white ceiling, it will be your dark eyes which will stare back at me. The phone is ringing. Again! Can't they leave me in peace? Can't they understand that I need to be alone? This time I look at the number: it’s our manager. I don't want to talk with him. What is he going to say? That he understands that I need to rest. But that I can't forget the band, that we have some prom to do, for our live album and DVD. You know what? Fuck the prom, fuck the band, and fuck the Ark! I would do anything to call this flat our flat once again… anything… I miss you so Ola. Please come back! Forget what I said. I don't fuck the band, I don't fuck The Ark, and I fuck the prom just a little (you know: I can't stand those kind of things). I feel some tears on my cheeks. I think I'm crying. I hope the pain I feel now will go away with the tears. It really hurts. I miss you.



Je voudrais te revoir [I want to see you again]
Briller d'electrastar [Shine with electrastar]
J'ai envie de te voir [I would like to see you]
Et cracher sur la gloire [And spit on fame]




All my tears are gone and the pain is less than before. I remember something you said a while after you began to figure out what was happening. When I forced you to stay at the hospital to be treated.

"Tears won't help me Martin. And seeing you cry in front of me just make me sad. So please, don't cry."

You said it with a smile and I smiled back, cause I could never resist your smile. I tried to stop crying and sniffled a few times. You thought I wasn't listening, or that there was too much noise around and that I couldn't hear, but I heard what you whispered. You whispered a sentence I'll never forget.

"Just let me go. Please."

When I asked what you had said, you said something totally different.

"Let's enjoy the time we have without thinking about the end."

And I’m crying again. It seems that I have an endless stock of tears.



J'aurais pourtant tant aimé nous protéger [Yet I wanted so much to protect us]
Te voir tomber au combat moi je n'oublie pas [Seeing you fall at the fight I don’t forget]
Le temps s'est arrêté et tout a continué [Time stopped and everything went on]
Et ça fait mal [And it hurts]
Oui ça fait mal [Yes it hurts]
Oui ça fait mal [Yes it hurts]



Finally, the disease beat you. It was a few weeks ago, and now it’s the first summer without you. I don’t want to think about this. But everything reminds me that you’re not here. I can’t bear myself anymore. How could I let this happen? Why didn’t I react? I’m sure I could have done something, but I didn’t. I was too weak to protect you. So I just watched you die. I was just beside you, supporting you during your last moments. And I did nothing to help you. I hate myself.

Even though you’re not here, life still goes on. Is it possible? I don’t know. Since your last smile disappeared from your lips, I don’t know anything. I forget everything. I think I forget how to live. I’m just doing things automatically: eat, drink… My friends bring me some food and try to make me smile. But I hardly pay attention to them. The world is grey and I don’t like this color.



Je voudrais te revoir [I want to see you again]
Briller d'electrastar [Shine with electrastar]
J'ai envie de te voir [I would like to see you]
Et cracher sur la gloire [And spit on fame]
Tu vis ce que je vis [You live what I live]




I want to see you. I want to be with you. I want to give up everything. Do you think that if I drop everything: The Ark, fame, success…, God will accept my request? Will you live again? I’m pitiful, it’s awful how pitiful I am. Ask God!?! Pitiful, pitiful… I want to see you once more. Just a few seconds. Just once more. Please.



Stay... [Stay…]



-Martin…

You’re here! I’m not dreaming! You've come back and I smile. I know it’s just for a few seconds but I can’t stop smiling.

-Ola… Can I join you?



Je voudrais te revoir [I want to see you again]
Briller d'electrastar [Shine with electrastar]
J'ai envie de te voir [I would like to see you]
Et cracher sur la gloire [And spit on fame]
Tu vis ce que je vis [You live what I live]




-No. Stay here. For Mattias. For the others… I miss you.

The phone is ringing and Ola disappears. I open my eyes and answer after a while.

-Hum?
-Hi Martin! It’s Leari! We’re having a little party tonight. Do you want to come?
-… What time?

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  • : Un blog où je vais publier mes écrits, avec des relations hétéro et homosexuelles explicites, donc ceux qui ne veulent pas lire, la croix rouge en haut à droite peut vous être utile. Aucun plagiat n'est accepté! Et aussi je vais un peu parler de ce qui influence mes écrits: musique, bouquins, etc.
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Les textes publiés sur ce blog sont de ma propre invention et sont écrits par moi, à moins que le contraire ne soit précisé en début d'article. Je vous demanderai donc de respecter mon travail et de ne pas plagier mes écrits.
Merci d'avance.

Certains textes peuvent contenir des relations hétéro ou homosexuelles explicites.
Les mineurs et tous ceux que ça dérange, vous connaissez la sortie: la petite croix rouge.
Tous les résumés et histoires à venir sont disponibles ici.
Si vous avez des questions ou autres, vous pouvez m'envoyer un mail ici.

Sökande

"Un écrivain ne confie tout ni à ses journaux intimes, ni à sa correspondance;
seules ses créatures racontent sa véritable histoire, celle qu'il n'a pas vécue, mais a souhaité vivre."

François Mauriac 

Andra saker ni kan se

lien-nan--19171a4

 
 

Vad som helst...



"Je ne suis pas homosexuel, même si certains semblent le croire."

Ola Salo





"Aime moi, alors je t'aimerai peut-être."
J. R.-P.





"Tout est une question de goût. Toi tu aimes les femmes, moi j'aime les hommes, et lui aime les deux. Où est le problème?"
J. R.-P.





"Ne plus rêver, c'est être à demi mort, c'est faire de la réalité sa seule loi."
Jean-Baptiste Pontalis





"Si tu sens que tu plafonnes, perce un trou dans le plafond."
Gilles Goddard

"Alors si tu sens l'angoisse de la page blanche, prends en une rose."
J. R.-P. 

Lyssna!